#weave a circle round

[aeinjela]

Kilim woven carpet, 9x9, 10x10, 11x11, 14x14, 16x16, Round area rug, Circle hand woven, Jute carpets, Living room, Bedroom, Flat weave

Introducing our exquisite Hand Woven Rug, a stunning Kilim woven carpet that seamlessly combines traditional craftsmanship with contemporary design. Available in various sizes including 9x9, 10x10, 11x11, 14x14, and 16x16, this round area rug is the ideal centerpiece for your living room or bedroom. Crafted from high-quality jute, our flat weave design not only enhances your décor but also provides a soft, inviting surface underfoot.

Shop Now

[envy-of-the-apple]

Third Wheel

Dark!SatoSugu x reader

(Warnings: Yandere, dark content, dark, misogynistic language, delusional behavior, kidnapping, blood, violence, +ShokoHime x reader, choking (not in the sexy way tho), threesomes, oral!F!recieving)

Synopsis: Regardless of what Satoru and Suguru tell you, you've always felt left out in this relationship. But when you leave, you quickly find out there's no line your ex-lovers won't cross to get you back

Word Count: 7.3k

When you come home that night, they're already cuddled together, watching TV. 

It's cute. Your boyfriends were always so loose with their affection. When Suguru was cooking, Satoru would lean on his back, more than happy to talk his ear off. Suguru would hold Satoru's waist, steadying him, being his anchor. At night, you'd catch them reaching for each other, trying to hold hands even in their sleep. 

It's clear to even the blind: they are soulmates. 

And you were just extra baggage. 

You don't know how you caught their eyes, but this past year was fun. They've been sweet, both of them have. Inviting you into their lives, into their home, into their bed. Everything moved so fast, but you didn't mind. You were young and a bit spontaneous. Two beautiful men showing a glimpse of interest in you wasn't something you could pass up. This was nice, while it lasted. 

But unlike them, you aren't forever. Their bond would never come close to anything they could have with you. 

It took a while for you to accept that, but eventually, you did. 

"Hey, babe," Satoru calls. "Rough day?" He lazily waves you over. Suguru grunts, before shifting over to make space. 

Despite it all, you're a coward. You don't announce it; you just stare at them. Fondly. Yes, this was nice. You don't think you could handle telling them, though; that would be too much. Seeing how little they cared would break you. 

"Yeah." You give. "Rough day." 

You weave through the house. It's theirs. Not yours. That they've made clear. You're an afterthought. It's the little things. Their toothbrushes are together, yours on the other side of the sink. Their shoes were neatly stacked side by side, and yours were always tucked away in a corner. Left out. Forgotten. Why wouldn't it be like that? They've been together for years. You were still an outsider. 

You only have a little to grab. You just grab your extra clothes, the hair clips you have a terrible habit of leaving around. Just a few items. And then the bedroom looks like you'd never been there at all. 

When you come back out, they don't notice your suitcase. Satoru laughs loudly at something happening on screen. Suguru chides him sternly. Good. It's better this way, you think as you take your suitcase to your car. You don't need any additional heartbreak. 

You make a few more rounds, collecting everything you need. Suguru only catches you when you are about to leave their house forever. 

"Angel?" He calls. "Where are you going?" 

He's looking at you, head tilted in mild curiosity. You manage to smile, looking down at your car keys. 

"Out for a drive." You shrug. "I'll be back." 

Suguru takes it at face value. He lets you go with a small 'have fun'. The walk to the car is heavy. Metal dumbbells on your shoulders. 

When you get in the seat, you finally allow yourself to sob. 

~

I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore

That's how you ended the wall of text before blocking them. It was the coward's way out. 

"No." Utahime's quick to tell you. "It's the only way. Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise." 

You shouldn't be so quick to listen to her, considering she hates them both. Still, she was more than happy to offer you her home while you picked yourself back up, and started looking for an apartment. You'll humor her for the time being. 

"She's right," Shoko pipes up. Her dark circles are even more prominent tonight. You guiltily think it has more to do with you than with her patients, but she and Utahime have insisted that you stay with them. 

"It was for my sake, more than theirs." You say honestly, tucking yourself into the couch. "They...don't care about me. At least, not like they do each other." 

Utahime rolls her eyes. "You are blind." She says. "Those two were obsessed with you. I'm just glad you got out while you could." 

You laugh, but it beats crying all over again. Utahime doesn't find what she said as funny. She chides you again, something about being oblivious before she settles down to watch the movie she put on. Shoko falls asleep right at the intermission. Her head falls against your shoulder. Utahime leans against you too. And it's nice to have friends to fill the void they left. 

~

Satoru appears first. 

You woke up later than you would have liked. Your eyes are itchy and red from crying all night. Utahime was more than happy to give you her guestroom, but you know you can't take advantage of her kindness for too long. Tomorrow, you'll start apartment hunting. 

Today, you'd sit on the couch and eat ice cream. 

When you go downstairs, you hear a hushed whisper. Utahime's by the door, using her body to keep someone out. She looks angry. 

"-No one's here but me. Now get the fuck off my property." She seethes. 

You recognize his voice. You aren't ready. "Have you heard anything? Anything at all?" 

"No." Utahime gripes. "So go, Gojo-" 

He catches your eyes. Your heart gets stuck in your throat. 

He's taller than her. It takes little to no effort to barrel through her body, easily shoving her aside to get to you. You flinch, his touch burns when he grabs you, pulling you into his arms. 

"Oh, baby." He sighs into your hair. "There you are. Missed you." 

It's too soon. You aren't ready. You can still feel the emotions bubble up from that night, when you collapsed in Utahime's arms, sobbing your heart out. This wasn't fair. They never made it fair. 

You cast a glance at Utahime. She was scowling, close to boiling right over the edge. It gives you enough strength to try to push Gojo off, but he only lets go, when he wants to. 

"Okay." He smiles, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon. Let's go home. You had us both so worried for a sec, but if we explain everything to Suguru it'll be okay." 

You find your voice then. As well as your strength. His grip on your hand isn't all that tight. It slips away when you gently shake him off. Satoru stops, confused. 

"Satoru..." You start. "Didn't you get my text?" 

He rolls his shoulders, agitated. "Yeah, but-but it doesn't matter." 

There it was. His lovable personality. Casual careless, nonchalance. For once, you aren't annoyed by it. Maybe your grief made you numb to it. 

"I did mean it," you say as plainly as you can, "every word." 

He freezes. You smile at Utahime. 

"Could you give us some time?" You ask. 

She frowns, but she's never been able to say no to you. 

"Ten minutes." She finally says, before she's marching back to the kitchen. You still hear her muttering while leading Satoru back to your room. 

"I'm sorry." He says when the door shuts behind him. 

"For what?" 

He runs a hand through his hair, taking off those glasses he loves so much. You can't look him in the eyes for too long. It brings up too many memories. 

"I fucked up, right?" He says, he sounds desperate. You've never heard him sound like this before. "I'm sorry. I dunno what I did, but I'm sorry." 

You shrug, picking at the lint of your sleeves. "You didn't do anything. I just...it felt like a good point to just-" 

"-Leave us?" He cuts in. "Come home, baby. I'm so sorry, just come home and we'll figure this out." You look away because you can feel the tears burn up. 

"You didn't do anything." You insist, but your voice is weaker. 

"Was it Suguru? Did he do some bullshit?" Satoru interrogates. "What'd he do? I'll kick his ass, I promise." You hide your smile underneath your sleeves. 

"He didn't do anything either," you assure, "neither of you did." 

He's getting more and more desperate. "Then why did you leave us? What's wrong with us? Why can't we go home and talk this out? Please come back, baby; home doesn't feel like home without you." 

Isn't this what you wanted? A confession. Evidence that they wanted you just as much as they wanted each other. Satoru certainly did. Suguru did, too, considering how hurt Satoru implied him to be. A week ago, you might have been over the moon, too wallowed in self-pity to do anything but agree, run back into their arms, and willingly sink back into 2nd place all over again. 

But the thought of going back to their home makes you feel sick. 

"I can't." You decide. "I just can't. It's over, Satoru." 

I'm sorry. You keep that last line to yourself because you're too scared to crack in front of him. Shatter. Splinter. 

Satoru doesn't share the same sentiment. You hear movement, and when you look up, he's crying. 

A part of you wants to hug him, but you hold yourself back because he isn't yours anymore, and maybe he never was. Still, it hurts seeing him like this. The piece of you that still wanted him is ready to forgive and forget. Your vindictiveness keeps it at bay. 

"That's not fucking fair." He's saying through his tears, even when he's crying, he's beautiful, "You-you can't just ditch us like this. You don't get it; we can't live without you. It's killing us; you're killing us, baby." He staggers forward, in a way that makes you afraid he might fall. In the end, he just collapses on the bed. Eventually, you take a seat next to him. 

He's looking around, you catch him eyeing the pile of clothes in the laundry basket. The hair ties on top of the drawer. The plushies on the bed. You think it might finally be starting to sink that that you're truly gone. 

"Suguru can't sleep these days, y'know that?" He starts, a sardonic laugh in his throat. "He pretends to, but he can't. He stays up all night just wishing you'd come home. The guy is miserable without you, and you can't even gimme a fucking answer." 

His voice cuts you just the way it's supposed to. You wince, feeling his words slice into his skin, finding their way into your heart. You look at his shoes for a moment. He didn't bother to remove them. Maybe that's another reason why Utahime was so pissed. 

"I was starting to feel like an afterthought with you two." You speak. "I mean, it makes sense, you two were together, first. I thought the barrier would just take time to go away....but then it didn't." 

How many times has Suguru taken Satoru's hand over yours? How many times has Satoru forgotten your drink but not Suguru's? How many inside jokes you didn't understand? You always felt petty for being jealous over the tiniest things, but those tiny things kept getting bigger and bigger until it felt like they'd been purposely building that barrier themselves.

You were sick of feeling like the third wheel in your relationship. 

"Baby..." Satoru's voice is tinged in guilt and you can't look at him because you can feel the tears start to well up. "I-I didn't realize." He grabs your hand. 

"Come home." He pleads. "We'll fix it, I promise. We'll be better. We'll do better." 

You shake your head, slipping away from his grip. 

"It's too late." Your voice is shaky. Please let him not notice. Please, please, please for once can his oblivious about everything but his one and only work in your favor? "You can't fix anything, Satoru. Not now." 

"You haven't even given us a chance to-" 

"You should go." You stand up. Satoru follows you out the door. Utahime's already outside. She catches your eyes and nods. 

"Gojo." She speaks, tone clipped. "Get the fuck out of my house." 

He stills, frozen like the prettiest painting in the world. His eyes turn to ice as he stares at her. Utahime doesn't budge. If anything, she advances, pulling you close, acting like a human barrier between you and your ex-boyfriend. You take it immediately, nestling into her side, taking refuge from his icy stare. 

There's silence. You only relax when you hear his footsteps fade and the door slams ricochets into the apartment. And that's when you break down into Utahime's arms completely, letting her coo you into comfort. 

"Maybe I am being overdramatic," you say when Shoko comes back later that day. Utahime was enraged since Satoru left, pacing around the apartment. It's only after both you and Shoko coaxed her back into the couch that she calms down enough to take a seat next to you. 

"Maybe this whole thing is ridiculous. I-I should just go back and-"

"No." Shoko is immediately saying voice firm. "Absolutely Not." 

You can smell the hint of smoke when she came back from the hospital. You try not to assume it's because of you. 

"No way in hell are we letting you go back there after what he did." Utahime gripes. 

"He didn't do anything." You argue. "I swear, I-I was just...being pathetic." 

Warm hands lift your head up. You struggle, still shuddering from your sobs as Utahime forces you to look at her. 

Her eyes are brown. Not as glittery as Satoru's, who's eyes shine like the burning sun itself. Not like Suguru, with his celestial purple. No, hers are just brown. 

You didn't realize how beautiful brown eyes could be. Not just the color of home; the color of chocolate; the color of brownies. The way the light cast down at them made them deep and dark, like a night sky. If you looked closer, you could see tiny stars swimming around. 

"Listen. Are you listening?" When you nod, her voice softens. She tucks your hair behind your ear. 

"You deserve better." She insists. "You deserve better than them. So so much better. I know you can't see it right now, but there is better out there waiting for you." Her voice loses all momentum all at once. "Just...trust me, okay?" 

Her desperation to be heard makes you smile a bit. You nod. Her frown loosens, just the tiniest bit. She relaxes. 

"Thanks," you say after a beat. "I...I needed that. I'm glad I have goods friends." 

Utahime's hands drop from your face. She collapses into the couch cushions with a groan. Shoko laughs. 

"Told you." Shoko says, mirth and alcohol on her tongue. 

Utahime flips her off, and Shoko takes her place. She settles into your side. 

"They were assholes." She tells you. "Forget about them. And she's right, you deserve better." 

You were glad they were there for you, even when you weren't there for yourself. It felt nice that they cared. Vouched, Advocated for your comfort. They made better boyfriends than your old boyfriends ever did. Their support helped heal the Satoru and Suguru-sized holes left in your heart. Every day became a bit better. 

When Suguru eventually turned up, you were a bit more prepared. 

He's a bit nicer than Satoru was. He actually knocks, instead of relentlessly pounding on the door. He doesn't barrel through Shoko when he spots you cowering behind her. His face betrays nothing. He's still. A polite smile is stretched on his lips. Shoko isn't happy about letting him into her home, but when she glances at you, you nod. You needed to do this. You needed closure. 

And so did Suguru. 

You don't speak to him until you're shut in your room. Geto cuts the silence first. 

"How have you been?" He asks nicely. 

"Good." You respond. "You?" 

"Good." 

Conversation stilts. You don't know what to say. Luckily, your ex is never the man who stays silent for long. 

"How's living with Shoko and Utahime been?" He asks, "I'm surprised you've put up with them for this long. They were pretty scary in high school." 

"I bet you two were scarier." You counter. 

He smiles. It's soft, looks good on him. You find yourself smiling back. When you take a seat on the the of the bed, he doesn't follow. You don't know whether to feel glad or not. 

"Yeah, I'm not the proudest of those times." He admits with a sheepish laugh. 

It dies down, and you know the artificial barrier between you two has broken. You shift, waiting for the inevitable. 

"Satoru told me what happened." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Angel. We-I didn't know how you felt. Everything was so perfect, I just thought you felt the same." 

"It's fine." You assure, and this time, your throat doesn't clog up, and your eyes don't feel itchy. "Really. It's-it's fine." 

"It's not." Suguru shakes his head. "You'd be in bed with us if it were." 

That comment pricks something deep within your skin. You swallow, turning away from his piercing purple eyes. They were much like Satoru's. Breathtaking, you could stare at them for hours. You used to. 

But now, you don't have that desire anymore. 

And maybe now that you aren't so attached, maybe you could try being a little more honest. 

"I was jealous." You finally admit. "I couldn't help it. I-I always felt like I was fighting within my relationship. You two were so much closer to each other than I was. Than I ever could be, honestly." 

Suguru frowns, troubled. 

"That's not true." He insists, soft, but something's burning underneath his tone. "Satoru and I have history, but that doesn't mean-" 

"I was runner-up." You cut him off. "For both of you. Looking back, I'm not really upset. It was always impossible for anything to come between the two of you. This-" You gesture between you and him "-was always inevitable." 

"It's my fault." You smile at him, hoping it comes across as sincere as you feel. "I couldn't stand being second place." 

He moves then, kneeling in front of you. Eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He catches your hands in his. You let him. A parting gift. 

"Angel." He starts. "We never once thought of you as that." 

You shrug. "It doesn't matter." You reply. "It's how I always felt. You can't really change the way I feel about things, Suguru." 

You think he's realizing that he's beginning to lose you. His grip gets tighter as if he can physically keep you with him at the very least. He shifts until he's right at your knees, looking up at you desperately. 

"Come back." He insists, abandoning his persuasions. "Just...come back. At least for a little while? We can try again, can't we? Just give us a second chance?" 

It's strange, they don't look too similar, but you can see the similarities. Wow, they're just perfect for each other, aren't they? Yin and Yang. Two halves; one whole. 

You were always a leftover. You just had to learn that the hard way, through days of heartbreak, crying, and sobbing your heart out. It took you awhile to understand that the affection they had for each other is different from the affection they had for you. 

You shake your head. His hands nearly crush yours. 

"I love you." 

It takes you a while to figure out what he said. When it does sink in, your world tilts. Your heart stops at his abrupt declaration and you must stare at him because why? At first, you think he's just desperate: lovebombing. And then you look into his eyes, his sincerity. No, he means it. It makes you feel worse. 

"Satoru does, too, but you know him-he'd rather die than admit something like that." Suguru gives a bitter laugh, one you find familiar even after all this time. "I've always wanted to tell you but thought it was too soon. I thought we had all the time in the world." His voice tapers so he doesn't have to say the obvious but clearly you three didn't. 

You want to reach over, tuck a stray lock behind his ear but you stop yourself because he isn't yours anymore. You gave it all away when you ran. Instead, you curl your hands around his in silent understanding. 

You don't know how you didn't realize it before, but Suguru is less put together than usual. His hair is typically well-groomed and shiny, but now you see split ends. His eyes are clear and bright, but today...they aren't. A dull purple. Hazy violet. 

He's miserable. 

You did this. This was all you. 

"Satoru misses you," he says, "always had. Barely smiles anymore. I don't think I can blame him." 

They loved you. They love you. This was all what you wanted. Just a bit of recognition. There's a tiny part of you that's still itching to jump back in Suguru's arms, kiss him until you're out of breath 'just kidding! it was a prank! let's go home!' and then you two would leave hand-in-hand back to Satoru. 

Going back to them would make them happy, but not you.

But Shoko was right. You deserved better. 

 "It'll get better." You assure. "You'll heal." 

Day by day, the cracks in your heart start to seal. Bit by bit. It may never heal over completely, but you know you'll be okay one day. And they'll be alright too. Who knows, maybe in a couple years, you'll all laugh at this. 

Suguru shakes his head and stands up. His eyes are just the bit glassy, but he's blinking them away before anything gives. It's just like him, honestly, so you're not too upset. 

"You don't get it." He's smiling, not quite in humor. "I don't think you'll ever do but..." He trails off, mid-thought. 

"But what?" You press. 

Then he sighs and closes his eyes. When he looks at you again, his signature pleasantly cold smile is on his face. 

"I did all I could, I think." He turns around, abrupt. "I'll see myself out." 

You're caught off-guard by his sudden departure, but by the time you're following him, Shoko's already leading him out the front door, locking it with exasperation. 

"Is that it?" She asks. "They won't be barging in anytime soon, right?" 

You stare out the window, watching as Suguru gets in his car. Something bubbled in your stomach. 

~

It was one of those nights. Shoko had come back early. Utahime was back from the school. You had planned a cute little evening for the girls and a relaxing night in. You had everything: wine, freshly-prepared dinner, a cheesy horror movie, and an announcement you're sure they were more than happy to hear.

You had just settled down the blanket when you hear Shoko come through the door. You take off her coat before she can even touch it, excitedly flitting around her. 

"What's gotten you in such a good mood?" Shoko asks, her dark circles even more profound than before. You don't have to feel guilty about those for long. 

"You'll see!" You chirp back. 

Utahime strolls out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. Her hair is still wet. You'll ask if you can blow dry it later. 

"That's what you've been saying for nearly an hour now." Utahime groans. "Just tell us already. Or at least, me."

"Patience." You chastise. "But, it's a good surprise, I promise." 

She's not satisfied, but she sits down anyway. They eat dinner, complimenting your skills all the while. You preen at their praise. It's a stark contrast between Suguru and Satoru, how cold they'd often been whenever you did something nice for them: tilted smiles, less-than-receptive words of 'oh baby you didn't have to'. 

As you lived with both couples, you can see the similarities. Utahime's temper is close to Satoru's, but that's where the similarities stop. She's more serious and less likely to blow off your feelings with a playful huff. Shoko and Suguru share the same laid-back personality, but Shoko is always there to listen to you instead of cutting you off with condescending sympathy. 

Wow, maybe Satoru and Suguru were a little more shitty than you initially thought. 

Eventually, the night draws to a close. They're drunk, full, and smiling. Perfect. You clear your throat just when Shoko refills her fourth glass. 

"Again, I'd really like to thank you for letting me stay." You start. "It meant so much to me to have two amazing people to support me like this. So, thank you." 

Utahime smiles. "Don't thank us," she says, "again, you can stay for as long as you want-forever, honestly!" 

You nod. "Well, I don't think I have to do that anymore." 

Shoko freezes mid-sip. 

"What?" She asks. 

"I talked to my parents." You tell them, oblivious to their stone faces. "And I'm going to move back in with them, just until I get back on my feet. Isn't that great? Now, you two won't have to-" 

You stop when you finally notice how cold they look. Utahime looks close to tears. 

"What's wrong?" You ask. 

"You're leaving?" Utahime asks, her voice nearly cracks. "Why?" 

That...wasn't what you were expecting. Shouldn't they be glad the third wheel is finally out of their house? Why does Utahime look so heartbroken? Why is Shoko so quiet? What was going on?

"Isn't-isn't this what you wanted?" You fumble with your words. "Now, you don't have to share the house with me anymore. It'll be just the two of you again." 

They exchange glances, and it reminds you of those secret conversations Suguru and Satoru used to have. Except this time, you can read their faces. 

"What if...we don't want it to be just the two of us anymore?" Shoko starts, hesitant, reproachful like she's approaching a scared wild animal. 

Your eyebrows scrunch. "I don't understand." 

At that, Utahime drops her head in her hands. "Oh, c'mon! We've been doing this for weeks! You can't be that oblivious-" 

And then, she stops herself. Looks at you. You stare right back, and the three of you have the exact same realization at the exact same time. 

"Oh." You breathe. 

"Oh." Utahime whispers. 

"We're all idiots." Shoko says behind her glass. 

"Wait wait. Hold on." You backtrack. "You-you two want...with me?" 

"Yes!" Utahime exclaims. "Yes! God, now everything makes sense. I thought you were just trying to let us down gently, but this whole time you just weren't even paying attention!" 

"No." You argue, face hot. "You two were just really subtle." 

"We all sleep in the same room, these days." Shoko lists. "'Hime sat on your lap with nothing on but a bra and panties." 

"I thought we were just doing friend things!" 

"What kinds of friends sit on your lap, half-naked?" Utahime asks, mortified. 

"I-I-" You give up. 

All this time. You were mourning over something you lost months ago, even when there was something blooming right under your nose. God, you're an idiot. 

Hands. They clasp your own. You look up into Utahime's pretty brown eyes. 

"We want you to stay." She whispers. "We want you." You take a glance at Shoko. 

"Do you want us?" 

You take a deep breath. 

You nod. 

She's smiling, and then Utahime's kissing you. Soft, so soft, nothing like the possessive kisses Satoru gives you. It's innocent and adoring and you find yourself melting into her completely. 

Utahime disappears and before you can mourn her warmth, Shoko's lips join yours. You can smell the alcohol, the slightest sting of cigarettes. You don't mind it. Her kisses are nothing like Suguru's, all powerful and domineering. She takes what you give her, asking ever so nicely for more. 

You break away, panting. 

"You good?" She asks. 

You nod. 

"Good." Shoko hums. "Cuz we're gonna fuck you now." 

"What?" 

Shoko pushes you down on the couch. You land with an oomph before Utahime's descends on you with a flurry of kisses. 

"Waited so long to do this, baby." She's sighing into your lips, fiddling with your shirt so she can pull it off. "Weeks and weeks." 

She pulls down one of your bra cups, massaging at your tits. You hadn't had action in so long, so you eagerly encouraged her movements, kissing her back with just as much fervor. Shoko takes her place next to her girlfriend, pawing at your other tit. 

"Look." Shoko purrs. "One for each of us." Her soft mouth sucks on your nipple, swirling it around her mouth. Your head leans back with a pleasant sigh. 

"Feel good?" Utahime asks. "She's good with her tongue, isn't she?" 

"Yes," you nod, and Utahime gives out a delighted giggle, peppering your face with kisses. You gasp when you feel her hand shift through your shorts, palming at your dripping pussy. 

"Poor thing." Utahime's cooing, and there's a brief hint of mockery in her tone. You've never heard that before. It turns you on even more. "They never gave you attention back there did they?" She circles your clit. "They were too busy sucking each other's dicks to pay attention to such a pretty pussy." 

Shoko pops off your tits, shifting down. She kisses her way to your stomach. You blearily watch as she adjusts herself until she's right at your shorts. Utahime follows her lead, tugging off your shorts. Your panties go next. 

And then you're staring down at them with trepid anticipation. 

"I meant what I said." Shoko says softly. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who cares for you." 

"You deserve us." With that, She and Utahime latch onto your pussy. 

They're everywhere. You have to stop yourself from cumming right then and there, arching your back as one of them sucks on your clit while the other licks into your hole. She manages to stick her tongue inside of you, and it's enough to shoot sparks through your eyes. 

"So tight." Utahime's hissing into your cunt. "Sho, after this, you wanna try to fuck this pussy with your strap?" 

There's a soft laugh, and Shoko pulls away from your clit to answer, much to your disappointment. You whine, thrusting your hips in the air. She stills you with a hush. 

"I don't think we're ready just yet." She hums. "Yet." 

When you glance down, they both are making out with your clit. It's debaucherous. Their soft lips are connected, your tiny bud locked in the middle as their spit trickles down into your pussy. Utahime groans and when you look further down, you realize she's touching herself. 

You don't know which part of this makes you cum, but you cum. It's the hardest you've ever orgasmed. There's so much stimulation that your hips buck up, trying to chase the sparks of pleasure. They let you, licking you through your orgasm. 

When you come down, your thighs fall apart, splayed against the soft cushions. Utahime still isn't finished, licking at your clit. You shudder at the overstimulation, whining until Shoko is pulling her off of you by her hair. 

"Good, baby?" She asks, crawling back up to you. You kiss her as an answer. She melts in delight. 

You break the kiss, glancing over at Utahime. 

Taking the silent request, she kisses you again. You can taste yourself on her lips. You don't mind it. For some reason, it's sweeter on Utahime's tongue. 

When she breaks away, she stares at you, face soft. "You're staying, right?" She asks you. "You'll stay with us? Because after this, I don't think we could ever let you go." 

You give a shy nod, and Utahime beams. 

"Then, you're ours now," Shoko says, settling into your side. "And we're yours. Always." 

"Always." You breathe, content, happy. You could almost go to sleep. 

Shoko slaps your thigh. 

"Not yet." She warns before propping you up. "First, I want you to sit on my face." 

Hours later, you wake up delightfully sore in bed. The two girls are curled up next to you. When you move, you can still feel the bruises Utahime left. You never knew she liked to bite so much. 

You can't even begin to remember what happened, but you don't regret any of it. Hours and hours had passed as they fucked you and fucked each other, and you fucked them. 

Shoko shifts beside you. She was always a light sleeper. 

"Awake?" She asks. 

"Yeah." You softly say back. 

She hums, shifting a little more to face you. Utahime's behind you, arms protectively curled around your waist. At your voice, her eyes twitch. 

"Shut up." She grumbles, but her arms cinch around your waist. 

Shoko stretches as she rises up. You miss her body warmth but you don't mind the view she gives as she saunters over to the dresser, pulling on some clothes. 

"I'm gonna get food." 

Utahime mumbles out her order. You say nothing because you don't want to come in between them, and then Shoko looks at you. 

"What do you want?" She prompts. 

You blink, and when you answer, Shoko smiles, and then she's out the door. 

The interaction makes your heart warm. 

Still, it can't last. 

When you go to get up, Utahime protests, grabbing your wrist. 

"And where are you going?" She prods. 

You fumble. "Back to my room?" 

"What? Why?" Utahime demands with a frown. "What's the point, you're already with us, now." 

"Oh." You blink, but you give in and slink back into bed. "Is...this really okay?" 

"For God's sake, " she hisses, but you don't count it against her because Utahime has always been a little grumpy after waking up. "Yes. We're obsessed with you. How are you so blind?" 

"We want you, and we're not like them." Her voice drops in disdain. "We'll treat you better. You're ours now. You're mine." 

"Yours." You repeat, something warm fluttering in your belly. 

"You can't leave, we'd go crazy, okay?" She seriously tells you. "If someone else takes you away, I'd lose it. And Shoko is okay with murder." 

You laugh. 

"That's not a joke." She warns. 

"I know." And you kiss her again. 

It's like that for a couple weeks. You live in peaceful domestic bliss with two wonderful girlfriends. Now that you're in an actual loving relationship, you can't tell why you ever contemplated ever going back to Satoru and Suguru. Shoko actually talked to you about your feelings. Utahime cared about your input. You weren't treated like an afterthought, second place. 

They were with each other longer than they had been with you, but they never made you feel like you had to fight for your relationship. Speaking off Satoru and Suguru, they never once contacted you after their first two attempts. They'd clearly given up. 

Everything was just perfect. 

And then, it just wasn't. 

You were in bed with them. Fifteen minutes ago, Utahime shuffled off to go to the bathroom. She still wasn't back. Half asleep, Shoko grumbled. 

"She's probably in there fighting a cockroach." She complains, but she rises anyway. "Sleep, I'll be back." She kisses you on the cheek, and then she's gone. 

Their body warmth fades, but they stay because they're tired. These days, you can't really sleep without them, so you wait for the girls to return. Two minutes pass. Then, five. Then, ten. By then, the bed is cold. 

You open your eyes, sitting up. It's so quiet. Are they okay? 

You pull off the comforter, stepping onto the cold wooden floor. The apartment feels strangely...haunted somehow. The air felt heavier now, thick with an invisible tension, like the house itself was holding its breath. It must be because you feel alone, you're sure of it. 

The bedroom leads to a dark hallway. As you make your way down, you can hear something. Voices? Murmuring. The relief almost makes you laugh. Seriously, what were you even afraid about? 

The living room is horrific. 

They look dead. You can't tell if they're breathing or not. Shoko's eyes are closed. Utahime's limp body is sprawled across the floor. There's blood on the wooden panels. 

Suguru doesn't even blink. 

"You're awake." He says it so casually, like waking up to your ex-boyfriends mauling your girlfriends is normal. 

"What..." Your voice fails, you weakly try again. "What did you two do?" 

Satoru answers, smiling with glinty teeth. 

"Isn't it obvious? We're getting rid of the competition." 

You don't understand, your brain hasn't caught up yet, you still think you can talk to these psychos. 

"It's their fault." Satoru's still smiling, but there's nothing happy about his tone. He's carrying a knife. There's blood on it. "It's all their fault. They manipulated you into breaking up with us, baby. That's how these useless sluts got you into their arms." He spits on Utahime's hair. You cover your face with your hands. 

"But, it's not like you aren't at fault, Baby." He points the knife at you. "You left us for them. I'm not letting you off the hook for that." 

You don't know what he's saying. His movements scare you, his eyes, the knife. When you glance at Suguru, you don't know what you're expecting. 

But you know you aren't expecting...that. 

His purple eyes are icy cold. Utterly devoid of any emotion. You don't think you're staring at a person, anymore. 

"You lied," Suguru says, "You lied about us not giving you enough attention. You just wanted to leave us. For them." 

You step back. They step forward. 

Those bastards would've never let you go otherwise. Utahime warned you. Looking at her limp body, you wondered if she thought they'd ever go this far. 

"I didn't." You weakly insist. "I-I wasn't lying about anything! It-it wasn't like I wanted to leave-" 

"Stop lying," Gojo insists. "Stop fucking lying already." 

He smiles again. 

"It's okay, baby. I know you'll come back with us. Right after we're done dealing with these two whores." 

"You'll belong to us." Suguru promises and he steps on Shoko's hands. "Just like always."

They were both crazy. Nothing could get through to them. Now, you would sit there and watch them maul the only things in your life that made you feel complete. 

The worst part is that everything was your fault. 

Shoko's pinky twitches. You can see Utahime take shallow breathes.

And you speak. 

"I'm sorry." 

Your weak voice makes them stop in their tracks. Satoru glances at you, Suguru does too. You can't convince them. The only thing you can do is play into their delusions. 

"You're right." You say, the tears finally feeling useful. "I just wanted to leave. I-I was just bored. I wanted something new." Suguru's lips curl and you quickly move on. "But-but the more I stayed with them, the more I realized...how much I missed you two." 

Satoru halts. You caught him. 

"I did." You stress, carefully making your way to him on feet that were close to dropping at any minute. "Every day, I thought about you two." You reach out, touching his face with shaky fingers. "I really really wanted to come back, but I was afra-afraid you wouldn't...want me back."

Satoru reaches up to touch your hand. His fingers are cold. You resist the urge to shudder. 

"You missed us?" He wonders. 

The lie feels like sand. 

"More than anything." 

His kiss is violent. He crushes you with his grip, touching and biting and everything you hate. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting him suck your soul dry. 

"Don't kill them." You whisper when he finally pulls away. "Please don't kill them. Everything was my fault." 

Satoru's face is pensive. His gaze drifts off to Suguru's. Those silent conversations you hated so much. 

Then, Satoru gives a delighted sigh. 

"You're lucky. I love you so much." He kisses your nose, before pushing you in Suguru's arms. 

"I'll clean up here. Suguru, go back to the truck." He demands. 

You don't fight, letting Suguru drag you away. Shoko and Utahime live in apartments, but you're afraid if you scream, Satoru might change his mind and gut them anyway. Before Suguru leads you off, you catch Gojo scoffing before he kicks at Utahime's face. You gasp and pray that when Shoko wakes up, she'll be coherent enough to call for an ambulance. 

I'm sorry, you tell them. I'm so so sorry. 

Suguru pushes you into the backseat of their vehicle. You obediently take a seat. 

"You shouldn't have left." He tells you. "You should've stayed." 

His face is cold, but his tone betrays the tiniest tremor. If you weren't so scared, you'd laugh. The irony is that he's the one who feels wronged here. 

"I'm sorry," you say anyway. 

He hums, not quite satisfied with your answer. 

"You aren't." He responds, and you hate how well he knows your tells. 

And then, he grins. 

"But you will be."

Hands reach out, gripping your neck. You flail immediately as Suguru cuts of your oxygen. You can't breathe. You can't fucking breathe. No matter how tightly you squeeze onto his wrist, digging your nails into his hands, clawing at his face. He keeps you still, keeping you there as you grow weaker. Your vision gets blurry. Your attempts get sluggish. There's a kiss on your forehead, and you black out completely. 

~

You wake up in a room you've never seen before. And your neck is sore. 

The pain drifts in as soon as consciousness does. You feel like you have a hangover, your head throbs, your eyes struggle to remain open. You can't go back to sleep either, not when it hurts so much. 

The panic doesn't settle in until you catch the cuffs on either one of your legs, keeping you attached to the bedpost. Silver chains, with enough lead to let you move around a bit. The cuffs are padded so you don't rub yourself raw. You don't care about the thoughtfulness. 

They're in the room with you, watching with silent eyes. Nausea builds up in your stomach, and you wonder how long they'd stayed there, just watching you. 

You miss Shoko. You miss Utahime. You missed people who actually loved you. 

Not these two. Monsters that lied and pretended, but deep down, they were just too selfish to share. 

"You were out for a while." Suguru comments. 

"I told you to use the syringe," Satoru remarks, but he doesn't sound too upset. At his voice, Suguru laughs. 

You shift in your spot. Suguru takes that as an invitation. He sits at the edge of the bed, watching you with satisfied eyes. You must look pathetic: shivering, in tears. He reaches up, catching your tears with his finger.

"So cute." And then he frowns. "You know why we're doing this, yes? You were bad. You need to be punished."

"I'm sorry." It's all you can say. You feel like a broken record, doomed to repetition over and over again.

"You aren't. You should stop lying." Suguru says sweetly. "But I'm sure, a couple hours in your new home will help you think about how much you hurt us."

You wanted to scream, but you can't cuz your throat still hurts from Suguru's hands, and you know he's not above putting his hands on you this time. Maybe he never was, you just never saw this side of him until you made him snap.

"You're leaving?" You stumble, moving as they back away but the chains only take you so far. There are no windows, and when Suguru shuts the light off, the only thing that's keeping you from the dark entirely is the light emitting out the hallway.

"Wait." You beg. "Please. Wait, don't-don't leave me here. I'm sorry. This is scary. I'm scared."

Satoru hesitates at your broken voice. Like a shark smelling blood, you pounce.

"Satoru, please."

"If you keep coddling, then the lesson will never be learned." Suguru warns.

Satoru stares at you. He's not wearing his sunglasses. You can see him for what he is now.

"I love you." He says it so sincerely, you almost believe it. "This is for your own good."

The door shuts, and everything goes dark.

[pseudowho]

You hadn't heard Kento arrive home, but moved from garden to living room like a moth to the flame, when you heard the telltale clink-clink of him removing his harness.

You sidled up behind him, a tease in your voice, dragging one languid finger down his spine.

"What's a guy like you, doing in a place like this, huh?"

A low chuckle. "I'm sure I'm meant to be here."

You bit your lip. "Me too. It must be fate. Does your wife know you're here, Mr...?"

"Nanami. And I certainly hope she does."

You weaved your way round to face him, now, sliding your hands from broad chest to shoulders, all peaks and valleys of stone.

"And what would she say," you whispered, circling one fingertip over his chest until he shivered, lifting one knee to brace against his hip, "if she knew there was someone like me, here?" Kento looked down at you, honey-rich eyes narrowing, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

"That's what you want, is it?" He whispered back, low voice barely audible in the moonlight-flood living room. "A little...roleplay?" Your eyes glimmered at him in confirmation, and he chuckled. "Alright, then." You felt yourself tremble with anticipation.

Abrupt and firm, his smile replaced by a scowl, Kento removed your leg from his hip.

"Get your hands off me."

You gawped at him. Kento stepped back, clearing his throat, and adjusting his tie, the wedding ring glinting on his finger.

"I'll excuse you, just once, but I'm a married man. Happily."

"Kento, I--"

"That's Mr.Nanami to you. I don't recall us ever meeting, and I don't enjoy such intimate familiarity with strangers."

"--you are just so--"

"I'm sorry for whatever has happened in your life, for you to have such little self-respect, or respect for others, that you have such ill-intent towards a married man--"

You withered onto the sofa under his cool tirade.

"--but I wish you all the best in your future endeavours, while I wait for my wife."

"You are a fucking nightmare--"

"And how did you get in my house? I'll give you ten seconds to leave, before I call the police--"

You screamed into a sofa cushion.

"--do you have somewhere safe to go? Are you hungry? Thirsty, certainly. I can pay for a taxi--"

You felt your soul leave your body.

"--I do hope we don't meet again--"

You laughed, humourless, face down in the pillow.

"-- good day to you."

Kento walked away to the bathroom, leaving you prone and mortified on the sofa. You heard the shower start to run. You lifted your head, shouting at him, furious in your laughter.

"Fuck you for being so fucking pure, Mr.Nanami! Your wife is a lucky woman!"

A deep laugh from the bathroom. "Yes, she is."

[sunflowerwinds]

talking body | v.a

summary: when black haired hot head pitfigher vi catches your eye at a club, you’re determined to get your hands on her. taking her home with you reveals a side you never thought she had.

pairing: fem!reader x pitfighter!vi arcane

contains: mature language and content (18+), bratty!vi (if you squint), sub!vi (WE CHEER), soft!dom!reader, munch!vi, thigh riding, vi is going through it :/, light mommy kink (it’s mentioned a few times. if it’s not your thing, don’t read!)

word count: 3.8K

a/n: …. i’ve never written anyone but the reader being submissive so let me know if this satisfies everyone!also thank you to my love nat for opening my eyes to the mommy realm <3

The first time you saw Vi wasn’t at a pit fight.

No, it was at the club that was above the pit fighting arena. You and your small friend group would go often to said club, drinking to forget about the miserable lives you were living in Zaun. You saw her across the strobe-lit floor, weaving in between bodies with heavy feet dragging across the ground and a glass of who-knows-what in her bandaged hand.

Her oil black hair with matching eye makeup and wrapped chest that she wore as a shirt pulled you in.

You were… entranced by her.

But as soon as you had locked your eyes on her, your friend tapped your shoulder to hand you another drink for the night. When you looked back eagerly in hopes of finding her, she had disappeared in the sea of local Zaunites.

After that night, you never thought you would see the woman again. It was another night at the club when one of your friends informed you of the pit fight just a level down, asking if that was something you were down to go to.

Unfamiliar with the underground ring, you agreed to tag along. You were curious about what these pit fights entailed.

Your friend led you down a hidden passageway from behind the large bar area in the club, shouting to be careful with your steps. You nodded to show you heard her, glancing down at your heeled boot-covered feet to make sure you wouldn’t trip and bust your ass.

Rounding a few more corners, you were blinded by bright lights and a huge crowd. Before you could register where you were, your friend sped up her movements when she heard the cheering grow louder with excitement. You held up a hand to cover your sensitive eyes as you let her guide you to a seat.

As you peek through other sweaty bodies to see down into the round pit in the middle, you spot a familiar head of hair. Your eyes squint as you duck to try and get a better glimpse of that irritatingly attractive stranger. The large man in front of you, cursing at the fight below finally stepped to the side in frustration to leave his spot.

There circling her opponent with smudged black eye makeup and dried blood seeping in her bandages was that fleeting woman from that night. It was undeniably her.

Her movements were so similar to that night. There was no doubt in your mind that she was intoxicated. You couldn't blame her. Taking this many hits to the head had to mess with you.

“She’s so your type!” Your friend shouts over the crowd.

You watch her deliver a few more hard punches to her opponent, the body becoming unconscious and hitting the hard concrete ground. Her fist raises in the air to show her victory.

She absolutely was.

That night ignited a determination to get closer to the pit fighter in however many ways you could. You wondered what she sounded like, if she would flirt with you, and if she did, if you would seduce her into coming home with you to give her the time of her life.

Another week passed before you saw her again. Another club, another night to get fucking wasted and fuck some random girl. That is until you saw her sitting at the bar instead of messily dancing through the drunken bodies on the dance floor.

Her back was turned, her head slightly tilted down but you could tell it was her. She sported a heavy leather jacket with a hybrid wolf painted on the back of it.

You glance down at your own outfit, adjusting the way the top was fitting on your breasts. Your short-short’s hug your hips and plump thighs, the see-through fishnet tights underneath the shorts decorating your legs.

Before you walk over to her, you inform your friends of what you are going to accomplish: getting into the hot pit-fighters pants. They all wished you good luck and sent thumbs-ups before you went on your way.

Pushing your way through sweaty bodies, you find yourself sitting on the stool right next to her. You sneak a few glances at her hunched-over figure, admiring the slope of her nose and the smudged black makeup underneath her eyes.

Her long pointer finger was tracing the rim of the glass, the drink seeming to still be full. You wondered why she hadn’t drunk it yet.

“Is there something I can help you with?”

Her voice was softer than you were expecting. Her words were somewhat slurred, revealing her clear intoxication. Her harsh words threw you off your game for a split second but you brushed it off.

“I’m just looking to get a drink,” you reply slyly, not fully facing her just yet. “You need a new one?”

You motion to her full drink, tilting your body towards her now. Her eyes flicker to said cup then to your frame right next to her. Her eyebrows rose for a moment as she checked you out. She tried to be discreet but her eyes were slower paced than she thought they were.

You had to hold back a triumphant grin when they lingered on your chest the longest.

“I’m fine, thanks,” she told you as her fingers wrapped around the glass to lift it to her lips.

You watched as her throat bobbed as she downed the hard liquor, tilting your head to now check her out herself. After setting her glass back down, she pinched the bridge of her bandaged nose.

“Are you alright? You look pretty beaten up there,” you hum, a frown on your face as you lean in a little closer.

She shook her head to try and wave off the obvious pain that was settling in her head.

“‘M fine. Can take a few hits, dollface.”

You couldn't help the satisfied grin that spread onto your face at the pet name.

“Never said you couldn’t,” you shrug your shoulders.

The bartender walked over to you two, jerking his head to you as a silent question. You ask him for a singular shot of tequila, needing some more confidence to get to relax. Once he sets the shot down on the slightly sticky counter, you down it immediately with a soft sigh.

“I think those hits to the head made you not good at taking hints though.” You hum as you set the shot glass aside.

Her head turns at your words, the subtle raise of her eyebrows making you tilt your head as a challenge.

“If you want, I could help ease that ache you have in that pretty head,” you hum as your finger raises delicately to trace her wrapped arms, watching her fingers twitch. “My place is not too far from here.”

You can see the gears in her head turning, contemplating your offer. The flashing lights from behind the two of you only increase her pounding headache.

“Do I get a name, dollface?” She hums, now fully turning her body towards you.

You hold back the moan in your throat now seeing her up close like this. The torn skinny jeans clinging onto her thighs delectably and her broad shoulders that you would want to sink your teeth into. You even noticed the scar on her lip, making her all the more beautiful.

You lean into her ear to tell her your name, pulling away to peer into her light blue eyes.

“And yours?”

Her eyes flicker down to your lips for a moment before pouring into your own: “Vi.”

The second your apartment door shut behind Vi, you practically shoved her into the small space to attack her hungrily. Vi released a soft noise at your lips attaching to hers, and her hands instantly found your waist.

Your hands slithered up the back of her head, fingers entangling with her oil-back hair. It was definitely dried out and damaged but hearing her moan soft against your lips as you tug at the strands made it an insignificant detail.

You pull away to ghost your mouth over her own, smirking to yourself at the way she tried to follow your addicting lips. That hair pull flipped a switch inside Vi, a shiver running down her spine.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you teasingly scold as you place a hand on her bandaged chest to keep her back. “So impatient, baby.”

Vi huffs out a flustered sigh at your words, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her hands were tightened in fists resting on your hips. You lean in ever so slightly to graze your lips over hers, listening to her breathing stutter. You mischievously smile as her eyes flutter shut, preparing for another kiss.

Oh, you were going to have fun with her.

Taking her chances, Vi leans forward to ghost her lips over yours still. Her breathy whine makes your knees buckle.

“Can I taste you?”

You preen at the question, a lightbulb going off in your head. If you were right about the woman, she would do pretty much whatever you asked. You test that by raising your hand up to her bottom lip, using your thumb to tug down the plump skin.

Vi’s once harsh blue eyes soften, rounding with submission as you release her lip with a satisfied smirk. Your eyes flicker to your couch that is a few feet away, jerking your head over to it.

“How about you go and sit on the couch for me, yeah?” You nod, placing a feather-soft kiss on the tattoo of her name on her cheek.

Vi opens her mouth but shuts it when you raise your brows to challenge her to test it. She made her way over to the couch, keeping her eyes on you as she slowly sat down on the cushion. You follow her in pursuit, standing in front of her awaiting figure. You notice her knee bouncing with impatience, raising your hands to rest on her leather-covered shoulders.

Your couch was low enough so her head was right in front of the zipper of your shorts but her eyes were only focused on your face awaiting instruction. Your hand cups her face, rubbing your thumb over her chin. Vi lifts her chin to lean into your touch as a shaky breath leaves her lips.

“Can you take off my shorts for me?” You run your thumb over her bottom lip, a sweet smile plastered on your face.

Vi nods as she raises her bandaged arms to the button of your shorts, unhooking it from the loop. She tugs the zipper down to expose the waistband of your fishnet tights and black lace panties. Vi sucked in a deep breath at the sight, looking up at you for another instruction.

“Keep going, baby,” you chuckle as you shift your hips back and forth so she can tug the shorts down your legs.

You raise your feet a bit to kick off the shorts, pushing them aside on the ground. Vi’s lengthy fingers hooked on the holes of the fishnets, tugging your hips closer to her face to place a few kisses right underneath your belly button. Your right-hand cradles the back of her head, sighing at the feeling.

Her lips hover right above your public bone, her impatient breathing causing your hips to buck forward.

“Can I? Please?”

Vi was begging now, her hands gripping onto the meat of your thighs. Her eyes were desperate as she placed more kisses through your panties.

“Please what?” You pant, biting your lip at her neediness.

“Please, mommy.”

Vi whines looking up at you with desperation, craving your taste. A shiver traces your spine at her words, never realizing how arousing it was to have someone be so desperate for you.

“So good for me,” you hum as you signal for her to go on. “Go ahead, baby.”

Eager to please, Vi’s fingers hook onto the fishnets where your opening was and stretch it so hard that the fabric rips. The tear causes you to jump but beam at her hunger for you. She pushes your panties to the side, placing soft kisses up your thighs before diving into your sopping cunt.

You gasp at her tongue sliding through your folds slowly, lifting one of your legs to rest on the couch to open up more for her. Vi’s arm hooks underneath your thigh to tug you closer, sloppily licking through your folds.

Your fingers run through her hair to push it out of her face to stare down at her beautiful face. Her eyes were shut, moaning against you to add extra stimulation. You hum as you roll your hips against her face, her nose brushing your sensitive clit.

“Fuck, Vi. Doing so good for me,” you praise her movements.

Vi whimpers at the encouraging words, not slowing down her relentless tongue.

“You taste so good,” the black-haired girl underneath you pulls away to whine for a moment to catch her breath.

You hold back your moan at the dim lighting of a lamp in your apartment highlighting the sight of your slick glistening on her lips and chin. It was simply one of the most erotic things you’d ever seen.

“How good?” You tease as she leans back in to wrap her lips around your throbbing clit.

Vi looks up at you through hooded eyes, eyes glimmering with submission. “So fucking good.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing as she whines into your folds. Her tongue laps with determination as she feels your thighs tense up as your orgasm rapidly approaches. Vi wanted, needed you to cum on her face and she wanted to do whatever it took to get you there. She wanted to lather her face in your arousal just to see your beautiful eyes roll back into your head.

“You look so pretty eating my pussy, baby,” you praise. “So pretty.”

Oh, how much Vi ached for the sweet words you were giving her. She was heavy breathing and whimpering against your drenched cunt as her arm grips onto your thighs so that you wouldn't dare pull away. Your lower abdomen tightened as she raised her fingers to your soaked folds, teasing your entrance with her middle and pointer fingers.

Your hips jerk forward as she carefully tests the waters, inching only her middle finger inside of you. You knew Vi’s fingers were lengthy but feeling them inside of you opened your eyes to how close you were getting to your orgasm.

“Oh my, fuck,” you nod as encouragement for her to continue her movements. “Vi.”

A moan releases from the depth of Vi’s throat at how you said her name, vibrating against your cunt. Your hands were gripping onto her hair as leverage. Your knees were becoming jelly as your stomach tightened, warning you that you were approaching your orgasm.

“‘M gonna cum. Fuck, I’m close. Just like that, baby.”

Vi kept her eager pace, finger-fucking you as her tongue attacked your sensitive clit. Heat settled in your back as your hips stuttered against her face. Her eyes were trained on your twisted features as you came against her mouth.

She lapped up the cum selfishly, now using her other hand to settle on your lower back to push your hips more onto her face if that was even possible. You shiver as you chase the orgasm, trying to catch your breath at the overstimulation.

You mutter curses to yourself, attempting to calm down. Vi’s tongue and fingers slow to help with coming down from the intensity.

“How many girls have you done that too, fuck?” You chuckle, seriously wondering where she learned to do that.

Vi merely blinked up at you, breathing heavily herself. Her eyes were wide with anticipation and lingering submission.

“Was I good?” She questions, her fingers stilled inside of you.

You almost laugh in her face at the question but nod with a bright grin.

“You were so good for mommy, baby,” you coo as you caress her face.

Vi leans into your touch, shutting her eyes. You were never so intimate with hookups. It was usually you ate them out, they ate you out, and/or they fucked you or you fucked them and they left with no more than a few degrading words and harsh kisses.

This was a nice change of pace as far as one-night stands go.

“But what about you, huh? I bet you're so wet down there, angel.”

Vi nods to confirm, a beautiful whine leaving her swollen lips. You beam at the sound, glancing down at her skinny jean-cladded thighs when an idea sparked in your brain.

“Get up and take off your pants and underwear for me, yeah?” You instruct as you remove your leg carefully as it is still a bit sensitive from the orgasm.

Vi stood up on her heavy booted feet, shrugging off her leather jacket that you hadn’t even realized she had kept on this whole time. She must’ve been sweating in that thing. Confirming your suspicions, you watch as beads of sweat trickle down her toned back and shoulders. You wanted to lick it off of her, your tongue tracing every line of ink that was etched onto her pale skin.

Maybe another time if she so chooses.

This time, you sat back on the couch with your legs spread. You suck in a deep breath as she tugs down her briefs, avoiding eye contact with you. You had a confidence boost at how timid she ended up being in the bedroom compared to when you first met. She was nothing but snippy towards you.

Now look at her. Her briefs had an obvious wet patch on them but you were too focused on how gorgeous her body is.

“Look at you,” you praise as you hold your hands out to invite her into your lap.

Vi sucks in a deep breath as she makes her way over to you, eyes trained on yours. You send a sweet grin as you mutter ‘good girl’ as she straddles your left thigh. The feeling of her drenched cunt against your fishnet-cladded thighs sends a shiver down your spine.

It’s like she had read your mind.

Her hips greedily ground down on your thigh, visibly shaking at the relief she was getting. Your hands hold at her toned waist, watching her abs contract and the goosebumps rise to her pale skin.

“Does it feel good, baby?” You hum, running your palms up her torso.

Vi nods with a whimper, her hair falling in front of her face.

“Need to cum,” she mutters.

Your eyebrows raise as an amused, almost taunting chuckle at how fast she needed to cum.

“Oh, baby, you were really aching, huh?” You tease as you lean forward to place a few kisses over her bandaged chest.

Through hooded eyes, she cranes her neck to capture your lips into a soft kiss. You hum against her mouth as you can still taste your arousal still lingering on her lips, swiping your tongue over her bottom.

She mutters as she pulls away for a moment to whisper: “Wanted you to cum first.”

You can’t help but smile so wide that your teeth clank against one another. You move on from her lips to mutter sweet nothings into the crook of her neck, licking over the gear tattoo on the side neck. The shivers and moans that follow only encourage your filthy motives.

As her hips pick up their movements, you pull away to look down at your thigh that was glistening from her slick. Vi’s strong hands were resting on your shoulders as she was craving her orgasm that was mocking her.

Her already smudged black eyeshadow was somehow even more messy at this point. The sounds of her begging and moaning to cum were addicting.

“‘M gonna cum. Can I?” She shivers as she places a weak kiss on your lips.

Her brows furrow and her mouth falls permanently open as her pathetic moans leave her throat.

“Cum for me. You’re so— fuck, Vi.” You nodded as you sat back to watch her movements pick up.

Her desperate ‘ah’s’ fill the small space of your living room, folding her body over to rest her head on your shoulder. Your hands were settled on her waist, encouraging her to keep going.

Vi’s orgasm tore through her body, her grip on you tightening for a few seconds to try and hold herself up. Her whole body shook, her shoulders heaving up and down rapidly.

“Just like that. Good girl, Vi. So good,” you praise as you run your hand up her back. “Did so good.”

Vi’s forehead was still resting on your shoulder as she tried to catch her breath now more tilted into the crook of your neck. She huffs as she carefully sits up, removing her hands from your shoulders.

“Hey, it’s okay. Be careful.”

Your hands moved back down from her mid-back to rest on her hips.

After a few more minutes of the two of you letting yourselves calm down, the two had peed and washed your hands after your orgasms. You were awaiting the woman to come from your bathroom as you had moved to your bedroom.

Vi immediately asked if she could sleep at yours for the night. You smile at her tired state, slow sighs leaving her lips as she crawls onto your bed with her briefs back on now.

Your whole body was light as you allowed yourself to relax on the mattress, slow breathing as you were fighting sleep. Vi’s head was resting on your chest, bandaged arms curled around your torso. You hesitantly raise your hand to run your fingers through her hair, watching her eyes flutter shut at the feeling. Her lips brush past your collarbone as you feel her open her mouth, thinking she is going to kiss you.

What happens next throws you off guard.

“Cait.”

You blink at the mutter of a name you swore wasn’t yours leaving Vi’s lips. You wait for a moment to see if she does it again but she seems to be only muttering nonsense to herself. Feeling like it was inappropriate, you don’t speak on the matter, watching her drift off into a deep slumber.

You couldn’t even be mad at the woman, assuming what she might be feeling at the moment. And you were just too tired to care that much.

Vi doesn’t seem to notice her slip-up and knocks out against your chest, body stilling. You stare down at the slope of her nose and the small of her eyelashes and wonder who the hell could she be heartbroken over.

And if you wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of soft sobbing, you won’t say anything either.

TAG-LIST: @tearouthearts @onyxherman @prwttiestbunny @pumpkin-eater28 @redheadsyd @cherry-n-cheeks @lunatakashi18 @caicreations @ayooooohush

[shotmrmiller]

kinktober: cockwarming (john price x reader x simon in underground fighter au)

You're no fan of real-time violence.

Movies can never replicate its visceral reality— the sharp metallic tang that clings to the air, mingled with salt and the bitter stench of the swill these local colors call beer. Even worse is having to be the one to patch Simon up with trembling, blood-slick fingers and your molars sunk into the thick of your tongue to keep your lunch where it belongs.

So when Simon sends you Price's way with a firm palm on your arse and his spit still warm on your lips, you're grateful. He'll keep ya busy.

You're not counting his blood money, if that's what he was thinking.

"Course not, love," Price says, the rings on his thick fingers glinting under the dim light overhead as he opens the door to his office. It smells of worn leather, polished wood, and layered on top is the heady aroma of tobacco, rich, unmistakable. (You will not stay if he lights one of those puppies up. You like your lungs how they are.)

"Tha's wha' the bill counter is for." You can feel the warmth of his palm seeping through your clothes— a steady presence at the base of your spine, guiding you forward with a subtle push.

You'd expected him to let you pluck a book off the well-stocked shelf that's been beckoning you since you laid eyes on it and curl up on his couch with a blanket draped over your shoulders. Maybe even chat you up with small talk, ask about your week, school/job, and how you were adjusting to this new life.

Not with his broad front curling around your back, breath warming the shell of your ear, while you stare at the smooth, raised skin on his knuckles— which is less furry than the rest of him— in hopes that you don't fall apart around the thick of his cock. He's got a hand flat on the desk, small finger slanting to the side probably from where it healed wrong, and the other's signing off paperwork you couldn't even try to understand with a clear mind, much less one that's spinning from the sheer want for friction, relief.

Your arse pulses hot from where he'd reprimanded you earlier for squirming too much.

"Quite obedient. Simon's taught ya well." He hisses when you tighten up involuntarily, indignation cutting through the sluggish heat you've been burning in at his remark. Obedient. Taught. As if you're some kind of lap dog, yipping and rolling over for a treat. (Or in this case, a cock.)

"Easy, love. Jus' a joke." The hand he'd had on the desk comes to squeeze at the meat of your ribs, a small gesture, before weaving down to your cunt, fingers spreading, feeling how well split you are around his length, lips spread wide. "I'd hate f'you to turn my own guard dog against me, eh?" His apology comes in jerky little circles, smearing slick over your neglected clit, coarse hair of your mons coated milky white.

Each stroke of his fingers only bows your spine, winding it like one would a key on the back of a doll, your muscles coiling with tension, bodily response not your own after being denied release for god knows how long.

The sharp tap on the door goes completely unnoticed by you, but not Price. His pace remains steady, continuous, as Simon walks in through the door with crimson peppered on his cream wifebeater.

"John." Through bleary eyes, you see Simon settle in the chair across from you both, legs long, knuckles angry red and swollen as he palms himself over his denim. "Gaz may or may not 'ave goaded Soap into a fight."

Price's hand stops abruptly, desperation clogging your throat, the coil beneath your navel cranked so tight you might just scream. His voice rattles you from behind. "And?"

Simon's got his jeans bunched to his knees now, cock resting heavy atop his thighs, quads' ridges shifting as he gets comfortable. He might just be a tad bigger than what you've got sitting snugly against the plug of your womb.

"They're tumblin' outside, among civil folk. I doubt gettin' 'em out will be as painless this time 'round."

Price snarls and you find yourself empty, straddling Simon's hips, your inner thighs burning at the width. "Bloody fuckin'—," the sound of his belt buckle peters off soon after he walks out the door.

Your hands can feel Simon's shoulders flexing as he runs a fist up his length, eyes heavy lidded and focused on the creamy slick dampening your curls. His cock sits long on your stomach.

"'ave a seat, then." Amusement curls his lip, usual pink scar on his lip stretched silver. Your knees don't reach the cushion he's on properly, so you place your feet right above his own for leverage, legs folded tight.

His fingers dimple your waist as you lower yourself onto him, breath rushing out of your lungs as he fills you, aching, burning, a stretch you'll never really get used to, the pinch deep in your core causing discomfort to clump your lashes together until you're flush against him.

"Sit real pretty now. Gotta wait f'r Price t'give me my earnin's."

You're gonna rip his ear off with your teeth if you don't get to come soon.

"Claws in," he mutters, thumbing your pebbled nipple through your shirt. "Won't be too long."

(It was too long but worth every bloody second in the end.)

[accidentcache]

okokokokok so i immediately brainrotted after seeing the tags on @rueclfer 's post and honestly, why not have some self indulgent dad!keigo???? bye this was AUGH.

since your daughter was a year and a half old, she's been babbling nonstop. just like her father. she constantly talks, and keigo encourages it-- unfortunately. most nights it takes over an hour for her to go to bed because she wants to debrief to her dad about the day she's had, and then ask about his-- even if she doesn't listen to it.

by four years old, she was able to hold a steady gossip session with keigo every night.

korra is currently weaving inbetween the two of you while you make a joint effort to make dinner-- keigo had already told her twice to go back in the living room with her toys and whatever movie was on the television; but she was keen on staying right inbetween the both of you. you can hear his teeth grit before the third "korra." leaves his mouth.

your daughter is standing in front of the fridge, her blonde curls pulled into pigtails that have since been mussed from a day of play and naps. she's holding her duck plushie that keigo gifted her weeks ago tight against her body, chewing on a random plastic toy of hers-- she's in the way and she knows it, with the way she stares up at her father when he reaches for the handle.

"korra, baby, you need to move," keigo tries to be gentle, but it's clear he's starting to loose his paitence.

there's a brief silence, and then your daughter points to a random sticky note on the fridge and says, "keigo."

her pronunciation is way off. 'key-go' is what came out, but it's clear she tried purely based off reading what was in front of her. she looks proud of herself-- a wide toothy grin on her expression that contrasts heavily with keigo's frozen stature.

you're not sure what he's thinking. his hand is loose on the fridge handle, and you swore some of the color drained from his face.

"korra, give daddy a minute, yeah? let mommy get you a snack and watch the movie?"

keigo's hand releases from the handle and jolts like your voice pressed a reset button to his whole system. he watches you lead your daughter from the kitchen, but it's impossible to miss to confusion and concern laced in your gaze and expression as you round the corner, your eyes trained on him until you leave.

keigo's not against his real name as much anymore. sure, to the public he's still hawks, and he's the president of the commission and a war hero and all that-- but to you; he's your husband, the love of your life, the missing puzzle piece, your favorite piece of work-- keigo.

that's a name reserved only for you. a name he's had to get used to hearing again, and had to learn to like. and he loves the way you say his name. so sweetly, sometimes scolding-- when the two of you banter with each other-- (when you moan it) but it took him a while to come back around to it.

when you return back to the kitchen after getting korra situated, keigo sighs at the gentle touch of your hand against the small of his back. "'m sorry," he mumbles almost immediately.

"for what?"

"reacting like that," keigo sets the utensil in his hand down and places both of his hands palm down on the counter. he bows his head a little and chews on the inside of his lip before continuing. "i'm not upset with her."

"i didn't think you were," you respond hesitantly, rubbing soothing circles against his spine over the fabric of his shirt. after a couple beats of silence, you speak up again. "what're you thinkin'?"

keigo sighs again, but he's not tense as he was before. loose, relaxed-- comfortable. he picks up the knife he was using earlier and continues to chop the vegetables as he was. "i'm okay with it. key-go. eventually she'll learn to say it right."

the corner of your mouth lifts a bit. "and if she doesn't?" your voice is light, teasing.

"guess i'll be key-go along with keigo," he shrugs after the words leave his mouth, feigning nonchalance, but you can tell its genuine. he's okay with it.

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

[luveline]

maybe a bombshell!reader where she is OBSESSED with touching and making out with glasses!reid and he is so confused why she is always all over him. i think bc he never went thru that horny teenage phase, or even the "honeymoon" phase of a relationship, he doesnt quite understand why she is acting that way (not that he's complaining)

tysm for requesting ♡ fem, 1k

There's something soft under Spencer's cheek. His lashes brush against it like the wing of a trapped butterfly as he wakes, his fatigue a weight on his tongue. He wonders where he is for a worrying moment, hand stretched out to feel the couch cushions beneath him. 

The sounds of you reach him from down the hall. The crinkling of your coat set up on a hook near the door, the squeak of your shoes on hardwood, and the familiar lilt of your voice as you sigh, speaking to yourself in quiet tones, "Unlucky." 

He rubs his eyes and sits up. "What's unlucky?" he asks, his throat burning. He must've been sleeping open-mouthed, which is perfect. Attractive, he thinks scathingly. He's less annoyed and more disgusted when he feels the dried drool in the corner of his mouth. 

You don't answer him. Spencer forces his tired eyes to work, sitting up on knees on the couch to try and get a look at you. He can't see into the kitchen from here, to his dismay, but he can hear the contents of your fridge door clinking together. 

You turn the corner with a bottle of water in your hands. When you see him waiting for you your smile bumps up a notch, pretty to cataclysmic, world-ending and life-ruining, all manner of awful as you hurry down the hall in your socks to kiss him. 

Why you'd want to is anyone's guess. He can imagine how he looks, curls matted at the back and frizzy at the sides. Spencer can't help cringing as your fingers weave into the hair at the nape of his neck, your lips a soft pressure against his for a few more blissful seconds. 

You pull back concisely. "You fell asleep?" Your hand comes up, your thumb rubbing gently at his nose bridge. With your other hand, you press the bottle of water to his shoulder. "With your glasses on?" 

He nods in defeat. If he didn't look like a mess, if he hadn't face planted into your fancy couch in his rumpled jeans, even if he were at his best, he's still hopeless, because they messed up his contacts again. You're vocally fond of them even if he hates them. 

"I remember the first time I saw you without them," you say, your kind thumb moving to rub a fond quarter circle into his cheek. "You were," —you steal a kiss, your nose pressed to his, pulling back and pushing in between words— "chasing the tail of that movie star." Kiss, kiss. He loses his grip on the water in favour of your arm. "You looked," —your kisses turn melty warm and impossibly softer— "so, so shy." 

You pull away to card his hair back. Not particularly gentle but never cruel, you rake his curls out of his face swiftly. "How come you never get shy with me?" 

"Don't pretend I never did," he says. It's embarrassing but it happened. 

"Fine, you did." You tuck his hair behind his ears. "Not as often as everyone thought you would." 

"You were kidding. Or, I confidently thought you were kidding. I could write it off as a joke, pity–" 

His timidity with you rose and fell and rose again. These days it simmers, waiting for you to surprise him or tease him or do as you're doing now, rounding the couch to push at him until he sits. You ease into his lap, mostly off of him, a knee to his right and a knee between his legs as your arms circle his back. He's quick to hug you rather than have you slip backward out of his arms. 

"I never pitied you," you say, kissing him again, no signs of stopping. "Don't say that. It's not true. I saw you were a catch before anyone else did, that's all." 

Spencer can't argue with you. He's honestly not interested, distracted by your weight and the heat of your lips as they part against his. To go back and tell the Spencer from a year ago that his bombshell of a coworker, the one who flirts with a sticky charmed smile, who sits on the lip of his desk making eyes at him, and who never takes the easy blows, wasn't joking? It would stunt his brain. It might send him into a cardiac episode. 

To tell him that she's in his lap more often than not? 

Spencer's lucky to be alive. He laughs as he thinks it, his stomach stirring while you scratch carefully at his scalp.

"What?" you ask, voice a stretched murmur, close enough to husky to wind him. "Tickles?" 

"No," he says, "nothing, it's nice." 

He's greedy and a total amateur, pulling your face back down to his in hopes of sparking another heavy kiss. You're enticed for a bit, but Spencer knows his laugh is bothering you, so he steals a last rough kiss before dropping his forehead into your cheek. 

You pet his neck softly. "What, Spence?" 

"It's just unreal, sometimes. It's weird." He can't hide, his glasses jabbing into his eye.

When he lifts his head, you breathe out a laugh and take the glasses from his nose. You fold them, set them carefully on the couch beside you, and meet his gaze fondly. Your lashes kiss in the corners with your smile, pretty lips a balmed pout. He can feel the waxy transfer your kisses have left on his own lips and the skin around them. You're enthusiastic. 

"What's weird?" you ask. 

"How much you like me." 

"Have you ever heard of the honeymoon phase?" 

"The romance feeling very intense at the start of a relationship until we're used to one another," he answers. 

"Right. Well, I'm used to you. I intend on honeymooning with you until you die. And you're in your prime, sweetheart, so…" You lean in with your head tilted heavily to the side, pausing with your lips only just touching his. "You'll have to get used to it," you whisper, waiting. 

Spencer kisses upward slowly. You sigh into his mouth, double when he paws at the small of your back and squeezes you close to his chest, thankful you took off his glasses. 

[batboysanonymous]

Drunk on You

Cassian x Reader

Summary: Girl's night at Rita's gets a little too out of hand, need I say more?

Word Count: 2.5k

──────────────────────────────

It had started as an innocent enough plan—Mor had suggested a girls' night at Rita’s, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she sprawled across one of the couches in the sitting room. Feyre, ever the voice of reason, had hesitated, but even she had eventually caved under Mor’s relentless persuasion.

“You’ve been cooped up with Cassian too much,” Mor teased, winking at Y/N. “We need to remind you what it’s like to have fun without him.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “I have plenty of fun with Cassian.”

“Oh, we know,” Mor shot back, smirking. “But this? This is about letting loose, drinking far too much, and dancing until your feet ache. You deserve that, Y/N.”

The others had agreed, and plans were swiftly made. Cassian had been less enthused.

“You don’t need to go out,” he’d said that evening, leaning against the doorframe as Y/N rifled through her wardrobe. His arms were crossed, his brow furrowed in a way that might’ve looked intimidating if not for the underlying pout.

“It’s just one night,” Y/N replied, pulling a sleek dress from the rack and holding it up for inspection.

“You could stay here,” he suggested, his tone deceptively casual. “We could have our own fun.”

Y/N shot him a playful glare. “You’re not going to distract me.”

“Is that a challenge?” His voice dropped into a lower, teasing register, and she rolled her eyes, turning back to the mirror.

“Cassian,” she said firmly, smoothing the fabric of the dress over her hips. “I’m going. And you’ll survive.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but when she turned to face him, his gaze softened. “Be careful,” he said quietly, stepping closer to rest his hands on her waist. “And don’t drink too much.”

“I’ll be fine,” she promised, leaning up to kiss him. “It’s just a night out”

Even as she left with Feyre and Mor, she could feel his eyes on her, his protective instincts clearly battling his trust in her.

──────────────────────────────

The music at Rita’s was louder than usual, the bass vibrating through the floor and thrumming in Y/N’s chest as she laughed with the girls. Feyre and Mor were already dancing, their bodies moving effortlessly to the beat, while Amren sat perched at their booth like the queen she was, nursing a glass of something dark and dangerous-looking.

Y/N tipped her head back and let the sharp burn of her third—or was it fourth?—glass of faerie wine slide down her throat. Her cheeks were warm, her limbs delightfully loose, and the air around her crackled with unfiltered joy. It wasn’t often that they all got to unwind like this, free from the weight of court politics, High Lord duties, and the never-ending chaos that seemed to follow their inner circle.

“I’m getting another drink!” Y/N called to Nesta, who was seated beside Amren, sipping her own drink at a much more measured pace. Nesta arched a brow, her lips twitching in what might’ve been a smirk.

“Maybe you should slow down,” Nesta said, her tone dry but not unkind.

Y/N waved her off, her laugh bubbling out like champagne. “I’m fine! It’s not like Cassian can handle his liquor any better.”

The mention of her mate brought a flicker of warmth to her chest. Cassian was back at the House of Wind, likely pacing or training or brooding, as he so often did when she was out. The thought made her smile widen as she weaved her way to the bar, ordering another round.

Hours passed in a blur of laughter, dancing, and more drinks than Y/N could count. By the time the clock struck what was likely far too late, Y/N found herself draped over Feyre, giggling uncontrollably as Mor tried to peel her off.

“You’re such a lightweight,” Mor teased, though her voice held more fondness than judgment.

“She’s gone,” Amren declared flatly, standing from the booth. “We need backup before she spills every secret this court has.”

Feyre snorted, but her eyes glimmered with concern as Y/N stumbled again, this time grabbing Mor’s arm to keep herself upright.

“She’s not going to make it up to the House of Wind on her own,” Feyre said. “I’ll call Cassian.”

“No!” Y/N protested, though her words were slurred. “I’m fine! I don’t need him—”

“You called me a malevolent goddess two minutes ago,” Amren interrupted, her silver eyes narrowing. “You need someone to carry you.”

Y/N pouted but didn’t argue as Feyre stepped away, pulling out her communication device. The rest of them waited, watching Y/N sway on her feet. Mor reached out a steadying hand when she nearly toppled over.

“Cassian?” Feyre said into the device, her tone light but firm. “We need you at Rita’s. Y/N...she’s had a bit too much fun tonight.”

Y/N groaned, leaning her head against Mor’s shoulder. “Don’t tell him I’m drunk,” she mumbled, earning a snicker from Mor.

Feyre smirked, her gaze flicking over to Y/N. “Too late.”

──────────────────────────────

Cassian’s boots thudded against the cobblestone as he landed outside Rita’s, his wings folding neatly behind him. Inside, the hum of music and the murmur of laughter greeted him, but his focus was razor-sharp as he scanned the crowd for her.

It didn’t take long.

Y/N was near the bar, half-draped over Mor as she swayed unsteadily on her feet. Feyre stood nearby, trying to help steady her with one hand, while Amren looked seconds away from dumping an entire glass of faerie wine on her head.

But it wasn’t their exasperation that made Cassian quicken his pace—it was the unfamiliar male leaning far too close to Y/N.

The stranger’s hand rested lightly on her arm, his expression overly friendly as he said something Cassian couldn’t hear. Y/N, flushed and clearly not fully aware of her surroundings, stared at the male with bleary confusion.

Cassian’s blood roared in his ears as he closed the distance, his every instinct screaming mine.

“Alright,” he said, his voice a deep, commanding rumble as he stepped between them, blocking the male’s view of Y/N. “That’s enough.”

The stranger raised his hands, stepping back with a muttered apology, but Cassian didn’t care—he was already focused on her.

“Y/N,” he murmured, crouching slightly to meet her gaze.

But her eyes, glassy and unfocused, didn’t recognize him. She stumbled back a step, her lips trembling as panic flickered across her face.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Don’t—don’t touch me!”

Cassian froze, his heart twisting. She wasn’t looking at him—she was looking through him, drunk and disoriented and frightened.

“It’s me, sweetheart,” he said softly, his voice gentle as he kept his hands at his sides. “It’s Cassian.”

She blinked rapidly, her breathing uneven. “Cassian?”

He nodded, his chest aching at the uncertainty in her voice. “It’s me,” he repeated, keeping his tone calm and steady. “I’m here, Y/N.”

Her gaze sharpened slightly, and when recognition dawned in her eyes, her entire body sagged with relief.

“Cass,” she whimpered, throwing herself into his arms.

He caught her easily, his hands steady as they wrapped around her trembling frame. She clung to him like a lifeline, her fingers twisting in his shirt as if to anchor herself.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his chest, her voice muffled. “I didn’t know it was you—I didn’t...he touched me, and I didn’t like it—”

“I know,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Her grip tightened, and he felt a swell of pride and adoration so fierce it nearly knocked him over. Even in her drunken haze, even when fear clouded her mind, her instinct had been to pull away from anyone who wasn’t him.

His mate. His wife.

Cassian leaned back slightly, just enough to tilt her face up to his. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wet with unshed tears, but she looked at him like he was the only thing tethering her to the world.

“I only want you,” she whispered, her voice shaky but certain. “Just you, Cassian.”

His chest constricted, and he cupped her face gently, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “And you have me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Always.”

She nodded, burying her face in his chest again.

Behind them, Feyre and Mor exchanged a look, their expressions a mix of amusement and relief.

“I told you she’d be fine as soon as he got here,” Mor muttered.

Cassian shot her a look over Y/N’s head, but there was no real heat in it. His focus was entirely on the woman in his arms, her breaths evening out as she relaxed against him.

“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice soft as he lifted her into his arms.

She nodded sleepily, her arms looping around his neck as she whispered, “Home. With you.”

And that was all he needed.

──────────────────────────────

Cassian cradled Y/N in his arms as he soared through the cool night air, her warmth pressed against him. Her arms were looped loosely around his neck, her fingers occasionally brushing against his skin as if to reassure herself he was really there.

“You’re so strong,” Y/N murmured, her voice slurred but filled with awe. She traced the line of his jaw with a lazy finger, giggling softly. “Like... ridiculously strong. You could probably carry mountains if you wanted.”

Cassian huffed a quiet laugh, his heart melting at the dreamy look in her half-lidded eyes. “Is that so?”

“Mmhm.” She snuggled closer, burying her face against his neck. “You’re my mountain. My big, strong mountain man.”

He bit back a grin, his chest tightening with affection. “Your mountain man, huh? That’s a new one.”

“It’s true,” she insisted, her words slightly muffled against his skin. “And you’re so warm. Like a furnace. My own personal furnace. Do you know how much I love you, Cassian?”

His heart stumbled at her words, his grip on her tightening slightly as he angled his wings to adjust their trajectory. “Tell me anyway,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

Y/N lifted her head, her glassy eyes locking onto his with the intensity only a drunk person could muster. “I love you so much it hurts. Like, it physically hurts sometimes. I see you, and my chest goes all tight, and my stomach does this weird...fluttery thing, and I’m just... I’m obsessed with you, Cass.”

His breath caught, the sincerity in her drunken confession wrapping around his heart like a vice. He’d heard her say she loved him countless times before, but there was something about the raw, unfiltered adoration in her voice that made it impossible to look away.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from her flushed face. “You have no idea how much I love you too. You’re everything to me.”

Her lips wobbled, her eyes growing misty. “Really? Even when I’m like this? A drunk mess?”

“Especially when you’re like this,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re adorable. And you’re mine.”

She beamed at that, her smile so radiant it made his chest ache. “Yours. Always yours.”

Cassian’s throat tightened, and he looked away for a moment, focusing on the soft glow of Velaris below them. He didn’t trust himself to speak, not when she was looking at him like he’d hung the stars just for her.

“You’re so pretty,” Y/N blurted, her hands moving to cup his face. She squished his cheeks together, giggling at the way his lips puckered slightly. “The prettiest male I’ve ever seen.”

Cassian snorted, shaking his head as much as her hands allowed. “You’re drunk, sweetheart. Your judgment is impaired.”

“No!” she said indignantly, her fingers tightening. “I mean it! You’re stupidly gorgeous, and it’s not fair. Like, how am I supposed to function when you look like that?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling. “I could say the same about you.”

Her pout softened into a dreamy smile, and she rested her head against his chest again. “You’re so nice to me,” she mumbled. “I don’t deserve you.”

Cassian’s brows furrowed, and he tilted his head to look down at her. “Don’t say that,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You deserve every good thing in this world, Y/N. And I’m lucky to have you.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, a content sigh slipping from her lips. “You’re perfect, Cassian. My perfect mate. My perfect husband.”

He swallowed hard, the sheer weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. By the time they reached the House of Wind, Y/N was half-asleep, her words reduced to soft murmurs against his chest.

──────────────────────────────

Back at the House of Wind, Cassian gently set her on their bed. She was half-asleep, mumbling incoherently as he tugged off her shoes.

“You’re such a handful,” he muttered affectionately, brushing her hair back.

Her sleepy protests were barely audible as she squirmed slightly, and he smiled at the little groan she let out when he returned with a damp cloth. “Hold still, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice calm and soothing. He gently wiped away the remnants of her makeup, the cloth gliding across her skin with careful precision. Each stroke was tender, as though he was memorizing the feel of her skin beneath his touch.

Her eyes fluttered closed as he wiped the makeup from around her eyes, her lashes long and dark even when they clung together with a hint of mascara.

Once her face was clean, Cassian moved to the task of untangling her hair, his fingers gentle as they worked through the knots. Her hair was soft, and he felt a strange tenderness as he ran his hands through it, as if his touch alone could make her feel cared for in a way that went beyond words. She hummed softly, relaxing further into the bed as he worked, her breath steady.

He was meticulous, combing through the strands with his fingers, untangling every knot with patience. She sighed deeply, her head tilting slightly to the side as she relaxed further, clearly trusting him. When he was satisfied that her hair was free from tangles, he took a soft, silk ribbon from the drawer beside the bed, gently taking her hair and twisting it into a braid. It was simple, but the way he threaded her hair with care made it feel intimate—like he was weaving his love into each twist and turn.

���Just a little something to keep it from getting tangled,” he whispered, securing the braid at the end with the ribbon. His fingers lingered for a moment in her hair, brushing against the back of her neck as she sighed in contentment.

When she was settled beneath the blankets, Cassian climbed into the bed beside her, pulling her close against his chest. She immediately nestled into him, her cheek resting against his heart, the steady beat of it calming her further. He adjusted his position, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear and holding her close, savoring the feel of her in his arms.

──────────────────────────────

The next morning, Y/N groaned, burying her face in his chest. “Never let me drink that much again,” she mumbled.

Cassian chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Trust me, sweetheart, I won’t.”

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Want to join my tag list? Drop a comment or check out this link to submit a specific series you would like tagged in! (Or if you just don't want to comment, that's okay too)

[stormhearty]

Parings: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 3k+

Triggers: character death, torture, blood, war

Summary: The fear that Helion envisioned had come true — the Death-God used your body to resurrect himself from the lake on the continent. But what no one had imagined, was that you would be alongside him — tainted in darkness matching the Death-God. What would the Inner Circle and Azriel do, to be bestowed your forgiveness for their acts against you? What will be the fate of Prythian with you guiding fates?

Note: The last part of “Pushed to the Edge”! I thank you so much for all the support for this requested series! Like I said, never thought people would want a continuation of that one-shot! I had so much fun writing this trilogy, and had so much fun watching everyone’s reactions! Please enjoy! Also… I will be writing an epilogue for this series. AHEM. Just to wrap everything up in an angsty bow. Also, I am always willing to write more for Seer!Reader! Don’t be hesitant to ask!

Part One | Part Two | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

The room was deathly chilled, the skies above clouding, blocking the bright sun that had ruled over Day Court. The powers of a God overtaking a High Lord’s. The two of you stood near the large balcony window, shadow and sin coating the two of you — a God and a Seer — a powerful duo shaking the very foundations of Prythian.

Kosechi’s sinister grin grew wider as he turned his heels, walking towards the dias, you follow his tail. You felt the shimmer of wards opening and the winnowing of guards, the Dawn Court’s Peregryn surrounding the edges of the throne room — all ready to attack if the Death-God lifted the wrong finger against the High Lords.

But little did they know, you were a guard dog, ready to attack anyone that would be a threat to the God — ruthless and unforgiving.

Both of you rounded the last quarter of the table, stepping up to the dias as the Deathless God took a seat on the High Lord’s seat, as you stood near him — a vision of a High Lord and his High Lady of the Darkness.

You felt it though… The stares from the Inner Circle. They did not care for the Death God that casually sitting on the throne. They only looked at you, disbelief in their features but you could see something underneath that — the look of longing and regret.

You wanted to sneer, you wanted to show any hint of disgust at the look on their features — how dare they. After everything they have done to you.

Kosechi looked at the Inner Circle, before glancing at you from the corner of his eye and he snicked under his breath.

“How unfortunate, High Lord of the Night. To have lost your beloved Seer to me…” he pointed out, casually resting head tilting on bony hands as he looked at Rhysand, grin still evident on his features. “Did you know… how the High Lord of Day had hidden her from my followers since she was young … protected her within the wards of Day Court. I’ve been waiting… Waiting for her to fall to me, and you and her mate had made that happen.”

He leaned forward, pressing his hands onto his thighs as the grin widened, sharpened teeth glistening in the light.

“She was beautiful… when my followers found her bleeding body. It took a lot of power to seize her, your shadows protecting her…” Blackened eyes staring at Azriel, “But it was a well-worthy fight. Her light was dimming, leaving an empty echo and so I filled it. Filled it with darkness, it was so exquisite, watching her light dull…”

The Death-God caught your eye and tilted his head.

You had looked at him, charcoal hues staring before you bowed your head, silently thanking him as you felt the weave of shadow up your arms, ghosting over your skin — ensuring you were safe and well protected from any danger, even from Koschei himself.

Azriel watched, those tendrils of shadow wound around you, hearing the purr of devotion to you:

“We serve,

“We protect…

“We find, we hide…

“We cherish the light…”

After your death and after the disappearance of your body, Azriel could never summon the shadows again; they did not flock to him, they did not sing to him, not ever since then — and he realized why.

He realized that despite his infatuation with the middle Archeron sister, his shadows knew exactly what he had wanted, where he should have stayed next to. His shadows were attracted to your light, like flies to fire.

And they still clung to you, even now, and would never let you go.

He tried, fisting his hand as if trying to summon his shadows back to him; however, he could hear them hiss at him:

“You failed, you lost…

“You are not worthy of her light…

“We will not sing for you, only for her…”

Your eyes snapped at him as if feeling the attempt to strip you of the shadows. Your eyes met and you just stared, much like he did to you — all those months ago. That very stare, as if reaching into the depths of his soul, causing him to stumble backward, hands bracing the table behind him — the echo of the broken mating bond aching in his chest; something he will never get used to.

“And so,” Kosechi ended*, “I would like to give my savior a gift… one that I had promised her when I had resurrected her from her unfortunate death,” Koschei cheerfully said, straightening up in his seat, “Blood… of all of Pyrthian, starting with her beloved Night Court.” He raised a hand, darkness flowing out of him.

The Peregryn saw that to be a moment of attack and charged for the Death-God, only to be killed, swiftly and silently by you.

No one had seen it, your movement from the dias to the edges of the room, as if you used the shadows to winnow from one end to the other, though impossible. You stood, surrounded by lifeless bodies of those guards, dull eyes staring at the dead, in your hand a familiar dagger — Truth-Teller, dripping in blood.

Helion, Rhysand, and the rest of the Inner Circle watched, trying to hold back the bile that was rising in their throats at the site of you.

This wasn’t you.

You were someone who would never hurt anyone.

You hated seeing war, hated seeing bloodshed — saw it too often in your visions.

And it had been your duty to ensure, with your sight, to prevent it.

And yet, now, you were the one wreaking havoc on Pyrthian.

In that instant, they knew, they had lost you, completely, to the shadows and darkness that they had drowned you in — in the darkness that the Death God had filled you up with. They had failed you, completely and they weren’t sure… if they would ever get you back.

Feyre looked at you, and took a step forward, only to have her held back by Rhysand — a feeble attempt to protect his mate, “(Y/N) …” she called out your name, as if a way to break you out of this trance, to call you back to them, “What has he done to you? We apologize for not listening to you, and for not seeing you. Please, come back home… We’ll make it up to you, we’ll do anything to bring you back… please…”

You snapped your head towards her, charcoal eyes staring at your former High Lady, a mixed look of longing and hatred towards her way. Tears swam beneath your eyes, forcing them back, “You can’t apologize now…” you seethed, “You can’t tell me that you want me back — when all you did for months was ignore me,” your voice was shaking, that small part of you, that old light you had broken through, “And home? When has that been my home for the past few months? I was alienated, thrown away, cast aside, and yet you want me to go back? For what? For you to do the same again?”

Tears broke, as they ran down your cheeks, “He has done nothing to me… You all have forced your hand to make it this way. I have asked you multiple times to listen to me… I begged all of you to listen, but here we are now…” Pained hues stared at your family, “You have doomed us all to Pyrthian’s destruction.”

That old part of you, the one that had died when you had taken your life, the one that disappeared when Kosechi revived you, cried out — cried out for the loss of your light, loss of your innocence, loss of your own life; cried for the circumstances that fell into place. That old part of you drowned in the darkness that your mate and family had subjected you to. Leaving you seeping in the darkness that the Death-God soaked you in.

And you were losing yourself in that darkness.

You never meant it, you never meant to resurrect the Death-God, you didn’t want to.

You never meant to be the cause of Prythian’s doom.

But fate… seemed to be laughing in your face.

Azriel watched the confrontation between you and his High Lady, but he couldn't glance her way, all his attention on you. He watched as you held Truth-Teller in your hand, watched as his shadows wrapped around your hand that held that dagger as if to steady it in your hand, holding back the quiver that shook your body.

He could see it, that bit of light, that piece of you that he loved so dearly — he hoped to reach out to it… to bring you back home, to bring you back to him.

He took a step forward, passing his High Lady, a hand reaching out towards you.

Your head snapped at him, glaring at him as the hot streams of tears never ended.

It was as if the whole world stilled, just the two of you in that room.

“(Y/N) …” he whispered; your name was a prayer on his lips.

Much like his was yours, for so many centuries.

He stood in front of you, a hand shakily reaching up to try to touch you, to hold you again — to apologize for his mistakes, to beg for you to come back. Azriel let scarred fingers touch your cheeks, wiping the tears that stained your cheeks. Your skin was cold, ice cold. No warmth, nothing that echoed you. But he held on, cupping your cheek and holding you near him.

You bit your lip, trembling, fighting back all the urge to lean into his warmth — to fall back in love with the Shadowsinger.

“I’m sorry… I am sorry. I will beg for the rest of my life for your forgiveness. To kiss the very ground you walk on, follow the shadows to the darkness of your soul. I will be your blade, slicing your enemies for you so that your soul doesn’t darken anymore…”

Azriel’s hand slipped down your face, caressing cold skin as it trailed down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake before grasping around your hand that held Truth-Teller. The burn of a bargain tattoo searing onto both of your skin.

He flinched slightly but kept his hazel eyes on you, his hand gripping tightly onto yours. He felt your every shiver against his hold, he felt those tendrils of shadow wrap around his hand — hissing at the completeness of the two mates.

A sob escaped you, your bottom lip shaking as you looked at those hazel eyes you adored. His words soothed the ache in your chest; it was all you had wanted to hear… all those months ago.

But you couldn’t… you couldn’t let yourself forgive him.

You wrenched your hand away from him, as your other hand reached up, mirroring him, pressing the palm of your hand to his cheek, “We had everything, Az…” your voice was hauntingly beautiful, mesmerizing, lyrical, broken, “A family that loved us, a family that we cared for… Yet you were willing to throw it away for a few moments of passion, gallivanting with Elain… You had chosen her over me…” Dark eyes looked at the Made-Fae who stared at both of you with wide brown hues.

You stared back at Azriel, who looked at you as if you were the whole night sky, “…You, Azriel, have broken me, entirely and fully. You will beg for eternity for my forgiveness… We will see to what lengths you will go through… for me…”

You brought his face close to yours, your scent of fresh soft florals — jasmine and sage, overtaking Azriel’s senses. Your lips hovering over his own, “I will show you, my love, on how much you have broken me…”

And with your other hand, you flung Truth-Teller across the room, towards Elain, stabbing her right in her chest. A scream echoed, before your shadows flooded, blanketing the room in darkness, Koschei’s maniacal laughter ringing through the dark.

Azriel had lost track of how long he had been trapped within his cell, with no remembrance of how he got there. The wards that surrounded his cell were unbreakable, one of strong, ancient magic weaving through its walls. He had tried, multiple times to break it. However, difficult; his siphons were taken away and his wings were battered. His strength only depleted day after day, with every attempt to get out. He yelled and screamed, only to be met with silence every single time — he lost all will after that.

So he sat, in that cold, dark cell, watching the sun through the small crack in the rock as his only light source.

He had no idea what was going on in the outside world — in Pyrthian.

He heard, though, through the cracks in the rocks.

He heard the whispers of Koschei’s magic and powers seeping through Pyrthian. The destruction of the world was quick and simple. The God’s power was no match for the Fae that lived, the Fae that had fought against him. He had realized that he and his family had caused this plight to fall upon Prythian.

And that you were right next to the Death-God, using those arrows made of shadow and darkness to rain havoc on both fae and humans alike. Sparing no one in its terrible wake, but…

He had heard of the whispers that you had asked to spare the High Lords from the destruction.

All but the Inner Circle.

The first time you had come to see him was three days after being locked in that cell. The shadows still clung onto your body, whispering and seething at him.

You had tortured him, physically and mentally. Using Truth-Teller to inflict wounds on skin and whispering to him on destruction that wrecked Prythian — as if you were lovers laying in bed after lovemaking.

After hours of torture, shadows swarming towards him to heal those wounds, you had lifted the silencing ward, allowing him to call out to his family — for them to communicate to each other… to keep their sanity within those walls. A kind gesture, you had reminded him. For them to listen to each other — when they couldn’t do the same to you.

What he didn’t realize was that the silencing spell was a haven — it allowed Azriel not to listen to the screams of torture that befallen his family.

He could hear the yells of his High Lord, the call of Feyre to her family, the frantic screams of Nesta and Cassian calling for each other, and the whimpers of the still-alive Elain.

There were many times when he tried to reach out — call for them, let his voice be an anchor through the pain.

He had been the reason for this destruction.

But it wasn’t enough. Eventually, Azirel stopped reaching out; there was no point, there was no getting out of there.

It was like their own Prison, but it was of their own making.

The second time you had come to see him, you had pressed Truth-Teller into his hands, dark eyes locking into dulling hazel.

“I call upon your promise, Shadowsinger…” you had told him, the sting of the bargain tattoo on the back of his neck, the call of the use of the bargain, causing him to flinch, “The blade that will free my soul from the darkness. You promised you’d be it, right?”

And that’s what he had become.

A sword of blood — against all of Prythian.

All for you.

He wielded Truth-Teller against all Fae, beast, and humans alike.

He followed your command, not a single thought but listening to your voice as you whispered with the shadows on who to kill and whom to spare — much like a puppet on a string. Slowly breaking from the inside as he raised his hand against his home.

He had thought that you’d call on him often. As he promised, he didn’t want your hands to be stained more with blood, to have your soul darken more.

But you rarely had called him, only twice you had asked him to kill for you.

When the creak of his cell door opened, hazel eyes looked up from his position on the ground, watching you enter and closing the door behind you.

You tilted your head at him your hand reached out towards him, and Azriel shifted to his feet before kneeling in front of you — his bloodied hands grasping your own and pressing a kiss towards the top of your hand — a movement of devotion.

You leaned down, hovering over him as he looked up at you, “One last time… Azriel…” you whispered, your breath caressing his skin as you pressed Truth-Teller one last time into his hands, the two of you were winnowing out of his cell.

The two of you landed on familiar lands — Velaris — and in the distance the darkening cloud of Koschei’s followers and the Death-God himself, heading towards the City of Starlight.

Azriel watched as they slowly descended into the city, his body screaming to defend, to fight… to protect his home. But he waited for your command, on your word.

What he had not expected was for your shadows to cover his eyes, cover his ears, and slither around his hand that held Truth-Teller. His senses were blocked by darkness, and he couldn’t help the panic that zipped through his body.

This wasn’t like before — you never used your shadows like this.

He knew it was torture for him, to watch himself raise his hand and blade against Prythian — it was the reason why you forced him to fight — to see watch Prythian burn in his wake.

He was confused and it showed in his features.

He felt your hand on his upper arm, through the Illryian leathers that seemed to stick to his skin. He felt your body close to his own as you whispered in his ear, “Let the shadows guide you, Shadowsinger… Let them help you kill on my command…”

Azriel felt his throat bob and allowed the shadows to guide his feet, swarming around him and allowing them to whisper to him again.

He tore against leather and skin, smelt blood that splattered onto his face, and heard the muffled screams and cries of whoever he cut down. He didn’t know who he was killing, nor did he want to. He didn’t want to see the lifeless bodies of those who lived in his home, he had passed by on the streets.

He didn’t want to see the lives of the Velarians he just had taken.

The shadows continued to whisper to him — where to turn, when to strike, when to kill — relying on them as he did once before. He and the shadows were working in tandem, following your commands.

As he walked through the streets of Velaris, he felt the world calm — the screams stopped, the smell of blood fading through the whisps of wind — as if time stopped around him.

He allowed the shadows to lead him, stepping over fallen bodies, and debris. Azriel didn’t know where he was being taken and he didn’t want to know where if it meant more bloodshed on his people.

Footsteps grew closer, and a chilling shiver ran down the Spymaster’s spine, ears picking up on the slightest sound from the direction of the footsteps, Truth-Teller armed against whoever might attack him.

“…Strike in the void in the chest…”

He let the shadow lift his arm, as he lunged forward, Truth-Teller gleaming in the light as he broke through skin, striking at the place where the shadows whispered to hit.

A familiar gasp reached his ears, and the body collapsed against him; his arms naturally wrapping around.

The shadows slithered away from his body and Azriel blinked, focusing his eyes on the figure in front of him.

In his arms, at the end of Truth-Teller was you — he had stabbed you.

“(Y/N) … What…?” his breath came out shaky, as he collapsed with you in his arms, his hand releasing its hold on Truth-Teller as it remained embedded in you, in your chest, right where the void seemed to be swirling around the dagger.

He looked around him, noticing that it wasn’t the bodies of his city that lay on the ground but of Kosechi’s army — you had commanded him to kill Kosechi’s followers.

Before he could breathe out something else, a yell echoed through the skies of Velaris. Azriel whipped his head toward the sound, and he watched Kosechi’s body strike the ground, cracks on the earth as he stalked towards Azriel — the same gaping void in his chest mirroring your own.

Charcoal eyes of the Death-God shifted from the Spymaster’s to your own, as your life was slowly leaving your body and he let out a broken laugh, “Seems that your Seer has planned this… since I had resurrected her. Our connection...” another laugh, one of disbelief, "...was our downfall..."

Eyes moved again to Azriel, “You all never deserved her…”

Azriel watched as Kosechi’s body was swallowed by the void, leaving nothing but whisps of air in his waking — the Deathless God, dead.

Not even a second later, he was focusing on your body, watching the shadows wrap around Truth-Teller, as if trying to stop death from taking your body.

“No….No!” he screamed, as he shifted you in his arms, pressing a hand against your cheek and his forehead resting against your head, “You can’t do this, (Y/N)…” as he tried to catch your eyes, hazel eyes in panic mode.

Azriel didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to think. All he could think was that he was losing you all over again — and this time permanently.

He felt tears streaking down his features, watching them fall onto your face, “What did you do, my love? Why did you do this?” he whispered against your skin.

He felt you chuckle, one so broken and shallow and he watched you look up at him, your colored hues staring up at him — one devoid of the darkness that had swallowed you up.

“I had always loved you, Azriel…” you mumbled, “… Loved you with my whole being… for centuries I had been devoted to you…”

A cough escaped your lips, dark as night blood dripping down the edge, “You will, for eternity, regret and mourn… You will be as broken as I was when you betrayed me…”

He leaned against the hand that you had lifted to rest against his cheek, your blackened blood streaking against his skin.

“You will never forget what you had pushed me to do… To save Prythian…”

With one last breath, your hand fell limp against your chest, your eyes dimming as the last of your light finally diminished. The shadows went wild against your body, their cries ringing in Azriel’s ears as he shook, he brought your body close to his.

A roar echoed through the skies of Valeris — one full of anguish and regret.

@cleverzonkwombatsludge @setayeshmohseni @kindasleepycryptid @f4iry-bell @woodland-mist @kalulakunundrum @thelov3lybookworm @hnyclover @harrystylesfan2686 @anuttellaa @ithan-holstroms-girl @judig92 @venuseuripedis @fairywriter-oracle @thehighlordishere @acourtofbatboydreams @willowpains @historygeekqueen @dr4g0ngirl @ayme301 @kemillyfreitas @crazylokonugget @abysshaven @naturakaashi @kittenbi @namelesssav @guiltyreader @awkardnerd @je-suis-prest-rachel @quackitysdrugdealer @thesunloveschips @brieflyclassymortal @justdreamstars @isa1b2h3 @himesuedi @fxckmiup @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @t0uch-starved-h0e @mybestfriendmademe

[anantaru]

— how he kisses you

including neuvillette, wriothesley, lyney, childe x gn! reader

꒰ genre ꒱ — fluff & suggestive (heavy descriptions of making out), very cute

— neuvillette + slow and passionate

neuvillette sighs out heavenly, a satisfying trace of you captivating his drunken lips when he takes your cheeks in his palms to make you look at him, then the man slowly slants forward until your body was drawn against the bed ever so softly.

a strong feeling of reverence— they always come back to his mind whenever he misses you and was forced to be apart from your soft lips, it's then and there, while neuvillette was occupied with his duties, that the man recognized that kissing you alone was bringing forth pure lightness in his life, an affection like no other and a state of simply being alive and living for the sake of it.

his lips now, finally gliding over yours a bit shaky and slow, but after a while it was followed by a passionate lap of tongue clashing across yours, a once gentle kiss that would always develop into much more than that— his tongue now, repeatedly nudges in the thick of your parted lips before he circles his wet muscle across your own, pricking at the nerves beneath the soft slide of your lips.

this form of love was shared by you, only you, and to neuvillette it was greatly more intimate than the act itself.

to note, but it was quite comical when you take his line of work into consideration, because the way the iudex kissed you felt stolen— like he'd take as much as you would give him, yet also more, he needs more, and he would indulge in it all, aside from eagerly gnawing down on your bottom lip before pulling away, his warm, lingering breathing so tenderly thumping over the saliva-stricken flesh of your lips.

then he deepens the kiss when you glissade your fingers into his long and lustrous hair, rounding your lips on top of his before a sheen outline of a satin-like whine travels from the expanse of your tongue and slithers into his tensed limbs— an eminence of a deep red manifesting, blazingly scarlet on the soft features of his face— holding a passion in this, in tasting you, and it's so unique to him that neuvillette's love for you was a boundless emotion, secured underneath his ribs, free to receive but only for you.

— wriothesley + strong and needful

an impassioned shortness of breath— and the shuffle of two frames moving beneath velvet sheets and darkened shadows when wriothesley holds your face gently in his hands before he skillfully shapes his wet muscle across your lips, spaciously molding and awaiting for entrance.

those revealing quickened breaths, they escape from his chaste kisses like they're bound to go with one another, interlace together at each new long sweep of his tongue running miles between your hearts— and ugh, the duke almost parades in a daze of your taste penetrating him, your fragrance manifesting on him until he smells of you, giving a little sigh of happiness as his bare lips were continuously hot and searing on top of yours.

but with your bodies relaxing in addition to your fire infused cheeks revealing a blossoming smile, your eyes are aglow, in a way wriothesley would never forget, not when such expression was the cause of deep happiness in him, one only you can bring forth.

desire floods your veins when wriothesley wraps his strong arms around your waist to press you close to his chest, weaving his fingers into the expanse of your shirt before his cologne planes over your flaring nostrils, adding a dot of pressure to your attempt to even out your quickening breathing.

it's almost too much— and your body was beginning to overflow on warmth, to the point where you were noticing your pulse thumping in your ears— and his broad body resting against your own was only aiding your current state, your lips pressed together and shifting, a mirage of faint sighs, cute smiles that were unveiling against you, unable to let go, not wanting to let go.

to say, wriothesley's kisses were always strong and curious, you noticed it from the very first day he had kissed you, and you wouldn't want it any other way.

because he wasn't like that— your wriothesley doesn't kiss you slow nor does he do it inexperienced, yet purely meshed in lust and need, and the man believes that it gets better each time he tastes you on his tongue, gripping you tight and refusing to let go when his head leans to the left ever so slightly before you mewl into his lips to make him swallow your sounds, only to give them back to you, his divulging noises hanging on every lap of his tongue spoken without requiring words.

— lyney + quick and excited

for starters, your boyfriend lyney will always leave you gasping for air, and when he first tastes you— there are no thoughts, no precise way and no plan, only a flame of a warm glow rising up on his face and somehow, you could tell his cheeks had to be deep red by now.

with the nuance of his spontaneous ministrations, lyney tilts his head before sliding his tongue past your glossy lips, that were a little wetter now, a bit hotter as well when you, audibly this time, whine into him but let yourself float in his wet laps of tongue and teeth faintly clashing together.

he mimics your movements, parades and calls out your weak spots, then recognizes the way he had to go on about it.

there's waves of saliva exchanging, it turned into an unending dance of barely touching each other but your lips slithering in tandem, slightly jittery when another shiver reglects inwards your figure, an indicating weakening of your knees as they shake— your boyfriend noticing how you're hanging on a thread.

your lips never break away from him all night, and you sigh contentedly at the feeling of becoming one with lyney— the reason? it's simple, because it shows a connection between two individuals, a sort of compliment to the eyes and the delicate sweetness within yourself, a smile of shyness coming from some deep emotion.

and that's a beautiful thing to lyney, to someone who demonstrates a fake personality as a well known magician— that for one, there's something real he was able to feel and experience through you.

— childe + intense but delicate

in the general run of things, no one has ever made you feel like this except for childe— never has someone treated you with such devotion as he did, like you were something so fragile that he needed to protect, had to hold your face in his warm palms ever so gently, ever so featherlight.

to be treated delicately, just as a brief touch from a ray of sunlight, it's soft, and warm, and comforting— and for one, ajax gave you a smile of pure innocence, one that wasn't usual for someone holding the title of a harbinger, but with you it's like he can show a real connection, a hidden tenderness towards the person he desired.

don't panic, don't think, just focus, just let ajax focus on your lips and taste them on his tongue, outline them with the tip of his muscle as he nibs down before pulling away, a string of saliva keeping you both connected and intwined, his thumbs stroking slow circles on your warm cheeks before he draws himself back in again.

your mouths move upon one another intensely, then slowly, as he prances his tongue upon your mouth for another greedy taste— his flushed face an utter mess when you sigh out heavenly, his cheeks blushing brightly as he follows the motion of your pink muscle and glosses through your mouth with lust— like it's a natural force for him to suck on your tongue.

but he lifts his head for a little to regard your eyes that had been barely open, inhaling deeply and cherishing a moment such as this one when your bottom lip quivers of glossy saliva— the mere sight of you pulling apart every sense he had and impassioned him with terrible feverishness, like childe was about to take his shirt of due to experiencing intense swelter.

how precious of ajax to act out from a couple innocent kisses, right?

although remember— the man was seldomly home, and the sensation of having his gravel-bathed groans mingle together with your own sobs relaxes your shoulders greatly before you open your mouth a little more, your bodies struggling against each other.

who was allowed to touch more? experience and taste more, feel more, fuck, something that was turning you close to your breaking point.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[pocoyo-yo]

- smut, black!coded reader, f/m, p in v, rough sex, unprotected sex, crying (y/n tho lol), crude language, mating press (pos.), overstimulation -

FRESHLY MANICURED NAILS clawed at the wrinkled pink sheets of your bed. your tangled, newly installed weave was sprawled across your many plump pillows. you were practically folded in half— ankles dangled by your ears and your body felt sticky with sweat and cum.

"take it, baby— give me another one 'n cum on this dick.."

his words went through one ear and out the other while he pounded his cock in your tight pussy. your toes curled at the feeling of overstimulation flowing through your veins— watering eyes flickering to the back of your head. you moaned softly and tears fluttered down your hot cheeks. everytime his wet cock split apart your creamy folds; you squealed— biting don hard on your bottom lip. the wet ripples of your skin with every slap of his hips against yourself filled the room.

"s— stop," you sobbed and hiccuped on moans as his thumb raked circles over your swollen clit. ".. 'can't cum no more! stop p— please!"

"yes you can— now shut the fuck up 'n take it, pretty." he grunted— harsh breaths left his red lips.

you furrowed your brows and glanced down. your tits bounced on par with each of his thrusts and your tummy jiggled— his pace was unforgiving. the pads of his rough fingers rubbed the sensitive bud which made little whimpers flow from your sore throat.

"no! no! i— i'm.." you jerked your hips back— the feeling was overwheming.

he pressed his body closer to your own— your arousal coated his dick with ever every thrust. a creamy, white ring formed around the base— his cum from previous rounds smeared on your inner thighs and leaked from your hole.

"ya wanted this— walked around like a slut in public just beggin' to get fucked," he raised his slightly hand and slapped your clit. "now you got my dick but y're still complainin.."

you whined, "I— I'm not! baby please..!"

"baby please," he mocked— a wide grin spreading across his face. ".. now make me cum— it's all yours, mama."

CHARACTERS - TOJI, SUKUNA, todo, reiner, CONNIE, eren, MIGUEL O'HARA, draken, HANMA, TAIJU, sanemi, AOMINE

[caitified]

final buzzer

kate martin x reader ( family series )

warning:none, not proofread i’m tired 🫂

the final buzzer sounds, kate stands on the court, frozen in place, taking it all in. the aces have won the wnba championship. the weight of the season- every ounce of effort, every late night practice, every sacrifice and every doubt– all of it melts into pure joy and disbelief. around her, the arena erupts and all she can think about was the heartbreak she and her teammates had faced last year in comparison to this moment. her teammates were screaming, confetti flying everywhere, all kate could think about was you and eva. she scans the crowd, her eyes searching until they land on you, standing courtside with eva on your hip.

when you lock eyes, her face breaks into the biggest smile. she doesn't hesitate; she takes off running in your direction,weaving through the crowd of people on the court. the second she reaches you, she pulls you and eva into a crushing hug. eva’s little hands grab her face, as she plants a kiss on kate’s cheek, her excitement bubbling over.

“mommy, you did it”

kate laughs, cradling her daughter close and spinning her around, letting her small hands reach for the confetti raining down. she looks back at you, her eyes filled with a mix of warmth and affection, and pulls you in for a kiss. when she pulls back, there's a spark in her eyes that's just for you.

“you were amazing tonight,” you whisper, your hands gently cupping her face. “eva and i are so proud of you”

she swallows hard, her voice barely a murmur. “i couldn't have done any of this without you.” he fingers tighten around yours, and you stay like that for a moment, the noise of the celebrations fading into the background.

as you finally make your way off of the court together, kate with eva on her hip and your hand firmly in her, the team's victory party is in full swing.

the locker room is alive with music, laughter, and shouts of excitement as everyone celebrates together. eva instantly becomes the life of the party, proudly showing off her tiny aces jersey with “martin” on the back. she makes the rounds, collecting high-fives from kate’s teammates and soaking up all the attention.

hours later, the three of you head back to the hotel, exhausted but not wanting the night to end. in the quiet of your suite, you put eva to bed, tucking her under the blankets. Kate leans down, brushing a hand over her eva’s hair, whispering her goodnight. eva’s eyes are already closing, but she manages a sleepy smile, murmuring,

afterward, you and kate sink into the bed, her head resting on your shoulder as the stress of the day begins to hit her. she lets out a contented sigh, her fingers intertwined with yours, and the two of you sit in comfortable silence, just soaking in the feeling of finally being here, together, after everything.

kate tilts her head up, her gaze meeting yours,“thank you,” she murmurs, her thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of your hand. “for being here tonight.”

you brush a stray piece of confetti from her hair, smiling softly. “kate, i’m so proud of you. this is exactly where I want to be.”

she leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips, slow and deep, pouring every bit of her love and gratitude into it. when she finally pulls back, her voice is barely a whisper. “i love you.”

debated on whether or not to keep writing, but i chose to as i am so grateful for all of your support. i’m so grateful! happy reading. requests are open.

[rezwrites]

hi! could u do a rio x f!reader enemies to lovers? maybe a detective au? and maybe smut if ur comfortable with it

Of course!

Warnings: 18+MDNI TW: very minor mention of murder/suicide cases, cursing, office sex, risky sex, mutual fingering

Eyes flickering between the case file and your computer you typed fervently, shrill rings of the office phones outside your door and the clacking of your keyboard filled the silence of your mind as you worked away. This case was pretty simple this time around, thankfully.

“Knock knock,” her silvery voice invaded your senses. Immediate irritation painted your face as you looked up to see Rio leaning against your doorframe, a small box in her hands.

You’ve dealt with years of her atrocious arrogance. You wanted to knock her down a few pegs whenever she oversaw your cases and barked orders at you, as if you didn’t know how to do your own job. Most interactions the two of you always ended in an argument. It has simmered down recently, but she still gets under your skin.

“Oh no.” you stood up, rounding your desk, “This case isn’t anywhere near FBI jurisdiction. What are you doing here?”

“Your chief asked me personally to work this case with you. Something about you do better when I’m around.” Rio’s lips ticked up.

Clenching your jaw, you narrowed your eyes at her, “The case is over. I just finished the crime scene report and sent it over to the lawyer for the trial.”

“I’m only kidding.” She pushed herself off of the doorframe, “I just came by to see you and to give you these.” She held out the box of cookies, subconsciously fiddling with the side of the ribbon wrapped around the box.

This was the fourth time this month she came by with food. You turned her away every time, despite how good the desserts looked. You had to acknowledge her dedication, the tiredness in her features showing you that she did indeed put effort into these treats. Guilt started to gnaw at you now that you think about it, but you steeled yourself before she saw you waver.

You glanced down at the cookies then at her, “definitely poisoned.” Taking the box and tossing it on your desk, you crossed your arms turning back to Rio, leaning back on your desk.

“They aren’t. I stayed up late to make them.” She frowned, picking up the box shoving it into your arms, “Just eat one.”

“Why do you want me to eat your food so insistently?” You gripped the side of the box, slightly denting it.

“Because I want to know what you like.” Rio stared intensely into your eyes, it was a little unnerving. It was like her sepia orbs were searching for something. You could see the dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep.

Reigning yourself in, you straightened yourself out , “I like… telling you to get the fuck out my office.”

There’s small twinge of pain in your chest when she sighs defeatedly, shoulders slumped as she walked out your office without so much as a witty comeback. Some part of you hoped she’d come back, guilt building the longer she didn’t. The rest of the day passed unusually quiet, the cookies left on the edge of your desk taunting you.

Stepping into your home quite late you were greeted by, Jupiter, weaving himself through your legs, meowing shrilly as he leads you to his bowl to fill. Putting his food up after filling his bowl, exhaustion hit you like a truck. Deciding to skip dinner you grabbed the box of cookies you had haphazardly tossed on the kitchen table, making your way to your bedroom.

The shower made your body heavy with tiredness, finally ready to stop fighting it you slipped into bed. Jupiter jumped up snuggling his small, orange body into your side. Flipping open the box lid, you hesitate picking up a cookie. Eventually, you took a bite savoring the way it was soft and chewy as it melted in your mouth.

After a few cookies your fingers slid over a slip of paper at the bottom of the box. Picking up and flipping over the bright pink note, the words in large black ink.

Delicious, right? ;)

Your face heated up, crumping the note in your fist tossing it back in the box. Shoving the box to the edge of the bed, you turned everything off and went to sleep.

—

Looking at the evidence board you're wracking your brain. It seems to be a simple murder-suicide but something in your gut says otherwise and the evidence to support your hunch isn’t there.

“Ugh, great. Feds are here. Again.” Your coworker grunted out. It seems you weren’t the only one aggravated when FBI got involved. Looking over your shoulder you see your chief escorting Rio into the meeting room. Chief explained that the case now falls to the FBI due to the victims being part of an international theft ring.

That same coworker started going on a rant, shocking everyone, including Rio. Fussing about getting cases taken away. He even had the nerve to insinuate that Rio had connections to higher-ups since she was always being the one to take cases.

For all your issues with Rio you could never deny that she knows what she’s doing and that she handles herself well on the field. You have to admit that you have learned a few skills from her throughout the years. All her decorations and medals are deserved. You’d be damned if someone that doesn’t know her at all slander her hard work.

You sat there seething until you couldn’t take it anymore. Slamming your palms on the table, everyone turning their heads to you as you stared this worm of a man down, “Enough! I completely understand the frustrations but we don’t have the resources nor manpower like they do. They are way more equipped to deal with criminals like these than we are. In the end we should be thankful the FBI is here. The only reason she gets these cases is because she’s great at doing her job. If you think your tough shit then go out there and try to do it yourself rather than sitting on your ass and complaining!”

The chiefs booming voice silences the whole room before anyone else could start mouthing off. He commanded everyone to go blow off steam, specifically instructing you to hand Rio all the files, evidence and reports.

Relief washed over you once you entered your quiet office, the soft click of the door closing behind Rio. Taking a deep sigh, you began to calm down compiling everything case-related into a manila folder.

“You just defended me?” Rio stood there stunned, breaking the silence.

“I’m the only one who gets to be an ass to you.” You retorted quickly, a bite still evident in your tone.

“Aww, when did kitty get rid of her claws?” She teased, stepping towards you. Glancing over her shoulders you checked to make sure the blinds to your office windows were closed.

“Ugh, five minutes. Shut up for five minutes.” You exasperated.

A smirk grew in on her face, “I think I can find a way to occupy myself. Besides he did say to let off steam.” You watched as her eyes darted between your lips and eyes. Rio hovered in front of you, her warm breath fanning over your face. You leaned up initiating a gentle kiss. She cupped your face deepening the kiss, passionately. Breaths heaving as your fists twisted in her blazer, pulling her closer. Her hands fell to your side thumbs tracing patterns, sliding her thigh between your legs.

“I hate you,” you rasped out in between kisses, “I want to hate you.”

“I don’t want you to hate me. I never did.” she pulled back.

“Can I?” Her fingertips stopped at the edge of the waistband of your slacks, her other hand on the small of your back keeping you upright. Eyes glossing over your face for any reaction.

“Yes.” You breathed out , “may I return the favor?”

“‘F course.”

Her hand slipped into your pants fingers ghosting over your sensitive bud, hips jerking for more pressure. Undoing her belt you’re sure she felt the same as her breaths stuttered when your fingers grazed her clit, drawing light circles.

“Already so wet from kissing?” Rio lightly mocked, running her fingers over your slick slit. As her fingers eased into you a low groan escaped you.

“Hush. You have no room to tease.” Your palm pushed against her as a digit slowly sunk into her own wetness making it easy. She could bury her face in the crook of your neck all she wants, but you still feel the vibrations as she moaned when you added another finger.

Wrapping your legs around the back of her knees, you tried to keep your noises at a minimum as her fingers pumped in and out of your fluttering walls. Your movements faltered minimally before returning with fervor, both of your palms rubbing each others clits.

“I got you.” Whispering in her ear when you felt her knees quiver, curling your free arm around her. Her soft lips return to yours, nipping at your lower lip.

Curling your fingers into her warm depths, hitting the spongy spot her body started to shake. Holding onto her tighter you worked her through her orgasm, as she kissed you harder muffling herself, you swallowed her moans eagerly.

Releasing herself from your lips to breathe you bit her shoulder to fight your screams, as white hot pleasure crashed through you. Rio curled her fingers, an extra shock coursing through your body. Both of your shaky bodies stilled, coming down from your highs. Removing yourselves from each other you grabbed some tissues to clean up, your facing heating up when you turned back around to see her sucking your wetness off of her fingers.

“You ate the cookies, right?” Lifting your head to see her proudly smiling, “I may have added a love potion.”

“Stop,” you laughed, lightly pushing her shoulder, tucking her shirt back into her pants. Rio chuckled pecking your lips, smoothing your shirt.

“Let me take you on a lunch date.” Rio suggested starting to move over to grab the file. You grabbed her arm not wanting to leave your proximity yet, “Rio I-”

She looked at you quizzically as your words died out. You wanted to tell her how you felt, no doubt she felt the same after what just transpired but you still somewhat felt it wasn’t the right time.

“I love you too.” your eyes widened, a smile growing on both your faces,” Now let’s go get lunch.”

[sebastianswallows]

Nobody's Darling — 1. The Road

— PAIRING: Benny Cross x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Benny comes across a girl walking alone in the middle of nowhere and offers her a ride to the nearest town. They stop at a motel.

— WARNINGS: none

— WORDCOUNT: 3.1k

— A/N: Hello, my dears! So yeah, I saw The Bikeriders because of Austin (and Tom Hardy) and of course I had to write something for it 😂 I've been labouring at it for the past two weeks lol This was meant to be a one-shot but it kept growing and I decided to split it into chapters. The plot is partly based on something that happened to me, namely I missed my stop and the bus drove me way out of the city before I realised what had happened 💀 Anyway, hope you enjoy it! 😘💕✨

Grey clouds floated across the sky. Fields of yellow and burnt grass rolled along like waves. A string of birds cut through the far horizon. The fading light of the sun seeped softly through the glass and warmed her cheek but she was happy to keep sleeping, caught in that special spot between awake and dreaming when her thoughts were peaceful, settled, and she could weave from them a pretty fantasy. The chill of a November evening didn’t quite make it into the bus but the windows were already fogging and the seats grew cold.

She woke up with a start when the wheels struck a hole in the ground and everything jolted.

“Where am I?” she groaned, squinting at the window. Her reflection frowned back but beyond it, she could see… nothing. She was in the middle of nowhere with only naked fields and swaying power lines around her. She checked her watch and her heart stopped.

“I should’ve been home by now. Oh no, I did not sleep through my stop,” she whispered to herself — but she did. “Wait! Driver!”

She got up and ran to the front, scrambling past all those empty seats, her jacket in one hand and purse flailing in the other. The driver gave her a bored expression as she leaned panting against the divider.

“Wait, please, I need to get off! Where are we?”

The man looked at her with all the serenity of an overworked drone in a dead-end job. He didn’t seem particularly alarmed to see her there, nor did he seem to care about her predicament.

“Halfway to the next town,” he mumbled as he started to slow down. “There’s another stop ‘bout a mile back.”

“Great…”

“Next bus comes tomorrow ‘round seven thirty.”

“Oh.”

She looked around again as if she could see something different from up here but it was all the same. The vastness of it frightened her and she half-wished she’d never woken up.

The driver pulled over at the side of the road and tilted the cap on his bald head, his teeth tight around a toothpick.

“You’ll be alright?”

“Yeah…” she said automatically. “Sure.”

He opened the door and her whole body began to tremble, the situation suddenly completely real. She gathered all her nerves and put one step in front of the other, and as soon as her feet were on the ground the bus started to move again, driving away.

The sun was dipping into a pool of pink and the birds that circled overhead were growing louder. She was alone in a darkening field with nothing in front of and behind her except for lamplight spilling yellow and pale over an empty road and dead grass all around. If she regretted getting off that bus, it was too late now.

“At least it was warm inside,” she muttered. “But I could never make it back in time for work tomorrow from the next town… Damn it.”

There was nothing left to do. She sighed to herself and started walking back. In her head, she tried to calculate how late it would be by the time she made it home but each result only scared her further.

“Best not to think about it,” she said. “Just keep walking…”

She hadn’t gone on such a hike since she was a little girl, and never far outside of town. She’d only walked through fields and meadows and the forest that stretched east. There was certainly no time for it since getting hired at the local newspaper, and she liked it that way. Her days were measured and predictable, her clothes were always clean, and nothing ever hurt her — except her back if she sat down writing for too long. She was scared now not just because she was alone and in the dark but because she’d never done a thing like this before. Her heels were unsteady on the crumbling tar and her purse felt heavy on her shoulder. Insects were singing in the grass and creatures rustled through it that she dared not think about. Were there snakes around here? Rats? She pulled her jacket tighter around herself.

After half an hour she came across the bus stop that the driver mentioned. The sign for it was half-chewed off and the wooden bench was worn and stained a sickly yellow beneath a flickering light. She considered for a moment sleeping there until the morning but then the ignominy hit her: to sleep on a dirty wooden bench under the flutter of moths and mosquitoes. To come home unwashed and stinky with her hair a mess and her stockings torn. And if any of the neighbours saw her… No. She walked past that bus stop and didn’t look back, and soon found herself surrounded by darkness again.

“You deserve it,” she muttered as she wrapped her arms around herself, her body ambling forward with none of the grace and poise she had half an hour before. “How could you fall asleep? You weren’t even that tired, and the bus ride is so noisy. You couldn’t wait another ten minutes to get home? Idiot, idiot…”

The walk back to the city was taking longer than she thought it would, and by eight o’clock she was still out there. The sky was sprinkled with stars and the wind was flitting gently through her hair and the creatures in the bushes were growing ever louder. If she weren’t so cold and terrified she might have felt exhausted. Her feet hurt and her back was bent under the weight of her purse and she hadn’t eaten since noon. But suddenly, in the distance, she saw a glint of something made of glass and metal — it was a phone booth. The joy that rushed through her wiped all her pain away and she hurried to reach it, nearly tripping. She felt halfway home as soon as she stepped inside its murky walls.

“Please work, please work, please please please.”

She picked up the receiver and held it on her shoulder as she opened the phone book and started leafing through for the nearest police station. They would be obliged to come and pick her up — that is if she could only explain where she was…

“Hello? Operator?” But no voice came from the other side. The tone was dead. “Operator?” she tried again, her voice growing shaky. “Hello? Anyone?”

As she kept tapping on the phone hook, desperate to reach someone, a bright light came peeking over the horizon from the direction she had just come from. It couldn’t have belonged to a car but whatever it was that approached her was fast and loud as all hell. She held her breath as she watched it getting bigger, brighter, closer. This was the only driver she’d seen the whole night and she was equal parts hopeful and horrified of just what it could be. After all, what kind of person would be out driving at this hour on a weekday?

She forgot about the telephone as she followed this strange light until it was close enough to blot out all the darkness. It blinded her for a moment but that thunderous rumble soon settled to a pur and it stopped on the other side of the road from her. When her eyes adjusted to the brightness she realised it was a motorcycle, thin and lean and silver.

Its rider propped himself against the ground on one long leg clad in blue jeans and reached into his pocket. He was tall and slender, his figure swathed in shadows, his motions simple but relaxed and almost elegant.

“It doesn’t work,” he said as he lit a cigarette. “Been broken for a while now.”

The flash of flame from his zippo lighter gave her a hint of his face. He was young, perhaps even younger than her, with full pink lips and a slight stubble, soft blue eyes, and a sprinkle of dirt like freckles on his face. There was a wildness to him and an air of gentleness as well, but his jacket was a dark denim and thick with patches, symbols that probably meant something to him — he must’ve belonged to some sort of “club”. She didn’t know much about bikers aside from what she read about them in the papers, but they’d always seemed to be a bunch of layabouts. Aside from drinking far too much and smoking she knew they got into trouble with the law, had fights, caused accidents, and were generally dangerous to be around.

“I’m… just trying to get to town,” she said in a wary voice.

“Well, I’m headed that way.”

She said nothing, her hand still frozen on the telephone.

“Want a ride?”

It was a tempting offer but one that made her shiver. She’d never been around a man like that, never even exchanged words with one, and everything that she expected from his kind — rudeness, lewdness, and a bad attitude — was suspiciously absent from him. He looked at her with those soft eyes, his long leg braced against the road, and waited. She should have accepted his offer, she should have just gotten on his bike and wrapped her arms around him, but… she couldn’t.

“No, thank you.”

He kept on smoking quietly and looked her up and down much as she’d done with him. She wondered what he saw… She was probably a pathetic sight and a strange kind of person to come across in such a place. When his eyes finally left her figure they strayed across the wilderness. There was nothing around them for miles, they both knew that, and other cars wouldn’t be around that road for hours.

“You know how far away you are?” he asked, rolling the cigarette between his fingers.

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s a long walk.”

“I don’t want to…” She was about to say she didn’t want to ride all the way back with a stranger but instead said, “trouble you.”

He didn’t react at first, keeping that air of stillness about him that made her wonder what he thought. But after a few moments, he nodded and dropped the cigarette, crushed it underneath his boot, and with a leisurely motion mounted his bike once more and revved the engine up. Before she could say another word he’d already sped into the distance and left only a cloud of dust behind.

She almost felt sorry to see him go. Almost felt guilty too… She didn’t want her distrust of him to be so apparent or to cause offence, no matter what kind of a person he was. But she told herself he must’ve been a dangerous man and that she was better off alone than riding back to town with him. Well, she wouldn’t be riding back with anybody now… The telephone line was dead, just as he’d said. The wire must’ve been disconnected somewhere.

She wanted to cry. Instead, she began to walk once more, trudging through the dark.

The sky was as black as a curtain cast across a silent stage and against it lit from below the pale lights of interspersed lamps. The roaring of the bike got slowly lost in the road that lay before her and soon only her steps echoed to remind her of how alone she was. She watched the small light of the rider fade and hugged herself against the cold, holding the purse to her chest as if it could protect her. Her feet were hurting so much she worried they were bleeding and she considered taking them off until she looked down at the road and its uneven dirty tar. She closed her eyes even as she kept on walking, too tired to gaze out at the same old nothingness again.

But then she heard a roar floating on the wind and felt a tremble in her chest as if an earthquake was approaching, and when she opened her eyes again she saw that lone light making its way back to her. He seemed to ride back faster than he did as he was leaving and he reached her in no time at all. She slowed down to a stop and so did he, parking right beside her.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward, boyish way. “Look, I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. But I can’t just leave you out here. You sure you don’t want to —”

“Alright,” she said, her voice already weak and weary. She was hungry and cold and scared that she’d never make it back to town that night. Too scared to refuse his help a second time. “Just… just get me to the edge of town. I can make my own way home from there.”

If he was surprised at how quickly she accepted now, he didn’t show it. He simply moved closer to the front of his seat and made space for her behind him.

She took a deep breath and approached him carefully as if he rode a beast, not something made of metal. It looked solid and precariously thin at once and yet he straddled it confidently. The saddle looked just big enough for two. She hopped on as best she could and tried to keep her legs together but when he looked at her over his shoulder he shook his head and laughed.

“Legs on either side,” he said. “You’ll fall off if you ride like that.”

“But, my skirt…”

He looked up and down her legs and she tried not to read too much into the way his eyes had darkened.

“Roll it up,” he said in a low and soothing voice. “Don’t worry. I won’t look.”

She held her breath as she rolled her skirt up high enough so that she could throw her other leg over the side. He waited while she settled into the position and planted her feet firmly.

“Ready? Hang on,” he said as he revved the engine up. “I’ll go real slow, alright?”

“A-alright…” she said as she placed her hands timidly around his waist.

But he didn’t go slow, at least not by her standards.

It was completely different to riding in a car, more visceral and real with no windows to protect her. She let out a little scream and clung to his body more tightly than she meant to, eyes falling shut, legs tightening around his bike. He smelled of gasoline and metal and several days’ worth of sweat cooled down by the chilly autumn night but he felt so solid in her arms, so firm and steady, even as the world flashed by. Eventually, she was brave enough to rest her cheek against his back and opened her eyes to look at the vacant countryside. It was a little frightening, as she expected, but peaceful too. As she fisted her hands in his jacket, right over his heart, she tried to peek over his shoulder but could just see the side of his face, focused and relaxed, and the white circle of the headlight. Somehow, that was enough for her. His hair tickled her forehead, feeling softer than it had any right to be, and she found herself smiling. There was something base and ancient in the way he smelled, the way he spoke, even in the way he moved. It was as if he had in him the blood-memory of an ancient Knight on armoured steed galloping alone and steadfast through the fields and woods of untamed lands.

The outskirts of town were much tamer than that, however, and before long they could see the faint lights of the outermost buildings, squalid flats, and blinking advertisements. When he started slowing down she felt herself breathe a sigh of relief. It must’ve tickled the back of his neck because he bent his head forward as if to get away — or to ask for more.

“Where are we?” she asked once the noise of the motorcycle died down.

“Marshal Avenue,” he said, easing the bike to the side of the road.

She didn’t know exactly where that was, but she guessed they were on the other side of town from where she lived. All along the street were boarded-up shops, derelict flats, and liquor stores. Across from where he parked was a building that looked to be about a hundred years old. She could hardly fathom walking home at that hour, especially through a neighbourhood like that, but it was better than being in the middle of nowhere.

“Well, thank you. For the ride.”

He lit another cigarette and dismounted the bike, rolling his broad shoulders to unwind. She got off quickly, scrambling to cover her legs in the crumpled skirt before he turned around and saw her. He gave her a look over his shoulder when he heard her fussing and slowly turned around.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”

“Yeah, I… I can walk from here.”

He looked at her and stayed quiet but there was something in his eyes behind that veil of smoke that made her curious about what he had to say. He simply nodded and turned toward that old building behind him. She hugged herself and looked up and down the street, waiting for him to say anything — to ask for money, to make fun of her for thinking she could make it home, to make a pass at her…

“Well, good night,” she said.

And as soon as she started walking away he spoke to her again.

“Hey, it’s kinda late. They got rooms upstairs.”

“What?” she asked, turning on her heels a bit unsteadily.

“Owner knows me,” he shrugged, crushing the cigarette beneath his boot and immediately lighting up another. “Could get you one for cheap.”

She shifted her weight from one foot to another and looked around pretending to think… but her eyes kept coming back to him. He puffed quietly away and gazed at her with no design behind those clear blue eyes, looking just as uncertain and awkward as she felt standing in the middle of the street. She didn’t want to trust him but a part of her responded in the same way that she did when she saw a homeless puppy.

“You mean, a room of my own?”

“Yeah.”

She looked from him to the large building again.

He could probably tell that she was torn because he helpfully supplied, “They got food too. Hungry?”

She was. It had been over twelve hours since she’d eaten or had anything to drink.

“I kind of am.”

“Me too,” he said. “Come on.”

[wonie-not-wony]

truth.

pairing. friend!ni-ki x fem!reader genre. fluff warnings. none a/n. comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! tysm for readingg <3

🪩 synopsis. In a fun night of laughter and games, one spin of the bottle reveals hidden feelings, leading to an unexpected heart spill.

The party pulsed with energy, laughter and music weaving an intoxicating atmosphere as you settled into a circle with five friends, including your crush, Ni-ki. The recent round of Truth or Dare had left everyone buzzing with excitement, the air thick with anticipation.

When it was Ni-ki's turn, he spun the bottle, and to his astonishment, it landed squarely on you. You couldn't help but grin, seizing the moment with a glimmer of mischief in your eyes. "Truth or dare?" you asked, leaning in just a little closer.

Ni-ki's heart raced at the proximity. "Truth," he replied, attempting to sound composed despite the butterflies swirling in his stomach.

"What do you think of me?" Your voice danced playfully yet held an undercurrent of sincerity.

His eyes widened at your bold question, a rush of embarrassment flooding his cheeks. He hadn’t anticipated you would put him on the spot like this, but strangely, he welcomed it.

Taking a steadying breath, he gathered his thoughts. "I think... you're cool," Riki said, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "You're funny and friendly, and you have this way of..." He trailed off, unsure how to articulate his feelings.

At that moment, your friends erupted into playful teasing. "Just confess already, Riki!" Jake shouted, laughter echoing around the room. Your cheeks flushed as you fought to contain your smile.

Ni-ki's face turned crimson under the teasing barrage from your friends. He hadn’t expected things to escalate so quickly and felt a delightful mix of nerves and excitement. "Guys, it's not like that," he protested, though his voice cracked slightly, betraying his composure.

"Oh come on! We see the way you look at her." Sunoo chimed in, adding fuel to the fire.

Ni-ki shot them a glare but couldn’t hide the truth any longer—deep down, he knew they were right about his feelings for you.

You giggled softly, warmth spreading across your cheeks. "So... that's it? Nothing else?"

His eyes widened at your question; his heart raced in response. Looking deep into your eyes, he felt something shift within him.

"No, it's not just that," he murmured softly. "I... I really like you. I've liked you for a long time but didn’t know how to say it."

"OH HE DID IT! HE JUST SAID IT!" one friend screamed as the room erupted into chaos—giggles and playful jabs filled the air. Jake leaned over to Riki and whispered urgently, "Ask her if you guys can start dating!"

Riki’s face turned an even deeper shade of red as he covered his face with his hands while laughter erupted around him. He shot Jake an incredulous glare but knew what he had to do.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Riki uncovered his face and turned to you amidst the joyful pandemonium.

"Hey... umm... would you... I was wondering if..." He hesitated for a moment before finding his courage. "Do you want to start dating?"

In that instant, everyone leapt from their seats in sheer jubilation—after years of unspoken feelings between you two, something was finally happening. Your heart soared as you blushed profusely; with a beaming smile of affirmation, you nodded.

Riki’s eyes widened in disbelief as your smile lit up the room; his heart skipped a beat at your response.

Before he could fully process what was happening, your friends erupted into cheers and squeals of excitement: "It's happening!" and "Finally!" Riki chuckled, both amused and slightly embarrassed by their excitement.

He stepped closer to you, intertwining his fingers with yours as a radiant smile spread across his face—his dimple making an appearance as joy radiated from him.

© wonie-not-wony. all rights reserved. please don’t repost, plagiarize or translate.

[vampiriito]

Summer was in shades of cool.. (JJ Maybank X shy! kook! reader) Chapter 5

A/n: Hey loves! fifth chapter, which somehow ended up also being angst! I'm so sad this story is almost coming to an end＞︿＜(that's if i don't decide to write more chapters.) But what i have rn, is roughly 3 chapters left. So yeah.. I'm working on a JJ x mermaid! reader, and the here comes the sun fic (part 2) though, you gotta check them out when i post them!

Summary: You know JJ isn't mean, he just likes to spend his time in shades of cool. You prove him wealth and a cushioned life doesn't necessarily mean happiness and that the two of you weren't as different as he thought.

For someone so shy and timid you sure were brave to skate around the town at night. It was your way of unwinding. You liked how free you felt, all alone with your earbuds in, and just skating around in endless circles. Especially when you didn't feel like dealing with your mother's nagging or your father's disappointed sighs and looks.

The cold night air bites at your cheeks as you glide over the smooth pavement, the soft hum of your skateboard the only sound in the quiet, sleeping town. Streetlights cast long shadows, their orange glow flickering softly as you pass beneath them. The streets are empty, save for the occasional parked car or the distant silhouette of a house with lights still on inside. You skate past closed storefronts, their dark windows reflecting the faint moonlight, and the faint clatter of your wheels echoes down the empty alleyways.

Everything feels still, as if the world is holding its breath, waiting. Your breath comes in clouds, visible in the chill of the night, and the cold wind sweeps through your hair as you push off harder, picking up speed. The town feels different at night—more yours, like a secret you’re keeping from everyone else. You weave through the streets, the familiar paths taking on a dreamlike quality in the quiet darkness, the only witness to your midnight ride.

As you round a corner, something makes you slow down—a figure, standing under one of the streetlights ahead. At first, you think it's just a shadow or a trick of the light, but then he shifts slightly, hands shoved into his pockets, and your heart skips.

It’s him. JJ. You haven't seen him for a few days, almost a week, since your last conversation when you gave him the picture of you, and you kept the one of him. He hasn’t noticed you yet now, lost in his own thoughts as he stands there, bathed in the soft glow of the lamplight. You feel your pulse quicken, the smooth rhythm of your skating disrupted as your thoughts scatter. For a moment, you consider turning around, slipping away before he sees you, but your legs don’t move. The street is so still, and it feels like the space between you has suddenly shrunk, the distance closing with each heartbeat. You skate closer, slower now, unsure of what to say—or if you should say anything at all.

JJ had been lost in thought, standing under the streetlight and staring absently at the ground in front of him. His mind was a mess, a tangled web of conflicting thoughts and feelings that he couldn't seem to untangle. He'd been avoiding you ever since you'd both given each other the pictures - that moment with you had felt so personal, so intimate, that he didn't know how to act around you now.

Not to mention the absolute shitshow of a night he managed to have.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when he heard the sound of wheels rolling over the pavement. He looked up, and his heart stopped as he saw you skating closer.

As you came close to him, you eased your skateboard to a gentle stop by pressing your foot against the pavement. The familiar hum of wheels on concrete faded into a hushed silence as your heart began to quicken, the twilight deepening around you both. In the dim light, his features had been nothing more than vague silhouettes, but now—standing side by side—each detail was painfully clear.

Before you could even manage a soft greeting, your eyes were drawn to the silent story etched across his face. There were bruises scattered like dark constellations on his skin, his lip was painfully split, and a swollen bruise cradled his eye in a halo of sorrow, a small trail of blood drying up just above his lip from his nose. In that moment, your heart clenched with a mix of shock and tender concern. The raw evidence of his pain stirred something deep within you—a profound empathy that made you wish you could reach out and soothe the silent anguish behind those eyes.

Time seemed to slow as you absorbed every detail, the cool night air mingling with the warmth of your worry. In his vulnerable state, you saw more than just physical marks; you saw the same little boy you remembered from 3rd grade staring back at you. And as the night pressed in around you, you felt an overwhelming urge to offer comfort, even as a subtle fear held you back—fear of drawing him further into a world of pain he might not want to share or revisit.

JJ felt your gaze on his face, taking in the bruises and cuts. He immediately looked away, hating the way you were probably looking at him. He felt exposed, like a raw nerve.

He tried to play it tough, forcing a casual tone. ''Don't look at me like that. It's nothing. Just a little scuffle, that's all."

Your brows furrowed into a small frown as you continued studying the injuries on his face. Each bruise and the split on his lip whispered stories of pain, stories you’d only heard in hushed conversations around town. You knew about his turbulent relationship with his dad, the kind of abuse that left scars both seen and unseen. Not from JJ directly, of course.

This wasn’t just the aftermath of a random scuffle. The marks on his face spoke of deliberate cruelty, as if someone had set out to hurt him, to silence his ability to fight back. The thought that he might have been too shocked or too restrained to defend himself filled you with a cold dread. It was as though each injury was a small echo of a larger, unspoken terror—a terror that clutched at your heart and made you fear for his well-being.

JJ noticed the way your frown only seemed to deepen the more you took in his injuries. He could see the concern in your eyes, and it both touched and frustrated him. Part of him appreciated that you seemed to care, but another part just wanted you to stop looking at him like he was some helpless victim. He shifted awkwardly, trying to find the words to downplay the situation.

"Seriously, it's nothing. My old man was just being his usual charming self, that's all."

Now your brows shot up in surprise. Not because you didn't know about his dad and his tendencies. But because he was telling you this so directly. So bluntly.

"This was your dad?" you asked quietly, stepping off the skateboard fully now.

JJ nodded reluctantly and reached up brush a finger over the dried up trail of blood trickled from his nose, his eyes darting away as if he could escape the truth by simply not meeting your gaze. He despised that he had let his guard down enough to admit that his dad was the one who had marred his face. "Yeah. My old man had a little too much to drink tonight. Things got outta hand. It happens," he said, his voice attempting a casual indifference that barely masked the underlying anguish.

He tried to make it sound like just another night in the Maybank household—a familiar script of abuse and neglect, spun so often that it almost felt routine. But behind his nonchalant tone lay a truth he couldn’t hide: each incident was a step deeper into a spiral of escalating abuse, unrelenting drinking, and seething anger. In that moment, every word he uttered carried the weight of a painful reality he wished he could forget, yet it clung to him like a shadow he couldn’t shake off.

"...Why are you on the street then?" you asked once again, although your voice was quiet, you weren't as flustered as you usually were when you spoke to JJ.

JJ finally looked at you, surprised by the directness of your question. He wasn't used to anyone asking him such things so bluntly.

"What do you mean, 'why am I on the street'? Where else am I supposed to be?" He tried to sound casual, but there was a hint of defensiveness in his voice. He wasn't used to revealing so much about himself like this, especially to a kook.

You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. You didn't realize how weird the question sounded. You should've just asked him if he had anywhere to sleep. But the words died in your throat. "No i mean.. I'm sorry.. i mean why aren't you at your friends' house..? Why are you out here?"

JJ huffed again, still feeling on edge. He couldn't tell you the real reason why he wasn't at one of his friend's houses right now - he didn't want to burden anyone else with his personal problems. So he just lied, keeping his voice casual and indifferent.

"I don't know, I just didn't feel like crashing at anyone's place, alright? I like being alone. I get more freedom when I'm sleeping on the street than if I were at someone's house."

"You're gonna freeze. Plus, sleeping on a bench really sucks," you stated simply, your tone laced with a soft, almost tender exasperation. Your expression soured in a way that was both peculiar and genuine, hinting at the concern beneath the blunt words.

JJ felt a pang of irritation at your statement. Yeah, he knew that sleeping on a bench sucked, trust him, he was well aware of it. But he didn't need you reminding him of that.

"Yeah, well, what choice do I have, genius? I can't exactly afford a hotel room. Not all of us are rich kooks, you know."

"…I was gonna say you can crash at mine—you don't have to sleep out here," you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The words slipped out after a few long moments of silence, following his sharp snap at you. There was a tender vulnerability in your tone, as if each syllable was a small promise of safety amid the chaos. You hoped that by offering your place, you could shield him, even just a little, from the cold and harshness of the night.

JJ's jaw dropped at your unexpected offer, his irritation immediately forgotten. He looked at you, eyes wide, trying to tell if you were being serious. The idea of crashing at your place seemed too good to be true. No way you actually wanted him to stay over at your house. "Wait, you're joking, right? You want me to...stay at your place?"

"Yeah... i mean i don't mind. If it's not weird for you of course... given you barely know me." you mumbled awkwardly, scrathing the back of your neck.

The idea of staying at your house was definitely weird for JJ. It would be his first time ever stepping foot inside a kook's home, for one. But more than anything, it was the thought of being in a private space with you that made him feel anxious and excited at the same time. He took a moment to collect himself before responding.

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose or anything..."

You bit your lip, torn between respecting his pride and prejudice that you knew he had towards kooks, and wanting to help him. "No... I uh... I have my own room. It's not gonna be a problem. You can eat and take a bath if you want and I can help you with your uh... bruises."

You tried to force a smile, bending down to grab your skateboard and holding it under your armpit. The tension hung in the air, thick and unspoken.

JJ's chest tightened at your offer to help take care of his injuries. No one had ever really cared about him in that way before, and the thought of you treating his wounds made his heart thump against his ribcage. He tried to keep his voice casual and nonchalant, but he couldn't hide the hint of vulnerability in his tone. "Yeah? You're gonna play nurse for me?"

You wouldn't forgive yourself if you would've just skated away back home alone. You cared for JJ, more than you would admit to anyone. 8 years of being in love with him secretly would do that to you.

You nodded, your smile turning genuine and sheepish, your free hand reaching up to adjust your glasses.

JJ felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of your genuine smile, his throat constricting at the thought that he was the cause of it. He took a small step closer to you, feeling the tension building between you both.

"Well, I ain't gonna turn down an offer like that." He gave you a small, crooked smile in return, the first genuine smile he'd given since you spotted him under the street light.

The two of you began walking, your skateboard still tucked under your arm. JJ kept sneaking glances at you, still trying to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be staying the night at your house. It was a strange and unexpected turn of events, one that he had never thought possible just a few days ago.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, JJ spoke up, his tone curious and a little playful. "So, is it just you at your place? Or do you have, like, parents and siblings and stuff?"

"Yes... I have a sister and, uh... well, parents." you said, furrowing your brows slightly but smiling as you walked down the street. The evening air was cool and refreshing, a welcome contrast to the heat of the day. The streetlights cast a warm, golden glow over the pavement, and the sound of distant laughter and music from nearby homes added a comforting backdrop to your walk.

The journey to your place wasn't long, just about 15 minutes at most, giving you both enough time to enjoy the quiet company and the gentle rhythm of your steps. As you walked, you couldn't help but glance over at JJ, hoping the darkness concealed the concern in your eyes.

JJ nodded, not really surprised that you had a normal and functional family. He had always suspected it, even before you gave him the picture of you. There was something about you that screamed 'normal suburban girl', probably the fact that you were a kook after all.

As you walked, JJ studied the neighborhood surroundings, taking in the big, fancy houses that littered the street. It was a stark contrast to his own home and his neighborhood, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy and bitterness. The tall imposing windows, the perfectly manicured lawns and massive pools with houses perfectly painted, all of them were the complete opposite to the trailer park scenery he had the ill-fated chance of waking up to.

"Must be nice, having functional parents and a nice house."

He tried to make his voice nonchalant and joking, but he couldn't quite hide the hint of bitterness in his tone. He knew it wasn't right to take his own issues out on you, especially since you had been nothing but kind to him so far. But old patterns were hard to break.

"The nice house is... good, although it doesn’t make up for the angry man living in it. All i wanna say is that i know how weird dads can get." you looked down, your voice shy and hesitant.

JJ's heart twinged in pain at the mention of angry dads. He could relate to that all too well. He'd lived with an angry dad for as long as he can remember, and the memories were not pleasant.

He was surprised that you would admit something like that to him. He'd always figured you were some rich girl who had everything handed to her on a silver platter. But clearly, there was more to you than he thought.

He glanced over at you, studying your face as you continued walking. He suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch you, to comfort and reassure you in some way - as if he didn't have a busted lip and bruised face of his own. Instead, he just cleared his throat and spoke as casually and jokingly as he could. "Yeah, angry dicks seem to be pretty universal, huh?"

"Yeah... I don't want my kids to have an angry father," you chuckled dryly, the laugh more a reflex than genuine amusement. The situation wasn't funny at all, but the awkwardness bubbled up in your chest, spilling out in the form of an uncomfortable giggle.

JJ's heart skipped another beat at your unexpected mention of kids. The thought of you having a family of your own - a future husband and children - made him feel more bothered than he cared to admit. He tried to ignore the pang of jealousy in his chest and responded in his typical sarcastic tone. "Oh, so you already got some future hubby picked out?"

"No. I don't even speak to guys... you know how shy and timid i get..." you frowned with a smile on your face, shaking your head.

JJ couldn't help but chuckle softly at your response. He knew all too well about your shyness and how you seemed to freeze up around people, especially guys. It was just one of the many quirks about you that he had picked up on over the years, despite never actually talking to you. "Yeah, I've noticed. You get all tongue-tied and red in the face. It's kind of cute, actually."

The second he said it, JJ mentally cursed himself. He had meant it as a lighthearted tease, but the word 'cute' had just slipped out before he could stop it. He quickly tried to cover up his blunder with a nonchalant, sarcastic tone.

"I mean, in a dorky kind of way obviously."

You let out a huff of laughter, turning your head to look forward as you walked, nearing your house. You felt yourself blush at his words, despite the fact that he covered them up with a teasing comment.

JJ watched as your face turned a light pink, the rosy color spreading across your cheeks. He felt a weird sense of satisfaction at the realization that he had caused that reaction in you. But he quickly pushed that thought aside, reminding himself that he was just here for a place to crash, nothing more.

As you continued walking, JJ glanced around the posh, quiet neighborhood.

"You know, you live in a pretty fancy area. I feel like I'm in some snobby billionaire's vacation home or something."

"All of these people living here are assholes." you stated bluntly, glancing around too.

JJ couldn't help but bark out a surprised laugh at your unexpected bluntness. He had never expected such language to come out of your mouth. "Ouch. Don't hold back, tell us how you really feel."

He smirked, still chuckling as he glanced around at the immaculate, expensive-looking homes surrounding them.

As you neared your house, JJ couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. He tried to play it cool, but he couldn't ignore the thrill of the idea that he was about to step inside a kook's home for the first time in his life, aside from the house parties.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to appear nonchalant as he spoke. "This your place, huh?"

"Mhm.." you nodded, humming as you approached the big gates of your house. You walked towards the security booth, asking the man inside to let you in, explaining to him that JJ was your friend and that your parents should just not hear about this, not wanting to have the talk with you mom yet.

JJ followed you silently, trying to appear unfazed and nonchalant. But deep down, he was still feeling a little awkward and uncomfortable being in this wealthy neighborhood.

He watched as you spoke to the man in the booth, explaining that he was your friend and that your parents shouldn't know about his presence. JJ could only grimace at the thought of your parents finding out that you were bringing a Pogue - and a bruised and beaten up one at that - into their pristine kook house.

As the gates clicked open and you both walked through the opening, JJ glanced around the expansive grounds of your property. It was a far cry from the small, run-down house and yard he lived in. This place looked more like a luxurious resort than a home.

He let out a low whistle of appreciation, looking at you with a mix of awe and envy. "Damn. You really weren't kidding about your place being fancy."

You gave a small, shy smile, feeling a bit self-conscious as you led him up the stone path. The meticulously manicured lawn stretched out on either side, dotted with vibrant flowerbeds and neatly trimmed hedges. The soft glow of landscape lighting illuminated the walkway, adding an air of sophistication to the already impressive scene.

"Yeah, it's... something," you said, your voice hesitant. "But like I said earlier, a nice house doesn't make up for everything."

JJ nodded, his gaze sweeping over the expansive grounds before settling back on you. "I get that," he replied, his tone sincere. "Still, it's pretty amazing. I've never seen anything like this up close."

"It's just a house.." you laughed awkwardly. You neared your big front doors, digging through the pocket of your jeans to retrieve your keys.

JJ rolled his eyes at your nonchalant response. "Yeah, right. A house that looks like it could fit my entire house inside of it."

He watched as you took out your keys, realizing with a pang of panic that he was about to enter your house. He quickly pushed down the feeling of nervousness building in his chest and tried to make a joke instead. "You sure your parents aren't gonna see me and freak out?"

"I don't even think they're home.. and if they are, they're asleep already." you stated after unlocking your front door, grabbing your board and stepping inside. Opening the door, you ushered him inside, the warmth of the house enveloping you both. The foyer was elegantly decorated, with a grand staircase leading up to the second floor and tasteful artwork adorning the walls. JJ looked around, taking in the high ceilings and polished wood floors.

JJ followed you inside, his combat boots squeaking uncomfortably against the smooth, hardwood floors. The inside of your house looked just as impressive as the outside, with elegant furniture and expensive-looking decorations that could probably serve as a down-payment for his shitty house. JJ couldn't help but feel a little out of place, like a stray among the perfect, polished furniture.

He tried to act casual, but he couldn't help but glance around nervously, waiting for your parents to appear and throw him out on his ass.

JJ was surprised by the fact that your house was completely silent and dark, as if nobody was in. He had been half-expecting a posh version of his own home with angry, yelling adults and slamming doors. "Your parents are seriously asleep already? Don't they care that you're out this late?"

You shook your head. Your parents really didn't care that much. You had learned to take care of yourself when they weren't home. Which was usually all the time. Instant meals and take out became your best friend once you passed the age of 14. It was like you parents just- assumed you'll hold your own. And you did. Mostly thanks to Maisy. You urged him towards the stairs walking up the steps quietly.

JJ followed you up the stairs, still feeling out of place and on edge in the immaculate surroundings. He knew he was probably going to look like a total mess once he saw himself in the mirror, but he didn't dare ask to take a shower yet.

He glanced around as he walked, trying to mentally note the layout of your house in case he ever needed to escape quickly.

As you reached the top of the stairs, JJ looked around, expecting to see more of the posh and flawless décor. But to his surprise, the hallway upstairs was dimly lit and all the doors had been closed.

He followed you down the hallway towards your room, feeling a mix of curiosity and trepidation. He had never been in a kook girl's room before, and he couldn't help but wonder what yours would look like.

As you both finally reach your door you can't help but feel a bit nervous knowing your room was the only one in this house which was this messy. Once you stepped inside a warm, golden glow wraps around you, coming from the fairy lights strung across the walls like constellations. The soft light bounced off the pale pink walls, casting delicate shadows on the worn wood floors.

Photographs covered nearly every surface—polaroids tacked to the walls along with various movie and bad posters, black-and-white prints clipped to twine that stretches above your bed like a gallery of memories. Each picture seemed to hold a story: some of you skating down streets at sunset, others of eerie, abandoned places that seem pulled from a horror film, their dark windows and empty halls almost breathing, Maisy appearing in some of your shots.

The bed is a mess of mismatched blankets and soft pillows, inviting in a way that feels casual and lived-in, like you'd spent countless late nights curled up there, editing photos or watching horror movies that make the shadows in the room seem to move. On the floor, there’s a skateboard deck leaning against a stack of books, some dog-eared horror novels with spines cracked from use. The air smells faintly of vanilla and something else, maybe the remnants of a candle long burned out to mask the cigarette smell lingering.

JJ was stunned into silence as he stepped into your room, taking in the warm, golden glow of the fairy lights and the photos that covered every surface, the posters scattered over the light pink walls. He was surprised to have seen some of the movies himself, most of them horror flicks. It was unlike anything he had seen before - a stark contrast to his own bare, messy room with its old, fading wallpaper and worn flooring.

He looked at the mess of blankets, pillows and plushies on your bed, feeling a sudden urge to flop down on them, as if they would somehow soothe the tension in his chest. But he knew better than to do that, so he just stood there awkwardly, taking in his new surroundings.

"I'm sorry for the mess.. I'm usually a clean person... for 1 week after i clean. And then it goes back to this.." you mumbled awkwardly, dropping your board on the floor next to your door.

JJ chuckled softly, his usual smirk tugging at his lips as he glanced at the pile of clothes and books piled up in one corner of the room. "Nah don't worry about it, it's not that bad. Definitely cleaner than my room at least."

He gestured towards the mess. He didn't say it, but he actually found your room endearing. It reminded him of himself. He leaned up against the wall by your door, trying to appear casual and nonchalant as his eyes roamed over the photos on your wall. He recognized a few of the places you had captured on camera – old, abandoned barns and forgotten warehouses that he had explored with John B and Pope before.

"You like taking pictures, huh?" he asked, his voice a little gentler than usual.

"Wasn't that obvious already?" You asked gently a soft chuckle following your question, watching him closely as he studied your room. You felt a bit anxious and nervous given the state your room was in at the moment. And maybe the fact that the boy you were in love with since you were nine was currently in it. It felt almost unreal. He looked more beautiful under the soft glow of your fairy lights, his eyes sparkling like a little kid's despite the injuries scattered across his pretty face. That reminded you, you were gonna help him out with them.

JJ chuckled softly as your response, his gaze lingering on the photos on the wall for a moment before switching back to you. He couldn't help but notice the way you were watching him, with a hint of nervousness and anxiety.

He tried to act nonchalant, as if he didn't care that he was standing in the middle of a kook girl's room, surrounded by evidence of how little the two of you had in common. "Yeah, I guess it was pretty obvious, huh?

He felt a strange fluttering in his chest as your eyes met, the soft glow of the fairy lights making your face look almost angelic. His gaze lingered on your face for a moment before dropping to the ground, trying to push down the feeling of butterflies in his stomach.

Trying to distract himself, he spoke up again.

"So you like horror movies, huh? Explains why you're not scared of me even when I'm beat up like this."

"You don't look scary..." you spoke softly, shifting on your feet nervously your gaze also dropping to the ground nervously.

JJ chuckled dryly, running a hand through his messy hair. He was well aware of how he must look like right now, a mess of injuries and bruises, his face battered and swollen. Yet you still seemed unfazed by his appearance, your words completely honest and sincere.

He found himself unable to meet your gaze, feeling another flutter in his chest at your unexpected softness. He cleared his throat awkwardly, not used to being spoken to so kindly.

"Yeah, well I can assure you most people find me pretty scary."

"It's okay.." you reassured him, although you didn't know what for. He seemed tense, but you would be too if your father would treat you like that. And then you would have to wander the streets alone all beat up.

JJ felt a pang of something in his chest at your words. He wasn't used to being reassured like this, especially not by someone like you. Most people either avoided him or thought he was some kind of criminal.

He tried to force a smirk, but it came out weak and unconvincing. He felt a strange sense of vulnerability, standing in your cozy, feminine room while he was covered in bruises. He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to sit down, to rest for once.

JJ glanced around the room, wondering if it would be rude to just sit down on your bed. Finally, he gave in to the urge, his legs aching and tired from everything that had happened. He gingerly lowered himself down onto your bed, wincing slightly as he felt the soft mattress sink beneath his weight.

You stepped forward nervously, as if you were in his room and not the other the way around, stopping in front of him. You studied his injuries, trying to gauge the severity of them and to know what to do to treat them. You wanted to give him a hug before that, he looked like he needed it, but you weren't sure if he would be okay with that.

You had always wondered what it would be like to hug JJ. He was tall, taller than you, and well... very fit for a 17 year old. You imagined he'd give good hugs if given the chance. But he didn't seem like the guy who would just hug someone, or like physical touch like that. Especially in the state he was in at the moment.

JJ felt your gaze on him as he sat on the edge of your bed, his muscles tensing up involuntarily. He tried to act relaxed, but he couldn't help the feeling of being scrutinized, your eyes roaming over his body and taking in his injuries. He had to fight the urge to snap at you, to tell you that he was fine and didn't need your help.

But there was something in your eyes that made him hold his tongue. It was a look of concern, almost affection, and he wasn't used to seeing it from anyone, especially not a kook.

He shifted awkwardly as you stood in front of him, feeling a flutter in his chest as you looked at him with such concern in your eyes. He could see the wheels turning in your head, trying to figure out how to help him.

"I didn't come here for a pity party, you know." he muttered, trying to maintain his usual tough persona, but his voice sounded almost vulnerable in the soft glow of the room.

Your brows shot up in embarrassment and awkwardness, you didn't want him to think you were pitying him. Just merely concerned from a place of love. But he didn't know that of course. "I'm sorry... I'm just..- worried. I never had to treat injuries this bad."

JJ felt a pang of guilt as he saw the look on your face, realizing that he had sounded harsh and defensive. He gritted his teeth, feeling a strange mixture of vulnerability and frustration. He was used to hiding his pain and brushing off his injuries as if they were nothing. It made him feel weak and vulnerable to admit that he needed help. Like admitting that would make whatever he was going through more real. Reason why he didn't like to burden his best friends with it too much.

He let out a slow breath, trying to soften his tone.

"It's not like it's the first time I got beat up. I can handle it."

"Were you seriously just gonna wonder around until the morning..?" you asked in an almost sad and concerned tone, still standing in front of him awkwardly, your fingers reaching up to adjust your glasses.

JJ glanced up at you, taking in your sad and concerned expression. He had been planning on just wandering around, or crashing on the beach until morning. But in the moment, he couldn't bring himself to admit that. He shifted on the bed, wincing slightly as he accidentally jostled one of his bruised ribs. He avoided your gaze, feeling a pang of guilt. "I don't really have anywhere else to go, do I?"

He tried to sound nonchalant and tough, as usual, but there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice. He was used to spending nights alone on the beach, but the thought of spending another night out there, battered and bruised, suddenly felt very cold and lonely.

"That's gotta feel lonely at some point." you stated simply as if reading his thoughts, stepping a little closer shyly, still studying his face intently.

JJ tensed up as you stepped closer, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. He wasn't used to people being this close to him, especially not in such a vulnerable state. But there was something about the genuine concern on your face that made him feel a strange mixture of comfort and frustration.

He tried to brush off your words, as usual. "I'm used to being alone. I don't need anyone's help, especially not a kooks."

"Why is it always about kooks and pogues?" you asked, your brows furrowing in curiosity and something like a hesitant irritation.

JJ couldn't help but roll his eyes at your question.

"Oh come on, don't act like you don't know. It's always been that way. Kooks think they're better than pogues, looking down on us like we're nothing. We're two completely different worlds."

"I never looked down on anyone. If anything it had always been the other way around." you spoke softly, your expression going back to its normalcy, the concern still etched between your features gently.

JJ was taken aback by your words, his tough facade faltering for a moment as he heard the genuine hurt in your voice.

He wasn't used to people speaking to him like this, like they actually cared.

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, his usual confidence wavering slightly. "Maybe not you, but most kooks are the same. They think they're better than us, just because they have money and power."

"Yeah well... you're in my room. Not someone else's. " you mumbled, shifting on your feet awkwardly.

JJ looked up at you, his eyes roaming over your face, taking in your expression. There was no trace of judgement or anything like that, only genuine concern and a hint of something else that he couldn't quite identify.

He suddenly realized how close you were standing to him, so close that he could see the way your eyelashes curved downwards as you looked at him. He suddenly felt a flutter in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation that he tried to ignore.

He cleared his throat, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as he spoke.

"Yeah, well, this doesn't change anything. You're still a kook."

His voice came out harsher than he intended, a defensive response to the strange feeling he was experiencing.

Your brows scrunched up almost imperceptibly at his harsh tone, a pang of sadness shooting through you. Your eyes darted across his face nervously, regretting the decision to bring him here, given he seemed to think you pitied him and just wanted to flaunt your rich and snobbish life style. You suddenly felt frozen and like you made things awkward, for no apparent reason, going silent.

JJ watched as your expression changed, and he realized he had messed up. He hadn't meant to hurt your feelings, but his defensive instincts had taken over. He didn't understand why it bothered him so much. You were a kook and he was a pogue. That was just the way things were. There was no room for feelings or anything like that.

But there was something about the way you looked at him that made him feel guilty for being so rude. He tried to backtrack.

"Look... I didn't mean it like that. It's just-"

He cut himself off, realizing that he had no idea what to say. He wasn't used to dealing with his feelings, especially not when it came to a kook girl with the softest eyes he'd ever seen.

He shifted on the bed, feeling more vulnerable and uncomfortable than ever, his bruised ribs protesting at the movement.

You took a small step back, thinking it would be better at the moment. You didn't want to cross any boundaries or make him more hostile than he already was. You were supposed to help him out, not make things worse for him. But somehow now it felt weird, tense. You didn't wan that.

You expression stayed the same, but you tried to push down the feeling of sadness and awkwardness in your stomach, fidgeting with the strings of your hoodie nervously as you tried to mutter a word or something, but the words were stuck in your throat.

JJ noticed your step back, feeling a pang of something in his chest at the distance between you two. He didn't like it, for some reason. He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to pull you closer, to close the gap between you. He watched as you fidgeted with your hoodie strings, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He could tell that he had hurt your feelings, and it made him feel like a jerk.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the strange, unfamiliar emotions swirling inside him. He rubbed a hand over his face, wincing as it brushed against a particularly painful bruise. "Look, I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just not used to people being so..."

He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. He wasn't used to people being so... what? Caring? Nice? Kind?

He looked up at you, his gaze locking onto yours for a moment before he quickly looked away, feeling embarrassed and vulnerable.

You wanted to step close again, reach in your nightstand drawer and help him with his injuries but you were frozen for some reason. You didn't know what to do, your eyes meeting for a moment, before you both looked away, an awkward and gnawing feeling settling in your chest.

JJ shifted on the bed, trying to find a comfortable position that didn't hurt. Every inch of his body seemed to ache, and his head was spinning from exhaustion. He looked up at you, still standing awkwardly a few steps away from him. He could tell that you wanted to do something, perhaps help him with his injuries, but you were holding back.

The urge to reach out and grab your hand, to pull you closer and make the aching in his chest go away, grew stronger by the second. He felt the silence in the room like a heavy weight, the only sound being his own pained breathing. He couldn't stand it any longer. He needed to break the tension, to ease the atmosphere.

His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he spoke."Hey... come here."

You were surprised by his gentle tone, and the hint of vulnerability in his voice. It was strange, hearing JJ being so soft and... well, not tough for a change.

You hesitated for a moment, still feeling unsure and awkward from before. But then you heard the slight pleading in his voice, and any resistance you had crumbled like a house of cards. You slowly stepped closer, closer until you were standing right in front of him again.

JJ tilted his head back, looking up at you as you stood in front of him. He could feel the warmth radiating off your body, and a hint of your scent - strawberries and vanilla - filled his nostrils.

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but he couldn't quite hide the hint of vulnerability in his eyes. He felt strangely exposed and vulnerable, sitting on the edge of your bed while you stood right next to him, close enough that he could reach out and touch you if he wanted to. And he did, so badly.

He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to pull you into his lap, to bury his face in your neck and forget about everything else for a moment. But he held back, knowing that it would probably scare you away.

He cleared his throat, trying to control the strange, unfamiliar emotions surging through him.

"I... uhm... you were gonna help me with my injuries, weren't you?"

"Yes..." you muttered weakly, widening your eyes as you realized you were just standing there like a dumbass. You dropped to your knees to rummage through your bottom drawer, looking for your first aid kit and a bottle of painkillers, anxiously.

JJ watched as you knelt down in front of him, feeling yet another flutter in his chest. He wasn't used to people putting in so much effort to help him, especially not a kook.

He couldn't help but notice how pretty you looked on your knees, rummaging through the drawer, your brow furrowed in concentration.

He wanted to reach out and touch you, to run his fingers through your hair, to tilt your chin up and make you look at him. But he knew he shouldn't. He had already messed up enough.

He tried to distract himself from his thoughts by looking around your room, taking in the feminine decorations and makeup scattered on your vanity; your soft colored curtains.

He couldn't help but feel even more out of place, more like a dark spot in the middle of a pristine, beautiful room. He was dirty and battered, and you were soft and sweet, like a porcelain doll.

He suddenly realized how ridiculous it was, him sitting on the edge of your bed, beaten up and bruised, while you knelt on the ground, diligently searching for supplies to treat his injuries.

He felt a new surge of guilt wash over him. He shouldn't be here, in your personal space, in your room and on your bed. He should be out on the street, alone and miserable, like he always was.

He suddenly wanted to leave, to spare you the troubles of dealing with a pogue like him, but he couldn't move. The pain in his ribs and the exhaustion were keeping him there, stuck in this moment of unfamiliar vulnerability and softness.

You had finally found the goddamned aid kit, after looking for it anxiously, grabbing a half empty pain killer bottle that you used regularly and standing up and holding it awkwardly, "you think there's any internal injuries we should worry about?" you broke the silence softly, sitting down on your bed next to him, your brows furrowing as though you were trying to see through him for the injuries for yourself.

JJ tensed up briefly as you sat down next to him, the sudden proximity making his heart race. He tried to ignore the way he felt and focus on your question.

He gingerly prodded his ribs with his fingers, wincing a little as he touched a particularly tender spot. "I don't think so. Just a bunch of bruised ribs, nothing serious."

"Bruised ribs are still bad." you stated with a determined look on your face, "what about your chest? does it hurt?" you asked softly, looking up to meet his eyes.

JJ's heart skipped a beat as he met your gaze, the seriousness and concern in your eyes making his chest ache in a different way than before.

He swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart, and nodded slightly.

"A little. Mostly my ribs, though. It hurts to breathe and move."

Your brows scrunched up a bit in concern and panic at his words. For all you could know, his ribs could be cracked or even broken and he could be downplaying it, "oh my god.. they could be cracked you know? i dunno what to do about that..." you muttered the last part to yourself, your panic growing.

At the sound of your panic, JJ's tough demeanor slipped just a fraction. He could see the worry and concern etched in every line of your face, and strangely, it made his heart feel warm.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he said, his voice softer than usual. "It's not that bad. I've had worse. I'm tough, remember?" He forced a cocky smile, trying to reassure you, even though his ribs were protesting with every breath he took.

You shook your head in dismissal, pursing your lips together as your concern and panic started to grow. You were a 17 year old with no medical experience aside from treating a couple of injuries from skating. You didn't even know how to figure out if his ribs were fine and the thought scared you, "listen.. you need to press gently and see if you can feel anything weird aside from the pain.." you spoke, your brows furrowed as you tried to keep your voice steady, to conceal just how scared you were. Scaring him wasn't exactly the way to go about it. Nurses didn't do that. What the fuck were you saying? you were no nurse..

JJ's smile faded as he recognized the genuine worry in your eyes. He felt a pang of guilt for downplaying his injuries, knowing full well that it was making you even more anxious.

He sighed and nodded, lifting up his shirt to gently press his hands against his bruised ribs. He winced at the pain, his stomach muscles tensing up as he carefully felt around. "It hurts, but... I don't think anything's broken."

You grimace as his breathing hitched, your eyes studying the big bruise on his rib under his arm. It looked gnarly, truly like something done with malice, "are you sure? broken ribs can affect your lungs... you need to tell me if they're broken."

JJ let out a soft grunt as he prodded his bruised ribs. He could feel your eyes on him, studying the bruise with a mixture of concern and fascination.

He winced again as he applied slightly more pressure, feeling a sharp pain shooting through his chest. "I don't know... It hurts like hell, but I don't think it's broken. I've had broken ribs before, and it doesn't feel the same."

Your expression soured when he told you that he had broken ribs before. The thought saddened you, in a way you've never been before. Your eyes met, leaving the dark purple and blue ish bruise, a hint of the sadness and care seeping through, "..okay. I'll give you pain killers and you can take a warm shower after I'm done, okay?

JJ was taken aback by your sadness and concern. It was an emotion he wasn't used to seeing directed at him, especially from a kook. He tried to push down the unfamiliar feeling that welled up inside him, the feeling that he didn't want to see you sad.

He nodded slowly, still feeling vulnerable and exposed under your gaze. The thought of a warm shower sounded heavenly after the long, exhausting day he had just had. "Okay. That sounds good."

You fidgeted with the first aid kit contents, your fingers trembling slightly as you grabbed a clean cloth. You gently dabbed at the cut on JJ's cheek, your concentration evident in the furrow of your brows. As you applied the antiseptic, you winced in sympathy, knowing the sting it must be causing him. The look of discomfort on his face mirrored your own, and your concentrated expression melted into a grimace, as if you were the one in pain.

JJ couldn't help but watch you as you cleaned and treated his wounds. Your gentle touch and focused expression somehow made his heart skip a beat, even though he was in pain. He winced as the antiseptic stung his cuts, biting his lip to suppress a hiss of pain.

"Damn, that stings..." he muttered through clenched teeth.

You locked eyes, mumbling softly, "sorry.. i don't want the cuts to get infected.." you scooted a little closer to inspect the injuries more closely.

He had an even more gnarly bruise on his cheek bone than the one on his ribs if that was possible. It looked like he had been slapped pretty hard across the face, or punched with some sort of ring on the attacker's knuckle. The thought made your stomach churn, the cut on his lip was probably the force of the slap splitting the soft flesh of his lips.

JJ shifted slightly, feeling a little self-conscious under your scrutiny. He knew he was bruised and battered, and the way you were looking at him made him feel more exposed and vulnerable than he ever had before.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. But the memories of the fight, and the feeling of your soft, warm skin so close to his, were making it difficult to focus. He couldn't help but notice the concern etched on your face, the way your eyes darkened as you looked at his bruised cheek. He suddenly longed to reach out and take your hand, to pull you closer and feel the comfort of your touch.

But he didn't. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was invading your space, that he was bringing his pain and trouble into your perfect world. He didn't belong in your bright, beautiful room, with its soft colors and warm vibes. He was a dark stain, a reminder of the ugly world outside your door.

He tried to maintain his composure, to keep his voice steady as he spoke. "It looks worse than it feels."

"I doubt that." you responded simply, stashing the antiseptic and cloths back in the first aid kit, adjusting your glasses gently. You looked back at him your gaze softening as you grabbed a band-aid. You placed it carefully over the cut on his cheekbone, puling back slightly to inspect it. "you know, i didn't bring you here to try and shame you or anything... i genuinely wanted to help."

JJ felt a pang of something in his chest at your words and at the surprising softness which you used to place the band-aid over his cut, a soft flutter that he wasn't used to feeling. He tried to hide it with sarcasm, his usual shield against vulnerability.

"Oh really? I thought you just brought me here because you had some sort of kink for battered and bruised guys."

He instantly regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, realizing how crude and harsh they sounded. He was used to using humor and sarcasm as a defense mechanism, but somehow, with you, it didn't feel right.

He looked up at you, wincing internally as he waited for your reaction.

Your brows furrowed at his slightly sharp and crude words, pursing your lips together as you folded your hands in your lap, "you're funny... usually."

JJ mentally berated himself for his sarcastic comment. He hadn't meant to sound rude; it had just come out, a reflex born of years of hiding behind humor.

He saw the subtle frown on your face and felt a pang of guilt. He didn't want to upset you, especially not after you had been so kind and caring. He felt a strange urge to wipe that frown off your face and replace it with a smile. "I'm sorry. That was a poor attempt at humor. I didn't mean to be rude," he said, his voice softer and laced with a hint of genuine apology.

"It's okay." you mumbled, your expression softening. You knew how on edge he probably was, given the day he probably had. "It was kind of funny anyway.." you smiled slightly, letting out a huff of laughter.

JJ felt a small surge of relief at the sound of your laughter. It was a soft, gentle sound, like a ray of sunshine breaking through the dark clouds. He found himself yearning to hear it again, to make you laugh more often. As he found himself when talking to you. It was a reaction his brain had once he heard you laugh and saw the smile on your face.

He felt his heart flutter in his chest as he looked at you, his usual tough demeanor softened by the moment between you two.

He managed a small smile in return, his voice quieter than usual. "Thanks for laughing at my crappy jokes."

This would be the moment in movies where the girl would kiss or hug the boy and they would stare at each other with looks full of love. He was so beautiful, even battered and bruised, that he deserved the look anyway. You wondered internally how something so pretty and angelic got such a shitty deal in life. It was unfair. "well i love shitty humor." you mumbled gently, looking down and then back at him with a small amused smile.

JJ chuckled softly at your words, his heart thudding in his chest. He hadn't expected you to banter back, and he certainly hadn't expected you to say you love shitty humor. No one had ever said that to him before. He tried to tamp down the fluttering feeling in his stomach, the one that seemed to be getting stronger every time he looked at you.

"Guess I'm your guy then," he replied with a smirk, trying to keep it cool on the outside, while on the inside, he was anything but.

'You really are.' you chuckled internally, your expression softening even more as you let out another quiet laugh at his self deprecating comment.

JJ was mesmerized by the sound of your laughter. It was like a soothing balm for his battered soul. He could listen to it all day long. He couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction at the fact that he was the one making you laugh, that he was the one bringing a smile to your face.

He smiled at your soft expression, trying to ignore the way it made his heart flutter in his chest. He wanted to keep seeing that smile, to keep making you laugh, to keep spending time with you, in this small slice of heaven in your bedroom.

He shifted slightly on your bed, wincing as the movement caused his ribs to flare up in pain again. He tried to hide it, not wanting to show any more weakness in front of you.

He looked down at his battered, bruised hands, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him. He had caused you so much trouble already. He didn't deserve to be in your pristine room, on your soft bed, in your presence.

He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. "Thanks again, for... you know, taking care of me."

You looked down at his bruised knuckles and small cuts on his hands, your expression softening yet again, this time a little more sad. Before you could stop yourself, your finger reached up to trace the injuries gently, like you were giving him a palm reading, "you don't have to thank me."

JJ's breath hitched as your soft, delicate finger traced his bruised knuckles. He could feel a jolt of electricity with your touch, a strange sensation he had never experienced before. It was both painful and soothing at the same time.

He tried to control his heart, which was suddenly racing in his chest. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, focusing on the feeling of your gentle touch, the way your skin felt against his rough and battered knuckles.

He swallowed hard, then opened his eyes again, looking up at you. He wanted to say something witty or sarcastic, his usual defense mechanism, but he found that he couldn't speak. He could only look at you, his eyes locked with yours, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, the strange feeling in his stomach, the way your gentle touch was sending sparks through his entire body.

He tried to find his voice, managed to rasp out a quiet, "Why not?"

"You don't thank someone for giving you something you deserve, do you?" you asked with a small smile.

JJ blinked at your question, surprised by the simple yet profound logic. No one had ever spoken to him like this before, with such a gentle honesty and compassion.

He looked up at you, the harsh bravado and sarcasm nowhere in sight. He felt strangely vulnerable under your caring gaze, like you were seeing a side of him that he had never shown anyone before. He tried to reply, but found his words stuck in his throat. He simply shook his head in response, his heart fluttering again at the warmth in your eyes.

He looked down at his bruised hands, at your soft, gentle touch tracing over the injuries. He felt a wave of unfamiliar emotions wash over him, a mix of guilt, gratitude, vulnerability, and something else he couldn't quite name. Something he didn't dare to acknowledge, even with your picture sitting snugly in his old wallet everywhere he went.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He knew he should say something, but he didn't know how to express the strange mixture of feelings churning through him.

Finally, he managed to speak, his voice softer than usual. "I'm not sure what I deserve..."

His words broke your heart even more than it already was. JJ deserved the world and even more. He deserved to wake up in a nice bed and eat the pancakes you sometimes were too picky on eating every morning, or to walk around his own house without fearing the ghost roaming its halls. To not be afraid that he might get a glass or plate thrown at his head, with the intent to blind him or cut into his flesh maliciously. JJ Maybank deserved at least the small sliver of love your parents showed from time to time when they spoke to you. Scratch that, you both could probably do a better job at being each other's parents than the adults in your lives.

You opened your arms shyly, raising your brows in expectancy. The hug would probably be awkward given how you were standing next to each other but you knew he needed it. You knew the look very well.

JJ felt his chest clench at the sight of your open arms, his heart thudding in his chest. He had never been one to show weakness, but the sight of your gentle gesture made him feel strangely open and vulnerable.

He hesitated for a moment, his pride telling him to resist, to maintain his usual tough facade. But the urge to hold you, to feel the comfort of your embrace, was stronger than his pride. He let out a shaky breath, then leaned in, slowly folding himself into the awkward hug.

The moment his body touched yours, JJ felt a strange mixture of sensations. There was the sting of pain from his bruised ribs, the sharp twinge of the cuts on his cheek and lip, but there was also a soft, comforting warmth that spread through his chest, a soothing balm for his weary heart.

He found himself leaning into the embrace, his head tucking naturally into the crook of your neck. His arms circled around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he needed your touch to hold himself together.

You could tell you were in fact right, from the way he hugged you. Like he had been waiting for you to hug him. Your arms wrapped around his neck gingerly, careful not to hurt him. It was the first time you probably initiated a hug, you were always one to shy away from gestures like these but this was JJ, your JJ. You could not, not give him the hug. Not with the way he looked or spoke, like he was 2 seconds away from breaking down.

JJ closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he held you closer, his arms tightening around your waist. The feeling of your arms around his neck, the gentleness and care in your embrace, was making his heart race, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering furiously.

He felt a strange sensation in his chest, a strange wave of emotions he couldn't quite identify. It was a mix of something new, something fragile and beautiful.

He found himself burying his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

He was overwhelmed by the mix of sensations coursing through him. He was used to feeling strong, independent, in control. But here he was, in your soft embrace, feeling vulnerable and fragile, his defences crumbling down with every breath he took of your scent, every gentle touch of your hands on his back, every beat of your heart against his chest.

He knew he should pull away, but he found himself holding onto you even tighter, his body molded against yours, as if he couldn't get close enough,as if he needed your touch to breathe.

You rested your chin on top of his head, letting him pull away when he wanted to. You didn't wanna pull away anyway. It was nice, actually enjoying a hug and not having to worry if it was awkward or if you were too tense or weird. The hug just was.

JJ's breath hitched at the way you rested your chin on his head, his eyes closed as he tried to process the strange feelings swirling through him. He never thought a hug could feel so intimate, so vulnerable, and so... right.

He could feel the steady rhythm of your breathing, the softness of your skin against his cheek, the way your body melded against his. It was a strange, yet soothing sensation, and he found himself not wanting to let go, as if he was afraid to lose this feeling.

He shifted slightly, pulling you even closer, his arms wrapping around you so tightly it was almost as if he was trying to merge into you, to become one with you.

He knew he was probably being too clingy, too needy, but he couldn't help it. The feeling of your body against his, the comfort and safety of your embrace, was like a drug he couldn't get enough of. He inhaled deeply, letting your scent fill his senses, his heart thudding in his chest.

He found himself mumbling something against your neck, the words coming out as a soft, almost slurred whisper. "Don't let go... please don't let go..."

He knew he probably sounded pathetic, like a wounded puppy seeking comfort from its master. But he couldn't help the desperate plea that escaped his lips. He needed your touch, your warmth, like a drowning man needing air to breathe.

You swallowed a lump that formed in your throat at his words, pulling him a little closer, shifting on the bed gently to move closer, still kneeling next to him on your bed. The thought of JJ sleeping on the beach all lonely and cold could have easily brought you to tears. If you weren't focused on the way he was holding you. A small part of your brain was still struggling to grasp that he was here, in your room, willingly hugging you. You wished he'd sleep at your place often. You could definitely use the company in this scary, imposing house.

JJ could feel the shift in your position on the bed, and it felt strangely intimate to have you so close to him, your body pressed against his. He knew he was probably crossing a boundary, being too needy and vulnerable, but the feeling of your warmth and comfort was too strong to resist.

He breathed in your scent again, his heart rate picking up as the distance between you shrank. His grip on you tightened, his hands gripping your waist as if he was afraid you would disappear into air if he let go.

He was suddenly overwhelmed by a flood of emotions he had never experienced before. He had always prided himself on being tough, on being in control, on never letting anyone see his softness and vulnerability. He hated when things got too real.

But there he was, wrapped in your arms, holding onto you like a man drowning, like a wounded animal seeking safety and comfort.

His breathing was ragged, his heart was thudding so hard he was sure you could hear it. But he couldn't let go, he couldn't move away. He needed you, he needed your touch, your presence, like a moth to a flame. And suddenly, JJ didn't feel like shying away from the real stuff. He embraced it, at least for tonight, just like he was embracing you.

Your arms wrapped around his head holding him close to you, one of you hands tracing up and down on the length of his spine comfortingly, trying to make the tension in his body go away, you never had to comfort someone before, doing whatever felt right; whatever you saw in movies or read in books.

JJ felt a shiver run down his spine as your fingers traced the length of his back, tracing soothing patterns that were both gentle and firm. He leaned into your touch, his body relaxing involuntarily, the tension slowly melting away under your soothing touch.

He felt his muscles unclench, his breaths becoming slightly more steady, the rapid thump of his heart steadying to a slower tempo. He felt his eyelids flutter, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. He buried his face into your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

His grip on you loosened slightly, as he felt the exhaustion taking over him. He was so tired, both physically and emotionally. The day had been a roller coaster of events, and the adrenaline and tension were finally wearing off, leaving him to feel like a wrung-out rag doll in your arms.

He let out a soft, barely audible mumble against your neck, the words slurring together.

"I'm... so tired..."

"Come on.. you can sleep of you want. That is, if you don't want to shower." you mumbled, a small sad frown tugging at your face, and you were glad he couldn't see it given you were hugging him.

JJ felt a pang in his chest at your words. He knew he should take a shower, he was sweaty and grimey and he probably reeked. But the idea of moving, of pulling away from your embrace, was unbearable right now.

He shook his head slightly, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. His voice was soft against your skin.

"No shower... just... just let me hold you...please..."

You hummed, nodding against his head. You moved slightly, tugging him further on the bed so he could lay down and sleep. That way he ended up being the small spoon, his face still pressed into your chest, into the soft fabric of your hoodie. You took off your glasses setting on one of the many pillows next to you bringing him closer.

JJ felt a surge of gratefulness as you moved him to the bed, gently tugging him until he was lying on his side, his head pillowed on your chest. The feeling of you pulling him closer, your soft hoodie against his cheek, sent a wave of comfort through him.

He closed his eyes, burying his face into the fabric of your hoodie, inhaling the scent of you. He could feel your steady breaths beneath him, the slow, soothing rhythm of your heartbeat. It was the most soothing feeling he had ever experienced.

He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he mumbled something too incoherent for you to make out the first time.

"Hm?" you hummed gently, not quite making out what he said.

JJ felt your hum vibrate through your chest, the sound soothing and comforting. He cleared his throat slightly, repeating his soft, slurred words a bit louder this time.

"You... smell good..."

JJ inhaled deeply against your chest, his face still buried in your hoodie. He took a moment to savor your scent, letting it fill his nostrils and his heart, before answering.

"Like... perfume... and... and something... sweet and... comforting...?"

He paused, trying to put his muddled thoughts into words.

"Not like... like... those really strong scents that give you a headache... Yours smell... soft... and... nice..."

"Well... i didn't have time to shower so that's nice." you were in slight disbelief. Here you were, your childhood crush in your bed, in your arms and about to fall asleep. It was nice, even though you weren't dating or anything. You could probably get used to having JJ sleepily telling you, you smell good.

JJ chuckled softly, his voice still slightly slurred with exhaustion. He could feel the tiredness weighing down his body, his eyelids heavy, his mind sluggish. But he didn't want to sleep yet. He wanted to stay awake and bask in the moment, in the feeling of being in your arms, of you holding him so gently, so intimately. Like how he'd imagine it would feel if his mom held him in her arms. Maybe she did, and JJ just didn't remember it.

He shifted slightly, nuzzling into your chest, his arms tightening around your waist.

"You smell fine to me," he mumbled, his breath warm against your skin. His body was pressed up against yours, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin fabric of your hoodie. He could feel the rise and fall of your chest, the rhythm of your breathing steady and soothing.

He felt a strange mix of contentment and vulnerability, wrapped in your arms like this. It was a feeling he had never experienced before.

He was suddenly struck by a thought, and he mumbled against your chest. "Do you think... I stink... or something...?"

"No. You smell really nice actually. Like salt water and weed, and obviously male cologne and sun-screen.." you chuckled weakly, threading your fingers through his hair gently.

JJ's eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. It was a gentle, soothing gesture, and he found himself leaning into the touch, like a cat seeking affection.

He chuckled softly, his voice still slurred with exhaustion.

"Salt water and weed, huh? Sounds like a nice summer fragrance." He shifted slightly, burying his face deeper into your chest, inhaling deeply. The scent of your perfume and skin and fabric softener of your hoodie mingled together, creating a strangely comforting smell that he could not get enough of.

His body felt heavy, like his bones were made of lead. The exhaustion from the day's events finally catching up to him.

He mumbled against your chest, the words barely audible. "God, I'm tired..."

"Go to sleep JJ.." you mumbled comfortingly, your fingers still moving through his hair.

JJ felt himself nodding against your chest, his body relaxed and heavy. The soothing feel of your fingers moving through his hair, your warm body against his, the sound of your voice in his ear... it was all like a warmth surrounding him. Like sunlight on his skin when he was surfing and he was truly happy.

He mumbled something, his words slurred with sleepiness. "Stay with me...?"

The soft statement surprised you a little but you found the courage to hum in agreement. You knew he was probably just too sleepy, and that didn't mean anything but it still made you feel giddy and like a school girl with a crush, holding him tighter to your chest so he could fall asleep. You'd stay with him forever if he actually asked you.

JJ felt a wave of relief and comfort wash over him at your agreement. The idea of you staying with him, holding him as he slept, was like a soothing balm to his tired weary heart.

He nuzzled into your chest, his eyes closed, his limbs heavy with exhaustion. He mumbled something against your chest, but it was too soft and slurred to understand.

Slowly, gradually, he drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, safe and warm in your arms.

The room was quiet except for the soft sounds of your breathing and JJ's soft, sleepy sighs as he slept on your chest.

He looked younger like this, his features relaxed, his mouth slightly open, his eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He looked so vulnerable and soft, not like the tough, sarcastic, bad boy he portrayed in public, especially asleep on your girly bedding and surrounded by dozens of your plushies.

His body was heavy and limp, his arms and legs sprawled out awkwardly, as if he had simply given up on trying to keep himself upright and just succumbed to the exhaustion.

Every now and then, he would mumble something incoherent in his sleep, a soft, almost inaudible utterance. He would shift slightly, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, seeking your warmth even in his unconscious state. His breaths were steady and slow, falling into a peaceful, regular rhythm. It was a far cry from the chaotic energy he exuded when awake, the constant movement and joking that seemed to define him.

He seemed so peaceful, so vulnerable, as if all the walls he built up when he was awake had fallen down in his sleep and left him exposed, unguarded.

Despite his usual bravado and swagger, there was something childlike about him in his sleep. The hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips every now and then, as if he was having a pleasant dream.

He let out a soft mumbling sound, and his arms tightened slightly around you, as if he was afraid to let go, even in his sleep.

You stirred awake, the sunlight teasing you through the dusty pink curtains of your room. It took you almost a minute to realize the weight on your chest and in your arms was JJ. He had actually fell asleep in your arms and in your bed. It wasn't a dream. You propped your self on your elbow gently, gazing down at his sleeping form. He looked so soft and... not tense. His hair was messy and although his face was still battered and bruised he was still angelic looking. He glowed in the soft sunlight.

You were hesitant at first but you leaned in gently and carefully, pressing a small kiss on his forehead. You didn't want him to wake up. That would be weird, you were barely friends as it was, he would probably find it strange if he woke up and found you kissing his forehead while he slept.

JJ stirred slightly as you shifted, his eyelids fluttering open slowly. He felt groggy and disoriented at first, unsure of where he was and why were his nostrils assaulted by a very feminine smell.

As his eyes focused, he realized he was still in your bed, his body pressed against yours, your face just inches away from his. He felt a mix of surprise and embarrassment at the situation. How the hell did he end up falling asleep in your bed? With you? Cuddled up like some damn puppy.

He mumbled something, his voice thick with sleep, his eyes fixed on yours.

He could feel the warmth of your body against his, the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed. He was too groggy from sleep to fully process the situation, his brain still catching up to the moment.

He noticed the look in your eyes, the soft expression on your face, and he felt a sudden jolt of curiosity and... something else he couldn't quite name. He licked his dry lips, his voice still thick and raspy.

"Did... did I fall asleep on you?..."

"Kind of, yeah.." you mumbled, your voice a little gravelly with the remnants of sleep, your brain holding onto his every word in his sleepy voice. It was slightly deeper and gravelly (which probably would have made you giddy if you weren't half asleep still) like yours and he looked a little messy and confused. So pretty.

JJ felt a mixture of embarrassment and confusion at the revelation that he had fallen asleep on you. He wasn't sure how long he had slept, but judging by the sunlight coming through the curtains, it had been awhile.

He sat up slowly, rolling his neck and running his hand through his tousled hair, trying to get his bearings. He glanced at you, taking in your sleepy expression and messy hair, and he felt that strange flutter in his chest again. You looked... nice like that. Soft and warm and... pretty.

He cleared his throat, fighting back the strange fluttering in his stomach. he was not some damn lovestruck idiot.

He spoke, his voice still raspy with sleep, trying to sound casual. "How long was I out for?..."

You propped your self fully on your elbows gazing at him slightly unfocused from sleep and the lack of your glasses, shrugging shyly. God, his voice sounded so good in the morning. "i was also asleep.."

JJ chuckled weakly at your response. Of course, you were asleep too. It was such a stupid question.

He took a moment to study your face, still so close to his, noting the way your hair was messy and tousled from sleep, sticking out in different directions. He fought back the urge to reach out and run his fingers through that wild hair, maybe even tug on a strand a little... just because.

He cleared his throat again, tearing his gaze away from your messy hair and back to your eyes, a hint of amused confusion in his voice.

"So, I guess we passed out together, huh? In your bed... together..."

He paused for a moment, the reality of the situation sinking in, and he felt that familiar sense of embarrassment and confusion stirring within him. He mumbled under his breath, only half-joking, his southern drawl more obvious since he had just woken up. "This is a bit... awkward, ain't it?"

"I did bring you here to sleep after all..." you mumbled, your words shy and gentle, still laced with sleep as you gazed at him timidly.

JJ chuckled softly at your words, his voice still rough and raspy. "Yeah, you did... but I didn't expect we'd end up cuddling all night... in your bed..."

He tried to sound casual, tried to ignore the weird fluttering of butterflies in his stomach and the way his heart had started to beat a little faster as he looked into your eyes.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to distract himself from the situation, but his gaze kept returning to your face, to your messy hair and sleepy eyes... "I can't believe we slept like this... I must have been exhausted..."

He paused for a moment, his voice getting even quieter.

"Did I... did I talk in my sleep? Or... do anything weird...?"

"I wouldn't know... i was also passed out." you mentioned once again, your hand trying to casually smooth over your hair knowing how messy it got when you slept.

JJ watched as you attempted to tame your wild, tousled hair, a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He couldn't deny that he found the whole situation... endearing, in a chaotic, messy kind of way. You looked so different from your usual, reserved self, disheveled and groggy from sleep. He kind of liked it, though, found himself wishing to wake up next to you more often although he'd never admit that out loud.

He shifted a little, the blankets rustling as he adjusted his position, sitting closer to you, his body still warm from sleep.

He found himself wanting to reach out to you, to run his fingers through that messy hair, to smooth it back, to feel the softness of your strands against his skin...

He kept his hands firmly clasped in his lap, though, not wanting to overstep any boundaries. He mumbled softly instead, his voice a low, groggy rumble. "You look... different when you just wake up. Cuter, I guess..."

You gave up trying to tame your hair, putting it in a loose bun and searching for your glasses and placing them on your face. This was actually insane. JJ Maybank had slept in your bed, holding you nonetheless and now he was acting all casual about it. Like he didn't spend the night in a girl's bedroom, one he barely knew.

JJ watched as you pulled your hair back into a loose bun and put on your glasses. The whole scene was strangely domestic, and he felt weirdly comfortable. It was all very strange and... nice?

He kept his eyes on you, studying your movements, noting the way your hair still stuck out in some wild directions, despite your attempts to tame it. He found it endearing, somehow.

He leaned back against the headboard, resting his arms on his knees, his voice still low and sleepy.

"So, what... what now?"

"I.. dunno.. " you mumbled, stretching a little and letting out an involuntary squeal as you did, looking back at him and shrugging.

JJ couldn't help but chuckle at the little squeal you let out as you stretched. It was so unexpected, so unlike your usual, reserved self. He found himself liking this... softer, sleepier side of you.

He leaned forward a little, his eyes still on you, amused. "You squeak like a mouse when you stretch?"

"I'm living up to the nickname 'mouse' i guess.." you laughed softly referring to the nickname he called you usually.

JJ chuckled at your comment, a smirk playing on his lips as he remembered the nickname he'd given you. "Ah, right. Mouse. Guess it fits you. Small, skittish, squeaking when you stretch..."

He teased gently, his tone playful but not unkind. He leaned back against the headboard again, studying you for a moment, his eyes wandering over your tousled hair and sleepy expression.

He still couldn't believe he'd woken up cuddled up to you, his arms around you, your body pressed against his. It was all so surreal. And... not unpleasant, he had to admit.

He decided to test the waters a bit, his voice still low and raspy. "So, does this happen a lot? You letting guys sleep in your bed?"

Your brows furrowed at his question, letting out a yawn covering your mouth as you did so, "no...?" what a weird question.

JJ chuckled softly at your confused expression and sleepy yawn. He didn't know why he'd asked that question. It was a stupid question, really. "No? So... this doesn't happen often, then? Letting a guy sleep in your bed... cuddling with him all night..."

He didn't know why he was prodding you, but he liked seeing you slightly flustered and disoriented from sleep. It was... cute, in a way.

"Technically you asked me to hold you..." you spoke shyly, shrugging.

JJ chuckled again, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. He had asked for you to hold him, hadn't he. He just didn't think you'd actually do it, and definitely didn't expect he'd end up falling asleep in your arms.

He paused for a moment, his tone a bit sheepish.

"Yeah, I guess I did. And you actually agreed..." He ran his hand through his hair again, his expression becoming a little more serious.

"Are you... are you always this nice to strangers? You don't even really know me, mouse. And yet... you let me into your bed, slept with me in it, even held me and everything..."

He knew he was digging for answers, asking questions that bordered on personal. But he couldn't help himself. He was suddenly itching to know more about you, the mysterious, shy girl who had captured his curiosity after they spent 20 minutes locked up in a closet at a house party.

'Oh i know you alright.' You thought, "well.. we're friends right?" you asked hesitantly, furrowing your brows. Despite the whole picture thing, which you were curious about. Did he still have the picture of you from that day in the marsh?

Despite that, you had barely talked before all this, before getting stuck in the closet together that night at the party. He wasn't teasing you but, he wasn't talking to you either, barely knew of your existence. And now he was in your bed, probably carrying a picture of you everywhere. Weird.

JJ thought for a moment, considering your simple question.

"Friends? I... I guess so, sort of." He considered whether to ask the question that was on the tip of his tongue, but decided to go ahead with it, curiosity getting the better of him.

"I have a question."

"Yeah?" you raised your brows, prodding him to continue with his question.

JJ fidgeted with the edge of the blanket, his eyes flickering between your face and the bedsheet, suddenly feeling a bit... shy.

"That day in the marsh... That picture you took of me. Do you still have it?"

"Oh yeah..." you reached for your wallet on your nightstand, fishing the picture from it and holding it out to him shyly.

JJ took the picture from you, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. He felt his heart skip a beat at the brief touch.

He brought the picture closer to his face, studying his own face in the photo. He remembered that moment, how annoyed and pissed off he felt that day before noticing you crouched down between the reeds in the marsh, how you'd caught him in that vulnerable moment in the marsh with your camera.

He turned to you, a hint of embarrassed annoyance in his voice. "You... you really keep this in your wallet?"

"Well i gave you the picture you took of me that day... i thought it was only right to keep it. That's if you didn't keep that picture of me.." you chuckled nervously, adjusting your glasses and shifting on your bed.

JJ smirked at your response, a hint of smugness in his expression. "Of course I still have the picture of you. I carry it around all the time. In my wallet, with me everywhere."

JJ chuckled softly, a smug smirk on his face as he replied to your nervous comment. "I would never throw away a picture of you, mouse. That picture of you... that day in the marsh. I have it with me all the time. In my wallet. Everywhere I go."

JJ watched as you studied the picture, his expression soft. He had been teasing you by taking the photo that day, but seeing you now, seeing your face so close, your smile that he'd captured in that moment... he felt his heart flutter unexpectedly.

"I guess we... we both keep each other's pictures around, huh?"

You nodded mutely, handing the picture of you back to him. The situation was genuinely something so... strange. He was carrying the picture of you like you were a couple, sleeping in your arms and at your place like it was normal. You wondered if he did this usually, sleep over at girl's places and carried pictures of them.

You shifted your attention to glancing around your room, the soft sunlight seeping through the dusty pink curtains, the mess on the floor and the fact that you were still in your hoodie and jeans after having falling asleep with JJ. The first aid kit was still sprawled out on the foot of the bed, reminder that JJ didn't come here on his own. You had invited him over to let him sleep here after a fight with his old man. "what now?" you asked, turning to him, your voice still holding the remnants of sleep.

JJ took the picture from you, his fingers brushing against yours yet again, the touch like electricity on his skin. He placed the picture back in his wallet, his thoughts consumed with the idea that you carried around a picture of him... as he did of you.

He stretched, yawning softly and glancing around the room. This whole situation was so bizarre, but he couldn't deny the strange kind of comfort he felt, being here, in your room...

His eyes landed on the first aid kit, lying on the foot of the bed, and he remembered the reason he was here in the first place.

He looked back at you, his expression turning a little more serious. "Well, I guess I should probably get going... need to head back to the Chateau before the guys start wondering where I am."

He started to get up from the bed, but something in him was reluctant to leave. He didn't want this... strange, comfortable moment to end, this rare moment of quiet and intimacy with you.

He stood up, running a hand through his messy hair, trying to look composed as he glanced down at you on the bed. His eyes lingered on your face, taking in your sleep-tousled hair and sleepy expression. He couldn't help but find it adorable, in a way.

He cleared his throat, his voice a bit rough as he spoke again. "Thanks for... letting me sleep here, mouse. And... for all the bandages and stuff."

You looked down at your lap before standing up off the bed too, now on the opposite side of your bed, nodding hesitantly, "yeah... yeah, no problem." you scanned his form, his face still littered with the bruises and battered, black eye glaring at you in a dark purple.

You liked how he looked in your room, like he was supposed to be here. But that was just your years long crush talking. Being biased wasn't good for the heart, you learned throughout the years of liking JJ. You wondered if his bruised rib was doing any better, or if he liked sleeping with you, in your arms. But you were too shy to ask of course. And he was on the cusp of leaving anyway.

JJ couldn't help but notice the way you were looking at him, your gaze taking in his bruised and battered face. He felt a flicker of embarrassment, hating that you had to see him like this, all beaten up and wounded.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling a bit awkward now that the strange, intimate atmosphere of the night seemed to be fading with the impending departure of the morning.

He glanced around the room, taking in the soft pink curtains, the messy floor, the small touches that made this place unmistakably yours. It was a stark contrast to the Chateau, to his chaotic and messy existence. He found himself wondering what it would be like, to be a part of this orderly, peaceful space.

His eyes fell on a framed picture on your dresser with you and your parents. He couldn't help but feel a pang of... what was that? Jealousy?

He took a step closer, studying the picture. You looked so happy in it, surrounded by your family, the picture filled with genuine joy. It was a stark contrast to his own family, or the lack thereof. He felt a pang of something painful in his chest, a mix of envy and longing for a life he'd never known.

He tore his eyes away from the picture, his gaze landing on you again. His voice was unusually quiet, almost fragile.

"This your family?"

You walked around the bed, stopping next to him awkwardly nodding. The picture was of you, your sister and your parents, on a vacation 4 years ago. The picture looked like you were all happy, the shot taken by another passer by tourist that your parents had asked. You weren't that thrilled to go with them that summer, but that was the only way 13 year old could spend time with emotional distant parents. And it wasn't like they were gonna leave you at home all alone at 13. How things changed, you thought. They're barely home with you now as you near the age of 18.

"yeah.."

JJ nodded slowly, studying the picture with a mix of jealousy and curiosity. It seemed so... normal, so perfect. A happy family on a vacation, smiling for a photo.

He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like, to have parents who cared enough to take him on vacations, to have a family that didn't fall apart at the seams.

He looked back at you, his eyes soft but his voice laced with a hint of bitterness.

"Must be nice."

He turned away from the picture, leaning against the dresser, his gaze flickering around the room once more. He felt a little out of place, like a wild animal that had somehow stumbled into a pristine, well-kept sanctuary. He was used to chaos, the Chateau, the constant fights and drama, the lack of stability and safety. This room, with its neatness and quiet peace, felt like a different world. A world he was just a visitor in, passing through on his way to something else.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his shoulders slumped slightly.

He glanced back at you, taking in your shy, awkward stance next to him. There was something vulnerable about you right now, something that tugged at his heartstrings in a way he wasn't used to. He felt an unfamiliar urge to protect you, to shield you from the cruelty of the world. But he also knew he was the last person who should be doing any protecting. He was a Pogue, a mess, a lost cause. What could he offer you? A shitty life in the trailer park? Hell no. He knew what happened to that one dude from Greek mythology when he flew too close to the sun. And he was feeling like he was nearing that point by extending his stay here, with your warm presence that seemed to be melting his wax wings slowly.

He couldn't allow himself to free-fall.

He cleared his throat, his voice gruff as he tried to act nonchalantly, to cover up the vulnerability he was feeling.

"I guess I better get going, then. The guys are probably starting to wonder where I am. They're probably wondering why I was out all night, instead of crashing on the couch at the Chateau."

You drew in a sharp breath, nodding once again. You knew your parents weren't home, so him leaving through the front door wasn't a problem. "I'll walk you out.." you mumbled, gesturing towards the door of your room vaguely.

JJ nodded and made his way towards the door, followed closely by you. His mind was filled with conflicting thoughts and emotions, ranging from gratitude to uncertainty, lingering thoughts of the night before, the strange comfort he found in your presence, in your bed, in your embrace. As he reached the front door, he turned to you one last time, his gaze meeting yours. "Thanks... for everything, mouse."

He flashed you a small, lopsided smile, his usually cheeky smirk replaced by a surprisingly genuine one. For a moment, he looked younger, less hardened by his life on the Cut.

Then, with a final nod, he pushed open the door and stepped out into the cool, crisp morning air. JJ wasn't gonna let his wings melt and free-fall. He didn't have the luxury to..

—♡‧

A/N: Not them cuddling all night and carrying pictures of each other, like... King and queen of (was it casual?) They'd eat that tik tok trend up. Idk how this ended up also kinda angsty. Anyway, do not fret because next chapter we're finally getting action! It was about DAMN time. What did you guys think? love you all sm and don't hesitate to comment and send asks my fav part of this is interacting with y'all.

Previous | Next*:･ﾟ✧

Tag-list*:･ﾟ✧ @cali-888, @bee-43, @jjscoquette, @melsbels-zip, @stanseventeen