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munson-blurbs · 2 years

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Get Out of My Head (Eddie x Fem!Reader)

You can’t get rid of Eddie Munson...but do you really want to?

Warnings: 18+ only (some smut, minors DNI), language, mention of Jason Carver, SO MUCH ANGST

WC: 2.8k

A/N: This might be my favorite one so far...feedback is so appreciated!

Late May, 1986. You just finished your second year of college, and you’re back home in Hawkins, Indiana for the summer. Your school is one of the first to get out among the smattering of high school friends you had left, which means you’re bored and alone for the next week or so. After unpacking and helping your mom with dinner, you drive your clunker of a Honda to Family Video in a meager attempt to cure your boredom.

Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley are behind the counter in matching uniforms. You remember them from high school. Steve was popular and obnoxious back then. Robin was quieter and, while you didn’t run in the same social circles, she was never mean to you. They seem to get along well now, though, and you wonder silently how this friendship came to be.

Your attention is quickly drawn to another familiar figure learning up against the other side of the counter: Eddie Munson, school freak and Dungeon Master extraordinaire. Your former closest friend and confidant, thrown away after one stupid decision on your part.

You’d met in middle school in music class. He played the guitar and you played the piano. Your teacher had recommended you both join the school band, and he just snorted, wanting nothing to do with extracurricular activities. You didn’t like them much, either, considering you had enough trouble with bullies during normal school hours.

It had kicked off a friendship that lasted until the day before you left for freshman year of college in August 1984. Eddie had to repeat his senior year (for the first time), so he’d be staying back.

“Holy shit. Y/F/N fuckin’ Y/L/N,” Eddie says now, snapping you back to the present. Your VHS copy of The Shining slips from your hands and clatters to the floor. You step forward to pick it up, but he’s faster, snatching it in his ring-clad fingers.

“Here, I got it,” he hands it over and shoves his hands into his pockets. “You home for the summer?”

“Mhm,” you nod, refusing to make eye contact.

“Maybe we could...catch up sometime?” His voice cracks a bit, and you can tell he’s nervous. Good. You weren’t the only one, then.

You shake your head. “I don’t think so,” you reply coolly. A bead of sweat trickles down your back, and you know it’s not just from the summer heat.

Suddenly, the room seems too small and you just need to leave. You toss the VHS on the counter, earning an annoyed “hey!” from Steve, and rush out the door. Your Honda stalls the first time you turn over the ignition, but it catches on the second time, thank God, and you drive off empty-handed.

You’re on your way to Bradley’s Big Buy the next day to drop off your application for a summer job, when the inevitable happens: your car breaks down on the side of the road.

“FUCK!” you shout as you slam your fists against the wheel, resulting in an appropriately angry honk. It catches the attention of another driver, who pulls over.

You know that van. You spent so much time in there, getting rides to and from school and toking up in the back. You don’t even need to see the driver to know that it’s Eddie.

“Nope, nope, absolutely not,” you say loudly, going back into your car. You close the door and immediately feel the humidity stick to your skin. It’s between talking to Eddie and suffocating, and you’re having trouble deciding which would be worse.

“C’mon, Y/N,” Eddie walks over, kicking up dirt with each step. His hair is pulled back in a ponytail and off his face, showing off his beautiful bone structure. You shake off the thought, locking the door before he can open it.

“Leave me alone!” you say, blinking back tears in your eyes. You’d managed to avoid Eddie all last summer by taking an internship in Indianapolis, and now you’ve seen him twice in two days. Hawkins was just too small.

He raps on the window impatiently. “You’re gonna die in there!”

Your response is just crossing your arms and turning your head. He’s right, but you won’t admit it.

He sighs. “Okay, look,” he says finally, “I’ll leave and get Wayne to tow it, but just get out of the car once I go, all right?” There’s a hint of sadness in his voice, and you secretly relish the ounce of power you have over him.

“Fine. Just go.” You should thank him. No, you’ll just thank Wayne. The old man didn’t do anything wrong; just his stupid nephew did.

Eddie leaves and you climb out of the car. Half an hour later, Wayne pulls up with his tow truck. He gives a small grin, the Wayne version of breaking out into song and dance.

“Y/N,” he says, “Eddie tells me you need a tow.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you start, fanning yourself with your hand. “And maybe some AC?”

“I can offer you both,” Wayne answers, opening the door for you. You hop in as he hooks up your car to the rig.

Wayne Munson was never a talkative man, so you’re surprised when he strikes up a conversation with you as he drives you back to the shop. “Eddie told me you were back in town. ‘S good to see ya, kid.”

You’d practically lived at the Munson trailer, especially when your parents were being particularly hard on you. Wayne didn’t judge; just offered you a safe space to breathe and be yourself.

“‘S great to see you too, Wayne,” you reply.

“We miss having you at the house. Not the same without you cracking jokes and baking for us. Hand to God, I’ve never had a chocolate chip cookie as good as yours, Y/N.”

This elicits a giggle from you. “I’ll have to drop some off sometime,” you say without thinking. You make a mental note to make sure Eddie’s van is nowhere to be found when you stop by.

Wayne nods. “Or, you can bake at our place like you used to. Makes the place smell good. Otherwise, it just smells like me and Eddie.” He wrinkles his nose. You just nod, knowing that won’t happen.

The rest of the ride passes by in a comfortable silence until you pull up to the auto shop. You see Eddie’s van parked outside and accidentally let out an audible groan. All you have to do is go in, call your parents, and then wait. Maybe you can even walk a few blocks so you don’t have to stick around. Yeah, that’ll work.

“I just need to call my parents to come get me, if that’s okay,” you say to Wayne as you walk in. He nods and points you to the phone, back to being a man of few words.

Before you can pick up the phone, Eddie hurries to your side. “Wait, Y/N,” he says. “Please let me drive you home. I need to talk to you about--about what happened.” You’re about to protest, but he cuts you off. “And then I will leave you alone. You never have to talk to me again, I promise.”

You roll your eyes, but mutter “fine,” and follow him to his van. You pull your knees to your chest, closing yourself off to him. You don’t even care if you get mud on his seats, though he probably does, which makes it even more satisfying.

“I just want to say that I’m sorry,” he starts as he pulls out of the parking lot. “I was an ass, and I really messed up.”

You scoff. “Messed up? Isn’t that the understatement of the fucking year.”

Eddie keeps his eyes trained on the road, but you notice his grip on the steering wheel tighten. “Yeah, it probably is. I know I hurt you. I never wanted to make you feel...” he trails off, because words can’t adequately express the pain you felt that day.

“Make me feel what? Used? Discarded? Like a piece of fucking meat?” You snap. Your eyes brim with tears, and you don’t have the energy to will them away, so you let them slip down your cheeks.

The day before you left for college. August 1984. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, not just anticipating being somewhere new without anyone familiar, but because Eddie Munson is next to you, helping you pack up your parents’ station wagon.

“I think that’s the last box!” He says triumphantly. “You’re ready to leave the nest. Fly, baby bird, fly!” He’s so silly and dramatic, and you throw your head back and laugh.

“Eds, I’m gonna miss you,” you say softly. He pulls you to his chest for a deep hug, resting his head on top of yours.

“I’m gonna visit you all the time,” he promises. “Whenever I can. And then I’m gonna graduate and join you.”

You nod, your chest filling up with emotion. Your heart seems to be beating double-time, and you know you have to go for it.

“Eddie?” you pull away slightly to look up at him. He gives you a small smile and brushes a piece of hair from your face.

“What’s up, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, I--” You’re doing this. You’re really fucking doing this. “I really like you. I’ve liked you for a long time, but I was too afraid...”

He smiles, the shy grin stretching across his whole face. “Y/N, I’ve liked you for...forever,” he grabs your hand gently, and you squeeze his fingers. “Well, probably since Jason Carver vandalized the Hellfire room and you started that rumor that he has a micro penis.”

You giggled. “Not my fault it was so believable,” you say with a shrug.

Eddie cups your face in his strong hands, leans down, and kisses you. You grab one of his belt loops and kiss him harder, letting your tongue explore his mouth. He lifts you and you wrap your legs around him, weaving your fingers into his curls.

He breaks the kiss tenderly and smiles. “Holy shit. I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

You look into his chocolate brown eyes. “You wanna go inside?” you ask shyly, and he raises his eyebrows.

“Are y-you sure?” he stammers, “it’ll be your first time--and mine, too, I guess,” he admits sheepishly, even though you already knew he was a virgin.

“’M sure. I want you to be my first, Eds. And I wanna be yours.”

The next few minutes are spent in your bedroom, undressing each other. Eddie pauses before unclasping your bra, but you nod, and he removes it. He immediately kisses your breasts, gently caressing them as he runs his thumbs over your nipples. It sends a shiver down your spine.

You kiss his neck as you unbutton his jeans and pull down his fly, and he steps out of them. His cock is rock hard in his boxers as he climbs on top of you, running his fingers over your soaked panties. You expect him to laugh, but he doesn’t; he just slips his finger under the band and pulls them off. You reach for his boxers and slide them down, careful of his erection.

You’re both completely naked. You’ve never felt more vulnerable, but also so free. You kiss him harder as he searches for your clit, and you guide his hand to that sweet spot. He mutters a “thanks,” and you smile in response.

There’s no one word to describe sex with Eddie. It’s clumsy and awkward but exciting and romantic. He slides a finger in you and moves it too gently, and you tell him, “You can go faster, Eddie. I’ll tell you if it doesn’t feel good.”

He gets his rhythm and adds another finger. You arch your back, riding a wave of pleasure. “Eddie,” you moan softly. You reach for his cock, stroking it. He places his free hand over yours and moves it faster.

“Just like that, beautiful girl.” You swallow thickly. Eddie Munson called you beautiful.

You’re soaking wet as he presses himself to your opening, before stopping. “Shit. I don’t have a condom,” he grumbles.

“It’s okay. I just finished my period a few days ago. Just...just pull out, just to be safe.”

He nods and eases his way in. There’s a spark of pain and you grit your teeth. Eddie notices and pauses. “Y-you okay?”

“Yeah. Just hurts a little b-bit, but I’m okay,” you smile up at him reassuringly. “Please, Eddie, I need you.”

He moans, a little whimper, and gently guides himself into you. The pain stops, and then there’s just you and Eddie, losing your virginities to each other.

You giggle, and he starts to laugh, too. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” He says incredulously.

“We really are.”

Eddie thrusts for another minute, his breath getting heavier. “Fuck, Y/N. I can’t hold out.”

“It’s okay.”

“But you didn’t--”

“It’s fine, Eddie. Lots of girls don’t their first time.”

He pulls out, finishing on his own hand. “I’m so sorry,” he mutters. His cheeks are flushed.

You hand him a tissue and kiss his cheek. “We can try again when you visit me at school, yeah?” you ask hopefully.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Of course.”

The moment is interrupted by a car door slamming.

“My parents!” you scramble for your clothes. “Get dressed!” The two of you rush around the room, throwing on your clothes.

“Eds, your shirt is inside out!” you whisper loudly. He tugs it off and flips it right-side in.

“I’m leaving tomorrow at 9 AM. Come over to say goodbye?” you ask.

He grabs your face and kisses your lips, then your nose. “I’ll be there.”

But he’s not.

It’s 9:15, your dad is impatiently waiting, muttering about traffic, and Eddie Munson is nowhere to be found.

“We gotta go!” Your dad calls, and your mom nods her head.

“One more minute!” But you know it’s no use. He’s not coming. You gave each other your virginities, and then Eddie bailed without even saying goodbye.

You run in the house to call him, a last-ditch attempt. Maybe he overslept. The phone rings and rings until the voicemail picks up.

You’ve reached Wayne and Eddie. Leave a message. Wayne’s gruff voice says.

“Hey, Eddie, it’s me. Just wondering where you are. You’re probably still sleeping...I’ll call you when I get to school and give you the number to reach me. Miss you already.”

You climb in the car, listening for the sound of his van rumbling down the street.

Nothing.

And now you’re back in that van, crying just like you did on your first night of school, when you realized that he was never calling you back. Only now, Eddie’s crying too. You’ve never seen him this upset.

“I am so, so sorry. I’m the dumbest person alive.”

“No, Eddie. You’re just like every other guy out there, just using women as sex toys whenever it’s convenient for you.”

You’ve hurt him, but you can’t muster up any empathy. “You think that’s what happened?”

“Isn’t it?”

He shakes his head. “No. No! I got...I got nervous.”

“Nervous? Eddie, I lost my virginity to you the day before.”

“Yeah, and then you were going off to college, where you would meet all these smart, athletic guys, and you’d realize that you could do better than me.”

You can’t help but burst out laughing; there’s a meanness to it. “So you got insecure and decided, ‘You know what? I’ll just break Y/N’s heart!’”

He says nothing, just stares stoically at the road.

“Fuck you, Eddie. Just take me home and fuck off.”

“Do you know what it’s like?” he raises his voice and it trembles. “Do you know how it feels to be the school freak, to be the butt of everyone’s jokes, and then trying to trust someone with your whole heart?”

Now it’s your turn to be silent.

“I know I fucked up, Y/N. I’m not pretending that what I did was fair to you. But please,” he begs, “please cut me some slack. I was so scared, but I’m not scared anymore. If I was, I wouldn’t be here talking to you, asking for your forgiveness.”

You feel your icy exterior start to melt. “Pull over,” you say.

“What?”

“Pull. Over.”

He does as he’s told, throwing the car into park. You turn to him, making eye contact with him for the first time in nearly two years.

“I forgive you, Eddie.” You place a hand on his cheek and wipe away his tears. “I know life hasn’t been easy for you. But what you did...it fucking broke me.”

You feel his chin tremble. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, but it’s still so genuine.

“And you know what really sucks? I still care about you. I want to kiss your stupid face and hold your stupid hand and go on stupid dates with you.”

Eddie gives a small laugh. “We could give it another shot,” he suggests shyly. “I won’t run away this time.”

You pull yourself closer and lean in. “You’d better not, Munson.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson angst #angst #smut #eddie munson smut

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the-guilty-writer · 11 months

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Not Just A Rossi

Agent Rossi-Reid

Anthology Masterlist

David Rossi x daughter!reader, Spencer Reid x reader, Criminal minds x BAU!reader

Summary: When Spencer notices RR struggling with her father's return to work, he can't help but intervene... with help of course.

A/N: It's been a while! This isn't exactly the way I want it, but right now I'm just happy to be able to write a little bit again.

CW: RR forgets to eat, is sleep deprived, eating food, details of a case

---

You were doing that thing again - that thing you did whenever you felt threatened or questioned. It was a defense mechanism that Spencer had identified within the first week that you began working at the BAU.

Desperate to prove your worth, you filled out double (sometimes triple) the amount of files you needed to. On cases, you didn’t eat or sleep until they were solved. You worked harder than any agent on the team, Hotch included, in an effort to prove that you belonged there- that you were worthy of your place on the team.

Those first four months had nearly brought you to your knees. Nobody had seen that you were drowning in self-doubt, being hit over and over again, wave after wave of looking for reassurance that you could never get. Nobody noticed.

Except for Spencer.

He was the one who looked at you one day and told you that you were more than just your name - that your brilliance and boldness made you more than worthy of being an agent at the BAU. He’d thrown you the life vest you were so desperately in need of. He’d also convinced you to grab on.

It had taken time for you to find your own identity within the team; for you to recognize that you were so much more than your father’s daughter, and that was why Gideon had hired you in the first place. There was always an underlying insecurity, but for the most part it had gone away. In the moments that the monster rose to the surface and you didn’t notice, your husband did. Spencer would find a quiet moment in the chaos, brushing his hand across yours to catch your attention before leaning in to whisper “Lo credo in te, mio amata.” in your ear- I believe in you, my beloved.

You hadn’t needed reassurance in a long time, but with your dad’s return to the BAU, you were falling into your old patterns and habits. The doubts and fears were seeping through the box that you carefully contained them in, leaking toxins into your mind.

You didn’t even realize it was happening at first - subconsciously wearing your more professional attire and packing your lunch instead of going out with the girls on days where work was a little slower. You ignored the more passive questions about your family-work situation instead of coming back with a snarky remark like everyone expected.

Spencer was the only one who noticed. Your shoulders were more tense than normal when he hugged you, kisses weren’t quite as long, and the underlying anxiety caused you to be a bit more tired than normal, which he had to admit put a damper on your most private relationship activities. All your husband could do was check in with you at work more often, but he didn’t want to say anything about it until it actually became an issue. For all he knew, it was a phase that would pass after a few months.

It didn’t.

Hotch was the second person to suspect anything was wrong. When a local PD questioned the team, you were normally bold in the face of their accusations, but for the past couple cases, you’d been avoidant of the comments - keeping more quiet than normal. It was during a flight home after a case that confirmed his suspicions to be true. Normally you would have been next to Spencer, both of you asleep with your shoulders brushing and pinky fingers overlapping - trying to stay as professional as possible, but unable to deny that you needed to be touching. But despite the grueling 72 hours the team endured, you and Hotch sat at the table awake, getting through paperwork.

“I can do those, you know,” Hotch said quietly.

You shook your head. “For me it’s just another hour of paperwork. For you it’s another hour you can spend with Jack.”

Since Haley had left, you’d been trying your best to help him. Previously, it was with situations outside of work- mitigating the couple’s conversations, or you and Spencer taking Jack for a few hours so the boy didn’t have to listen to his parents arguing - but now you were taking on his consults when you could, writing up parts of reports for him, going over interviews… anything you could. It was as if you were trying to subtly drown yourself in pen and printer ink.

Hotch didn’t respond to your comment. He just kept writing, knowing he’d have to find some time to talk to Reid about it.

---

“Are you and (Y/N) okay at home?” Hotch asked softly. Spencer had come into his office to drop off his finished files. The doctor was entirely unprepared to be ambushed by such a question.

Spencer’s chest felt tight as he looked at you sitting at your desk in the bullpen, and then at the open office door. “We’re fine,” he said, giving himself time to think about what to say next. “Still making sense of Gideon leaving.” It was the truth, just not the whole truth.

Hotch looked down. “She has nothing to prove,” he said. “None of us do.”

Spencer nodded in understanding and left the office. He almost went straight to you to pose an intervention, before realizing that was an intervention too big for himself to handle. Instead, he checked to see that you were still invested in your work before quietly walking to your dad’s office.

“Hi, Agent Rossi,” Spencer said as he entered. “Can- uh- can we talk?”

Your dad made a face that Spencer couldn’t quite read - maybe it was because his father-in-law scared him just a bit, or maybe because David Rossi had a truly strange range of expressions. Still, he was relieved when your dad said “Sure,” and gestured for Spencer to take a seat across from him.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Rossi asked.

Spencer glanced nervously in your direction. He’d gotten better at hiding his tells over the years, but there was no point in hiding them right now. “(Y/N)’s been struggling with you returning to work,” he said.

Rossi raised an eyebrow at him. “Go on.”

“When Gideon hired her she kind of went through an identity crisis about who she is outside of… well, you.” Rarely did Spencer have a hard time finding words, but he did right then. “It took time for her to feel like she deserved to be on the team because she’s good at her job, and not because she’s your daughter.”

“She never told me that.”

Spencer wasn’t sure if the twinge in your dad’s voice was concern for you, or doubts in him. “I don’t think she ever wanted you to know,” your husband got quiet.

It suddenly felt as though he was spilling a secret he shouldn’t even have access to. You’d never said that you didn’t want your dad to know how hard it had been coming into the most elite unit of the FBI and constantly questioning how and why you were there; always wondering if someone had pulled strings they weren’t supposed to. Yet, it seemed like Rossi had a right to know there was a monster lurking within his relationship with his daughter.

Rossi sighed. “She didn’t even tell me that Gideon hired her until her first day here.”

“You didn’t tell her you were coming back to work until you arrived at the office,” Spencer said, immediately regretting his decision when he heard how accusatory the sentence was. With his foot in his mouth, Spencer found himself scrambling to find words. “I mean- I know it was with good intentions but- not, not but-”

“Spencer.” He turned to see you in the doorway of your father’s office. You looked immediately from your husband to your father. “Papa.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Cosa diamine stai facendo?”

Rossi rolled his eyes. “Can’t Reid and I just talk? Da uomo a uomo?”

Spencer knew enough Italian to know the words the two of you were saying, but he quickly realized that he did not speak enough father-daughter to understand the conversation.

You sighed, annoyed, and ignored Rossi, turning to your husband instead. “I’m going to work late again tonight. I’m helping counter terrorism get through some extra cases and it’s taking longer than expected.”

Spencer stood up from the chair. “I can help you. We’ll get through them faster tog-”

You shook your head to cut him off. “We’ve already worked late every day this week and there’s leftover eggplant parmesan at home that isn’t going to eat itself.”

All Spencer could do was put an awkward grin on his face. He almost leaned in for a kiss before realizing that the two of you were still in the presence of your dad. Instead, he gave you a gentle kiss on your temple. “Come home tonight, please?”

It hadn’t happened before - you staying the night at the office and Spencer waking up to an empty bed - but he was worried it might. The bags under your eyes and hollow look to your face spoke of desperate need for sleep.

“I will,” you whispered to him.

He left your dad’s office and made his way down to the bullpen. Your desk was stacked with extra files, loose papers with hastily scribbled notes were all over, and your lunchbox sat untouched. Spencer sighed and threw his satchel over his shoulder. Before he left for the night, he put a note on your chair, where you were sure to notice it:

Your lunch isn’t going to eat itself - S.R.

---

You weren’t sure what time it was, just that the bullpen was empty, the janitor had left hours ago, even Hotch’s office was dark, and your lunchbox was still untouched. The stack on your desk had gotten significantly smaller, but at the rate you were going, you hoped you could keep your promise to Spencer that you’d make it home tonight. Your stomach growled as you eyed your lunchbox, but you had to weigh your options: get through another file and make it home, or eat.

You had to make it home tonight. You would never hear the end of it if you didn’t.

With a sigh, you reached to grab another file. this time it would be the last-

“Mio passerotta.”

“Cazzo!” Your exhausted body was brought to alert by the voice of your dad coming from behind you. You sighed and regained your composure. “Papa, what are you doing here? It’s late.”

“I don’t remember raising my daughter to use words like that,” Rossi said as he walked towards you, ignoring your question.

You rolled your eyes. “Please, Papa. I don’t have time for this.”

“You know you’re lucky that you and Spencer both work for the BAU,” your father continued to go on, finally perching on the side of your desk, uninvited. “You’ve been working overtime. Last week you didn’t even make the poor guy a homemade meal-”

“Now that’s just sexist-”

“And you have to be back here in,” Rossi looked down at his watch, “five hours. You told him you would make it home tonight.”

“And I will,” you snapped. “After I finish this file.” You picked up your pen and opened the manila folder. You might have been able to concentrate on your work if your dad didn’t keep talking.

“After I finish this file…” he said with annoyingly negative nostalgia. “Do you know how many times I said that back when I was your age? It ended two of my marriages.”

“Why do you keep bringing up my husband and my marriage?” The exhaustion and the hunger made you far more irritated than normal.

“Because, mio passerotta, you have a good one. A great one. So great that your husband took it upon himself to tell me that you’ve been struggling with my return to work.”

You froze. The wall you had built up of overworking and papers and file folders and crime scene photos came tumbling down in an ocean around you. You were drowning, just like you had been years ago; and once again, Spencer had been the one to notice. But he sent your father to save you this time around.

Your dad grabbed your lunchbox from the desk with one hand and offered you the other. “Come on,” he said gently.

You took his hand and let him pull you to your feet, leading you towards the glass doors of the bullpen and towards the elevator. Suddenly, you felt like a little girl again; though you were older now, and much taller, your mind was ravished with memories of when you came to the BAU when you were little - your dad holding your lunchbox in one hand and gently gripping your small fist in the other.

The memories became even more vivid when you stepped off the elevator and onto the basement floor.

Your dad let go of your hand and walked to a small clearing in the space, which was now exclusively used for storage. Old desks stacked on top of one another, broken printers in the corner, and long folding tables pushed against the wall still gave it the overly-crowded feel of the old BAU headquarters.

“What are we doing here?” you sighed, following him.

Rossi sat down and opened up your lunchbox, beginning to pick through what was essentially granola bars, bags of chips, and sleeves of crackers. You barely had time to go grocery shopping recently, much less cook for yourself. Your dad pulled out a bag of Spicy Italian flavored snack mix - the same snack mix he used to get you as an after school snack - and opened it before taking a bite. He finished munching the handful of mix in his mouth and held the bag out to you. “Trying to remember who I was.”

You sighed, took a handful from the bag, and sat down across from him.

“You were, what, twelve years old when they finally moved us to this office?” Rossi reminisced.

“Thirteen,” you corrected. “And I’d hardly call this an office.”

“It was better than the glorified storage closet we were in before.”

“This is a glorified storage closet now.” But when you looked around you could still picture the space in its hay-day; where the white boards hung on the walls, the circles of desks, the floor to ceiling shelves that held boxes and boxes of files, even the place that had been blocked off to act as a small conference room. You could have mapped it out better than your childhood bedroom.

“True,” Rossi started. “But I’d like to think some rather important things happened here.”

“Your retirement party happened here,” you pointed out.

“It did.” Finished with the snack mix, your dad got to his feet. You followed his lead as he moseyed around a bit. “But right there,” he gestured to a space on the back wall where a board once hung. “That’s where we hung your high school graduation sign.”

“Yeah…”

“And over there.” He nodded towards the middle of the room where a circle of desks used to be. “That’s where you met Aaron for the first time.”

“What does-”

Your dad brushed right past you and stood in a space that you couldn’t remember if it had any meaning to it at all. “And this is where you helped on your first ever profile, at the age of thirteen years old.”

You paused and stared at him for a minute. Sure, you’d stolen files from old cases without permission, but you couldn’t ever remember putting a profile together. There were a few times you used solved cases as parts of school projects, or sorted through old file boxes for community service hours. You had thought any thievery of paperwork was done well for you being a teenager surrounded by profilers.

“I wasn’t allowed to help with profiles,” you stated blankly. “And I never sto- borrowed files from unsolved cases. Just the solved ones so I could learn. If you spend enough time around here you get curious about what everyone is talking about.”

“You may have not been allowed to help with profiles,” Rossi said. “But you had no problem pointing out when a young trainee was wrong.”

You couldn’t argue with that. As a teenager, you’d gotten a kick out of questioning the younger agents' skills; it was amusing to watch their faces falter into frowns over profiles they had been so proud of just moments before you tipped over their house of cards.

“I was standing over there,” Rossi pointed to a corner, “with Jason, while Agent Chambers presented his preliminary profile on two bodies found in Seattle. Both young women were stabbed in the lower abdomen. The trail went cold quickly.”

“I remember now,” you said. “That case showed up again years later, and then went cold again. It’s still unsolved.”

“That’s the one. Chambers said that because the two victims were young, and their reproductive organs were targeted, the unsub must have been older - in his mid thirties at least. More likely in his forties or fifties.”

You smirked just a bit. “I said there was no way the unsub could be older. There was overkill on the first victim and the second was more controlled. It shows evolving, which pointed to the unsub being younger: twenty five to thirty five.”

“And you were right,” Rossi said, walking towards you. “It opened up the entire profile, so when two more bodies showed up years later, we didn’t ignore it. At thirteen years old you understood more about profiling than an agent with proper training.”

You shrugged. “Because you’re my dad.”

He shook his head. “Mio passerotta, the reason you’re good at your job has very little to do with me. Being a Rossi might have helped you get a jump-start in your profiling education, but it didn’t make you a profiler. It didn’t earn you your academy scores, or get you placed with the BAU. You did that, all on your own."

A rather sheepish grin crossed your face and your eyes began to water. Sure, your dad had told you he was proud of you countless times - so had Gideon - but it was rare that he told you that you were good. The weight lifted off your shoulders; the bouldering burden of your name dissolved into thin air. A tear of relief rolled down your cheek as you stood up just a bit taller than you had in months as that little bit of confidence, the little bit of fire you had lost, began to shine through once again.

Rossi wrapped you in a hug, holding you close like he always did, and you hugged him back. “Grazie, Papa,” you whispered.

Rossi smiled. “Always, mio passerotta.” He gently let you go and planted a kiss on your forehead. “But I think you have someone else you need to thank.”

You smiled and nodded before rushing towards the elevator to get on your way home.

---

It was nearly 4 AM when you walked into your and Spencer’s apartment. You had expected Spencer might wait for you for a few hours before going to bed, but it was clear to you, seeing him asleep on the couch with a book open on his chest, that he had waited as long as he could. You put down your bag and slipped your shoes off before padding over to the couch.

Gently, you took the book off Spencer’s chest and placed it on the coffee table before laying beside him on the couch and replacing the weight of the novel with the presence of your hand. Without opening his eyes, Spencer adjusted so you could snuggle in.

“You’re home,” he said groggily, still half asleep.

“I’m home,” you replied.

You could have contributed how fast you fell drowsy with how long you had been awake, the lack of nutrition in your system, or emotional exhaustion, but it was more than that. It was the warmth of Spencer’s embrace, the gentle feeling of his breath on your skin, the steady beating of his heart under your hand, and the comfort of being with someone who knew you better than yourself.

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, but Spencer had already fallen asleep.

---

Join the taglist @doctorsteeb @saturnluvvr @padsfirewhisky @staygoldsquatchling02 @mycoolusernamesstuff @reidstileschishiya @rory-cakes @star-wars-lover @easygiri @melifluorei-d @bwormie @kikis-writing-world @nomajdetective @malindacath @lostinwonderland314 @brooke-stinson @gh0stgurl

#criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #david rossi #rossi x daughter!reader #david rossi x daughter!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #the rossi reid

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chrisevansonly · 1 year

Note

Or if not,

Chris looking after reader since her immune system doesn’t really take to her first Boston Christmas too well and she’s sick ❤️

Winter Blues

Chris Evans x Female Reader

Summary: You've always had a little bit of a weak immune system, so it's no surprise that Boston's worst winter it's seen in years starts to get to you. Despite the fresh snow packing the ground and covering the roads, you're only worried about disappointing your boyfriend. Lucky enough for you, he's the sweetest man alive.

Warnings: non, mentions of cold/flu like symptoms, super soft!boyfriend chris

A/N: Thank you for requesting this sweet bean, I did switch it up a little bit because I've been having a very rough Christmas and I feel like writing about it right now just makes me want to cry lol I hope that's okay, happy reading<3

Word Count: 743

The bitter cold hit your cheeks as you made your way back the safety and warmth of your boyfriend’s home, you’d been helping him clear up some snow outside, Chris making it a cute activity for the two of you. As much as you loved the winter and the snow, by hour 2 you could just feel that well known ache creeping up through your body, opting to take a break and head inside. Normally when someone feels sick the general reaction is to get someone to help take care of you, or at least just be present, as a comforting gesture. It was bad enough that you had already been trying to hold off this inevitable outcome, but now your brain only convincing you that it would ruin Chris’s winter joy, the two combined; was enough to have you hide alone in his room.

“I just need to change and lay down for a little while and I’ll be fine…”

You mumbled that to yourself a few times, making your way to the walk-in closet and tossing your now wet clothes into the hamper. Switching to a pair of fuzzy sweatpants and Chris’s blue NASA hoodie, though he would argue and say it was yours. When your body hit the mattress, you immediately let out a sigh, sniffing gently as your sinuses began to stuff up, you let the warmth of the comforter sooth your sore joints. The logical part of you knew you should have told Chris you weren’t feeling well, and the more you lay alone in bed, the more you started kicking yourself from not telling him.

You were about to get up to call for him when footsteps echoed off the hardwood, and a soft knock fell against the door, his head poking in with a frown on his face, worry spreading throughout him

“What happened baby? I thought you were just coming in for a minute”

You sniffled

“I started to feel sick, s-so I came to lay down”

He nodded coming over to sit by your head, the back of his hand pressing to your forehead softly to feel for a fever; which luckily, you did not have

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could have come in with you”

“You were having so much fun outside, I didn’t want to ruin it..”

He sighed

“I was having fun because I was with you pretty girl”

When you looked down to avoid his softened gaze, he was quick to pick your chin up gently, his thumb rubbing across your jaw

“You wouldn’t ruin anything, any time I get to spend with you is worth every second, I don’t care if we’re having a snowball fight, walking dodger, if I’m taking care of you when you’re sick, honey I love it all, every little bit...”

You could feel tears well in the bottom of your eyes, a mixture of gratitude and hormones being thrown off due to feeling unwell. Chris managed to catch a few of the as the streaked across your rosy cheeks

“I love you and I will always do my best to help in any way I can, and that includes when you’re sick okay?”

“I love you too…okay, I’ll get better at remembering to ask for help, sometimes I just forget or don’t want too”

You laughed a little which caused a bright smile to appear on Chris’s face

“That’s why you got me baby, I’m here to remind you that it’s okay, now, you stay here, I’m going to run and grab some medicine, your heating bad, some tea and soup. We can hangout up here and just spend the rest of the day in bed, sound good?”

“Sounds perfect…thank you.”

He leaned down pressing a kiss to your forehead, taking a moment to pause and admire his favourite girl in the world, the girl he’d do absolutely anything for, you were an angel in his eyes

“No need to thank me baby, I gotta get my girl feeling better”

He gave your head one more kiss before getting up and heading towards the kitchen, the warm and fuzzy feeling spreading throughout as you took in just how loved you were when it came to Chris. Just as you were his favourite person, he was yours, he was the light to your days, and especially on a day like today, you were more than grateful for your sweet nurse of a boyfriend.

#chrisevans #chrisevansxreader #chris evans x reader #chris x reader #rueswrites #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x girlfriend!reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans fic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x wife!reader

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mustangs-flames · 11 months

Note

tell us about baby htb mark and cesar…

Sure thing!! (I love them dearly)

They first meet when Cesar is 9 and Mark is 8 (almost 9) when Cesar catches Mark having a panic attack under the school bleachers.

Mark spent the first few weeks of their friendship actively trying to avoid Cesar and keep him at arms's length (he didn't want Cesar to get caught up in all the stuff Mark was witnessing/being bothered by and also just thought Cesar was lying/had bad intentions about wanting to be friends). Cesar was persistent and Mark found he'd actually come to like having Cesar around. He liked having someone waiting for him at the school gates at the start and end of the day, and he liked having someone to sit with at lunch and break times.

Mark first stayed over at Cesar's about 6 months into their friendship and Mark was completely thrown by how loved everything in Cesar's house felt. It was the best he'd slept in years (one they'd finished playing video games long enough to fall asleep lol).

Cesar found Mark seemed to calm down during panic attacks whenever his hand was held so whenever Mark was really wound up, Cesar would start offering his hand out as an invitation. Mark eventually got to the point where he'd just grab Cesar's hand the second he felt an attack starting, and Cesar would lead him somewhere quiet.

Cesar is a great baseball player and Mark absolutely sucks at the game, but he got a bit better after spending afternoons at Cesar's swinging and pitching in the back yard. They only broke a window one time so it was a success for the most part! lol

They built a 'fort' out in the woods surrounding Cesar's home and would go play there during the summer months. After the Heathcliff murder-suicide, the fort became a place they'd go to when Mark was feeling too overwhelmed. They'd sit there in silence and listen to the sounds of nature all around. The fort is still there during the events of INWCT and after, sat abandoned and alone.

I definitely have more but I don't want to bore you all with a very long post lmao

Thank you for asking about them!! I love the velcro duo dearly <3

#hail true body au #htb mark #htb cesar #htb velcro duo #mustang answers!

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canned-goose-feathers · 1 year

Text

XVI.

BdoubleO100 fell from a high place

Grian balances some mossy cobble in one hand to peek at his comm. Huh. Maybe Bdubs is building somewhere high? To be honest, he hasn't seen what Bdubs is building this season. He's been a bit preoccupied. The glare from the setting sun is enough to make him squint and raise his hands. Maybe he’s been working too long today. There’s another ping from his comm.

BdoubleO100 swam in lava

Grian purses his lips. The cobble in his hands is starting to slip, the moss wet with dew and his own sweat, so he shoves his comm in his pocket and reorients himself best he can. It's an active effort to shove his spiraling thoughts away these days. He's been avoiding Scar and Mumbo, claiming to be far too busy to help test their redstone or tour the park or play whatever new card game the rest of the hermits have become obsessed with.

Thankfully they seemed to pick up on his mood, and had been giving him space. Most of the hermits had been giving him space. Save for Xisuma, who’s stopped by at least once to check on him; thankfully the admin’s made a point not to stand too close when he does visit, which Grian appreciates.

By the time he sets the cobble down, his comm has pinged three more times. Dusting his hands off, Grian pulls it out.

BdoubleO100 fell from a high place

Xisuma: you okay dubs?

BdoubleO100: fine

Grian frowns. Maybe Bdubs is having a hard day? He types out half a message in the global chat, erases it, and starts typing something in his whispers to Bdubs, but he stops. Were this a few months ago, he would jump at the idea of helping Bdubs out. After all, that’s what the hermits do, right? They help each other out, they’re a big happy family.

Except they weren’t, were they?

Nausea creeps up his throat and sits behind his teeth until he shivers, wings fluffing out. He needs to fix this or . . . do something. He’s not even sure what it is that needs fixing, and thinking about it burrows spikes into his brain. He glances towards where he knows the Entity is as if he's some kind of compass bound to it.

Grian’s tired. Not tired like he would be after a long day’s work, or exhausted like he’d feel on returning from a Life session. He’s tired, bone-deep, of the feeling of being hunted he’s had since he set foot on season nine. He’s been running like a rabbit for too long and now weariness weighs him down, slows his brain and body, even as the wolf gets closer. Except, of course, it never really catches him. Either he’s too stubborn, too unwilling to yield . . . or there’s no wolf.

He stumbles next to his chest monster and barely catches himself on the edge of a shulker. Flying back . . . probably wasn’t the best idea. That’s okay, he’s thrown a bed down in the bottom of Dwayne for this exact reason. The sun has almost fully set when he manages to shuffle over to the bed, collapsing hard into it. He’s out like a light in seconds.

He sleeps dreamlessly for what must only be minutes before a hand shakes him awake. He startles, wings flaring up. As consciousness comes back to him, so does confusion. It’s still nighttime? Sure enough, it’s quiet outside and he can see the darkness through the hole in the side of Dwayne.

The second strange thing that deepens his confusion stands in front of him, holding a lantern. Bdubs looks . . . he doesn’t look good. There are bags under his eyes and a curl to his shoulders that Grian knows too well. It reminds him of season eight, when no one had slept well as the moon loomed closer. Bdubs shouldn’t look as ragged as he does though; It’s a new season.

Grian props himself up and rubs an eye. “Dubs? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t sleep,” Bdubs says, staring unblinkingly. Grian shifts uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze.

“Well, what d’you want me to do about it?”

“I need you to kill me.”

That does wake Grian up. “What?”

Bdubs rolls his eyes, like Grian’s the one out of touch. Which, rude, but besides the point. “You know what I mean! God, doesn’t Scar tell you anything?”

Grian stares at him, wavering for a second before deciding that yeah, sure, this is a thing that can happen. He rolls somewhat inelegantly out of bed, his foot caught momentarily in the blanket in such a way that he bares his teeth at the offending object until he can free himself. He shuffles through his pile of belongings for probably a bit longer than necessary before grabbing his sword. There’s a half beat of breath as he steadies himself. Then, Grian lunges towards Bdubs and runs the sword through his chest. It slides through almost too easily with a sickening gush of blood along the enchanted metal edge. Bdubs gasps, his hot breath on Grian’s face and his eyes shining with instinctual tears.

Grian is more than good at killing quickly, as long as the other party isn’t fighting back, and as he rips the sword from Bdubs’s gut, the man is already beginning to dissolve. There’s a tinge of copper in the air that makes Grian’s teeth chatter, but he shoves it down.

BdoubleO100 was slain by Grian

Silence holds him down like a blanket. The buzz of the kill still trickles up and down his arms, but if he lays down right now and focuses, he should be able to get back to sleep.

“No!” The sound of rockets and Bdubs’s frustrated yell dash his idea entirely. The now mostly bare hermit lands gracelessly on top of his items, shoving them in a shulker. “Quit playing around, Grian. Gosh, I knew Scar was the sadistic type but really, sometimes a man just wants to get some rest.”

Grian stares at him. Bdubs turns back around and puts his hands on his hips.

“Now c’mon, are we gonna do this right? Do you need, like, a specific area? Some tools? I’m a bit too tired for a wine ‘n dine if I’m honest but I can write you an IOU—”

“Bdubs,” Grian cuts him off, his eyes wide and wary, “what are you talking about, are you alright?”

“I’m tired, and you’re being obtuse — I don’t really mean that — but seriously, Scar’s not here or else I’d go to him. I’m a creature of habit, y’know? But, in his absence, you’re the next best thing and . . . you . . .” Bdubs trails to a stop, finally seeming to take in Grian’s tense form. The silence is deafening, save for Grian’s shaky breath. His grip tightens on his sword (like that would do any good).

Bdubs stares. Grian thinks there might be smoke coming out of his ears and his eyes rake over Grian in a way that makes him feel far too seen. Finally, he breaks the silence. “You don’t know, do you?”

It’s like throwing a rock at a glass wall.

Grian’s mouth twists into what must be an unnatural snarl. It’s not the bright anger from the Entity that sparks like flint and steel, but instead his carefully-constructed barriers break under the weight of the rage behind them. Weeks, months, of being kept purposefully in the dark by his friends has taken more than a toll on him. This anger is all his, he knows that much. Now, he has an outlet. “No, evidently I don’t. But since you’re here and already talking, why don’t you tell me?”

“I can’t—”

“Why?”

“I just can’t, Grian, I—”

“You can’t.” Grian raises up his sword, taking a step towards Bdubs. “Scar can’t. Pearl can’t. Mumbo can’t. You all seem to know exactly what’s going on and you outright refuse to tell me. What, am I dying? Is my code being ripped apart from the inside?”

He takes another step. Bdubs begins to back away, his eyes wide, his hands held up as Grian continues to rant. “I deserve to know, don’t you think? I should know what’s happening with my own damn body. Because I certainly don’t know right now. I’m tired, Bdubs. You can at least appreciate that. Now let’s both leave here satisfied, hm? I’ll give you what you want, if you give me what I want.”

There’s a long silence. Bdubs has backed into a wall, the tip of Grian’s sword pressing into his chest. He’s breathing quicker, and some part of Grian preens at the idea that he caused this fear. Bdubs opens his mouth like a fish a few times, unsure, but Grian doesn’t waver. He’s tired of this. He wants answers.

“I . . . Grian, I’m sorry, I can’t tell you,” Bdubs’s voice is barely above a whisper.

Grian’s sword presses through his clothes and breaks the skin beneath. Red blooms across his shirt and the copper smell makes Grian’s mouth water. “Why not?”

“You have to ask . . . Scar.” There’s a beat. Grian narrows his eyes at the hesitation.

“Do you want to change that answer?” Bdubs shakes his head firmly. “And what am I going to ask Scar, then?”

“He told me not to tell you and . . . I can’t lose him. I can’t. If I tell you, everything I, we! Everything we built will come crashing down. Scar is . . . I don’t want to be on his bad side, Grian.”

“Scar. Scar Goodtimes. The man who is currently making a theme park and keeps blowing himself up by accident. The same man who maintained for a month and a half he was an elf and had those plastic elf ears. That Scar. That’s the one you’re scared of?”

“I’m not scared of him,” Bdubs snaps.

“Then tell me!”

“You’re not ready!”

Grian’s lip curls at that. “Not ready. He said the same thing to me, do you know that? Not ready. Shouldn’t I get to decide? Since when is Scar, of all people, deciding to be my knight in shining armor. Why on earth would he want to?”

“Now, that last one, I’m pretty sure you know,” Bdubs expression softens, something that Grian steadfastly and purposefully ignores in favor of pushing onwards.

“This has to do with the Entity?”

Bdubs shrugs. Grian twists his hand and presses the sword deeper, earning a hiss out of Bdubs as his blood begins to run down the length of the blade. “Look! I don’t know, Scar doesn’t tell me about that, he’s just worried about you.”

“Fantastic way of showing it.”

“Look,” Bdubs says, raising his hands, “I don’t know jack about jack, and you and Scar clearly need to have a talk or something, so just like . . . kill me and I can go and I won’t bother you. Promise.”

Grian considers it for a long moment. It’s an effort to ignore the scent of blood and the ache in his stomach, but he does. Finally, he says “When you see Scar next, tell him to find me before I find him. It’ll go better that way.”

Before Bdubs can reply, Grian shoves his sword through the man’s stomach. Bdubs coughs and gasps, blood dribbling from his lips. Grian adjusts his grip to pull the sword out, but one of Bdubs’s bloody hands grabs his, stopping him. Grian’s brows knit together, but Bdubs just nods at him, slow and sure. Grian leaves the sword, leaves Dwayne entirely. Something about Bdubs bleeding out on the floor of his base makes him uneasy in a way he doesn’t like.

BdoubleO100 was slain by Grian

It’s with shaking hands that Grian decides that he and Scar need to have a talk. Soon.

#prion au #hermitcraft fanfic #hermitblr #grian #bdoubleo100 #tw blood #tw character death #kinda #will be posted on ao3 later

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whatisreggieshortfor · 2 years

Text

Vigilante Part Two

The only classmate you never actively interacted with was Todoroki. You refused. You’d managed to become friends with a girl that insisted you call her Tsu. You would look at Sato and see who you could’ve been, had you not chosen the path of a vigilante. He had the personality you did growing up, and he welcomed you in the kitchen whenever you felt the long gone urge to help him bake. He might’ve been your best friend. The first you’d had in…way too long for a kid. Tsu was a close second. Neither of them ever made you talk. Neither of them ever asked why you became a vigilante, Tsu would even be completely understanding when you would bow out of group hangouts, since Midoriya would always question everything and Iida would yell at you about safety. Sato’s friends were welcoming when it came to group hangouts if you didn’t want to be alone. They didn’t ask you questions, and they made you feel seen. Aizawa had introduced you to Power Loader’s student the sleepier man had mentioned, and while the two of you got along, she was a lot. But when she was in the need for a chiller night, the two of you would often hang out, or you would stop by her labs to describe gear you would’ve liked for your missions and she would start crafting. So in total, you had made three friends already. It was the most you’d had since you were four and were declared Quirkless. It was a breath of fresh air in your life. Sato had asked you one time, only once, why you never interacted with Todoroki directly. If anyone ever needed something from him, or to give him something, you would inconvenience yourself just to avoid being the one that got him. But he let it go when you said you didn’t want to talk about it and no one else ever questioned it. Until during sparring practice.

Aizawa was, admittedly, a little thrown off when he was announcing the duo sparring partners.

“L/N and Todoroki. You will be against-“

“No.”

“No?” He eyed you, as you stood in front of him, donned in your renewed vigilante costume. “What do you mean no?”

“I mean no.” Your glare was almost icy. Aizawa has never been intimidated by one of his students before, but even he had to fight the urge to retreat under your gaze. “I will not be fighting or partnered with Endeavor’s son.”

“I am not my father.” You spun around to face the two sided boy, “I do not like my father any more than you like him.”

“No! You of all people do not get to say that to me! It’s Endeavor’s fault!”

“L/N,” Aizawa waited until you followed him away from the group to ask the question that sentence brought to his mind, “What is his fault?”

“He is the reason my father died!” Your voice was raised, and cracked, but you would not cry. You haven’t since the day you lost your father. You could feel your eyes burning, but you were not going to cry now.

“Your father dropped you off on the first day, did he not?” You spun around to see Todoroki a few feet away, apparently he had followed the two of you to the corner of the room.

“No. Chasm is not my father. He was my father’s sidekick. My father was in the top twenty five, and then he got stuck on a job with Endeavor, who cared more about his damn ego than the life of his partner.”

Todoroki seemed to finally crack his stoic expression as he paled a bit. “You- You’re-“

“I am the son of Pro Hero Bar. The metal hearted hero. L/N Yutaro.”

“My father mentioned he died but-“

You noticed the concerned expressions on your classmates faces, but you ignored them, “Your father could’ve saved him. But he didn’t. All to chase down some two bit villain that he didn’t even catch! You know who caught that asshole? I did. But when my father needed me most, I had to sit at home, and watch him bleed out and die on live tv. Because your arrogant ass father was so sure he could catch the guy and then help him. And he didn’t do either.” You turned before anyone could stop you, marching out of the gym even as Aizawa called your name.

Chasm looked up as you barged into his office, “Whoa, kiddo, you look like you’re about to go on a murder spree, what-“ He cut himself off as you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever said it.” You took a deep breath, the side of your face pressed into the large man’s chest, “But I’m glad you had the stomach flu that day and I had to take care of you. Because if you had gone-“ your voice cracked but you pushed the tears back, “If you had gone, I might’ve lost you too.”

“Oh, honey…” Chasm just began to pet your hair, arms wrapped around you in return, until you were able to calm down.

You got back to your dorm to find Aizawa standing in front of the door, and you almost snorted at how out of place and awkward he looked holding a dessert container. “I apologize, Sensei.”

He held out the container, “Sato made this for you, problem child.”

“But?”

The underground hero sighed, “But obviously we need to talk about earlier.”

You nodded, opening the door to your dorm and setting the dessert on your desk. “Would you like some of this before we start?”

“No, kid, it’s all yours.” He waited until you perched on your bed to take a seat in your desk chair, “You hold Endeavor responsible for the death of your father.”

“Not…not exactly. I know it was the villain that actually killed him. But Endeavor- he could’ve done something. He could’ve even apologized that he didn’t help him. But when I got to the hospital and had to identify my dead father because Chasm was too sick, Endeavor was there.”

“What did he say to you?” Aizawa watched how the tears lined your eyes, how you clenched your jaw and pushed them back, and he had a deep burning anger filling him as you spoke the words.

“He told me that my father shouldn’t have been there if he couldn’t handle himself.”

Nedzu watched Aizawa closely, “You do realize that there will certainly be issues if this sort of knowledge gets out to the news outlets, correct?”

The hero teacher sighed, “I am aware. But Todoroki has never seemed to want to be around his father anyway, and this could help L/N let go of some of that pain he’s been carrying around.”

The principal nodded, “Very well. Pro Hero Endeavor, Todoroki Enji is no longer allowed on UA school grounds.”

You no longer had to argue about sparring partners. Todoroki was always set as from you in the gym as possible, and Monoma had become your partner when you needed to practice against the two quirks the dual boy used. And Shoto never argued with you. He even moved further from you in the classroom, and Tsu told you that he was trying to learn to respect a person’s boundaries.

You had noticed, when you finally got to eat it, that the dessert Sato made for you had a note, saying that he made his favorite for you because he didn’t know yours. So you made it for him, with a note thanking him for the sweet gesture.

Vigilante Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#my hero academia #my hero academia x male reader #my hero academia x reader #my hero fanfic #Quirkless reader #vigilante reader

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thegoldenlily · 2 years

Text

The Dishcloth

Sydney carried the brown paper bag in her arms tightly as she walked down the corridor. She’d spent the past hour in the grocery store, strolling through the fresh produce section before sneaking into the aisles. The bag was packed with whole foods, though she’d sprinkled in some snacks she’d remembered Adrian pouting over. A few treats couldn’t hurt, especially after the week he’d had. All day yesterday he’d been texting her, complaining about his boredom and lack of food in the cupboards. She’d been too busy with her assignments to respond. Ms. Terwilliger had practically run her off of her feet.

Sydney shifted slightly as she reached for her set of spare keys, opening the apartment door after a moment’s struggle. “Hey,” she called as she pushed the door open. “Guess who’s here to save yo-” The words caught in her throat. The bag of groceries dropped to the ground with a thud, and Sydney choked at the sight in front of her.

Adrian was on the couch, his clothes scattered on the floor as though they’d been thrown. A Moroi woman straddled him, legs on either side of his bare lap. She was half dressed, her blouse discarded; a pencil skirt Sydney would’ve admired in any other situation sat high on her hips. The two broke apart from what appeared to be a passionate-and loud- kiss. Their heads whipped toward her in unison.

Sydney screeched. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry. Oh my God. Oh my God.” She slapped her hand over her eyes, whipping around. She tripped as she scurried into the hallway, away from the scene she had unwittingly stumbled into.

Adrian called after her, cursing under his breath. He gently pushed the Moroi woman off of him, ignoring her as she threw a stream of curse words in his direction. He jumped off of the couch, scanning the room. Deciding that his clothes were too far apart to put on in time to catch up with Sydney, he jogged toward the door, snatching a dishcloth from the counter just before heading into the hallway.

“Sage!” He called after her fleeing body, watching as the glass doors of the entrance flew open. He picked up his pace, clutching the cloth between his lower abdomen and upper thighs as he ran after her. “Hold on a second!”

Sydney did not, in fact, hold on. She ran to her car, fumbling for the keys. Even across the parking lot, Adrian could see that her face was bright red. A tiny smirk tugged at his lips, though he quickly forced it back down as he approached her. “Sage,” he panted. “Jesus, you run fast.”

“I didn’t see anything!” Sydney squeaked, pointedly avoiding looking at him. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know- I didn’t think…I didn’t know you were…”

“Entertaining guests?” Adrian offered. His grin returned as Sydney was sent into a coughing fit.

“I was just stopping by with groceries. You told me you were out of food. You actually said a lot of things yesterday. Like how bored and lonely you were.”

“Precisely.” Adrian laughed as Sydney groaned. He could see the colours of her aura burning along with her embarrassment. “I found a way to entertain myself.”

“More than just yourself.” Sydney choked as the words found their way out of her mouth. Adrian howled, his shoulders shaking.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that now.”

The click of heels against pavement became prominent as the Moroi woman marched toward them. Her clothes had been put on in haste. She’d missed a few buttons when doing up her blouse, and her blonde hair was staticky, though the sweat from their activities had caused it to flatten against her scalp. She shot daggers over at Adrian as she pulled her keys out from a small black purse. “You fucking pig,” she spat.

“Whoa there.”

“Dump his ass!” She called out to Sydney, shaking her head. Her eyes narrowed; lips pursed in disgust as she tossed her bag into her red convertible. She flopped into the driver’s side, calling out. “He never even mentioned you, babe. You deserve better!”

Sydney watched the Moroi drive away with raised eyebrows, the sound of squealing tires filling the empty parking lot. Despite everything, she found herself staring after the vehicle, a low whistle escaping her lips. “Sweet ride,” she whispered to herself. “1965 convertible Mustang. Mint condition.”

“Shall I get you her number?” Adrian asked, his eyes glinting in amusement. His smile stretched across his face freely. “I won’t be able to call her again, but I bet she’d pick up for you.”

Sydney’s head whipped towards him, redness continuing to spread across her cheeks and down her chest. Her face felt like it was on fire. She clasped her steering wheel, hands slipping from the sweat that was gathering. She glanced at Adrian, immediately regretting the decision as her gaze fell on his bare chest.

Adrian watched as her eyes sank lower. His heart thud painfully against his ribcage. Though his hearing was exceptional, he couldn’t hear that Sydney’s heart had picked up considerably as well.

Her eyes fell on the cloth that Adrian desperately clutched in front of him. It was the only piece of modesty he had, though it hardly counted. The dishtowel was short and white, with capitalized block lettering proudly stating ‘I LIKE BIG BUNDTS, I CANNOT LIE!’

Sydney’s aura swirled with more colours than Adrian had ever seen before. She ripped her gaze away from him, studying her own hands that clutched the wheel. Her knuckles turned white.

“Are you okay?” His voice softened, smile fading as he watched her. “I really didn’t mean for you to see that, Sage. I’m sorry.”

“It’s your house, Adrian. You can do whatever you please.”

“I know. I just…I feel bad, Sage. You’re clearly embarrassed.”

“I mean…You’re clearly standing in front of my car in only a dishtowel, Adrian. Your…” She hesitated, lowering her voice. “Your butt is out. You’re going to get arrested for indecent exposure.”

“I had to make sure you were okay! There was no time!”

“Tell that to the police. I’m sure they’ll understand.” Gold eyes rolled upwards.

“Look, just tell me that you’re okay. I don’t want you going home traumatized. Lord knows I can’t afford to pay my own therapy bill, let alone yours.”

“I’m fine! Can we just drop it?” Sydney shook her head frantically, screaming. “No! Don’t drop it! Do not drop it!”

Adrian cackled once more. “The towel is secure, Sage. I promise.”

“Let’s just pretend this never happened. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re all fine.”

“We’re all fine,” Adrian repeated through his laughter. “But especially me. I’ve often been told I am a fine specimen of a man.”

“I hate you.” Sydney groaned, forcing her eyes closed. “I’m leaving now. Goodbye. This never happened.”

Adrian stood back from the car, waving goodbye with one hand. He watched as Sydney started up Latte, pulling out of her guest parking spot. He remained there until she accelerated forward. Adrian’s heart pounded in his chest, a warm feeling settling over him. He hummed to himself as he turned back to the entrance of the building, making his way back home.

Sydney blushed, pulling her gaze from the rear-view mirror.

#bloodlines #sydrian #sydney sage #adrian ivashkov #vampire academy #va #the golden lily #sydrian au #this was indeed based off of fan service aka a little treat for myself specifically from the Bloodlines show I wrote in my head #va fic #bloodlines fic #sydrian fic

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mirrorimage003 · 2 years

Text

it ends with laughter (chapter 1)

i--uh--don’t know where this came from, but mostly, i really needed to answer the question of “what does law think of nami,” which quickly morphed into “what does law think of the straw hats,” and now i have this lmao.

Summary: law spends a gratuitous amount of time with the straw hats and no, they are not friends--what would even give you that idea? [post-punk hazard and on]

Rating: K+ (so far)

Pairing: Law/Nami

Genre: Family / Hurt&Comfort / Romance (and just because i know myself so well, there will probably be angst at some point)

Also posted to AO3

It ends with laughter—as things tend to when the Straw Hats are involved.

A party is thrown, rich ale is shared, and countless bodies scatter across the space with cathartic ease. Even the marines find themselves cracking jokes and swaying lightly to the sound of a lively guitar, habitual animosity sliding farther and farther out of their reach in the face of such unexpected camaraderie.

Trafalgar D. Water Law is one exception to the joyous atmosphere. He is, however, not the only exception.

Vice Admiral Smoker sips begrudgingly at the steaming puddle of broth in his bowl, his permanent scowl etching deep lines into his forehead. After their brief conversation—ending in a silent truce neither care to outline—a resigned sort of silence fills the air between them. The two men seem determined to distance themselves from the rambunctious activity around them, eyes narrowed in judgment and twin frowns marring their expressions to ward off any drunken bystander.

Their combined hostility almost works. Most of the pirates and marines catch one glimpse of their foul moods and give them a wide berth, with the giant girl and the Straw Hat’s tiny doctor being the only ones to approach them so far. But even they beat a hasty retreat after Law had reluctantly accepted their peace offering of food.

And yet, Law can’t bring himself to care about the anxiety he gives them when his own crew is miles away and Doflamingo continues to rule from his bloody throne.

Just the thought of the man’s heinous smile is enough to make his blood boil. The churning bitterness is a good reminder that he’s not here to make friends.

“Smo—” As if summoned by his line of thinking, a hand comes flying in from his peripheral, rocketing past the tip of Law’s nose and burying itself in the collar of the older man sitting beside him, “—key!”

There’s a split second where Law locks eyes with Smoker, a mirror image of his own shock, before the rest of Luffy’s body comes sailing after his fist. The marine seems to gather his senses seconds before impact, his form erupting in a thick cloud of smoke that sends the young captain barreling straight through into a pile of snow.

Unfortunately, this does nothing to dampen the boy’s cheerful mood, and he merely bounces back to his feet to beg Smoker to ‘please please please join them for a song—it’s a really good one, I promise—have you heard of Bink’s Brew?’

Physically exhausted and mentally at the end of his rope, Law takes this as his cue to find a new hiding spot. Preferably somewhere far, far away from the Straw Hat’s captain. He quietly crunches his way through the fresh snow, swerving several times to avoid being splashed with beer from careless soldiers or elbowed in the face by dancing partygoers. How any of them have the energy to celebrate after the events of the last few days is beyond him.

He finds a semi-peaceful spot close to the fire but away from the drunken adults and settles down with his back against a crate full of supplies. Fully intending to drift off and sleep to pass the time, he crosses his arms and closes his eyes, attempting to tune out the sounds of revelry before him.

“I found her! I found her!”

“No, this one’s her!”

“Ah, over here!”

His eyebrow ticks at the sound of childish giggles and the pattering of feet. Someone stumbles over his long legs in their haste, not even bothering to apologize. Irritated, he finally cracks one eye open to see what all the fuss is about, only to furrow his brow in confusion.

There are copies of the Straw Hat’s navigator everywhere.

Some are clearly warped—her figure altered to be shorter, rounder, straighter—but others are nearly identical to the woman herself, and Law scrutinizes them closely from under the brim of his hat. How…how is that possible?

The children they’d rescued from Caesar’s clutches run around gleefully, their hands outstretched to chase after the various doubles and catch the real one. But over and over, their grubby little paws pass completely through her body, disrupting the copy until it fizzles into nothing.

The long-nosed sniper stands amidst the chaos, a wide grin stretched across his face as he purposefully misleads the children with an ‘aha! that’s her real hair, i’m sure of it!’ or a ‘hurry, she’s hijacking Franky Tank!’

He hears a melodic laugh to his right and startles a bit, though he tries to play it off. When he looks up, she’s there (the real her, he’s pretty sure), half-hiding behind the crate he’s leaned against with a knowing look in her eye.

He expects her to say something, to attempt conversation with him the way she would with her own crew. However, she only gives him a wink and then returns her attention to the silly game she’s engaged all the children in. After a moment, Law follows suit, content to sit by her as long as she’s quiet.

When he looks back, Usopp has successfully wrangled Franky into the fray, the two of them chasing the children while a Nami-clone stands atop the robot’s tank and orders them around with gestures befitting a dictator.

“YOW. Lord Nami has overtaken my super brain! Prepare for total annihilation!” The large man rolls around the fire, scooping wayward children up into his arms two at a time and holding them captive in his lap. They belly laugh as he twirls them around, tossing them into the air only to catch them once again.

Usopp skids to a halt and puffs out his chest, his goggles tightly in place as he points a thumb at his chest and declares, “Have no fear—Pirate King Usopp is here to save you!”

He quickly loads a snowball into his slingshot and pelts it straight at the robot’s face. Franky freezes, wheels coming to a hard stop as the clump of snow sticks to the cold metal of his nose. His round eyes narrow into slivers and he raises his massive hand to point directly at the sniper.

“My minions—charge!”

And then, suddenly, the space is filled with snowballs being flung left and right. The initial game of hide and seek is quickly forgotten as a snowball flies straight through the remaining clone, dispersing it into the atmosphere.

Law moves his head sharply to the side as one smacks straight into the side of the crate where his face had been. He clicks his tongue in annoyance and moves to brush off the debris on his shoulder when a second projectile hits him square on the chest.

Determined to find some peace amidst the idiocy of it all, he stands to begin the search for a new place of refuge. The sound of a suppressed giggle stops him in his tracks, and he turns to give her a dark glare.

She only laughs louder, undaunted by his moodiness, and pushes off the crate to join the rowdy group.

As she passes by, she waves a hand and says, “Luffy’s finishing the leftovers from Sanji-kun’s dinner.”

He blinks for a moment, confused, then relaxes as he realizes what she’s really saying. The other captain will be too preoccupied with gorging himself on food to bother him for the time being. He debates thanking her, but she’s already walked off to join Usopp and Franky, one hand spinning her baton over and over.

For whatever reason, Law hesitates, observing the odd trio as they continue to humor the children. While being far from the wildest thing he’s seen pirates do, it certainly isn’t normal behavior for a group of high-seas criminals.

Despite what the Straw Hats had originally accused him of, Law never approved of Caesar’s schemes for the kids—but he also hadn’t planned on ever addressing the issue himself. It was simply an unfortunate circumstance, a moral blip on his radar.

He studies the three crew members. He notices their gentle hands and soft smiles—their attentive eyes watching carefully for any sign of tears or pain—the way they shake off their own exhaustion for the sole purpose of bringing thirty-minutes of joy to a few dozen children.

Law has a quick mind—one that rarely rests—and before he can even attempt to stop it, the correlation is made and a picture of Corazon flashes across his mind’s eye.

A familiar sensation stings the corners of his eyes, but he only blinks hard once, twice, and resolutely turns away from the merry scene.

He thinks that—just maybe—he’s in way over his head.

____________________

#do people still like lawna?#lawna #nami #trafalgar d water law #fic #one piece fic #mugiwara crew #straw hat pirates #idk man i just am in an op funk rn #usopp #franky #monkey d luffy #canon compliant

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doom-nerdo-666 · 11 months

Text

MetaDoom explained part 4, check this tag to catch up.

Inventory:

This mod has one like Heretic and Doom Eternal’s shoulder gun.

Multiple items are “infinite” but they have individual cooldowns to avoid spamming (Some longer than others, depending on how powerfull/special they are) Originally, they had a shared ammo system and weren’t infinite but that changed

HAND GRENADE:

Based off D3's grenade but physics come from D4's frag grenade, but it still explodes on impact with foes

Spawns next to rocket ammo

SYPHON GRENADE:

D4 item that sort of stuns enemies, while sucking their health to heal the player

It explodes into a giant red shaking orb to do its job

Spawns next to Plasma ammo

TESLA ROCKET:

D4 MP item that is thrown at the air and travels to one direction, while damaging foes nearby with electricity

When it hits walls it explodes and that can hurt

Spawns next to Plasma ammo

DOG COLLAR:

Doom RPG item that spawns next to bullet ammo

You shoot a yellow thingy that turns dog enemies into melee weapons

These dog guns can gain armor points from hurting enemies and if you're tired of this, you can throw them at enemies and they'll go boom

Like in RPG, they absorb damage like shields, which means they can die/take hits from other enemies and explode even if you don’t throw them (Their explosion still hurts them and not you)

WALLSHIELD:

D4 MP item that spawns near health

It creates a solid transparent wall (May or may not resemble shield from D4 possessed security) that stops most enemies attacks, while yours go right through it

Its color reflects your personal color in GZDoom settings

HOLOGRAM:

D4 item that creates a holographic image of the player to distract enemies from the real you

Spawns near Hastespheres

KINETIC MINE:

D4 MP DLC mines that pawn near backpacks

These mines can be put on walls/ceilings/floors and take less than a second to activate

When they detect a target, them jump/fly to them and explode

If they don't detect them, however, they just take like 20 "ticks" to deactivate and become pickable again

ARTIFACT:

Doom 3 Resurrection of Evil's magic heart that spawns near Plasma guns but only if you got a BFG

When you use them, they slow down time for 5 seconds, giving you lots of opportunities

To most items, picking up one that you already have drops the cooldown: The Artifact is an exception

FLAME BELCH:

Eternal’s shoulder equipment launcher, restricted to just the Flame Blech

Can spawn near blue armor i think

When used, it performs a mid range fire attack that causes enemies to drop armor pick ups, either as time goes on or when they’re hit by any weapons

The flames also last a short time and can damage both enemies and player, when in Eternal it’s harmless to both

Flames can also be dropped on floor but not on liquids

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b-radley66 · 1 year

Text

Preview: Coming Soon (well, a year or more from now)

A little pre-Rebels Ghost crew. Set soon after New Dawn. Kanan/Hera shippers, fear not. There was bit of time when maybe they didn’t like each other. Called Intermezzo: The Ghosts of Cantonica.

Hera and Company: Fighting

Hera stares at Nola as they both slide across the deck. Neither of them had made much headway to their stations after the initial blasts. Hera can hear Chopper’s cursing in binary over the speakers; he had abandoned rolling and had merely activated his thrusters to get to the cockpit without danger of being thrown around.

Would that she could.

She slips again, but is caught by Nola. There seems to be enough traction for them to continue to the bridge. They pass Sina with a fire extinguisher, supplementing the ship’s firefighting systems on several electrical panels; she is glad to see that Sina had donned a shipsuit over what she had normally been wearing.

Her light crimson skin would be protected from the effects of the fire.

The ship shifts again. She and Nola spin around. They both glimpse Kanan climbing up to the top turret, barefoot and shirtless.

Hera catches Nola looking at his ass, just as Nola catches hers. Hera shakes her head and turns to run the last few feet to the cockpit. She slides into the pilot’s chair in one move, yanking up her restraints.

Nola makes to climb in the co-pilot’s seat, but without hesitation climbs down to the nose turret, clambering into the seat and securing herself.

Without even a squawk, Chopper unplugs and moves after at a quick roll. She glances at the monitor screen and sees six red shapes converging on them. Another screen automatically catalogs the type of ships attacking them.

All of them are Skipray blastboats. The favorite assault skiff and boarding craft of pirates everywhere.

Not exactly Imperial first rank assault vessels.

Or second or third.

Hera throws the ship into a diving roll. She can hear protests from her ship and her crew over the intercom as she slips between two that are trying to bracket the Ghost from fore and aft.

The two blastboats manage to avoid striking each other, but she is sure that there might be come scrapes on the top of one, as well as the bottom of the other.

She hears Chopper’s protesting as he opens up from the Phantom’s guns on the little runabout that is pointing aft. She sees a red light on her console; fortunately it is on the hyperdrive console, rather than the shields or power sections.

“We’re staying here, kids,” she says into her pickup. “Unless Chopper can multitask and plug into the hyperdrive from the Phantom.

“He can barely perform one task,” Kanan says as he fires again at her attackers.

“Of course if you could hit something, he wouldn’t have to fire the Phantom’s guns, “ Hera says emphatically. “Your new girlfriend isn’t doing much better.”

She hears muttered imprecations from both of them, covered by the volume of fire that both are producing from their respective dual-mounts.

They are at least showing the attackers that they have some bite, as Nola wings one, damaging its engines.

“Maybe she does have some uses,” Hera says.

“I heard that,” Nola retorts.

“I know. I meant for you to,” Hera replies.

She doesn’t wait for another rejoinder. She stares at the monitor, looking at options before her on the scanner.

Hera smiles as she spots one.

“Hang on,” she yells, twisting the yoke all the way over and up. Her stomachs drop to lowest center of gravity; she hears someone retching into the pickup.

“Nobody better puke on my ship,” she warns darkly over the intercom. The retching stops short.

She throws the yoke over, allowing the ship to spin.

“Thanks,” Nola says dryly. “I almost had one.”

“Shoot better,” Hera says.

She hear something whispered over the intercom in a Mid Rim inflection. She isn’t sure, but it sounds like ‘witch.’

Without warning, one of the Skiprays—the one with the damaged engine—explodes off of the bow.

“That’s mine,” Kanan says.

“Oh, hell no it ain’t, stud,” Nola replies.

“How do you figure?”

“The only way I can,” Nola says. “I was hitting it before you decided to jump on the bandwagon.”

Chopper’s vocabulator shows his disdain for both of them. Hera sees the indicator light flash on that shows that the Phantom is detaching from the Ghost. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Chopper?” Hera asks.

+Showing these two oversexed meatbags how it’s done.+

He’s not wrong, Hera thinks. Add the perpetually horny Zeltron and everybody’s getting some on this trip.

“Including you, dear,” comes the warm voice of that Zeltron. Hera closes her eyes for a second as she realizes she’d said the last part out loud.

When her eyes snap open, the next course of action is as clear as day on her repeater screen.

She hopes that Chopper can see it through his insults.

She arcs the ship around to starboard, raising the nose slightly. She smiles as she sees the blastboat in front of her correct just slightly to hit the Ghost square.

Chopper apparently sees it as well, as he scissors the Phantom on around.

Her gunners detect it as well. All three sets of guns split the attacker in two.

They don’t get a chance to celebrate, as this time the light does blink on the deflector panel.

“We’ve lost aft shields,” she says.

“Covering,” Kanan says as he traverses the turret around.

Two of the attackers immediately hone in on the lower part of the stern, where there is no cannon.

“Somebody call for help?” comes a strange voice.

An old Consular-class spins into view, ramming one of the attacking boats. Hera doesn’t have time for triumph as two more pop into view, to circle with the remaining original attacker.

A small snubship, an A-Wing, it looks like, blows one away before he can attack.

The Phantom makes short work of the other one.

The original attacker decides that discretion is the better part of valor and starts to arc away.

One blast from the Consular and it joins its fellows on the scrapheap.

Before she can thank the other ships for the assistance, they both jump away, in two different directions.

A holo pops up. Chopper raises his arms in triumph. Hera rolls her eyes, especially as two crimson hands start to caress his dome. Sina’s smiling face comes into view. “Way to save the day,” the surgeon says in a warm voice.

“The little bastard’ll be insufferable now,” Nola observes as she climbs up from the turret.

#star wars #rebellion’s infancy #hera syndulla #kanan jarrus #c1-10p #nola vorserrie-original character #alyysina faygan’ii-original characters #in between the stories you know #adventures in fanfic writing

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pvremichigan · 1 year

Text

Oh, God… Autumn stopped his car in the middle of the traffic after noticing a small clumsy dog was about to cross the street, turning his little paws back and forth. Probably, the little creature was overwhelmed by all the honking and lights, which intensified when Autumn made such an abrupt movement.

But, at least he had done something. Even the cop agreed with him and let them both go, shaking the puppy’s paw as a goodbye.

“Alright, my little friend, you gave me a good scare over there, but your owner must be petrified by now. Let’s see who you belong to.”

Autumn drove to the address on the dog’s collar plate, but he first stopped at an apple store for the sake of the tiny little creature biting on the seat belt socket like there was no tomorrow, trying to jump on it, and then hitting his head with the handbrake.

With the puppy in his arms, Autumn knocked at the door. But the answer came from behind. It was rude at first, expected, but then there was relief all over the woman’s face. Riley wagged his tail like he was about to fly from his arms like a helicopter.

“You’re a terrible owner.” Autumn began but stopped. He knew that regardless of the nature of their relationship, Mich must have been scared to death about losing her puppy. Besides judging the dog’s behavior, it might not have been her fault. In the end, she can be mean and impulsive, but she doesn’t seem the type to put her beloved in danger for fun.

“But accidents do happen. Please, don’t take it on yourself. All it matters, Riley is fine.” Autumn offered a smile and let them have their little reunion.

“Oh, here.” He threw the apple box at her in a casual swing. “He seems a bit of a rebel. This is an airtag, so you can track him if it ever happens again.”

Hearing a knock at the door, she set down the dish she was rinsing off - after a moment of hesitation to avoid socialization - and made her way towards the door. Beaux seemed to sniff at the door with a wagging tail and nervous composure. Almost anticipating something.

Opening the door, she looked tired as ever. However, that fatigue quickly formed into confusion as she saw the boy holding up a now very excited and wiggling Riley. She looked back in the house to assure herself that he was, in fact, not there. Her confusion now stemmed from the forming question of how the fuck he managed to get out.

No joke, she saw him about 10 minutes ago.

“How the fuck did you manage that, dumbass?”

She directed the question to her pup, leaning in to look him in the eyes with a squint. It was like there was no thoughts behind his own eyes. Which she was... Entirely correct on.

“This ain’t the first time. Usually his brother watches him but I guess he managed to sneak out somehow. Thanks for returning him. Surprised you didn’t try to sell him or somethin’.”

Glancing up at Autumn with accusing eyes, it was more a ‘playful’ jab than an actual belief.

Mich reached out to take the pup from his arms. She managed to hold him for about half a second before he flailed about, causing her to drop him from his obsessive wiggling. Once he hit the floor, he ran circles around the living room with a burst of energy. The pup spun rapidly, unfortunately knocking his skull on the corner of the wall to the kitchen. Mich just looked at him with tired, disappointed eyes and sighed out. The movement of Autumn’s toss caught her attention, raising her hand up to catch what was thrown before she even got a chance to turn and look. Upon inspection, she noticed it was some tech shit.

Oh great, don’t let IJ touch this...

“I’ll see what I can do about activating this thing. He usually finds his way home. Today must’ve been a particularly stupid day for him.”

She turned to shut the door, shutting it halfway before opening it partially again for a moment.

“Thanks, though.”

“I mean it.”

“You’re not terrible.”

And thus... She shuts the door.

What ensues beyond the door is some crashing, barking, and Mich yelling. Oh Riley...

What a dumb, dumb dog.

#[[Pull the Trigger]];; ic #[[gun powder]];; Mich #MY HEART #RILEY IS SAFE #AGAIN #FOR PROBABLY TH 8TH TIME THIS WEEK

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volleychumps · 3 years

Note

Heyy! Can you do one where Osamu, kuroo, akaashi and Tsukishima, say something mean to their s/o and their s/o avoids them for days? When they finally get ahold of their s/o, their s/o just sorta cries because it hit their insecure spot? Fluff in the end🥺

Listen, I can’t not write this.

Irrevocable Words.

- the one in which they accidentally make you give them the silent treatment because of their lashing out. -

~ Osamu Miya, Kuroo Tetsurou, Akaashi Keiji, and Tsukishima Kei~

TW: Cursing, angst to fluff, timeskip! for Osamu,

------------------

Osamu Miya

“Those are important files, ya know?”

“Samu, I’m sorry. You should’ve told me you needed last month’s earnings and I would’ve looked for them before we came this morning.” The hand you tried to settle onto Osamu’s bicep was shaken off as your movements faltered.

Your voice wobbled at the sight of your stoic fiance, an annoyed glint in his eye as he rummages through his files. Osamu felt a flare in his stomach, a lack of sleep contributing to his impatient state. The day had been a busy one, Osamu deciding that he needed this particular file for his business call tomorrow before the two of you headed home for the night.

“I told ya not to move anything back to the place.”

“I didn’t.” You bit the inside of your cheek. “Here, just let me help-”

“Don’t touch a goddamn thing, I’ll do it myself.” There it was. The lashing out that was bound to happen occurred with a pointed tongue as he refused to look at you, rummaging through his file cabinets. “As I do everything else.”

He closes the cabinet sharply. “The least ya could do is try your best not to be a nuisance-”

Osamu flinches at the slam of one of the office desk drawers, chest sinking when he sees the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. The paper he needed is thrown on the desk carelessly as you shove your jacket on, wetness slipping down your cheeks.

“And I’m not your goddamn secretary. I’m heading home first.”

“Y/N-”

“And don’t worry, I promise I’ll manage to do this by myself somehow.” Your voice cracks bitterly, the bell by the door jingling mockingly in Osamu’s ears as you exit, the chef hanging his head with a sigh and regret tinging his chest.

He was wrong to pray this would blow over, not expecting to wake without your warmth by his side. You avoided him on the way to the restaurant, cleaning quietly while giving vague answers to his questions, shifting out of his attempts to embrace you with apologies.

Deciding to give you space, he softly tells you to take the next few days off, unprepared for the tired look you had given him, simply nodding in response as you slipped into your side of the bed with your back turned to him.

“Where’s your pretty girlfriend?”

“Fiance.” Osamu forces a smile at his two elderly regulars two days later, the wife’s smile widening at his correction.

“Oho! Cherish each other while you youths still can, she really does brighten this place up, doesn’t she?”

You do.

Osamu’s eyes feel hot as he does a messy job of cleaning up the restaurant, closing up shop early and stopping by your favorite bakery to pick up the ridiculously expensive cake he only ever buys for your birthday.

Throwing the door open to your shared apartment hastily, you gasp at the gray-haired man’s sudden entry, dropping the spoon you were about to use to taste the dish you were making on the stove.

“Samu, y-you’re home early-”

“What’s all this?” He tries to steady his breaths at the sight of a nicely prepared table, something you hardly ever got to share ever since the night shifts overtook your lives and caused a rift between the two of you.

You’re silent for a second, looking away from his warm stare as you shift under his gaze.

“...I miss you.” Dark eyes widen when you begin to hiccup over your words, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks. “But I didn’t wanna be a nusciance-”

“Oh god, darlin’ no.” You’re pulled tightly into his chest as you cry, whole body shaking with tremors as Osamu’s inner turmoil merely increases.

If Osamu could go back in time and punch himself he would, unknowing of the torment he caused you over the past few days, thinking you just needed space.

“I want to marry ya Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“I love you so much Samu.” You sniffle into his chest, causing him to smile softly, a hand sifting through your hair to hold you tighter to him.

“I brought cake.”

You laugh through the onslaught of tears.

“And I made dinner.”

“Then what are we waitin’ for?”

“Just hold me like this for awhile?”

“Y/N.” He kisses the top of your head, finally feeling at ease with your figure in his arms. Osamu whispers a confession he hardly shared with you, wanting those words in particular to be special as he bridged the gap between the two of you.

“I love ya so much more, don’t you go forgettin’ it.”

Kuroo Tetsurou

“I said I was sorry!”

“Is sorry supposed to just fix everything, Tetsurou?”

“Tetsurou? Are you seriously withholding me from my nickname privileges?”

You cross your arms at his attempt to make you laugh, thoroughly angry with the mess your boyfriend made of things as his smile fades at your peeved stare.

“Look, what was I supposed to do?”

“How about not leaving my parents waiting for you at the restaurant that you invited them to for another one of your spontaneous volleyball practices?”

“I texted you I had to cancel!”

“That was a half hour before we were supposed to meet, Kuroo! They were so excited to meet you they got there early. God, why can’t you ever take things seriously?”

“You’re right.” A bitter chuckle slips Kuroo’s lips as you falter at the sudden tone change, the volleyball gym seeming bigger than ever as his next sentence makes your lips tremble.

“Since I can’t ever take things seriously, then I must not need my serious girlfriend then, right?” Your eyes widen. “I can just find somebody else who won’t fucking hound me all the time.”

His cat-like eyes widen as the words slip his tongue, unintentionally coming out crueler than he intended. To make it worse, you simply stayed silent, your body physically backing down and away from him as you turned on your heel.

“Wait, I didn’t-”

“Do it then.” His chest just about shatters as your shoulders tremble, refusing to turn back around as your voice takes on an uncharasterically defeated tone. “I hope they make you fucking happy.”

Kuroo runs a hand through his raven hair frustratedly at the way you rushed out of the gym, throwing a stray ball so hard at the wall before his vision becomes skewed with heat.

He should have expected the next week to be utter hell. You left class before he could catch you by escaping to the bathroom with all your things, leaving school another way instead of the exit you always took together before he had to start club activities.

“Kenma, what are you doing?”

“You can’t come in here.”

“I’m missing class for this. Let me through.”

“She doesn’t want to see you.” Kenma shrugged, eyes on his handheld. “I told her I’d watch the door so you can’t surprise her during our breaktime.”

“I’m her boyfriend. And you’re not her guarddog.”

“No, I’m her friend.” Kenma’s eyes narrow at his childhood friend. “And last time I checked, you’re on the search for someone who isn’t her.”

“So she told you.”

“Dick move, by the way.”

Kuroo’s calls go straight to voicemail, his emotions affecting his playing with each passing day. He leaves little notes in your shoe locker to meet him, heart sinking more and more with every time you stood him up.

And it wasn’t until he saw you smiling again at a joke Yaku made that he truly felt like he was losing you.

“Go home.”

The sight wasn’t one you were expecting to see, Kuroo sitting on the steps to your house with his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, the dark bags under his eyes sparking worry within you.

“It’s probably better if my parents don’t see you-”

“I’m sorry.” His eyes seem to have lost a little of their glint, regret swimming in the tall boy’s pupils as your guard softens. “I’m so goddamn sorry I ran my mouth and said shit I didn’t even mean-”

“Tetsurou-”

“And I hurt you in the process. I hurt the one thing that matters to me the most, and I’m sitting here playing the creepy ex that stalks the girl he loves-”

“You love me?”

“Doesn’t matter, does it? You’re done with me, and I deserve it-”

He’s cut off with the sight of tears hitting the wood in front of him, lifting his head to see tears streaking down your cheeks. On instinct, he reaches out softly, rising to his feet to cup your cheek, astonished when you curl into his touch.

“I’m so fucking mad at you right now.”

“Noted.” Kuroo laughs somberly, a wave of emotion hitting him as you do something you hadn’t done in days.

You look him in the eye, tugging him closer by the sides of his jacket.

“But I love you too, you absolute idiot.”

Kuroo grins into the kiss you press onto his lips, heart lifting in weight as he pulls you closer.

“Does this mean we can go back to Tetsu?”

“I’m going back to ignoring you-”

“No.” Kuroo’s tone turns serious as he holds you a little tighter. “I can’t do that again.”

You smile as he presses a kiss to your temple lovingly.

“Being away from you was complete and utter hell, sweetheart.”

Akaashi Keiji

“Tell me how to make this right.”

“Right, Y/N.” Akaashi refused to meet your eyes as he loosens his school tie, not slowing his pace for you to catch up with as he throws the doors open to the volleyball club. The usually put-together setter had an angry glint in his eye that silenced his awaiting teammates. “Let’s just go back in time before you agreed to be his partner.”

“Hey hey, what’s going on you two?” Bokuto jogs up, his worried tone making your lips tremble even more at the sight of Akaashi’s turned back.

“I came to you as soon as he made a move! I didn’t let him-”

“There shouldn’t have been an opportunity for him to make a move in the first place.” Akaashi’s jaw clenched as you shuffle in place.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, you think I wanted him to try to kiss me?!” You fight the waver in your voice, standing your ground. “It was a project for class. I didn’t know his intentions-“

“I told you what his intentions were, but you never listen.” Akaashi turns hastily, startling you and causing you to stumble slightly backwards into Bokuto.

“Akaashi-“

“Stop defending her. She never listens to me, and then comes crying to me when it turns out I’m right.” Akaashi snips at his best friend, ignoring the silent stares from his quiet teammates. “Why can’t you get it through your head, Y/N? I’m not your goddamn babysitter-“

“You’re right.” You interrupt, fingernails biting into your palms as you choke back a sob. “You’re not, you’re my boyfriend. I just wanted to respect you by coming to you with something like this, but it turns out I’m just a hinderance.”

Akaashi falters for a second, blue eyes widening a fraction at the angry heat that fills your eyes as regret begins to bubble in his stomach at his harsh words.

“Y/N-“

“Give me some space, Keiji.” You say softly, patting Bokuto’s arm to let you through as your shoulders sink in a defeated manner. “I promise I won’t come crying to you about anything else.”

Your steps echo as you walk out of the gym, Konoha breaking the silence first when the door shuts behind you.

“Hate to say it, but that was well-deserved, man.”

Akaashi closes his eyes, head falling back towards the ceiling as he tries to steady his breathing, pretending like he wasn’t scared of you slipping through his fingers. He willed himself to not allow himself to chase after you, his anger directed towards you fading as he forces himself to respect your wishes.

It was obvious you were avoiding him. Akaashi had blinked when Bokuto had self-proclaimed that he needed you as his “study buddy” during breaks when you weren’t even in the same year as the owlish boy. It got worse when you seemed to panic when Akaashi willed you to talk to him, eyes refusing to meet his watery blue ones as you pushed him further away.

So he gave you your space, wilting with each passing day. It wasn’t until he accidentally bumped into you a week later, the setter turning hastily on his heel to walk in the opposite direction before a soft tug on the back of his school shirt wills him to stop.

“Keiji.” Your wobbly voice makes him turn back around immediately, a soft palm already cupping your cheek gently. “I’m s-”

“I’m sorry for being cruel.” The words are whispered against your forehead, Akaashi’s heartstrings tugging in the worst way possible. “I was angry at the situation, my love. And that sorry excuse you call a classmate. Please,”

His grip tightens just a little more as he feels wet warmth drip into the palm that was cupping your face.

“Forgive me.”

“I told you I wouldn’t come crying to you-”

“I want it all, Y/N.” Akaashi pulls back slightly, voice cracking slightly as blue stares intensely into your irises. “I want all of you. Tears included.”

You swat his chest playfully as Akaashi manages a soft smile, hand threaded through your hair as he presses you against his chest.

“Do you still need space?” He murmurs, and you smile at the sound of his hearbeat picking up as he awaited your answer fearfully.

“Nope. The exact opposite, please hold me?”

His embrace relaxes immediately, and your heart skips a beat at the sound of his relieved sigh, his slight nod making the weight lift off your chest.

“Good, now I can take care of your classmate-”

“Keiji-”

“Nope, my love.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, Akaashi’s eyes swirling with devotion.

“No one gets to try anything with you so long as you’re safe with me.”

Tsukishima Kei

“So I’m the bad guy again.”

“Do you want the honest answer, Kei?” You exhaustedly run a hand through your hair as Tsukishima’s scowl deepens, his long legs easily catching up with you in stride as he tugs on your wrist as the rambunctious court gets further and further away.

“It’s not my fault you’re insecure.”

You flinch. “Well maybe you shouldn’t let the girls in the stands cling to you after your matches. They were all over you, Tsukki! And you didn’t seem to mind it one bit.”

“What?” Annoyance brims the blonde’s voice as he takes another step forward, clenching his jaw when he sees the quiver in your lip, distrust filling the atmosphere between the two of you.

“Afraid that they’re prettier or better than you’ll ever be?”

You feel as if the wind was knocked out of your lungs, breath catching in your throat at his insinuation. His guard slackens almost immediately, clicking his tongue before turning away, too proud to apologize for the words he regretted as soon as they slipped his tongue like venom.

“Yeah.” You laugh humorlessly, making brown eyes dart over to your expression immediately. “You’re 100% correct. I am afraid you’ll find someone better than me in all aspects. Because I love you, you absolute asshole. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The silence that befalls the two of you in the deserted hall is broken when you flinch away when Tsukishima tries to take a step towards you.

“I didn’t-”

“You never mean to do anything, Kei.” You say in a hushed tone, turning your back on him in an attempt to shield the hot tears slipping down your cheeks. “But you somehow always manage to.”

The win for Karasuno didn’t mean much to the blonde that night, hoping that this would just go away and things would be back to normal. However, it was anything but. You didn’t look his way once in class, disappearing when it was over. Your voice trembled as you had avoided his seemingly stoic eyes through his frames, simply stating that you wished for some time away from him.

He was fine. Or at least pretending to be on the outside. In truth, he would never find better, because you were it for him, words that you would never catch slipping his mouth. So he put on a front, pretending that your absence had zero effect on him whatsoever. Pretending the brush of your body against him in the hall as you pass each other didn’t make the blonde want to cave.

It was the smile you shot at Hinata during one of your breaks that caused him to. The first glint in your eye in awhile, and it had been caused by him of all people, prompting the tall middle blocker to tug you by the forearm into the corridor.

“Tsukishima-”

“I hate this.”

You falter for a second, guard back up in a flash as your back touches the wall. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t do anything, and it’s pissing me off.”

“I don’t follow-”

“I was wrong.” His forehead touches your shoulder as you stiffen before relaxing against his familiar touch. “I don’t care how many times I have to apologize. You win, okay? I’m sorry.”

“This is a rather aggressive apology-”

“Y/N.” Tsukishima lifts his head so it’s level with your height, unprepared for the way tears brimmed your eyes at the proximity, your guard diminishing.

“What if you do find someone better one day, Tsukki?” Your voice cracks, inner fears trickling to the surface. “Do I need to prepare myself to lose you-?”

You gasp as Tsukishima’s jaw ticks before kissing you intensely, his hand touching your lower back to pull you closer.

“No. You don’t need to do something stupid like that.” His eyes were slightly glaring at you, a flush across both his cheeks. “Because there is no one better than you, okay?”

It was your turn for heat to flood your cheeks as your eyes widen a fraction, his breath tickling your ear as you stutter. “Kei-”

“I love you too. I said it, are you satisfied now?”

---------------------------------------------------------

General works: @takemetovalhalla @faesbae @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046 @let-me-have-my-own-name @deadontheinsidebut @lifeisntjustblackandwhite @curiouslilbeast @aprettyfruit @wisepandaslimeland @h0ngh0ngh0ng @lmkjimin @orangegiraffe7 @dai-tsukki-desu @kac-chowsballs @spikertrash @yamaguwuchi @lord-suneater-explosion @holaaaf @babyybokutoakaashi @lexysclubhouse @disneyloving-muggle @kuuuuroo @theonep1ece @that-chick212 @mjoork

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sapphicellegreenaway · 2 years

Text

half asleep and wide awake

emily prentiss x fem!reader

old habits die hard, but you're there to help emily every step of the way

word count: 1.0k

warnings: nail picking as an anxiety symptom, mentions of blood, allusions to sexual activity

a/n: for the sweet anon that requested a little something surrounding emily's nail picking habit! hopes this meets the vision you had x

⭒⭑⭒

Emily thinks she’s being subtle about her anxious habit, but you notice every time she joins her hands together.

Sometimes she tries to hide her true intentions by twisting the gold band that has a home on the fourth finger of her left hand, but you know better. While Emily loves being your wife, she isn’t the type to fiddle with the reminder of your devotion to each other. She’s hoping to tug on the ragged skin along her nail bed, picking and poking until blood pools on the surface a deep shade of crimson. It’s easier to conceal the effects of the habit from others in the winter, wearing gloves whenever possible and blaming the bitter cold when she couldn't. However, spring is rapidly approaching, and she knows you aren’t dumb and have noticed all along.

You know your wife like the back of your hand, and there’s almost no way she’ll come to you about her inclination to tear the tips of her fingers to shreds whenever stress or anxiety comes her way. Emily is the silent suffering type, even after all the years the two of you have spent together, and you know it’s better to help without making it obvious. Bottles of heavy-duty lotion start making appearances on table-tops across the house, and there’s always a set of nail clippers on the bathroom counter in case a hangnail gets too long and can be snipped to avoid more pain. It’s not the best solution, and you wish you could do more, but Emily is steadfast and headstrong at keeping it a secret.

The picking started long before you met her, back when she was still in high school abroad and under her mother’s controlling thumb. It disappeared for months, sometimes years at a time, but always came back. Persistent as the tide, Emily’s nail picking is always waiting in the wings to swoop in and destroy all the progress she made. You’ve noticed the habit has made an overwhelming resurgence over the past month — her soft hands now rough and calloused within your own and she’s hesitant to let you focus on her fingers for more than a few seconds at a time. It’s bad this time, with nothing seeming to ease the pain or scratch the itch in her brain that compels Emily to pick apart her cuticles. You aren’t sure what to do, but you know you can’t let her try and beat it on her own.

⭑

The ticking of the clock signals the approaching of the witching hour when you roll over and find Emily’s side of the bed has gone cold. It isn’t an unusual occurrence, especially when a case gets her down or something else is weighing on her mind. However hard she tries to hide it, your wife has been stressed about the upcoming shuffle of agents, worried she’ll get taken away from the team. The anxiety is eating her alive and keeps her up at night — there’s no doubt in your mind she’s somewhere in the house, chipping away at fading nail polish and picking her fingers raw.

Sleep clouds your eyes as you push the covers off your frame and roll out of bed. The cool night air chills you to the bone, so you grab one of Emily’s old crewnecks from the academy and wander into the darkness. It doesn’t take long to find her. She's pacing the length of the living room, pale moonlight shining through the bay window to illuminate her features, and her hands are clawing at each other with a ferocity you’ve never seen.

“Em,” you say softly, not wanting to startle her. She doesn’t hear you, too caught up in whatever scenario is running through her brain. “Dove.”

The pet name catches her attention — a fond memory popping up from the first time you called her that, eyes shut and head thrown back as she made sure to prove just how irresistible you were — and she smiles sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

You shake your head, insisting you woke up of your own accord, but both of you know it isn’t the whole truth. Though you try to keep your concern to yourself, Emily is your wife, and she knows damn well you’ve become a lighter sleeper to make sure she’s okay. “How bad are they getting?”

“What?”

Her ignorance is feigned, and not well. Emily has never been much of an actress. All it takes is one cock of your brow to show you’ve seen right through her and she’s spilling. “Really bad. They haven’t been this raw since my first month in Quantico. I want to stop but don’t know how.”

Tears pool in Emily’s eyes, threaten to spill over, and you preemptively wipe them away. A small, lopsided smile finds its way onto her features and makes your breach hitch in your throat. Even now, when she’s so exhausted, Emily is the most beautiful woman you’ve ever laid eyes on. If she’d let you, you'd spend all day staring at her.

“It’s okay,” you comfort, “We’ll get you fixed up in no time. How about any time I’m close and you feel the urge to pick at your nails you grab my hands instead? We can work out another solution for when I’m not around.”

She looks at you like you hung both the moon and stars, and you wonder if for her you did. Emily certainly did for you. “Thank you,” she says, voice barely above a whisper because she’s trying to keep the now happy tears from falling. A heartbeat later her fingers are intertwined with yours and her head falls to rest on your chest. Neither of you talk, enjoying the intimacy of the moment.

A yawn escapes you, though you try to stop it. It’s incredibly late — or terribly early depending on who you ask, but you’d stay up for days on end if it meant Emily got the support she needed. She’s still wide awake, you’re still half asleep, and somehow you both still fit so well together you know there’s nothing the two of you can’t overcome.

⭒⭑⭒

consider reblogging and giving feedback if you enjoyed! it helps a lot x

#emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #this is: a fic #sapphicellegreenaway.writes

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bubbleteaimagines · 3 years

Text

Calling the Karasuno Boys an embarrassing nickname in front of their teammates

Karasuno Boys Headcanon

DIACHI SAWAMURA

You hadn’t meant to, honestly

It was late and you thought everyone had gone home by the time you and Daichi were leaving the gym

He was in charge of locking up, so when he was finished you grabbed his hand and sighed

“Pookie I can’t wait to get home and relax. Today’s been a long day~” You say, shaking your head

Daichi was going to agree, but then you both heard it and froze

A loud outburst of laughter, seemingly coming from the darkness caused you both to yelp

“Suga, Noya?” You stared at the boys in shock, your heart pounding as Suga went red from trying to hide his laughter and as Noya bent over in tears

“H-Hi guys,” Suga stuttered, looking over at a flustered Daichi with quivering lips

“What are you...what are you two still doing here?” Daichi tried for remain calm but his reddining cheeks gave him away. He prayed that they didn’t hear anything, but judging by Noya’s behavior, they did

“W-Well, we were gonna walk home with you guys since we live pretty close by but...” Noya laughed again, “It seems you two might want some alone time. Isn’t that right, Pookie?”

“Hey!” Daichi went beet red and you stared at him with wide eyes, an apologetic look on your face. “Don’t call me that- only...only Y/N can!”

“Oh yeah?” Noya took that as a challenge. Not being to hold it any longer, Suga burst out into laughter also

“I cannot...I cannot believe...!” He couldn’t even finish the sentence he was laughing so hard, and angry Daichi™️ immediately got activated

“Both of you shut up!” He yelled, fire practically blazing off of him. “Not another word or I’ll have run 100 laps!”

“Whatever you say~” Noya sang

“Pookie,” Suga finished, and then the two of them started laughing again. Daichi sighed

“I hate you,” He muttered darkly, but at this point you didn’t know if he was talking about them- or you

SUGAWARA KOUSHI

Suga was in the middle of practice and like the good partner you were, you sitting in the bleachers to cheer him

It had become a regular thing for you two after dating for almost a year and Suga loved it when you cheered him on

Typically, he always looked to you when he was having a bad day and today was that day

Suga wasn’t having a particularly good game, and his frustrations were evident on his face

Decideding to boost his morale a bit, you got up and called out, “You got this, Sugi-Bear!” for the top of your lungs when he went to serve again

You’d hoped it would boost his spirts, but all it did was cause Suga to pause, along with the rest of the boys

“Sugi...Bear?” Kageyama looked at the older boy with wide eyes, Suga horrified face matching his own

“Did Y/N just-”

“DUDE DID THEY JUST CALL YOU SUGI-BEAR? HA!” Tanaka crackled as the rest of his teammates grinned, even Coach Ukai suppressing a laugh

“No, no-!” Suga desperately tried to backtrack while you covered your mouth instantly, choking back a scream

Why did I do that? You wondered, but it was too late

Soon the whole gym was erupting in laughter, Kiyoko turning away to hide her giggles

“Dammit,” Suga put the ball down and sighed. “Daichi, can you please tell them to- Daichi?”

Suga was floored as he turned to his friend, expecting backup, only to find the captain clutching his stomach and leaning against Asahi to catch his breath

“I...Sorry Suga,” Daichi spit out in between laughs, shaking his head

“Well this is just great,” Suga groaned, burying his head in his hands. He knew now that he’d never live this down, so he figured from now on he’d practice his serves alone

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

You and Kageyama were in the middle of the courtyard eating lunch, but for some reason Kageyama didn’t look so good

“Babycakes? Do you want me to take you to the nurse?” You asked sympathetically, rubbing his back

“No, no it’s fine. Thank you though,” Kageyama nodded and leaned into your touch, relishing your cool hands

He almost looked peaceful, however it didn’t last as Hinata suddenly appeared out of nowhere, a wide grin on his face

“Did Y/N just call you...babycakes?” Hinata let a laugh, causing both you and Kageyama to stiffen. “And you didn’t...try to kill them?”

“Huh?!” Kageyama swerved around so face you thought it’d give him whiplash, glaring at Hinata with a deep blush on his face. “N-No they didn’t! That’s ridiculous! Get lost, carrot top!”

“Ha! They did! That’s why you’re blushing so hard!” Hinata howled, his outburst causing multiple people to look over at you guys

You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you, turning down your head as you stared at Kageyama apologetically

“I’m sorry, I guess that was too loud,” You said, but he was too busy arguing with Hinata and trying to strangle him to even pay attention anymore

YAMAGUCHI TADASHI

It was late, you had just gotten back from (Y/C/N) practice and you went to the gym to find Tadashi

Usually, he’d walk you home at night and be waiting once you were finished. But today it looked like practice was running a little late for him so you knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer

“Huh? Oh it’s you,” Tsukishima didn’t mean to sound so rude, but you still flinched at his words

“Um, yeah. Is Yammie around?” You asked hesitantly, rubbing your arms. You were already thrown off a bit and didn’t really think as the nickname slipped passed your lips

“Uh...yeah he’s- wait a second. Yammie?” Your eyes widened as you realized your mistake, just as Yamaguchi came running over

“Tsukki, who is it?” He asked, before his eye settled on you and a wide smile grew on his face. “Oh hey Y/N! Practice is about to end soon, I’ll be out!”

“O-Okay,” You stuttered, avoiding eye contact with Tsukki as you stepped inside of the gym

“What’s wrong?” Yamaguchi frowned, noticing your embarrassed demeanor

“Well, don’t take this wrong way but-”

“Do you really let them call you Yammie?” Tsukishima interrupted you, causing both of you to freeze

Unfortunately, he had said it loud enough to attract the attention of everyone else and all eyes were on you guys, Tadashi becoming a stuttering and blushing mess

“What?! W-Where did you hear that? They don’t call me Yammie! That’s ridiculous, Tsukki!”

You both were horrified as laughter began to erupt throughout the gym, his teammates obviously getting a kick out of the nickname

“I’m sorry,” You turned to Yamaguchi the same time as Tsukishima did

“I didn’t mean to say it that loud,” Tsukishima said, tossing a glare towards Hinata as he laughed the loudest

“I-It’s alright. Hopefully they’ll forget about it tomorrow,” Tadashi stuttered, but spoiler alert: they didn’t

TANAKA RYUNOSUKE

You smiled as you heard the doorbell ring, indicating that your boyfriend was finally here to pick you up

Smoothing out your uniform, you took one last look in the mirror before running to the door and tearing it open

“Lovebug! You’re here early!” You exclaim, but you weren’t really complaining as you threw yourself into his arms and smiled at him

“U-Uh, yeah, yeah we are. I stopped by to walk with Noya,” He explained, embarrassment growing on his face

By the time you pulled away, the name had already registered in Noya’s mind and he burst out laughing, much to Tanaka’s annoyance

“Lovebug? You told me Y/N didn’t have any nicknames for you!” He howled, whilst holding his stomach. “Man, this is gold. Mind if I call him that too, Y/N?”

“I...” You didn’t really know what to say, but you did feel bad for Tanaka a little

“Shut up!” He growled, grabbing his friend by the collar and shaking him. “That nicknames cute, alright?! And I love it when Y/N calls me that so shut up dammit!”

“Okayy~” You had a feeling this would not be the last of hearing about this. And what do you know- all the boys seemed to be holding in laughter later that day when you entered the gym

“So, Lovebug huh?” Asahi grinned at you

“Shut up!”

ASAHI AZUMANE

The celebratory dinner was going great- all the boys seemed to be really enjoying themselves but you noticed that Asahi was going a little fast

“Bubbie? Slow down a little- you’re gonna choke,” You giggle a little, shaking your head at him

“Oh, yeah, right,” Asahi lowered his bowl and chuckled, but he wasn’t the one that ended up choking

Daichi, who was sitting right next to you guys, started choking on his barbecue

“Cap?” Asahi patted his back a little to help him out, “You alright?”

“Bubbie?” Daichi managed to speak through his coughing, causing the tips of Asahi’s ears to go completely red

“Uh...I...I can explain!” Asahi stuttered out, staring at him with wide eyes

“Explain what?” Suga poked his head in and looked back and forth between them

“N-Nothing!” All three of you squeaked out, turning your backs to him and resuming on your food. Daichi and Asahi were bright red, meanwhile you were pretending you were just grateful Daichi didn’t blab

“Well okay...” You could tell Suga was suspicious but slowly he let it go. Daichi however, grew a wide smile on his face as everything began to sink in

“That’s quite a nickname you got going for yourself,” He commented, just when you thought it had died down

“Yeah, well,” Asahi scratched the back of his face. You felt so bad- he looked like a tomato! “I’d appreciate it if we kept this between us, yeah?”

“Yeah, you got it,” Daichi grinned and nodded, causing Asahi to breathe a sigh of relief, “Bubbie.”

HINATA SHOYO

Hinata had a match and unfortunately you couldn’t make it, so he opted to FaceTime you instead right before the game was starting

“Good luck Cutiepie! I know you’ll do great!” You shouted through the screen, smiling brightly

Hinata beamed and nodded his head quickly, forgetting that he had you in speakerphone

“Thanks, babe!” He shouted, just as Kageyama walked by, his jaw dropped to the floor

“Cutepie?” He said in disbelief, and Hinata whipped around so quickly the screen became blurry for a moment

“Crap!” Panic bubbled up inside of the orange-haired boy as a sly smirk grew on Kageyama’s face. “That wasn’t for you to hear!”

“Obviously not, Cutiepie,” Kageyama grinned, barking out a laugh that caused the others to stare in disbelief

“Is he...” Tsukishima started

“...Laughing?” Noya finished, tilting his head a little

All the boys were scared, and slightly alarmed when Kageyama doubled over as Hinata yelled at him

“Shut up! It’s not funny!” Your boyfriend yelled, shaking his hands

“What’s going on here?” Coach Uaki raised an eyebrow

“He-”

“Shut up Kageyama!”

“Y/N calls Hinata their Cutiepie!” Tobio yelled out, causing Coach Uaki to sputter back a laugh

“They what now?” All the other boys turned their backs so angry Hinata couldn’t see them absolutely losing it

“You butt-wipe! You weren’t supposed to tell anybody!” Hinata yelled while you tried to surpress your giggles

“Shoyo baby It’s okay, that just means you gotta kick their asses 10x harder,” You reminded him, trying to cheer him up

But the damage was already done

Nobody was ever gonna let that go, especially not Kageyama. And even though you weren’t there for the match, Hinata told you later on how even the other team started teasing him for it

But at least they won, though

NISHINOYA YU

It wasn’t even you that outed him, it was Kiyoko lmao

She was picking up some stuff around the gym and there just so happened to be a volleyball underneath the bench he was sitting on, so she asked him to hand it to her politely

“Nishi-boo, can you please hands me that?” The minute she said it, it was like the entire gym just froze

The sound of arguing and volleyballs thumping around decreased, and suddenly all eyes were on Noya and Kiyoko as they both stuttered out excuses, clearly embarrassed

“I-I mean, Nishinoya, I didn’t-”

“She doesn’t- she didn’t mean-”

Tanaka was looking at his friend with eyes so big you’d think they were saucers. Exclaiming loudly, he yelled, “WHAT DID SHE JUST CALL YOU?”

“Nishi-boo?” Asahi frowned. “I thought only Y/N called you that.”

“YOU KNEW?!” Both Noya and Tanaka exclaimed, causing Asahi to flinch

“I am so sorry,” Kiyoko tried desperately to apologize to a dumbstruck Nishinoya, “I-It’s just- that’s the last thing I heard Y/N call you before practice today and it just slipped out. I’m really sorry!”

“N-No need,” Noya stuttered, his cheeks a dangerous shade of red, “I-It was an accident, right?”

“YOU THREE HAVE SOME EXPLAINING TO DO!” Tanaka pointed at Kiyoko, Noya and Asahi

“IM NOT EXPLAINING ANYTHING SO JUST FORGET ABOUT IT OKAY?” Noya yelled back, but it was too late

The age of him being addressed Nishi-boo had already started. And the one leading the charge?

Why that was Tanaka of course!

TSUKISHIMA KEI

It wasn’t like you meant to expose him

But when Tsukki snuck up on you one day right after he had just finished practicing, you couldn’t but exclaim, “Tsukki-Bear? What are you doing?!”

Cue you spinning around to see practically the entire Karasuno team standing there, frozen in time

“Did I...hear that correctly?” Hinata stuttered, jaw dropped

“Did they just call you...?” Kageyama asked, wide-eyed

“TSUKKI-BEAR?!” They yelled at the same time, bursting out into laughter as Tsukishima scowled

“Y/N...” He turned to you and sighed as they crackled up behind him, the older boys trying to hide their laughter

Ennoshita was the first to crack, Suga following behind as they leaned on each other for support

Even Daichi and Asahi were stunned, but at least they tried to help

“H-Hey that’s not nice to make fun of him,” Asahi stuttered, but it was blocked out by Hinata’s laughter

“I cannot believe...one of the meanest and tallest people I know is called Tsukki-Bear,” He gasped out

“Ugh. Shut up!” Tsukishima rolled his eyes, rubbing at his temples. “So what if I’m called that? It’s just a freaking nickname! You guys are immature!”

“You tell them Tsukki-Bear!” Yamaguchi yelled out, only to realize his mistake a second later, “I-I mean...”

This caused a whole new round of laughter to ring out and Tsukishima grabbed your hand roughly

“Come on. Let’s go,” He growled, dragging you off

“Tsukki! Y/N! Wait up!” Yamaguchi quickly followed

It was safe to say that Tsukki didn’t talk to the team for three days after that, but hey- At least they had something to hold over him now

1K notes · View notes

s-brant · 3 years

Text

Pirates and Princesses (8/8)

(gif: @beccs) (PART SEVEN) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: JJ must confront his childhood trauma when returning home for the first time since his dad went to jail and prevent it from sabotaging his new relationship. Meanwhile, something sinister happens at the Chateau that brings Y/N face to face with her grief over John B’s death.

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, parent/child abuse, mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, grief, and fluff.

A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of Tokens! This one has a little bit of everything in it, but it also has detailed scenes about JJ and his dad, so proceed with caution if you’re easily triggered by that topic. The love you guys show this fic warms my heart so much, so thanks to anyone who stuck with this story until this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Now that she has been sentenced to both punishments, one as a consequence of the fight with Kacey and the other as a consequence of the stunt she pulled with JJ to break out of ISS, Y/N can confidently say that out of school suspension is superior to in-school suspension by a long shot. Instead of sitting in a humid room with Alec for the duration of multiple school days, she's allowed to stay home, go out surfing, and do whatever she wants in lieu of doing classwork.

She promised herself not to make it a habit, promising the invisible presence of John B that she likes to pretend follows her around that she will never get herself into trouble again, but she sees no problem in enjoying her suspension while it lasts.

For the first few days of her suspension, JJ skipped school to spend it with her. Their memories of the conversation they had at three in the morning on Sunday were fuzzy, but not missing entirely. She noticed a difference in his behavior for the first few hours after they woke up under the tree together for the second time in one week. It wasn't a difference in their relationship or how he treated her, it was a difference in him.

He was quieter than usual as they cleaned up cans of beer and tossed them into the recycling, sending pictures to Kie while she was in class after she made them promise not to throw them in the trash. Rather than cracking jokes or making casual conversation with her, JJ made his way around the yard with the recycling bin in his hands and his head in the clouds. It disappeared as the day progressed, but for a little while, he wasn't completely there.

Today, he went into school instead of ditching to spend extra time with her in between shifts at work and time spent with their friends. Since they can't exceed three consecutive absences without a doctor’s note and he doesn't own a printer or laptop to forage the header from a doctor's office, he had no choice but to part from her this morning.

He bites his lip to contain his smug facial expression at the recollection of her wake up call for him. The hand holding his locker door open for him to lean on in the midst of his not-so-wholesome thoughts of her squeezes the metal hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

The curtains weren't shut all the way when they fell asleep before midnight last night, allowing a shaft of sunlight to shine in and land on his face. But that wasn't what woke him up from the dream he was having. In fact, the reality he opened his eyes to was a hell of a lot better than any dream he remembered.

Most of his memory of those moments spent suspended between consciousness and unconsciousness consisted of feeling her pressing a kiss to his shoulder, then her hands rubbing up and down his waist to slip lower and lower until they settled on the waistband of his underwear. It was then that he woke to find her looking up at him for permission from where she peppered kisses along his chest.

Their eyes met right as she kissed the edge of his nipple with this pleading, needy look that he took pride in causing without actively attempting to. She woke up on the brink of coming undone from a pleasant—to put it tamely—dream about him. With a glimpse at the time displayed on the alarm clock, it didn't take much for her to roll over to wake him up.

It ended with her beneath the sheet, finishing what she started Friday afternoon until he was clutching the pillow beneath his head in the midst of his orgasm. It happened so fast, a fault of how hot he found it to wake up to her wanting him so badly, but it felt slower than it truly was in the early morning haze of exhaustion they felt.

The memory as he relives it is as heady as it felt the first time around. He sees it in fractions; her eyes looking up at his, warm palms finding the familiar planes of his muscular body with the exploratory touch of someone who's never traveled it before, and the intense sensations he felt at the end...It's easy for him to stand here and lose himself in it. Despite the class he has to go to, he bargains with himself for one more second spent in the paradise of his memories before he has to come back to reality.

Reality, as his shitty luck would have it, comes in the form of a familiar feminine voice chirping from behind his back as he replays his morning bliss.

"It's good to see you're alive and well, Maybank."

He decides, based on who he knows he'll see when he turns around, that he might invest in a sharpie to write "Bang head here" on the inside of his locker door for instances like these where he'd rather suffer brain damage than speak to someone he can't stomach the presence of.

When he turns to see Kacey with one arm still stretched to hold his locker open, he doesn't bother concealing the genuine reaction from his face for the sake of her feelings. Any care he had for her and her feelings was thrown to the wind as soon as she decided she could steal from and put her hands on his girl last week. However, after a second of thought, a condescending smirk finds its way to his face.

He says, jerking his chin to vaguely gesture at her bruised up face, "Purple really suits your complexion. It makes your eyes pop, don't you think?"

Though the swelling of her black eye has deflated in the days since the fight that’ll soon tally up to a week, the verbal jab hits right where it intended to if the light leaving her eyes tells him anything. She bounces back after a second, though, ever the relentless pest they've come to see her as.

She offers a sickeningly sweet, yet fake smile to mirror the one gracing his striking features and spins so her back meets the locker beside his, allowing herself to invade his space further.

A collection of Y/N's stickers decorates the inside of his locker door that he briefly entertained the idea of designating as a place to bang his head against. They range from girly, glittery ones to those he willingly picked when she gave him the choice. Whenever they're at his locker together, she sticks one on the inside, and the evidence of the habit catches Kacey's wandering eyes.

Her fingertips brush against the surface of the sticker-covered metal while she ignores his protest of, "Can you not touch my stuff?" to inspect them. Since one of the Pogues in particular is famous for her endless supply of stickers, her expression sours at the thought of the girl responsible for them.

She spares him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye as she continues to analyze the sticker collection against his instructions not to, asking, "Why weren't you at the bonfire?" A failed attempt at a seductive look in his direction makes him fight not to roll his eyes. "After how last year's ended, I thought you wouldn't miss it for the world."

JJ doesn't bother to take a second to think things through before he reaches to slam the door closed with her hand still outstretched inside of it. Watching her pull it away just in time to avoid jamming it in the locker probably pleases him more than it should, but he can't help it. His hand catches on the edge of the door, halting it in place right before it closes where her hand previously rested.

She doesn't look too happy with him when he opens the door with no harm done except for the drop of her stomach when he initially pretended to swing it shut on her bruised knuckles. She didn't get many shots in on Y/N when they fought, but apparently it was enough.

He doesn't bother with the fake niceties she's giving him after the disrespect she showed him, his friends, and, most importantly, his girlfriend. The fact that she thinks she has any right to breathe in his direction, let alone flirt with him, after she stole JB's bandana is criminal. 'Cause not only did she mess with Y/N, she messed with John B on multiple levels, and his loyalty to his best friend hasn't disappeared with death. Kie and Y/N told him everything she said about their departed friend in the locker room last Thursday.

But he's smart enough to know what'll hurt her more, so he doesn't go for the general scolding he imagined giving her in his head. Since he was told everything about the encounter in the locker room, he knows she's still holding their history together near and dear to her heart.

"We stayed home," he says, casual and cool as always, with added emphasis on the first word, "You know how it is, my girl doesn't like parties. Especially not ones with kooks."

Hook, line, and sinker.

She scoffs, "Your girl?"

Looking at her now, he wonders if she was always this stupid, or if this is a new development she's had in the year since he last spent more than a minute or two at a time with her. It’s easier to trick her than it was with Kie and Y/N a few days ago, and those poor girls flew into that trap like moths to a flame.

"That's what I said, isn't it?"

The ire is visible in the way her face tenses up in places, her lips pressing together a little more firmly and her forehead creasing between the brows.

"Doesn't your, um, history bother her?" she asks, and he's gotta give her credit for being a sneaky little shit when given the chance. The girl takes every possible opening she can to strike for a potential weakness. "No offense, but you kinda get around."

He shrugs this time, deciding to drop his casual act and aim straight for the jugular.

"She likes having someone who knows how to fuck her right, actually, but I really appreciate the concern."

Much like Kie's reaction to their matching tattoos in the hot tub the other night, her jaw is unhinged to meet the unswept hallway floor they stand on. It makes him wish Y/N weren't suspended in order for her to see the gobsmacked reaction Kacey has to the harsh dismissal. Though he wouldn't want to incite an extra round of the Kacey vs Y/N WWE showdown by having her watch another girl flirt with him and essentially call him a slut upon rejection, he knows she'd get a kick out of it.

This one's for you, baby, he thinks with a quiet laugh to himself and turns his focus to the sticker collection she so lovingly crafted.

There are plenty of summer themed ones left over from the same pack he gifted her for her birthday with the surfboard sticker she used to tease him, as well as a newer genre of Valentine's Day stickers she started using the closer they grew since first getting together. They're mostly different colored candy hearts with corny phrases ranging from "U SXY THING" to the classic "BE MINE" and one printed with "ANGEL" on it—his favorite by far.

However, others are random ones from her endless stash built up over the years from birthdays and holidays deemed worthy enough by her dad to stop by Dollar Tree for a new pack, so the one he sets his attention on is likely meant for teachers or coaches to give to their students. The opportunity appears too good to be true to him when it clicks, but it isn't.

He peels the sticker off of the locker door, careful not to disturb the ones around it, and leans in closer to her to place it on the front of her tank top.

"Leave us alone or I won't stop her next time," JJ says lowly, past the point of civility, then backs away to slam his locker shut for real this time as his voice raises back to a normal volume, "And keep John B's name out of your mouth, got it?"

All she can do is look down at the sticker placed on her shirt with squinted eyes to try and read it while he walks off in the direction of his next class. It tears away from the fabric with a soft noise, and when she finally reads it, she rolls her eyes.

“Good Try!”

Walking out of school to see the Twinkie parked in the usual spot Y/N takes when she isn't suspended is a delightful treat he didn't know to expect after a rough day in class and his run in with Kacey. His head was hung low on his way to Kie's car to hitch a ride to his house before going home to the Chateau, since he had some things to pick up with his dad out of the picture for the near future, but then he heard her greet them.

JJ's body melts into hers upon contact, and he nearly pushes her up against the closed passenger side door of the van with how hard he hugs her. Though he doesn't want to acknowledge it, his dad has been living in his thoughts more than usual today. Ever since he texted him goodbye, he's been withdrawn inside of his head more and more, and after today's inconveniences, the rising anxiety of his plan to visit home has him two seconds from losing his mind.

Her eyes widen at his zeal, meeting Kie's concerned gaze from over the shoulder she rests her chin on. She stands with her keys swinging around her finger as she watches the couple embrace one another. In an answer to the silent question Y/N asks her in their stare, her lips mouth the words, "His dad," to her.

Deep down, Y/N had a feeling.

It began with his impromptu request to run away with her a few days ago and extended into his uncharacteristically reserved attitude the next morning that receded somewhat, but has yet to fully disappear. There is a part of her that's upset that he hasn't come to her to talk about it, to communicate the way they swore they would, yet she also knows it isn't that simple.

She has to remind herself that she knew what she was getting herself into with him. That's not to say that dating her must be a walk in the park for him, it isn't.

She knows based on the amount of times he had to hold her as she cried, or the time he curtailed her panic attack in this very parking lot, that she hasn't made it easy for him in the aftermath of John B's death. But it's because she knows how it feels that she has such patience with his communication issues.

It's not a conscious choice most times, it's an involuntary blockage preventing the words from being spoken no matter how desperately they long to be. They may have made a promise, but she won't chastise him for succumbing to the same pitfalls as her. It’d be hypocritical.

"Bad day?" she asks.

Her voice is tender with him, prodding gently for a clue as to why he pounced on her on sight. He sinks further into her arms at the sound and lets the sanctity of her touch sway him into submission. Everything about her sets him at ease, if only for a second. Her hand lifts the beat-up red hat from his head to allow the other to brush through his hair.

There's a hum of agreement that she feels vibrating through the center of his chest into hers, and her arms pull tighter around his shoulders in response. This time, when she looks up to see Kie there, she's waving a quick goodbye and setting off toward her car, clearly giving JJ the space he needs.

"We can go to the beach," she says softly, "I have a towel in the back of the van, we can just lay there and talk about it if you want."

The idea of her kind offer to him should add to the comfort he finds in her embrace. It should make him nod and whisper his gratitude to her for being the one person that knows him better than anyone, but it brings him back to the gloomy headspace he was in before seeing her.

It started as a minor distraction when he first arrived at school after carpooling with Kie. It followed him in the quieter moments, only making appearances when he wasn't distracted with more pressing matters. It began as that and built the closer the day came to ending. The sooner his inevitable visit back to his childhood home came, the more he lost himself in his fear, reverting back to a state of helplessness he now occupies with no small amount of shame.

His bottom lip trembles with the urge to cry.

"Can we stop somewhere on the way home first?"

The last place she expected him to drive the Twinkie is here.

As they made their way down each street, taking each turn necessary to bring them closer to the house he seldom let her go to over the course of their lifelong friendship, she felt her heart begin to race. And now, as the van rolls to a stop in the yard in front of his house, she has swallow back the lump in her throat at the sight of it.

She has only been here a few times.

The first time, she was seven years old.

It was a sweltering summer morning in the Outer Banks for her and John B as they set off to retrieve their friend after he missed their plans to meet up at the Chateau for a day of having fun, riding bikes, and playing on the boat. Pirates and Princesses was her favorite game to play with them because JJ would switch roles with her halfway through when she grew tired of being the damsel John B had to rescue from the most cruel and vicious Captain Jesse James Maybank.

The HMS Pogue would rock beneath his feet as he marched across the deck of the boat and took her place as the kidnapped Princess Routledge. He handed off his "sword" to her, a stick he found in the yard, and stood at the edge of the boat with his hands behind his back as though he were a tied up damsel in distress for her to hold captive. The sun setting behind them laid a picturesque backdrop that made the scene all the more vivid to their imaginative young minds.

The boat floated in the afternoon current as John B approached the pair with his best pretend face of worry for the fair Princess Maybank, who had the sharp sword of the pirate queen pressing into his throat with the threat of death should he have tried to escape.

Sometimes, she'd let John B advance on them and tie make believe rope around her wrists and ankles while he and Princess Maybank claimed their victory. Other times, they'd get backed up until the heels of her sneakers hung off the edge of the slippery deck. One move from her brother would have her yell something along the lines of not taking either of them alive, then she'd let her and JJ fall back into the marsh together with gleeful laughs infiltrating the humid air upon their return to the surface.

On the day he didn't show up, none of that happened. She and John B rode their bikes together along sidewalks until they pulled into a driveway marked with the address number he remembered from the other time he sought him out to play before.

Y/N didn't understand what they were hearing when they pushed their kickstands down and called out for their friend, but John B's little face blanched at the sound flooding out of the opened windows of the dilapidated yellow house. It was a combination of banging against the walls, glass shattering, and childlike shouts of frustration and pain. Her big brother placed himself in front of her protectively when the front door opened and smacked against the side of the house, but it wasn't his dad storming out of the house, it was JJ.

His eyes widened at the sight of the siblings standing there, and his heart dropped to his stomach at the realization that they heard it. Maybe not all of it, but based on how the girl peeking out around John B's shoulder looked at him, they heard some.

The van is parked in the exact same place their bikes once were, the exact place she and John B stood years ago when they were first confronted with the harsh reality about their best friend's home life, and he looks like he has fully backpedaled into the state of mind his childhood self inhabited. Even when he turns the key in the ignition and lets the rumbling engine sputter down in silence, he sits in the driver's seat with his lip drawn between his teeth in thought.

Yet as soon as she summons the courage to say something, he takes a deep breath and opens the door without a warning or the typical instruction for her to stay in the car. He doesn't tell her to follow him in, nor does he order her to stay out as he used to when his dad still lived inside. He gives her the choice to make on her own, and, when faced with the opportunity to support him or stay outside like the confused little girl she once was, she chooses the first option.

Her swift steps kick dirt up from the earth onto her ankles as she follows him out of the van to the front steps of the house. She tries not to make her concern for him as evident as it'd be without her intervention on her way up the porch, but it's impossible to erase every sign of it from her face.

It isn't a particularly special or scary house. It's a normal home that'd likely look more inviting if JJ were still living here to mow the lawn and tend to the household upkeep his father saddled him with since he was old enough to be put to work. But she knows better than to trust the street appeal. As he takes her hand to lead them through the threshold of the haunted structure, she is overcome with a sense of creeping trepidation that she can't shake.

"You're sure he isn't here?" she asks.

The entryway is crowded with stacks of mail his father wasn’t bothered to open, as well as empty cardboard boxes that once held cans of beer that are scattered, empty, in various places around the house. Her question is answered by the state of the rooms they breeze past in the direction of his bedroom, but she needed something to say to fill the silence. With them, they usually don’t feel uncomfortable not speaking to each other, but this feels different.

The way he stares out in front of him with his hand squeezing hers hard enough to cut off circulation unnerves her more than the tainted energy of the house itself. He isn't himself. He's a shell of the JJ they know and love, the JJ who is most comfortable tucked away in the safe walls of the Chateau with their friends, not here. If anything, how he is while he's here is the antithesis of his behavior while living with her.

Ever since John B died, he's practically moved in with her. When they're hidden away in her house without the reminders of his home life in sight, he's usually the caretaker of the relationship. It comes naturally to their dynamic, both with him being slightly older and his promise to take care of her, but everything is flipped here. It's an alternate reality for him, or, perhaps, actual reality smacking him in the face after a carefully constructed two months in utopia with her.

They come to a stop in front of his closed bedroom door.

"He's gone," he says, not even sparing a glance at her for reasons she can't decipher, "He texted me a few days ago to say goodbye."

With that, he turns the doorknob and lets the door swing open to reveal the bedroom she only saw one other time.

The second time, she was thirteen years old.

It was a Friday.

Since his dad was supposed to be at work, they stopped at his house on their way home from school exactly like they did today so he could share with their friends what he got from his cousin the night before. Being the good girl she was, she didn't even know what he was showing her when he dug it out of the backpack in the bottom of his closet.

Her brows furrowed at the ziploc bag, more specifically the contents inside of it. She was knelt down on the floor in front of the opened closet door with her shoulder pressed up against his to inspect it. The dried green cluster of a plant didn't look like anything she'd seen before, and she couldn't help but ask him what the hell it was rather than react the way he knew the others would.

"What is it? It looks like dried up moss."

JJ laughed and pulled another bag with rolling papers and a grinder stowed inside.

"It's weed. My cousin Ricky gave me a discount since—"

He halted mid-sentence abruptly enough to startle her, his head turning in the direction of where he heard a trunk pulling up to the front of the house. Her stare was still set on where he was holding the plastic bags in his hands, and she noticed, after he stopped speaking in reaction to his dad coming home, that his hands began trembling. It was so minimal, she almost didn't catch it until she saw the bag wavering under the light coming in from his window.

Before she could open her mouth to say anything more, she felt his hands on her shoulders shoving her into the closet. He followed in closely behind her and crawled in until they were both crammed into the confined space together. With the closet doors shut in front of them, he clamped a hand over her mouth, whispering in her ear for her to be quiet.

She stands with her arms crossed over herself in the center of his room, and though nothing has yet to be said or done to convince her anything is wrong, that's the exact reason why she feels so unnerved by the entire experience of coming here.

He's silent.

The closet doors are wide open as he stuffs the rest of the clothes he had yet to bring to the Chateau into the biggest bag he could find. He rips through his belongings in a fit of melancholy driven anger. His thoughts are swirling with similar memories to the ones she conjures from being here again, but his are tinged with a darkness hers don't have, even with hearing him crying in pain as a child and hiding in the closet with his hand smothering her mouth to evade his dad.

JJ visibly grimaces at the memories he's forced to relive in flashes with every glimpse he gets of the room he spent so much time hiding in. It used to be more tolerable to be here, or at least easier to suffer through. At least he was used to it before, but he got so accustomed to life somewhere else that the second he was confronted with coming back, he started to fall apart.

Whatever he can't live without, he finds space for it in the bag and prepares to leave the rest behind. But every object he touches and step he takes around the room brings him back to the person who he spent his adolescence simultaneously fleeing and wanting more from. More notably, it brings him back to the train of thought that has been nagging him ever since he texted him over the weekend.

The third and final time she came here was over the summer.

It happened right before Hurricane Agatha waged war on the island, when none of the Pogues heard from JJ for two days after he said he had to go home to help his dad with something. She didn't want to track him down to his house after they went over twenty-four hours without a single message. She didn't want to have to go back to the house that gave her chills to think about, let alone go to again after they hid in his closet when they were younger, but he gave her no other choice.

What was she supposed to do except go check on him where he last said he'd be? After all, if she lived in the hazardous environment he did, he'd do the exact same for her. If their friends were involved in her thoughts at the time, they would've gone out on a limb to say he would've gone beyond what she did to protect her if the situation were flipped. If he knew someone was hurting her, he would've come in swinging first and asked questions later, but, in her defense, he strictly told her to never come back to his house. By walking over in the first place, she was breaking one of the fundamental rules of their friendship.

Nevertheless, she found herself crouching around the side of his house to find his bedroom window and check if he was in there. Kie and Pope weren't aware of what was happening with his dad yet, but she and John B accidentally found out years ago, so she wasn't wondering why he wasn't answering them, she was wondering if he was alive.

Part of her truly thought underneath it all that Luke might've killed him. He might've been too drunk or high and went too far when beating him, too far to the point where he didn't want to risk going to jail to take him to the hospital for help. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't check, and if he got pissed at her for showing up against his wishes and didn't want to speak to her ever again, she could live with that.

She knocked on his window in a cadenced beat loud enough for it to heard through the room but not any further. After the first series of knocks, no one came to the window. It ripped her heart to pieces to wonder if she'd see him again as she continued to knock and allowed the sound to increase in volume in hopes that maybe he was asleep, but it didn't bring anyone to the window.

It wasn't until she turned back around to go to the front of the house again that she bumped right into the solid wall of his chest and was pushed back up against the house. The question of what she was doing there was on the tip of his tongue, but she said something that stopped him from asking it.

Her arms were thrown around his shoulders in a desperate bear hug.

"Oh God, JJ, you scared me half to death!" she cried into the front of his shirt, "I thought he killed you!"

He can't help but think of it as he packs his belongings away for a final time to bid his hellish childhood home goodbye: What kind of life are they going to have together if they can't get off this island? Running away may have been an idealistic drunken fantasy for him to entertain after his conversation with Pope got him to admit his true feelings for her, but they both know his consistency can't be trusted.

One moment, he's planning to tell her. The next, a day like today comes along, sweeps his legs out from beneath his body, and he's questioning whether it's worth it to force her to put up with his fickle commitment to her. It isn't fair to her, is it?

Right now is just about when he'd normally start to hyperventilate with an oncoming wave of panic, and he does, but he can't let it fully sweep into him with her here. He fights the urge to smack his head with the heel of his palm, as if that'd forcibly remove the poisonous thoughts infiltrating his mind and ruining the careful work they've done together to remedy their issues with communicating their feelings.

Just like you ruin everything, a thought whispers in the corner of his mind. What made you think this would be any different?

His actions around the room have turned somewhat aimless and distracted, which she notices as soon as he starts to disintegrate into a mess of heavy breaths and self-sabotaging thoughts. She picks up on the shift in his energy as soon as the anxiety starts to wash over him, and she'll be damned if she continues to stand here quietly to let it happen.

It's one thing if he's being silent because being here upsets him, or if he simply doesn't know what to say, but she refuses to let him tailspin into a mental breakdown without doing something to stop it. Whether he knows it or not, after what they went through with him trying to push her away last week, she knows what's occurring within his mind right now.

He flinches at the feeling of her hand grabbing his shoulder to turn him to face her at first, and when she reaches again with her other hand to try to hold his hand as he cries, he shrugs off her touch.

"JJ..." she lets the solemn sound of her own voice murmuring his name trail off, "it's just me."

His head shakes at her consoling words. Everything else inside of his mind is so earth-shatteringly loud, he can't drown it out with logic or reason to bring himself away from the memories of his dad. Those intrusive thoughts keep attacking him with doubled, then tripled force the harder he tries to resist them, and he's so exhausted from it. All of it—the memories, his dad going to jail, and his inability to accept her love to its fullest extent without convincing himself she'll abandon him—is exhausting.

This time, when she rests her hand on his shoulder, he swats it away as the frustration of today crushing him with the force of an avalanche. Not to hurt or scare her, but to get her hands off of him before he bursts out of his skin with the sickness it stirs in his stomach. So detached from himself, he anticipates pain from every touch she gives him, and he knows it hurts her.

JJ hardly recognizes his own voice as he backs away from her a step and says, "Don't."

He can tell it hurts her based on how she looks at him immediately after, but he can't handle being touched right now. How did this happen so quickly? It was overwhelming when they first parked outside, but as soon as he stepped foot inside, it was as if a switch was flipped inside of him and all of the buried feelings he kept hidden over the past two weeks exploded into this.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"You need to leave. I just-I can't breathe and"—He still refuses to look up from the ground or see her face as he paces around the room with no real intent in mind—"You can't see me like this."

That is what breaks her out of her soft spoken, timid attitude to handle the situation the way it needs to be handled. Their natural dynamic worked best for him to take charge when she had her panic attack because JJ acts first and thinks later. He saw that she was in distress and jumped in to help her before things got worse rather than allowing her to keep him at an arms length where he couldn't do anything about it.

Taking a page from his rule book, she takes action.

The room surrounding them is in a state of disarray from him searching through it for the items of clothing and objects now stashed in his duffel bag. There are multiple obstacles in her way as she steps between them like navigating a minefield to reach him after he backed away in instinctual fear, but they don't stop her from reaching him. Nothing could.

Y/N walks right up to him and reaches to grasp his face between her hands, forcing him to stop pacing around and actually look at her for the first time since they arrived her so he hears what she says. To say the least, the way he looks right now is enough to make her cry. There are tears welled up to the brims of his blue eyes, his lips are downturned with his sobs, and he's staring at her like she's about to strike him.

She says it as slowly and clearly as she needs to get it through his head, "He's not here," and before he manages to squeeze out another word of doubt between his rapid inhalations, she cuts in, "Take deep breaths."

He isn't listening to her.

The movement of his chest that hits hers from how close they stand to each other has yet to settle into the familiar pace she remembers from nights of falling asleep with the rhythm of his breaths beneath her head.

Her eyes search his face frantically, from left to right and top to bottom, for any sign of the person she's known for years, but she doesn't see him. Instead, she sees the same panicked child her and John B saw the first time they visited this house. It's uncanny how similar the expression in his face is. It feels to her as if she's been hurled back in time to the moment itself, and when she tries to think about what would've worked with him back then, she doesn't know what else to do except help him escape.

So, with the helplessness of having to watch him turn into a sobbing, incoherent mess, she decides to step into the darkness with him and do what seven year old Y/N would've done. Just like their games of make believe, of pirates and princesses, she assumes the role John B would have and rescues him from what holds him captive. It’s his own mind in this case, but, in the physical sense, it's the house.

She drops her hands from his face and takes his hand in hers to drag him out of the room. The packed bag sits on the floor in their wake as she pulls him back through the bedroom door and into the living room, not caring about what they came here to do.

It doesn't matter anymore.

The various rooms of his dad's house pass by them in a blur as she leads him down the hallway to the front door with one sole objective in mind: get him out of here. If he wants his stuff to bring back to the Chateau, she'll go back inside and get whatever he needs her to, but she isn't letting him inside of this house again. Not under her watch.

Thankfully, since he is undeniably stronger than her and she wouldn't have stood a chance, he doesn't fight it. He stumbles after her guiding hand the same way he always has, just like how he followed her back to the Chateau after she and John B saw him that day when they were kids. She led the way as he sat on the handlebars of her brother's bike, and he watched her hair flutter in the wind with the momentum of their bicycle spokes until the tears dried up.

He watches her drag him out of the home until they've reached the safety of the yard at the bottom of the porch steps, and as soon as the soles of her shoes meet the dirt, she feels his hand slipping out of hers.

"JJ?"

She turns around to see him clutching his chest, rubbing his hand along the front of his shirt over his heart as though it'll loosen up the tightened muscles preventing him from catching his breath. His body weight is leaned onto the railing of the porch steps for support. He's partially slumped on it, looking at her desperately, like she somehow knows the answer to every question screamed inside of his head, and she has never felt as useless.

"You're gonna leave," JJ says through the gasps and cries that leave his cheeks stained with tears.

When she reaches out again to help him remain upright without leaning over the railing, he doesn't shove her hands away as he did inside of his bedroom. It's a small battle won, but she takes it as a win nonetheless.

"What are you saying? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere—"

"You're gonna leave! Everybody does! My mom, John B, my dad, and you"—his head falls to look at the ground instead of her, and she watches him work through it in his head—"I mean, look at me. You don't want this."

"Don't tell me what I want," she says.

Her voice remains as steady and calm as she can force it to be amidst the turbulent situation, but the way he said it...It takes her right back to sitting in the back of the Twinkie with him at the Cherry Bowl, except it's ten times worse. That felt like a break up, but based on what he's saying, this is one. She hasn't prepared herself for the heartache she feels in response to it.

"You don't want me, you just think you do 'cause I was there after John B died, but you don't. You're gonna go off, find some perfect guy that isn't as fucked up as me, and have a great life somewhere else, but it ain't here," JJ says, his breathing evening out with the distraction of the argument to keep him tethered tor reality, "And it won't be with me."

He can see it every time he's looked at her and debated saying those three titular words that have been floating around in his head since he first met her.

How could she want someone who can't walk into his childhood bedroom without breaking down, or someone who still has years-old scars from cigarette burns on his skin when she touches him? Her bright future contrasted with his pre-designated fate on the Cut, her personality better matched with someone more similar to her, her life continuing on whether he's there or not—it's his worst nightmare, but he's prepared to see it through.

What he doesn't expect is for her to hold her ground.

"You honestly think I'm buying into that bullshit?" she asks.

"What?"

She doesn't put it softly, she states facts with as much harshness as his cruel fantasy had, "You're trying to push me away and I won't let you."

Her typically sweet, soft features have hardened into a bitter expression he's sure he mirrors. The arms holding his waist to keep him upright move to climb up his chest and cup his face between her hands with all of the gentleness her face and voice don't have right now.

She sees right through him.

When he tries to look away again, to avert his eyes to make what he's trying to do easier on himself by not having to look at her when he does it, her grasp on his face holds firm. Her hands guide his chin back up so they're face to face, and he realizes what a mistake everyone makes in assuming her this dainty, broken girl whose only source of strength came from the brother she lost. She's a forest fire.

"You're not hearing what I'm saying—"

Y/N interjects, "I am hearing what you're saying, I'm just saying it's bullshit."

She refuses to let him off the hook, and though it frustrates him on the surface, deep down, it makes him fall in love with her all over again. Her insistence against his speech about her leaving him proves him wrong more than anything else could, 'cause he gave her the perfect chance to dip and she shot it down instantly.

The house looms behind them as a menacing presence that threatens to take control of him again, but she doesn't let it. She keeps his eyes on her no matter how many times he tries to look away and doesn't let anything get in the way of what she says next.

"You think that if you push me away and get me to leave you right now, it'll hurt less than it would if I did it later, and I don't accept that. I won't take the bait and let you torture yourself anymore, okay? I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I'll never leave you. Not willingly, anyway."

She looks into his eyes, and this time its softer, more loving, and he's never felt as understood as he does when she continues to speak.

"I'm in love with you. Whether it scares you or not, it's the truth, and I'll never stop saying it. If you think that your issues with your dad are gonna change that for me, you've officially lost your mind." Their noses brush as she leans in to ghost a kiss over his mouth and pulls away a second later to whisper, her forehead pressed to his, "I love you, JJ. Stop being so stubborn and just let me."

His next breath in trembles as he lets her words sink in, and he's stuck at a crossroads inside of himself without a clue of what to do.

The breeze blows her hair away from her face, the afternoon sunshine painting her golden, and when he sees her hair flutter in the air like it did so many years ago, he can't help but feel as calm as he did during their bike ride home. The further away he got from his dad and the house where it all happened, the calmer he grew, and it hits him at this moment that he's so taken aback by her confession to him, he forgot why he was so upset.

It's sobering. The intoxication of his panic hurtled him back in time to the frightened, childlike state of mind his dad's violent abuse often sent him to, but it was hearing her say those words he's feared for weeks that brought him back. Like the jolt of a defibrillator, he's roused back to life with more clarity than before.

She loves him, but, perhaps more importantly, she said she'd never leave him, and that is what he needed to hear more than anything. That is the statement worth more to him than the four letter word he has agonized over endlessly. No one else every attached the promise of "I love you" with the stipulation of it lasting forever. They said the empty words and contradicted it with their actions, but she hasn't done that. Her actions spoke the words long before her mouth did.

He sighs.

It's a deep, yearning sigh that sends him melting into her with the acceptance of what he's denied for too long. He savors the hands cradling his head, as well as the body pressed up against his that he has memorized down to every beauty mark and imperfection, and makes the right choice.

It isn't like it was the night at the Cherry Bowl, or the night he spoke to Pope about it. It still takes more bravery than he possesses to form the words, but there isn't a physical incapability stopping him anymore. It's just him against the trauma beckoning him into its trap again, and he won't let it lure him back into that house.

"Alright," JJ says to her through a sniffle in acceptance to her command, as if he were agreeing on afternoon surfing plans rather than something as monumental as allowing someone to love him, then continues onto with a timid tone, "I love you too."

Before he can watch for her reaction, she's surging forward through the few inches of space left between them to connect their lips in a kiss.

It's vastly different to the kiss they shared in the hallway at school last Friday. In contrast to that one, the reigning emotion within him that drives the kiss after the hesitant beginning doesn't lead them into increased intensity, it gets gentler. It doesn't explode into chaos and passion, it's a tired kiss that he never wants to retreat from. It's the physical manifestation of his feelings for her underneath the guarded exterior he uses to protect himself: gentle and yielding, yet undeniably powerful.

He feels her smiling through her tears against his mouth. In the face of everything that happened this afternoon, he doesn't feel like he should be smiling back at her, but he does. He smiles while kissing her with tears streaming down his face, still reeling from his traumatic response to coming home for the final time, and wonders how a person can feel such contradicting emotions all at once.

Y/N is the one who starts to pull away first, though it's only to check in on him. If she had it her way, she could stay here with him until the sun sets, but he did just come back from the brink of a full-blown panic attack, so she can't in good conscience ignore his well-being for the momentary bliss of their love confessions.

Her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her smile drooping with worry as she asks, "Wanna spend the rest of the day on the boat? You always say being on the water makes you feel better. Maybe it'll make it easier to talk about it."

His Adam's apple bobs with how he swallows the lump in his throat.

"Can we maybe take baby steps for now? I don't think I can handle telling you all that shit yet."

It was already enough to allow her to follow him into the house, watch him break down into a fit of panic no one else has seen him in, and tell her he loved her, but it'd cross the line into uncharted territory to talk about everything between him and his dad so openly. Between the minor annoyance of dealing with Kacey to this hellish visit home, he thinks he's reached his quota on feeling uncomfortable today.

She nods in agreement.

"Baby steps."

Drawn back to each other by a force stronger than gravity, they collide again, but it isn't a kiss this time. It's a hug charged with all of the previously unspoken emotions they've buried inside of themselves for years, the same hug she gave him the last time she came to this house with the fear of his potential death lingering in her thoughts.

She throws herself at him with the same desperation she did that day and relishes the feeling of his muscular arms returning the embrace until their bodies are tangled together. She'd usually never refer to something as inherently affectionate as an embrace as violent, but it's the closest she can come to capturing how it feels as their bodies meet. It makes her lose her footing on the bottom step they stand on together, teetering on the edge she'd surely slip off of with the force if not for him keeping her steady.

He's about to say something, a thank you to her for calling him out on his bullshit and not letting him go that easily, when the grating sound of her ringtone blares from the back pocket of her denim shorts.

The contact popping up on the screen along with a series of frantic messages when she pulls away from him to answer shows Pope's name.

Pope You and JJ need to get back to the Chateau ASAP!!

The van doors slam shut behind Y/N and JJ as soon as it rolls to a stop in front of the Chateau.

Under the assumption that something dire happened, as in injury or death or catastrophic damage to the house itself, they bolted off of that porch faster than they knew they could move. She only turned back when she remembered the packed back of JJ's things they abandoned on his bedroom floor and, not wanting him to reenter the house, she brought it back to the Twinkie in record time.

They're preparing to trample up the porch into the house like a stampede of animals when they hear Kie calling them over to the backyard and change direction.

"No one's hurt!" she shouts, knowing that was likely where their minds went after everything they went through during the summer, "You have to see this though, I don't know who did it!"

Sticks and fallen leaves crunch beneath her feet on her way around the side of the house. Her mind races with the possibility of what could've happened that didn't hurt their friends but necessitated a series of texts and calls as frantic as the ones she received at JJ's house. She drove over here in defiance of the speed limit, something she rarely does, and prayed nothing terrible was happening.

It gave her flashbacks to when she found out John B and Sarah died in the storm. The pedal beneath her foot brought the van to an uncomfortably swift speed, then she remembered the sound of Shoupe's voice when he gave them the news. JJ warned her to slow down, then she remembered how it took multiple people to help her restrain him from attacking the new sheriff for letting his men drive their friends into their deaths.

At first, she doesn't realize what's wrong.

Kiara and Pope are standing and waiting for them across the grass near the large tree that sits as a centerpiece to their yard. Based on the body language screaming their frustration and the tears in their eyes, she can tell something bad did happen, but it's not clear what it is until she looks past them to the tree. More specifically, until she looks at what's on the tree.

"Oh my god," she whispers to herself.

Her hand is already up to cover her mouth and conceal the instantaneous frown besmirching her previously relaxed face. They both are stopped in their tracks halfway to where their friends are standing, and she can’t hear JJ's reaction over the rising volume of her hysterical thoughts.

Spray painted in red on top of their memorial for John B are the words "COP KILLER" in bold letters that conceal what they burned into the tree trunk for his gravestone. It sticks out from the beauty of the greens, browns, blues, and swathes of other earthy tones composing the scenery around the Chateau like a thorn amongst flowers, so much so that she wonders how she didn't instantly see it when they rounded the corner to come back here.

Yet that isn't the only thing amiss in the peaceful sanctuary they call home, there are random things strewn around the ground around the tree. An old t-shirt spray painted with the word "murderer" on the front, four ripped up envelopes, and a gorgeous mahogany jewelry box...broken on the grass.

The freshly turned dirt they had the contents of the box buried beneath is scattered around the trashed area as well. It clicks with her a few seconds late that whoever came here to do this must have seen the pinwheel she put in the ground to mark the "grave" and dug it up to add insult to injury.

She moves forward without consciously realizing it and stumbles until she reaches the first object of the debris field. Before this, she was doing a masterful job of holding in her cries, but as soon as she crouches down to pick up the pieces of the jewelry box, the lid snapped clean off the hinges to separate it from the bottom section, it comes rushing out of her against her will. The first unrestrained keen is the first thing to snap JJ out of his shell shocked trance.

He walks after her as fast as his legs will take him without breaking into a run, but she isn't letting him get close before she puts the box back down and shuffles forward to collect the torn letter remains. She doesn't want them to get blown away by the wind anymore than they already might have been, so she scrambles to gather the pieces until they're cupped in her hands to protect them.

"Why?" she asks and looks up at Kie and Pope with tears dripping down her face, "Why would anyone do this? Who would do this?"

Pope says, "My guess is as good as yours. We didn't see anyone leaving when we got here, so it must've happened before school ended. This is all we saw before we called you guys."

For a second or two, JJ is grasping at straws for why this happened and who did it like the rest of them are, but then something Pope said makes it click into place. It sets off a domino effect in his mind as he brings back the memory of a certain offspring of satan being absent from gym this afternoon despite being at school earlier, since his encounter with her before Physics made him, unfortunately, aware of her existence again.

His face is set in anger, jaw clenching with the tension of him grinding his teeth together, and he takes his hat off to fidget with it between his hands for a second. Their friends are too focused on her crying to see him contemplating it, but as soon as he speaks, they look up to see him setting his hat back onto his head in preparation to leave and track Kacey down.

Y/N's head snaps up from the torn letters in her hands to the sight of him storming off across the yard with his only goodbye being the words, "I'm gonna kill that bitch."

Her and Pope stare after him in shock, unable to put the pieces together about who that "bitch" is, but Kie doesn't miss a single beat. While Y/N is crumpled over on the ground in tears, she's rushing after JJ before he can approach the bike parked in front of the house. He doesn't even make it five steps before he feels her hands latching onto his wrist to stop him.

She asks, "Who the hell are you talking about? And why would they do this?"

His eyes narrow at her. His unreleased frustration for the situation in general and having to watch Y/N cry after an emotional afternoon together comes rushing out when he snaps at her.

"Kacey. She talked shit at school and I put her in her place. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna pay her a little visit."

He yanks his arm sharply towards himself to free it from her grip, but she's a step ahead of him. Quicker than he can think to stop her, Kie swipes the keys hanging out of his back pocket away and throws them to Pope, who, bless his heart, can't catch to save his life. The key ring jingles with its contact at the dead center of his chest, and she mouths an apology to him before turning back to face JJ.

"What the fuck, Kie?"

He makes to stomp past her and retrieve the keys from Pope only to be stopped by her hands reaching out to grab his shoulders.

"Listen to me, you can't go anywhere. Look at her," she whispers lowly enough to keep Y/N from hearing, pointing behind her to where she sits on the ground with Pope knelt beside her, "I wouldn't put it past Kacey to pull a stunt like this. I'm just as mad as you, but revenge can wait and you know it. She needs you."

The fury visible in his expression is subdued by looking past Kie's shoulder to see Y/N crying softly to Pope about the vandalized memorial.

The last time he saw her so distraught over something, it was the day they made the memorial and buried the box in the first place. She sits on her knees with her mom's broken jewelry box between them, shuddering with the sobs she has no control over, and pours the torn paper into the empty bottom half of the box. Exhausted to the core, she looks more like a sullen, kicked puppy than she does herself.

It makes his anger-fueled instincts that urge him to hunt Kacey down and do something, anything he can to make her feel the pain they do right now bubble down into sorrow. It's visible in his eyes when he looks at her.

Kie knows she's gotten under his skin when he sighs, sparing a parting glance to the bike in the driveway, and nods once at her before setting off back to where they're sitting in the grass.

Meanwhile, Y/N is stuck staring down at the disarray of her backyard with nothing but pain aching through her to the bone.

Her brother did wrong things sometimes as a consequence of being human, but never this, never something worthy of having his name dragged through the mud and being branded a murderer after his death. He stole scuba gear from Ward and broke dozens of laws in their hunt for the gold, but he never crossed that line into moral bankruptcy. Rafe did, and it kills JJ to see someone like Kacey do this to his best friend while hanging off of Rafe and his friends like a leech.

The fabric of his worn t-shirt is tarnished by the dried paint clinging to the front of it to the spell the lie written there, and her vision blurs with tears for what feels like the millionth time in the span of an hour. First, it was JJ. Now, it's John B, and she can't help but wonder if the heartache will ever end. It began to feel better over the course of the week, her grief for him slowly beginning to slip from her mind until now. Until the storm clouds converged again to batter her with another wave of it.

Through the deafening volume of her mind racing with thoughts and feelings to process what's happened, she hears Pope shuffling around to stand on his feet. Then, another person sits down in his place and scoots closer until their bodies are touching, and she knows it's him. She doesn't have to wait to hear his voice or look to see his face, she can tell based on the feeling of his touch and the smell of him she's so intimately familiar with, yet couldn't describe it aloud if she tried.

He doesn't smother her. He sits close enough to touch her and doesn't push it any further.

The background of the pale, cloudless sky frames him in the foreground like the subject of a painting—a living, breathing painting that she could study endlessly. The other trees planted in the yard's leaves flutter distantly behind him and try to draw her gaze away, but she keeps her eyes on him.

Maybe that's how it is, she thinks.

Maybe it'll get better and worse in a dance that'll only stop when they're no longer here to agonize over it. Maybe this is what moving on from John B will always be like. It'll feel like they've made strides in the right direction, then something will come along to shatter it to sharp pieces that'll reopen their stitched up wounds. If that's the case, at least the four of them have each other to lean on when it gets worse again.

JJ sits with her and lets her crawl onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, until the sun sinks below the horizon.

The gentle bobbing of the HMS Pogue at the surface of the water steadies her amidst her eddying thoughts. It keeps her present to the moment the way the ropes tying the boat to the dock keeps it from floating adrift into the marsh. It's a motion engrained in her from the start of her life until now from countless days spent on the water. Whether it be for fishing, swimming, or playing make believe with her boys all those years ago, it's as much a part of her as her personality or body itself.

JJ was right about one thing: being out on the water makes it easier to think.

He hasn't followed her out since she woke up before sunrise and snuck out of bed to come here. Despite her efforts not to wake him, he woke up when she disentangled her body from his, silently cursing the fact that they always cuddle so closely, and he tried to pull her back to him with a whine of displeasure in his groggy, half-asleep state. Sleep finally found them after hours of staying up together to talk about what Kacey did, unable to relax from the chaos of yesterday, so he wasn't prepared to wake up that soon.

"Go back to sleep, angel," she whispered as she hovered over him, brushing a chaste kiss to his lips that he was too tired to return.

That was the last time she saw him since this morning, and now that the sun has risen to its peak in the sky without her moving an inch from her perch atop the bow of the boat, she's begun to wonder if he's awake yet. It isn't uncommon for them to sleep in for half of the day when there isn't school or work, so it isn't surprising to her that he's just now waking up when she hears the back door to the Chateau opening and closing.

Unbeknownst to her, JJ has been awake the entire morning since she left bed.

They were so attached to each other yesterday night, he didn't have the time to put it together without her seeing and ruining the surprise, but once he heard the door to the porch close to signify her leaving, he kicked the blankets off of himself and got to work. He wasn't originally planning on starting so early, since they stayed up late into the night together, but once he woke up to the feeling of her sneaking out of his arms, he was too awake to fall back asleep.

The sound of his footsteps on the dock warns her of his approach, but she doesn't raise her head from where she rests it in her palms to stare out at the water.

"I was wondering when you'd finally wake up," she says.

There's another few steps, then the boat jostles with his weight stepping onto it.

He doesn't say anything to her in response. The only clue she gets as to what he's doing are the footsteps on the deck that lead closer to her until she feels him sitting down on the bow next to where she is. And she's about to open her mouth to ask if he's okay when he sets something down in front of her.

It's a shoe box.

Y/N turns to see him, eyes flickering over his tired face, and looks back at the box with furrowed brows.

"What is this?"

His hair is messy, exactly how it was when she left him in bed this morning, and if she weren't more focused on the mysterious box he plopped down in front of her, she'd be combing through it with her fingers. He's gotten used to those casual displays of affection from her; how she runs her hands through his hair on mornings before school when he forgets to brush it, or when she fixes a button on his flannel that he missed.

JJ's lips are tipped in a smile, and she can't help but blush with how he looks at her. She never used to see it, but he has always looked at her like this. Like he's hopelessly, utterly in love with her. Even before they lost John B, back when he'd expend all of his romantic and sexual attention on girls he hardly knew, he still looked at her this way.

He gestures at it and says, "Open it."

The lid of the box is coated in a freshly dried layer of blue paint to match the shade of the sky overhead. She knows instantly that he must have dug through the arts and crafts box she specifically labeled with a warning for him and John B to stay out. It's painted with aimlessly sloppy brushstrokes and stickers placed at every corner of the cardboard box, all of which she recognizes from the stash she kept under her bed alongside the India ink he borrowed last Friday.

As she gives him a skeptical look and reaches to lift the lid off of the shoe box, she makes a mental note to rewrite the label on the arts and crafts box without the warning for him to keep out. Since John B isn't here to steal anything from it and JJ never follows that rule anyway, it's redundant at this point.

Any skepticism is washed away from her face as soon as she flips the lid open to reveal what's inside. It leaves her speechless as she looks down at it all.

"JJ..." she murmurs in awe.

Sitting at the bottom of it is a folded up t-shirt she saw JJ wear multiple times, but never again since John B died. He refused to glance at the shirt his best friend gave him the year before they never saw him again, let alone dig it out of the corner of her closet where he keeps his things...until now.

But that's a scratch on the surface of all of the things about his gift that stuns her to silence. The next thing to catch her immediate attention is a picture she hasn't seen in years.

It's one that Big John took of the three of them together right where she and JJ are sitting. She was much younger in it, flashing a toothy grin with her arms thrown over both boys' shoulders. To her left, John B was leaning his head on her shoulder. To her right, JJ was wearing an eyepatch they crafted out of an old black shirt he stole from his dad. It was cut with the kitchen scissors and tied around the back of his head in a knot.

She brushes her thumb over John B's face, then sets the crinkled photograph back down atop the folded shirt and moves her attention to the last surprise.

Letters.

Torn up pieces of paper painstakingly taped back together sit one on top of the other, some missing pieces here or there, and it makes her mouth part in shock. Her hands shuffle the letters apart to see each one and recognize the handwriting: Kie's bubbly, swirling letters, Pope's neat cursive, hers, and JJ's chicken scratch writing that she's able to decipher from years of proofreading his essays.

She pictures him at her desk all morning while she was sitting out here, ripping tape off of the roll and arranging the puzzle pieces of the ripped letters until he was sure he got it right. It made him want to rip the hair from his scalp, but he sat there and pushed through the frustration to make it as perfect as he could for her. The missing pieces were primarily from Kie's letter, which fluttered away on a balmy breeze when Kacey tore it up and threw it to the ground, but the one he wanted her to have the most wasn't missing more than a single piece.

Y/N looks up from the letters held like a precious treasure in her hands to see him watching her with that same classic JJ smile on his face, but he doesn't let her get a word in yet.

"Go on," he says, leaning closer to pull his letter to John B out and place it on top of the pile for her to read, "I want you to read it."

"You didn't let me read it when I asked before though, are you sure you—"

He interrupts her before she can worry herself over it, "Dude, just read it. I promise I'm fine with it. I want you to."

The letters crinkle under her touch as she looks back down and smooths them out on the deck enough to read through the clear tape. With one last confirming glance to him for permission, she takes a deep breath and reads the first line.

Dear John B,

You really know how to keep a guy on his toes, don't you? You really outdid yourself on this one. I was so sure we were gonna make it, but I guess you had to go all Romeo and Juliet on us, huh? As long as you and Sarah are happy macking on each other in heaven, it's okay.

In all seriousness, I fucking miss you, bro. I miss you more than I realized a person could miss another person. Whenever I need to talk to you again, I don't know what to do. I guess that's why it's good that Y/N made me write this.

Also, I'm really sorry for—

"What does it say there? There's a whole chunk missing," she murmurs.

He scoots close enough to her that she can feel his body warmth radiating onto her through the shoulder of his flannel. Sunlight reflects on the silver rings decorating his fingers as he holds one side of the paper to tilt it enough for him to squint at.

"Macking, I think. It's supposed to say "I'm sorry for macking on your sister."

—macking on your sister. You can totally kick my ass for it, but before you come back from the grave to murder me, let me defend myself, okay? She isn't just another girl for me, John B.

I think you knew it before I did.

Last summer, you asked me straight up if we were hooking up behind your back after I kissed her in front of you on the porch. I laughed in your face, but you were right.

You saw everything before me, man. You knew I loved her since we were kids and waited for us to come to you about it, so that's gotta mean something, right? I hope it means you wouldn't be mad at me for this.

I swear I won't fuck it up with her, but you already know that. That's why you asked me to take care of her,. I didn't know why at the time but I do now. I won't let you down.

I'm keeping my promise.

- JJ

P.S. Don't miss me too much. We'll be shotgunning beers together up there before you know it.

There are tears blooming in her eyes when she lifts her gaze from the tattered paper to look at him again, but they aren't sad. For once, the tears slipping down her cheeks are happy tears, not born from grief, sadness, and pain, but bittersweet happiness.

They're caught staring at each other for a second before he asks her shyly, "It isn't too sappy or anything, is it? 'Cause I thought it—"

"C'mere," is the only thing she can get out before she's tugging him forward by the front of his shirt to kiss him.

JJ stumbles a little with the unexpected force of her pulling him to her, but he takes it in stride. He steadies himself and lets his hands shoot out to grapple for purchase on her waist, keeping her pressed up against him tightly as he kisses her back.

And it doesn't get much better than this, does it? This is it for him. He meant what he wrote to John B, he won't fuck it up with her, especially not because of his trauma with his dad getting inside his head and sabotaging his relationship with her. This is what makes everything worth it.

It brings happy tears to his eyes too.

She can taste the salt of them where their lips meet in the middle. It makes her smile, wrapping her arms around his neck and clenching the letters he mended for her in her fist to keep them from blowing away in the wind, and they both start to laugh into each other's mouths at the poignant feeling they both share but can't quite place.

They pull away from each other to catch their breath after another moment of it, and she can't help but stare. How could she not when she feels like this? It’s less like he’s her boyfriend and more like a piece of her soul has attached itself to his with no hope of letting go in the near future.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," she whispers to him.

Plain and simple. No room for disagreement or a bashful rejection of the compliment. She's pulled back from him enough to hold his gaze and make sure he sees her seriousness, and there isn't anything he can do to refute her statement.

He brushes his nose against hers affectionately, dipping down to kiss her again, but when he leans back to see her face, he can't help himself.

"Ditto."

The rest of the day after their moment on the boat, locked away in their own little world where none of the monsters chasing them could sneak through and ruin it, melts away peacefully. After another half hour spent looking through the box together, of her thanking him over and over again, he hops off of the HMS Pogue onto the dock and extends his hand to her in the most gentlemanly manner possible.

His lips are curved into a smirk as he kneels down on one knee as though she's a revered royal and bows his head in subservience, "Princess Routledge."

Her hand fits in his warm, calloused palm as a perfect match, and she steps off of the boat onto the dock beside him with an expression to match his.

"Captain Maybank," she says in her most regal royalty voice.

Her stellar performance breaks into a laugh they share as he stands and throws his arm around over her shoulder to walk back to the yard. The cardboard box is tucked beneath one of her arms while the other slips around his side to hold him back, and her heart feels full with both the presence of JJ and John B alongside her.

They bury it together.

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, and @krisphann

Also, now that it’s over, let me know what your favorite part was in the comments or tags if you’d like to :) I’m curious.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #i'm gonna miss these dorks #🥺#I love how he tries to break up with her and she’s like ‘no❤️’#also totally do not put on ‘seven’ by Taylor Swift during the childhood flashbacks unless u wanna cry #cause I did and my sensitive ass was crying #that song is about John B and JJ okay #it just is

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