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demigodickrider · 5 months

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indefinitely, forever ☆ okkotsu yuuta! [1/3]

okkotsu yuuta (post shibuya) x fem!reader click here for: part one | part two | part three - no spoilers from the manga, dwdw ;) - alternative universe where yuuta is an SCP? - [18+] three-part series, 10k+ words in total

(note: not proofread, expect grammar mistakes) warning: contains descriptions of blood, yuuta is a bit OOC/has that gojo satoru influence, romance, happy ending but contains slight angst and comfort, 2nd person pov, reader swears like a sailor

"Slacking off already?"

You scramble into standing at the authoritative tone. You could feel the heavy rush of blood creeping up on your face, and the hammering of your heart in your ears. It pounds almost painfully against your chest, lungs contracting and expanding fast; both out of fear and embarrassment, with the latter being more prominent across your lethargic features as you stared up at your supervisor.

Nanami leers down at you. Disappointment is etched all across his face, followed by a knowing sigh. "I expected better."

"S-Sorry, sir." You apologize profusely, bowing down. The bright red nametag dangles from your neck and you can't help but notice how your leather shoes had worn out a long time ago. "I must've dozed off somehow. It will not happen again."

"Might a coffee help?"

You raise your head to see a paper coffee cup offered to you, light steam still rising from within. While Nanami had been nothing but ridiculously strict from the start, he was considerate enough to check in on you every once in a while. You accepted the coffee in his stead with a smile.

"Thanks, boss. I'll keep watch."

The blonde man simply hums in response. He leaves as quickly as he came, leaving you alone to watch the hallways. You see him walk down, turn a curve- and then he's out of your sight.

You lean back, the chair creaking as you did. Working as a security officer was more lackluster than you thought it would be; movies portrayed tales of saving and glory, but this was nothing like it. The hours were long and boring, lasting 12 in total. Every four hours you were required to fuck off your post and switch to another one down the hall. Sometimes you regretted signing the NDA that never once stated just how large the underground facility was, and just how much area coverage you'd have to keep watch single handedly.

Not to mention, the anomalies that lie within.

See, the Foundation had just three main jobs for you: Observe, Check-up and Report. The comically huge button was right next to you, shining in all of its glory and always just a stretch away in any case of a problem.

You flicked between CCTV channels. Some displayed the outer areas, hallways going beyond your line of sight and others within the confined cells of those you’re keeping watch about. Most of the anomalies here are kept in solitary confinement. You’ve had your fair share of jumpscares when an entity approached too close to the camera, slobbering all up against the lense; before your screen flickers and the anomaly returns to its restful state. Oftentimes it leaves a foggy residue and a prisoner would be assigned to clean it up.

And more than often, they die doing it.

But with a clean camera and one less burden on the face of Earth— who really gives a shit? Certainly not you. Certainly not when the pay was so damn good you spent it on a trip to Bali the first month you made bank. And certainly not for…

Is that a walking person?

You thrust forward in your seat, eyes glued onto the screen as if you could make his face out in any better resolution than the crappy screen could ever do you service. The choices linger in your head: should you approach or report? One choice would lead to the individual’s death and the other might just lead you to yours.

So you took the third option: to talk to them.

There’s a static in the speaker. You tap the mic briefly, earning the attention of the stranger. They stop mid-track, head turning up and staring almost right into your very eyes, as if they could see through you.

“Identify yourself, or you will be detained.”

Person puts both hands up. “My name’s Yuta.” The voice of a man, no doubt, but you kept your suspicions still. “I woke up in a room and the door was unlocked, so I left. Where am I?”

“What room?” Your tone sharpened in inquiry.

“I don’t know. I don’t even know how I ended up here.”

“Identify yourself.” You repeat, customary of the protocol you learned before you started the job. Half of you thought of contacting Nanami; but it would risk him encountering the mysterious man. On the other hand, you couldn’t just let an unknown person roam around the facility. Much less: what if this person was an entity?

A shapeshifter of sorts, perhaps? You wouldn’t really know considering the fact that half the anomalies here are capable of human speech.

He stays silent for a while.

You repeat, “I said, identify yourself. I will give you 10 seconds to prove your humanity before I hand you over to the authorities.”

“Fuck.” Yuta mumbles, running a hand through his hair. Prove my humanity? A million thoughts ran through his head at once. Clearly, this place he had wandered into is nothing human-like. Rather, it's designed like a prison. He rummages through his pockets— nothing. All items that he brought with him prior to being caught had been confiscated.

The countdown had started.

… “Wait,” He thought of an idea. “I can prove to you that I’m human. You can touch me. That’ll be enough, no?”

You sneer at his idea, “No physical contact.”

Yuta sighs, looking down at his uniform. At least he had his outfit intact, which means that they never intended to strip him bare at all. The man pursed his lips in a line, hands holding onto the clasp of his jacket.

… “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing?!” You yell at him, dashing to the door. You were outside just in time before Yuta could fully undress himself. His hands stop fumbling with the belt of his pants. At a loss for words, you could only watch as he drops his shirt back over his body, leaving little to imagination.

He cranes his head up at you with a knowing smile, “Have I now proven my humanity, ma’am?”

“Nudity is strictly prohibited in this facility!”

His eyes fold into crescents at the revelation, “I’m sorry. That was the only solution I could think of. Can you show me the way out?”

You folded your arms, “No.”

“I thought so. May I at least use the restroom?”

“No.”

Yuta’s eyes drift upwards, deep in thought. “If so, will I ever make it out of here?”

“That depends,” You answer, crossing your arms together. The taser strapped onto your belt felt heavy and dangerous— more than usual. Something about Yuta just didn’t feel right, and your gut instincts claw at you to run. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

The man says nothing, merely watching every step you take as you head back into the control panel.

Your hand rests on the red button, eyes never wavering from the man that stood below you at a safe distance away. “Your choice, Yuta.”

“How must I prove myself then?”

“By showing me the anomaly that you are.”

His eyes visibly harden at your words, no longer having the glimmer that they once did. It was in the present that you felt it— the darkness that radiated off his very body, and the reason that this particular man had been wandering the halls of the facility unbothered.

“An anomaly?”

“You’re not human.” You simply accuse.

“You might be right about that. But I choose to be human regardless of what I am.”

You don’t care enough about his reasons. The way his dark eyes reflect absolutely nothing terrified you to the very core, more than any jumpscare you’ve encountered. The bright red button underneath you burns with such ferocity that it was only right to hit it— and send the foreign man back into the cell he once broke out of. You watch as soldiers dressed in hazmat suits flood into the hall at your call, almost always a millisecond away, their specialized guns pointed at the man.

But he did not flinch, not even once spared a gaze to look around him. He stayed his ground, only to be dragged away.

His eyes were trained on you, and only you.

“Did he hurt you?”

You’re now on break in the staffroom with Nanami and another supervisor named Maki, right after he heard of what happened. You shook your head, taking a sip of the fourth cup of coffee you had that day. The caffeine had long worn out its effects on your body that you just had to keep drinking, regardless of how detrimental it might just be to your health.

“Thankfully, no. What the fuck is a Keter class doing out there? How is he uncontained?”

“He broke out.” You turn your focus onto the coffee that had run cold, wedged between your fingers. You’ve always hated how fragile these paper cups were. It reminded you of how easy it was for these entities to crush humans to brine and bone with little to no mercy. Yet at the hands of Yuta, you were miraculously spared.

He was friendly, even.

“What kind of SCP is he?”

“He’s not an SCP. He’s a human host with an SCP living in him. Sometimes it appears, sometimes it doesn’t.” Maki shrugs.

“Damn, that’s cool.”

“He tells us that it was bound to him through love.”

You choked on your drink, splattering brown everywhere on the table. Nanami sighs and pats your back. Maki looks at you in disgust, wiping the stains off her uniform with a handkerchief. You wanted to laugh. Out of all things, an SCP of love. You chuckle a little, smiling at your supervisor only to be met with a flat stare.

Oh.

“No way.”

“It’s true. The entity demands that no one lays a finger on him. Most times he can control the SCP. But when he’s hurt, it’s a different story entirely.”

“Wait, wait. So how did you guys manage to catch him?”

Maki recounts the details, “Apparently, he was a secret weapon in the military designed to decimate hundreds in one sweep. That SCP came to him naturally as a child, but it wasn’t his actions that got him caught.”

“So what did?”

“His superiors betrayed him and sent him over to us as they feared that he was getting too powerful for them to control.”

Oh. You started to feel a little bad for him now. But a memory crosses your mind and suddenly that sympathy is gone.

“He almost stripped naked in front of me.”

“Huh?” Nanami was caught off-guard for once, both eyebrows raised instead of one.

“I asked him to prove his humanity.”

“And then he started stripping?” Maki had an equally confused look on her face. She pushes up the frame on her face before leaning forward, “Don’t tell me that you liked it.”

“I mean…”

“Seriously?”

You laugh sheepishly at her words, tossing the empty cup into the bin behind them in perfect accuracy. “I’m just kidding. At least I won’t have to meet him anymore. Can’t have him strip naked around me every time we cross paths.”

Nanami frowns at your words, “Be careful.”

“Sure, sure.” You wave goodbye to them and take your leave, heading towards your last shift of the day.

You found yourself in front of his cell.

Realization only hits you once you read the tag off the door, painted red and in bold: KETER CLASS. DO NOT ENGAGE. Unlike other cells, Keter cells had no windows to peek through. You could only rely on the CCTV back in the control panel room, but you found it unreliable considering how easy it was for Keters to destroy such puny little things. You take a step back.

"I really should stop drinking coffee." You mumble to yourself and turn away.

"Did you come to visit me?"

An all-too familiar voice echoed behind you, and you jump away instantaneously from the door. It's still intact. How he managed to hear you, you don't know. What you do know now is that you're standing in front of his cell.

"No."

"Is no the only word you know?"

Witty. You cough, "I heard about you."

"What about me?"

You hesitate a little, "That you're not the anomaly."

"So now you know." There's curiosity in his tone, erasing any lethargy you had left in your body. Guilt paws at your heartstrings for doubting his reasons during the encounter earlier, but the man is still Keter class. It doesn't make him any less of a monster compared to others. The only difference between him and others is that he's placed in a jail befitting of lower ranked anomalies. "What else did you hear?"

"That you still pose as a threat to humanity."

"Am I a threat to you?"

"Yes." was your answer. You were here for money, not morality. While the notion that he would rot in his cell for the rest of his years was indeed a question of one, you weren't paid to stay idle and chitchat with an anomaly. You were expected even less: to simply cast morality aside and do as you were told by the Foundation. So you dusted yourself off and turned on your heels to move towards the next post you were supposedly assigned to.

"I see. Well it was nice to know you..."

At the sound of your name, you freeze yet again.

"How do you know my name?"

"It's on your tag."

"How can you see me?"

Goosebumps prickle your skin all over. Your legs pick up the sudden skip in your heartbeat and in a flash, you start sprinting for your life. You were just in time, out of range as the metal door breaks open with a crash, sending debris everywhere. You were far enough to get hit, but the sound had been loud enough to garner attention from creatures all over the place. Hisses and banging scratched at your ears as you continued down the hall, the opposite direction of where safety should be. But it didn't really matter; people outside would have heard of it and safety would come for you any minute now.

You force a look over your shoulder to see an enormous white creature behind him, large grey claws extended and chillingly long arms draped around his frame resembling a protective stance. Behind the cages of muscle on her head lies a single eye, glaring right into your very soul. It's mouth move in ragged breaths, teeth sharper than its claws ready to bite. If you squint hard enough- the man with his pet monster was smiling at you.

"You do know its rude to leave without saying goodbye, right?"

And like a predator, he started to chase you.

The entity lets out a bloodcurdling scream, getting on its arms and wriggling towards you. Now you're fully awake and drunk on adrenaline, sweat dripping down your body with how fast you were running.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." Curses slew out of your lips as you ran even harder knowing how quickly he was catching up. You focused ahead instead; to the left is a dead end, you know that. And to the right is an even longer hall of agitated anomalies that most likely are on his level too. With a giant monster chasing after you however, were you really on the spot to give a shit about what would happen?

No. Anyone in your spot would've done the same.

It helped that your paycheck had been deposited earlier last week. You could really give less of a fuck about damage control.

Your feet started to hurt. "Fucking leather shoes." You grumble to yourself and skid a turn towards the elongated row of Keter-class anomalies. You pass multiple warning signs, the alarms going off. Eventually you see red all around you, shadows dancing on the walls as they approached even closer, slowing down just to taunt you.

"Stop running."

"Then stop chasing me, you freak!"

"Well, the 'freak' has a name. It's Yuta." He closes the gap between the two of you, voice steady despite how fast he was chasing up.

You paid him no mind as you duck underneath a warning sign and roll on your back to avoid a reaching arm from the screeching creature. Stubborn as you are, you notice an emergency exit and made mental note to stay close to it. You unclasp the taser off your belt just in time when a hand grabs your shoulder. You fire up the taser and jab right, but miss and eventually find yourself falling to the ground.

You made romantic contact with the floor, lips on the cold hard tile. "Shit!" You hiss from the pain and roll away just in time as Yuta was about to grasp a hold on you yet again.

Blood gushes from your split lip, and it tastes disgusting knowing that you just made love with the floor. Right before you could get up, though, you found yourself encaged within the palms of the alien-like SCP. Pain bursts through your nerves everywhere, feeling like knives stabbing deep into your gut. You could've swore you heard your ribs break from the amounting pressure.

"Caught you."

"Yuuuuuuta," The creature closes its janky fingers around your body, salivating as it eyed you from head to toe. The pressure around your body tightens and you felt like you could break just from how tight it was gripping you. Hair stuck to your face like a wet rag, leaving you with limited eyesight. "What should I do with herrrrrr?"

"Let.... Go... of me!" You rasp between breaths.

"Don't kill her. She'll be our lifeline, Rika."

Rika lets out a displeased grunt and sets you down on the ground, but has its hands still wrapped around you. Not as tight, but much like a warning that it could break you anytime it needed to. You catch your breath with a chain of fitful coughs, your legs and lungs burning from the marathon. Your chest heaves heavily, sore and most probably bruised. There's splitting pain from your lips, blood dripping onto the very same tile you shared your first kiss with.

You now see him eye-to-eye, close enough to notice his parted hair and sneakers. He couldn't be any younger than 20, but the eyebags that hung below his eyes tell a different story.

"I'm sorry. I need you as a hostage."

"Fuck you." You spat at him coldly.

Yuta kneels and presses a hand to your shoulder, forcing you to stop writhing under his touch. You try shoving his hand away, but the grip stays firm. Some fuck ass glowing magic flowed through his hand and loosened the soreness in your muscles, easing your tension. From your point of view, the man radiated like a glowstick.

"Don't touch me!"

He locks his eyes with you, "I'm healing you."

"Would've been nice to not get hurt in the first place."

Yuta sucks a sharp breath in, "Look, I'm really sorry for hurting you. I just need to get out of here. You'll have to be my hostage."

You click your tongue in annoyance at his genuine apology, "You won't even make it out the front gate. They'll be all over you soon. You think the Foundation gives a shit about some security guard like me? They'll kill us both, dumbass."

"You're right." Yuta is clearly amused by your personality now that you're being treated as a partner-in-crime rather than a stranger. You stood stunned when his hand moves up and his thumb ghosts over your lips, "Don't worry, I'll get us out of here."

His thumb was cold against your lips. The action felt more intimate than you'd like, and it had you holding your breath. It needed major balls not to flutter from the contact.

The bleeding stopped, prompting him to move his hand away.

The cold lingered a little longer than you'd like for it to be.

"Us? I'm not going anywhere with you."

"You will. Now that you're with me, they'll think you're complying with me. And if you won't, they'll imprison you." The bleeding stopped, and he wipes the remaining blood off on the side of his pants.

You fall silent. What he said was roughly the truth. In reality, it would be even worse if you did get caught- not only will Nanami be under fire for the inability to protect you- but you might also be on trial under suspicion of letting Yuta escape. And such trials might just end in your death. All in all, its a lose-lose case; but you'd much rather be on the winning team.

"Damn you."

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way."

You raise your head to glare at the man who had just obnoxiously turned your own words against you. His eyes light up a little, seeing your reaction. "Your choice."

"Fine."

"What was that?"

"I said yes!" You retort, flipping the bird at him.

He flashes you a grin, "That might've been the first time you've said yes to me!"

Oh, how you wished for supernatural powers like his to decimate the teasing man on the spot. Your fists crumple to a close, keeping that rage preserved in the back of your head. One day you'd get your revenge on him.

"Rika. My katana please." Yuta caresses its face gently.

You could feel her giddiness from the shake of Rika's enclosed palm around you. She reaches up to her neck and pulls out a long blade from within, handing it over to him. "For youuuu, Yutaaa."

He takes it from her, swishing it in the air and stretching his limbs free. "Thanks. Lead the way, I'll keep you safe." There's shouting and stomping from a distance, the roaring of soldiers fending off escaped anomalies. Nanami and Maki are out there too, calling for you. Your heart sinks a little at the prospect of betraying them.

You huff, blowing hair out of your face.

"It's on the other side. Opposite of the way we ran in. But I need you to do me a favor and not kill everyone you see."

Yuta brightens up. The likelihood of him fighting against a large horde of people had him excited. "That's not something I can promise."

"Fine. Then at least spare Nanami and Maki."

"Who's that?"

"Uh, guy with blonde hair and a woman with green hair."

He shrugs, “I’ll try.”

Deep down inside, you felt a part of you die.

----------------------------------------------------------------------> part 2

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boilsyouroil · 28 days

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Is Eclipse Okay Yet!? It's Been Months!

Chapter 1 - Stubbornness Leads You Nowhere

[ AO3 LINK ] - [ CH 2 ]

Word Count ; 2022

Date ; 2024-04-03

AU ; The Oil Au

Notes ; Eclipse is not okay yet.

Takes place after finding out Ruin was evil, before Solar's death.

The sound of rain splashing against the window was the only sound in the room. Not even pained breathing could overtake the peace that held the air captive.

Eclipse tried his damn near hardest to get up, only to sink back into his seat. It hurt too much. All of it hurt too much. He had been alone in the back of the arcade again for a very long two days. Eclipse groaned and rubbed the sore area to try and soothe it enough to get up, but to no avail. In fact, the pressure made it worse.

If only someone were there to pick him up and carry him somewhere comfy, like a nice soft bed. Hell, even a bench or couch was better than this old worn desk chair. Eclipse hated to admit it, but he needed someone to come help him. At this point, he'd willingly get on his knees and beg if he could.

Sadly though, his body would not leave him alone, and so he had no choice but to sit. He reached a hand up to grab onto the desk and push himself toward the light switch. Surprisingly enough, the chair still rolled, even with a broken wheel. But sadly, it didn't make it all the way to the other end of the room. Eclipse groaned and took off his shoe, throwing it at the light switch. He missed, and tried again with the other one. Missed again.

He grumbled in defeat and opted instead to simply shield his eyes from the light. He considered for a moment, pinging someone for help with his predicament, but ultimately decided against it. Not long later, his lack of sleep caught up with him and he was out cold.

----

Solar sighed as he followed close behind Moon, "Are you sure he's actually in here?" Moon nodded, "He can't have gone anywhere else. Besides, the computer said he was throwing a tantrum or something in here last he was seen."

As they entered into the back room of the arcade, immediately something felt different. The lights in the hall were off, and the silence was eerie. Moon went through first, immediately slamming the door to the repair room open. Moon promptly stated the following, "You've had your sulking time, I need you to come help with something." Solar immediately followed Moon.

At about the same time, both of them registered the fact that Eclipse was dead asleep in a very shitty chair, completely silent. Solar and Moon looked at eachother for a minute, before Solar decided to take charge. He walked forward and shook Eclipse's shoulder firmly. Lucky for him, this was enough to rouse the other animatronic from his slumber. "Wake up, sleeping beauty." Solar smiled.

Moon had to do his best to stifle his laughter, seeing as Solar just couldn't resist an opportunity to lightly insult Eclipse. Eclipse found himself looking up at Solar, his eyes had a lifeless glare. Moon almost immediately noticed something was wrong, and stepped closer. "Eclipse, wake your ass up." Eclipse groaned as the pain from just hours ago finally hit him like a train.

"I'm up, what do you want?" He managed to wheeze out to Moon. Moon frowned and crouched a bit, blocking the light from Eclipse's eyes. "I need you to help me with something, but first I want you to explain why you think it's okay to just disappear into one room for days on end without saying anything?" Sitting himself upright with a wince, Eclipse moved to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Simple answer, I wanted something, I got what I wanted, then I got stuck."

"Stuck, what do you mean stuck?" Solar chimed in, walking over to inspect the back of Eclipse's faceplate for any idea as to what was going on. Eclipse, rather surprisingly, didn't fight back. "The little cretin that rebuilt me had the bright idea of making it..." Eclipse hissed mid-sentence, another wave of pain shot through him, "impossible for me to function without suffering." Eclipse stated it as such a fact that it made Moon's blood boil. He knew Ruin was a prick, but to give someone chronic pain, let alone to such severe amounts? That's just plain awful.

Moon thought for a moment, then promptly hooked his hands under Eclipse's arms and yanked him from the chair, no real regard for how he felt. "Come on, you tree." Moon grunted as he threw the taller animatronic over his shoulder. He began walking to the daycare. Eclipse's response to this? Struggling to get free, of course! He was stubborn, that was one thing you could never take from an Eclipse. Hell, even Solar was stubborn, and he was practically the polar opposite of all other Eclipses. Eclipse kicked Moon in the stomach and cried out, "Put me down, you fucking blueberry!"

After realizing Moon wouldn't give in, Eclipse instantly looked towards Solar, hissing out, "Help me out of this you useless-" he grunted, struggling to find an insulting nickname to use against Solar, "thing!" Solar choked for a moment in an attempt to stifle his laughter. "Moon, you owe me like seven hundred dollars. Eclipse, with very little respect, I refuse to help you. Besides, seeing you helpless is kind of funny to me."

Eclipse groaned and mumbled, though what he said when unheard. He felt his face begin to heat up from embarrassment. This new emotion led to him pressing his entire body into a smaller state, knees bent in, shoulders raised and arms crossed, head pulled closer to his body.

Only a few minutes passed and Eclipse found himself on Moon's couch, being guarded by Solar as Moon was in another room to retrieve god knows what. Eclipse sat with his legs spread out, and his arms crossed over his chest, attempting to put a barrier between himself and Solar without looking like some scared kid. For a moment, Eclipse forgot Solar was there, being lost in his thoughts. It wasn't long before he was brought back to reality by a surge of pain so bad he thought he would die. He hissed and tensed up, leaning forward.

Solar crouched next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't fall off the couch on me. I don't wanna have to pick you back up." Eclipse groaned and rolled his head to the side so he could look Solar in the eyes. The pity that met his gaze made him want to gag. Eclipse grabbed Solar's wrist and pushed him away, but this only made Solar more insistent, now putting both hands on Eclipse's shoulders.

He pushed Eclipse back far enough that he was leaning into the backrest, the cushion enveloping both sides of him. He didn't fight back this time, nor did he immediately spring up the second Solar released him. This position was comfortable, and actually helped a bit now that he wasn't folded right over the painful area. Solar seemed to notice this by the way his face flashed into a knowing smile.

Moon came back with a heated blanket, promptly tossing it right over Eclipse. Solar and Moon sat on the other couch, Moon eating a bag of chips. Eclipse, having only gotten a few hours of sleep in the fazcade, soon passed out again, not even laying down. He looked awfully peaceful while he slept, so much so you would have never thought he was the villain in the story. Solar promptly snapped a picture for later.

----

Eclipse woke to the sound of Moon's voice. "So what if he's been sleeping for two days!? Let him rest! He may be our mortal enemy but that doesn't mean we can just take away his basic fucking needs! How would you feel if I woke you up from a much needed nap!?"

"Moon I need to clean the blanket it hasn't been washed in a week!"

"You can wash it when he's done using it, instead of waking him up to steal it from him!"

He opened his eyes to see Sun and Moon standing in the kitchen, bickering, Sun had a half empty bottle if wine in hand and Moon was standing in his way of getting out from behind the island. Eclipse groaned and sat up, causing both the twins to fall silent.

"Quit your fucking fighting, you'll wake the damn dead with all that noise." In the blink of an eye, Moon was standing over Eclipse with one hand on his faceplate, looking him over. "Eclipse! It's been two days, are you okay!?"

"I'm fine, Moon. Get your damn hands off me!" Eclipse growled, moving to stand up. Moon promptly pushed him back onto the couch, hissing at him, "Stay down and just relax for five minutes. Last I checked, you don't have anywhere you need to be, so just chill. Me and Sun will bring you what you need, just take it easy for the day."

"Very funny. I don't need your damn pity, and I certainly don't care for sitting down and taking a damn break." Eclipse spat as he tried once again to worm his way off the couch. He made it about two inches from his seat before he was pushed right back onto the sofa. He chuckled, "You just aren't gonna give up, are you, Moon? You going to keep me here as your little couch prisoner? God you're annoying." Moon sighed, "I don't want you to get up unless you absolutely have to right now, your body needs time to rest. Besides, you deserve to take a break once in a while."

"Well aren't you just peachy?" Eclipse taunted Moon as he tried to get up again. As assumed, his attempts were pointless. Moon ended up putting Sun on guard duty while he left to get dinner. Sun, to nobody's surprise, was freaking out the entire time.

Come dinnertime, Eclipse found himself sat between Sun and Moon. He was given food that he didn't actually end up touching. Unlike the rest of the celestials, he hasn't been built with basic needs in mind. While he had the systems to eat, he couldn't open his mouth. This often led to him going to get food to cure his hunger, only to end up giving away the food he made so it wouldn't be wasted. Eclipse tried to express this issue to Moon on multiple occasions, but he didn't ever end up finishing his sentences due to either being ignored or interrupted.

After dinner, Moon led Eclipse to the guest room, tossing him a brand new pair of pajamas, still had the tags and everything. The outfit was rather soft to the touch, and somehow just the perfect size.

Unlike Moon or Sun, his clothing wasn't cemented onto his body, so he definitely was able to spend his time appreciating other outfits. He looked in the mirror at the way the pajamas fit him, and he smiled softly at how perfect this seemed. After a little longer of admiring his new sleepwear, Moon interrupted him.

"Come on, go to bed. I want to turn all the lights out now, and to do that everyone needs to be in bed." Moon stated this rather calmly as he pushed Eclipse into the bed. He handed Eclipse the remote to the TV and then left, turning out the lights. Moon was rather surprised when he shut the door and went up the stairs, only to hear the Bluey intro song of all things. He hadn't taken Eclipse to be someone who even watched TV, let alone kid's cartoons.

----

Eclipse wriggled himself under the covers, feeling himself become engulfed with warmth. He pulled one of the pillows out from under his head and then decided to turn on a show. After a long time searching, he settled on Bluey. He wasn't exactly in the mood for anything serious, and all the other kids shows were- to put it kindly -obnoxious. After a few hours, Eclipse ended up trailing right back to sleep, pressed against the pillow as though it were a living thing.

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yantalia545 · 1 year

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For the political marriage one, what if they actually had a really good marriage? They respect each other, they help each other out, hell the allies believed that they loved each other.

But it all came to an end, when she asked for a divorce. Since they managed to make both of their respective economies stronger, she believed that they no longer need each other.

She still offers her friendship tho' a little unaware that that's not what they want from her, along with the seething rage and grief at the fact that she just casually threw away years of being happily "married".

America:

The two of you were very close even before your marriage, so the two of you shared more of a best friends living under the same roof lifestyle together.

It was like a dream come true to America. No longer would the distance of an ocean keep the two of you apart anymore. You guys could just wake up, make breakfast together, play endless hours of video games, then wind down for the night with a movie and snacks almost every day.

Because of your economy going up in flames, (where the need for you to marry America in the first place came from), America had stepped into your country's affairs and had pretty much dominated your whole government. While it did help heal your country tremendously, you couldn't help the nagging feeling in your heart that you wish to remain independent. You had fought so hard for it in the past that it would be demeaning almost to you to let it go so easily.

See as you guys are so close and comfortable with each other, you casually try to bring up that you'd like to remain friends but end this political marriage and go home. Although it doesn't go as well as you would have expected.

You foolishly thought that since he was also a country that had to fight for their independence too that he would have understood, but if anything, it was the complete opposite.

America had been on the offensive side of his independence war and is well aware of the signs of longing for said freedom. He could tell that you wanted to go home for quite some time now. What he also was well aware of was how to tighten up the loose ends that England had failed to see when the two of them were fighting.

He is a much more powerful country than you with way more resources and connections. There's no way you could ever face him and win. You government officials love him, and the enormous amount of money America bribes them with. They would do anything to keep America on their side. Your military and police had been replaced with his own loyal men too so there would be no one to fight him with.

Besides that, he'll show you how much more happy and more prosperous your people are now that he's taken over things. You would be a fool to throw that all away over some petty feelings.

America had all of these ends already tied up and was hoping to never have to reveal them to you. If things could have stayed the way they were, where you remained blissfully ignorant of his undoings, then things wouldn't have had to escalate the way they did.

Because of you actually voicing your desire to divorce, America has no choice but to act as if every time you wish to be alone or go out without him, you're plotting against him. He's going to up security and follow you everywhere. No more social media or talking to other countries either. He can't have you conspiring against him.

It was your own fault really, once thinking back on it. You thought you could be honest with America and confront him face-to-face about the divorce, but you really should have just run for the hills instead. Not that you’d get very far, but the thought of a head start did seem a bit more comforting.

England:

As a nation that's had countless countries leave time and time again throughout his life, your request really hit one of England's biggest insecurities.

Since England's too prideful to admit heartbreak, he most likely will allow you to leave. Most likely by him screaming with tears streaming down his face telling you to get out, but other than that he won't give you much of a hassle, for now. When you're gone and word gets out that the two of you divorced, England will be a huge mess.

Many, many drunk late nights at the pubs. Anything to silence his thoughts riddled with you just for a little while. Why did you have to leave him like everyone else? What could he have done differently to make you stay? He thought you were different from the others and gave his heart to you.

Even if he won't admit it, with there being so many people leaving his life he's become rather lonely. England was so much happier when you were around. His house was no longer quiet and empty, instead, he had a peaceful presence to keep him company. England had grown attached to the feeling of your companionship and didn't want to let it go. He couldn't deal with his lonely house anymore.

Expect a drunk call from him almost every night. That, or France will call you in the middle of the night begging you to help him get England home if he knows you're staying somewhere not too far from them. "He keeps saying he won't go anywhere without you. Can you please help me?" France will beg.

When you do come around, regardless if it's another late-night drag home or you just happen to be at the same world meeting he's at, England will become exceptionally clingy. Almost every time you're with England, he will break down into tears and beg you to come back.

It will be awkward. Having a grown man cling to you like this isn't exactly comfortable for you. Or for anyone else in the room watching for that matter. It's not like you hate England or that he treated you badly while married to him. It's just that you only saw him as a dear friend. The two of you were only together like that to help out each other's economies grow.

You try to ease him off of you, but England has the exact opposite idea. While you keep trying to just stay friends with him, He's slowly leading you back to him through sob stories. Anything to make you stay just a little bit longer with him.

The whole world can only watch as this awkward game of tug of war takes place. Some may try to convince you to get back together with him while others will say to just leave him completely. Sometimes you wish you could just leave him. England can be so overbearing from time to time, but your friendship with him makes you feel almost too guilty to leave.

China:

Like Britain, China is also the type to let you leave. Unlike Britain though, he will remain calm and collected, albeit a little distraught over your divorce. After all, he believes it would only be a matter of time before you come crawling back to him but it was still a little sad to see you leave him.

Up until the very moment you board your plane back to your country. When he’ll be completely left alone to think and plan in his depressive isolation. It didn't have to be this way, really. But he won't actually accept the fact that you don't love him. When he asked you to marry him, he meant it.

China will spend a lot of time alone thinking about the words you had said to him on the day you asked for a divorce. What caught his attention the most was you stating that you no longer needed each other. To him, he'll see that as a sign to create dependency. If you feel like you need him and he's the only one that can provide for you then you'll never leave him again.

This is where his age and experience will most definitely come in handy. He won't flat out go to war with you in fear of you going to someone else for help. Threatening you could have to same result too, so he'll stick to more back-alley tactics that he's very skilled with. He'll pull the strings from the shadows to create economic crisis after crisis for you and your country until you start questioning if leaving China's aid and safety was a good idea.

It'll play out so beautifully; To avoid suspicion from you, China will stay as friendly as ever and even help you through a few of your lighter problems. If another country voices their theories about him to you, you'll dig your own grave and even go out of your way to defend him. China can't help but find so much pleasure in watching you defend someone who's holding a knife to your back. This just demonstrates further how vulnerable you are without him to guide you in his mind.

It was nearly impossible to hold back his smile when he found you on his doorstep one rainy morning asking for his help again. China doesn't like seeing you upset normally, but in this situation, he feels like you deserve it. You broke his heart so now he feels he has the right to do the same to you.

He'll allow you to come back on one condition, you never leave him again.

Russia:

Leave him?...

Your words will throw him off. Russia will look for any signs of this being another bed joke of yours, but when he sees you're serious things will take a turn. Russia was having so much fun with you around. He couldn't just let you go.

For all of Russia's life, all he's ever wanted was someone he could rely on and call a friend. Everyone he'd come across in his life was either terrified of him or tried to stab him in the back. But you were so different. You came to him all on your own and you were even so kind and honest with him too! His once cold and empty house had the warmth he had always dreamed of. There's no way Russia could ever go back to that coldness.

Before we get into it, I feel that I should mention that even though the two of you are married (even just for political reasons) Russia still believes the two of you should have been doing things that married couples do; Passing kisses, sharing a bed, always being together in each others company for example. However, he held himself back and tried to be respectful of your boundaries. Russia was terrified of scaring away his only companion away and wanted you to come to him on your own. That all gets thrown out the window when he hears that disgusting word, "Divorce"

Russia will have the usual smile he always wears and his voice will be cheerful as ever, but his words would be ever so chilling. "Don't be silly. You're going to stay here with me. I'm going to stay being your devoted husband and you will forever remain my darling wife." Russia means what he said 100%.

However this goes down, Russia will no longer hold back his desires. Maybe if he should you how good of a husband he can be you'll never want to leave him again.

If you never bring up leaving him again then he'll only hover over you and keep you locked in his house for only a short few months. When does allow you to accompany him out of the house, Russia is going to keep you very close to him. If you're sane and start to demand being freed then Russia is bound to snap.

First, he restricts your confinements from the whole house to just your shared room. The windows will also be boarded up too to stop you from even looking at the outside world without his consent. You won't be allowed out even when Russia is around. He can't risk you getting any more of these ideas while he's not around. All electronic will also be removed from your possession. There's no need to talk to anyone besides him anyways.

Then, he's going to hunt for whoever sewed these awful thoughts inside your mind and deal with them. Most likely he'll blame the Baltics. They're the only ones you're with when he's not around. Their screams could be heard throughout the house. Not even Lativa was spared, making you regret your decision even more.

Like with America, you shouldn't have given any warning. You should have just gathered your stuff and run for the hill while everything was still peaceful. Maybe then you could have at least tried to call for help before Russia closed in on you.

France:

The two of you were in a pretty bad spot after WWwho knows. Germany did a pretty good number on both of your countries and were in desperate need of support. The rest of the world wasn't in much better shape, so the two of you decided to stick together. Even if your marriage wasn't out of love at first, France had grown these intense feelings of adoration throughout the years and truly believed the two of you were in love.

It was heartbreaking to hear you say you'd like to divorce him since both of your countries were doing much better now. Nonetheless, France still did let you go. After all, if you love something then you should let it go.

You did say you wanted to stay friends, so He'll stick by you and support you in any way he can. Mind you, he's still going to flirt with you like crazy and give you compliments at any chance he can. Lunches he made himself of all your favorite foods will also still be a reoccurring thing too. France is practically going to act as if the two of you are still together but living in different homes. It hurts to fall asleep each night without you by his side, but France reminds himself that this is only temporary. You'll come to realize your feelings too soon enough.

No matter how many years pass, France will remain patient and supportive of you. Though, if he notices you starting to retract from him, or worse, begin to develop feelings for someone else, France is going to take action. At that point, kidnapping is a sure thing to happen.

France will feel some regret when you wake up scared and tied to his bed. He did take the care to tie your wrist with silk instead of harsh ropes or chains, so he hopes you do see that he's doing this out of love.

He's a bit of a mess and feels like you've backed him into a corner. France thought that you would come around if he just stayed by your side. The two of you were in love. Your union was fate; Your destinies for love. France didn't want things to come to this, but you pushed him to do so. You were going to leave him. He only let you go in the first place because he thought it was what you needed to realize your feelings for him. Instead, you had to go off and pursue someone else.

Please just say you love him. That you really were just confused about your feelings and didn't actually love the other person. It's the only thing that will bring France back from his insanity.

#yandere hetalia #yandere america #yandere england #yandere china #yandere russia #yandere france

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asks-n-trolls · 7 months

Text

Night Terrors

Lamb drabble! A good nights rest is hard to come by nowadays

Content warning for some minor cult stuff and uh burning alive stuff? LMK If I need to tag anything

"Go on then. Bring our little lamb to the altar. It's almost time." Those words, haunt you in your waking moments and even- especially now. When your eyes are shut and you've drifted off in hopes of getting any kind of rest.

You're being escorted and what you see around you is the two blurred faces of the trolls who fed and cared for you, distant memories those lusus substitutes, each grabbing your arm and forcing you toward the pyre. Words and symbols carved into the wooden pole as they try to tie you to it.

Your heart races, you never chose this but then again the moment you first opened your eyes you didn't get much choice in anything. You struggle and try to flail in an attempt to make it harder for them to tie your hands together but in end its not much use. You spot an opening and use your head, or your horns I should say, to ram into at least one of them. You land a hit on the side of their jaw that causes the one you hit to fall over the other rushes to them in aid and there you stand. Why are you still standing. Your feet and legs are free, you run past them but before you can get far you feel yourself get tackled by others.

The leader tells them to be careful with you, you're their prize sacrifice after all. One of many but the very last one they need to finally summon the deity he's allegedly been in contact with. Flashes of an old rusty bone saw appear in your peripheral the horrible sound of horns being sawed off flooding your skull, you try to fight back but they easily overpower you. Defeated you are dragged back to the 'altar'. Your stare cold and empty as He recites some prayer and the flock does the same, chanting with him as they light the match.

As you watch it fall indescribable pain surrounds you, starting at the soles of your feet then slowly rising, you want to scream in pain but you know its useless. You close your eyes and wish it'd all just go away meanwhile your body screams at you to get away. It feels like an eternity before you finally pass out from the pain. Your world is dark but not for long… You see in the distance a light growing closer then suddenly multiple appear that's when you realize what they truly are. Eyes.

You open your eyes and for a moment, the shadows form the vaguest silhouette of-- Eyes. Shut. No. It's not him, this isn't the first time you've woken up like this, by now you know its just those shadows following you around pestering you to keep moving forward but that would mean leaving; Your new hive, Your friends, Vemili, Everything. You can't be alone not again. You hate being alone. You were alone for so long the thought of not being around them it hurts almost as much as-- That's enough reminiscing. It's late but the sun wont rise for a few more hours, maybe a walk will help clear your head, it hardly ever does but perhaps this time…

You give your matesprit a kiss on the cheek and tell him you'll be back and all he can respond with is a mumble in return, you smile and get ready to venture out.

#lamb drabble #cult cw #cults cw

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grimalkinmessor · 1 year

Note

Near from Death Note for the character headcanon ask game

I love Near he's my baby ^.^

Fluffy-

As an adult his favorite toys are actually rubix cubes; not because they're hard for him to do, but because he can switch around the colors and push them together to make pictures. It's like forming his own, more complicated puzzles, and he often tries to build them so they have different pictures on each side. Roger hates it because he'll walk in and there's just a huge WALL of rubix cubes in the middle of the room and he can't risk knocking them over on pain of death disappointment.

He learned how to braid hair from Mello when they were young, and it becomes a bit of a stim as his hair gets longer. It stays almost perpetually tangled and he has to get someone to help him brush it after a bath. He gets a bag of ribbons once and spends the rest of the day making a whole rainbow of braids in his hair.

Mello used to give him pieces of his chocolate, but because Mello freezes his chocolate bars and Near has sensory issues, he usually just likes to let the square sit in his mouth and melt instead of eating it normally. You can give him a square of chocolate and come back an hour later and he'll still be holding it in his mouth.

Near is a bit like a cat in that he likes to hide in invisible spaces. He'll disappear for several hours and all of his agents go nuts trying to find him, thinking his been kidnapped, only to find him playing solitaire on top of the fridge, and the only reason they saw him is because he scared the hell out of Giovanni by asking him to grab a card that he'd dropped. The people at Wammy's quickly got used to it—it takes his agents far longer lmao.

While Near hates actually being outside, he really enjoys laying out in the sun. He will move his toys across the floor to follow the patches of sunlight throughout the day. There was a sun room at Wammy's, and if he wasn't curled up in one of the library window seats, he was down there sprawled out on one of the couches. In the winter he builds himself a blanket nest near one of the radiators and refuses to move. You will have forcibly pry him away from his chosen spot unless you give him a very good reason to vacate it.

Angsty-

Near's mother gave him up voluntarily. He was the product of an abusive relationship and she just couldn't bear to look at him anymore, so she left him in a bundle on the doorstep of an orphanage with his birth certificate and never looked back. Near looked her up once as an adult out of curiosity—she's living happily with her wife somewhere down in France. Near leaves her alone.

He only knows four (4) languages fluently—even though he picks them up very quickly—and it's through conscious choice. Given that he already struggles with verbal nuances in his home tongue, he only learns new languages when he has to. He much prefers to communicate either through text or sign language because he's gotten in trouble a few too many times with his 'monotonous' tone of voice.

Near never actually gave a shit about becoming the next L. He didn't care about upholding his legacy or carrying out L's justice—he just was so much like L in his mannerisms that Wammy's pushed him far harder towards that path than the others. He's been told he should be a detective for so long that he just accepted that he would be one instead of actually examining what he wanted to do with his life. Detective work is fun to an extent, but Near doesn't really enjoy it. At least, not without something to make it interesting.

Near fucking hates food. He hates it. The act of eating makes him queasy a lot of the time simply because he dislikes the texture of a lot of foods in his mouth. It is a struggle to get him to eat literally anything. The human function of having a digestive tract and needing to consume food annoys him deeply. What he can handle varies from day to day too, so Roger can't easily work around his dietary restrictions like Watari did for L. Some days he can eat two whole meals with minimal struggle, and other days it's a fight to get him to eat literally anything.

Despite telling Mello that he gave him the only remaining photo of him, that was a lie. Near kept a copy of it in a lockbox back in America in one of his safe houses, and he went back for it after the Kira case was over. He keeps it in his shirt, close to his heart, and he keeps meaning to make a necklace out of it but always bails before he has to hand over the picture. Every year on Mello's birthday, he'll go to the spot he died and curl up against his gravestone and whisper little apologies for lying to him about it. Most years he falls asleep out there and Giovanni has to come fetch him in the morning.

#near #nate river #headcanons #death note #tw food issues

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 1 year

Note

So excited for Fluffiness!

Ugh so many good choices to choose from! Please can I request-

Ivar and "Let's get you out of those wet clothes"

Masterlist

By the Babbling Brooke

Can be read as part of Rest Your Weary Hands or as stand-alone.

Contains: Fluff, smut, oral sex F receiving, fingering, P in V.

1.4K words

Comment if you want to be tagged/removed or follow #Sp's fluffiest Smutfest

You enjoy a day by the river with Ivar and his brothers

It was a beautiful summer day, hot enough that your light linen dress was all you needed to wear but not so hot that you couldn't do anything. You had spent breakfast arguing back and forth, all be it affectionately about Ivar's brothers wanting to come with you and Ivar for a day by the river.

You had tried to tell them that you wanted to spend some alone time with your husband but they didn't want to listen, going on and on about how nice the day was and how it would be a waste if you didn't all enjoy it together. And that's how you ended up sitting on the river bank with your husband while he exchanged loving insults with his brothers as they fished.

"You call that a fish, you're meant to be catching lunch, not feeding the barn cats."

Ubbe splashed Ivar and you glared at him, "I'm here too, just because Ivar's been an ass doesn't mean I need to get wet as well."

Ivar smiled, "you will dry in half an hour stop complaining."

You shoved your husband playfully, "excuse me good sir, I'm on your side."

Ivar took your face in his hands, "then go out there and help my brothers catch lunch."

You stayed on the shore with Ivar, choosing to ignore him. It didn't take long for them to catch something substantial and then they were dropping themselves next to the fire to dry off while the fish cooked.

You reclined back against Ivar's chest, his fingertips brushing your cheek affectionately, "I think it's going to rain, look at the sky."

Ivar looked from your face and followed your finger, his eyes landing on a cloud, "it looks like you're right, it might be good thing, it would be hot tonight if it didn't rain." He reached up and took your hand, taking it in his and bringing it to your lips, "even though my brothers decided to interrupt out day, I'm still enjoying our time together."

Hvitserk slapped his brother's shoulder, "can't we spend time with you, little bother? You spend every waking minute with your wife."

Ivar grumbled, "I love you brother but you're nothing to look at, my wife is a work of art, I am blessed by the Gods simply to sit in her presence."

You flipped in his arms and pressed a kiss to his lips, "you know how to sweet talk me my love."

Sigurd's eye wrinkled, "you don't need to lay it on thick brother, she's going to suck your cock no matter what."

Ivar picked up a stick and threw it at Sigurd, "behave brother."

Ubbe rolled his eyes, "the food is ready, can you all stop bickering so we can eat?"

You smiled, "thank you Ubbe."

****

The clouds rolled in as it got later, Ivar seemingly unbothered by the fact that if you didn't leave now, you wouldn't make it back home by the time the rain started. "You worry too much wife, it's not cold and my legs have been fine since the snow melted."

You sighed, "I don't want to get wet."

He chuckled, "it's just rain my love, there's nothing to worry about." Right on time, the heavens opened and poured down on everyone. Everyone packed in a hurry but it was too late, by the time was walked through the doors of the Great Hall, you were dripping wet.

"See, I'm soaked."

Ivar took your hand and walked you into your shared bedroom, his hands stroking from your face to your shoulders, "come on my love, let's get you out of those wet clothes."

Ivar's large fur cloak had kept him dry and you suddenly realised his plan, "did you do this so you could get me naked?

He smiled and he walked slowly behind you, unlacing your dress and sliding it off you, "you know me so well." He smiled as bumps covered your skin, "are you cold?"

You smiled and wrapped your arms around your body as Ivar walked back around to stand in front of you, "a liitle."

He took your face in his hands and kissed you. You reached down and gripped his tunic as Ivar walked you towards the bed, your knees hitting the edge as you fell backwards, Ivar falling on top of you and catching himself on his extended arms.

You pulled his tunic off, Ivar's lips detaching from yours only long enough for you to pull it over his head, when you went to remove his pants he stopped you, grabbing your hand gently then bringing them to his lips, "let me warm you up."

His lips brushed your neck and you tilted your head to give him more access to your skin. He kissed down your neck, paying extra attention to your upper chest until your hand found his head, "I'm getting there, don't rush me." One hand came up to cup your breast while his mouth found the other, the warmth from his huge hand spreading over your skin.

Your fingers rubbed his scalp while he swapped positions, tweaking your nipples between his fingers while his lips travelled further down your body. He kissed over your hips then lifted your legs over his shoulders, his hand leaving your breast as it stroked your skin. He met your eyes and you nodded, Ivar taking that as all the permission he needed to drive in like a man dying of starvation.

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips wrapped around your clit and one hand squeezed your thigh lovingly while his other hand left your breast and circled your entrance with two of his long, thick, calloused fingers, "please." Ivar smiled against your skin and slid his fingers inside you.

You gasped as he pressed his fingers to your G-spot, his moan sending vibrations through your body, causing a pleasant heat to radiate from your core. He pushed you closer to the edge with all the fervour of a man at war, he knew exactly what you needed and how you needed it and Ivar was never a man to put himself at a disadvantage. You pressed his head closer to your body and he took his hand off your thigh and removed one of your hands from his head, running his hand down your wrist and interlocking his fingers with yours.

You barely had the chance to warn him before you were clenching around his fingers and moaning his name, "please, please I want more." Ivar chuckled against your skin and pulled his fingers out of you, sticking them in his mouth and sucking your wetness off them with a groan. He kissed a path to your mouth slowly, nipping your skin every now and then, the sparks of pain making your brain feel fuzzy.

He reached your lips and you could taste yourself on his skin, then he was lifting your leg over his hip and grabbing his cock, running it back and forth over your wet slit. You rolled your hips and he smiled, looking down at you with love in his eyes as he slid inside your slowly. He swallowed your whimper as he bottomed out and you bit his lower lip as he rocked into your G-spot, his free hand reaching down to rub your clit as the arm holding him up rippled with strength.

He pulled back and looked into your eyes, a small smile forming on his face, "does that feel good my dear?"

You nodded, "yes, yes it feels wonderful."

His lips brushed yours as his hips sped up, "that's good because you feel like Valhalla." He buried his face in your neck and his teeth sunk into your skin, leaving a mark you knew the others would be able to see in the morning, no matter how sweet Ivar was in these moments, his possessive streak was always there.

You wrapped your arms around him and held him closer, whimpering in his ear as his fingers rubbed your clit, "please, I'm close."

Ivar grunted, "me too, you can let go for me, I'm right here with you." You were powerless to resist his gentle command, your vision going white as pleasure filled your body pleasure. He moaned in your ear as he followed you into bliss. He shifted his hips just enough to slide out of you then rested his weight on you, "are you still cold?"

His tone was full of love and affection, "no, I'm quite warm."

He smiled and pressed his lips softly to yours, "well anytime you need warming up I'm here."

You sighed, "I love you Ivar."

He returned your smile, kissing you again, "I love you too y/n."

Fin

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vixenninjaturtle · 1 year

Text

VAMPIRIC LOVE pt. 3. (Final)

TMNT RAPH (2016) x Fem Reader

For @ashleighclark98

Three weeks have passed since you were attacked. Raphael was so worried that he ended up calling his brothers for some assistance. Donatello was in charge of monitoring your health and the progress of your change. Leonardo was asked to help with meetings with guests, while Michelangelo is in charge of the cooking and cleaning. Raph needless to say was by your side every day since, praying that you would soon wake up. He just couldn't imagine his life without you.

And as much as he tried to keep up this facade of being a tough grumpy cold-hearted vampire, deep down he was really growing fond of you despite your feisty personality. You could even say that he's falling in love with you. Which is why he hopes that you would wake up pretty soon so he can say it to your face.

One evening Raph decided to end his last meeting early. Knowing that you were still unconscious he just couldn't seem to concentrate on his work. He wanted nothing more than to hear your voice and hold you in his arms. He couldn't even bring himself to eat let alone sleep due to the fact that he was so worried about you.

"Raph please you got to eat something. You got to keep your strength up. " Leo encouraged his brother.

"Yeah yeah I know Leo I know! But I just... Don't have much of an appetite." Raph sighed with his hands covering his face.

"We can't understand that bro, and we all know you're really worried about y/n but still you'll need your strength when she wakes up." Mikey followed up bringing his brother a pouch of blood.

"Mikey's right Raph if you don't do it for anybody else... Please do it for y / n. She's going to need you to get her in this journey and becoming a vampire."

"Yes I know and I get that but what if she hates me for turning her into a vampire? I mean I try so hard to keep her out of this life to keep her human forever. But seeing her Motionless... I couldn't just let her life in like that. I just... hope she's not angry with me for taking that choice away from her."

"And who said I was mad at you? If anything I'm glad it was you who turned me and not anyone else."

Raphael's head immediately shot up from his hands and whipped around so fast you thought he'd give himself whiplash just to see you standing at the entrance of his office awake and moving around.

"Y/n?... Y-you're awake?... but when? And for how long?" Raph stammered as he made his way towards you.

"She actually woke up a few hours ago. And after explaining everything to her making sure her wound has fully healed Plus checking her over she insisted on coming to see you and surprise you." Don explained walking in from behind her.

"I'm just happy that you're okay, I was seriously losing my mind with worry and y/n, I'm really sorry for putting you in that situation. If I had known he was going to react like that----"

Raphs' words were suddenly cut off as you pressed your finger to his lips. "Shhhh it's ok Raph but that's all over now. All that matters now is that I'm here with you and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." You smiled caressing his cheek

Raphael stared into your beautiful e/c is before wrapping his arms around you embracing you and a hug.

"Come on guys, we should leave them alone and give them their privacy." Donnie suggested to his brothers.

Both Leo and Mikey looked at each other then look between Raphael and Y/N before smiling agreeing to Donnie's suggestion. As they were leaving they each patted their brother on the back of his shell basically encouraging him to tell you about his feelings. Once everyone was gone, you and Raph finally released each other from your embrace.

"Again y/n I'm really sorry, I never meant to put you in danger nor did I ever want you to find out that I was a vampire... or at least not like this."

"Raph you don't have to apologize for anything. I assumed anyway you being a millionaire you're prone to having some enemies. Plus I already figured that you were a vampire from the get-go." You smirked at that last statement.

Raphs' I grew wide after hearing you already knew about him being a vampire. But then again, he kind I've had a feeling that you knew already because you were a lot smarter than you looked. And despite him trying so hard to keep that side of his life hidden it seems like he did a pretty poor job.

"Hehe, why am I not surprised you are always so feisty and always sticking your nose into things you had no business knowing. Nonetheless that's what I love about you." Raph smirked as he leaned in closer pressing his lips on yours.

You were shot to hear that Raphael the grumpy turtle and your employer who always said that you two will never be friends said that he loved you. However you are even more shocked that he kissed you without hesitation. He then pulled away from you allowing you to catch a breath as you both stared into each other's eyes.

"I love you too Raph." You whispered before leaning in for another kiss.

#leonardo #reader #teenage mutant ninja turtles #donatello #michaelangelo #raphael #tmnt 2016 #bayverse turtles #vampire lover #bite #female reader #my art #request

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justgayrevolutionnaries · 2 years

Text

You got living to do

Or : Enjolras does too much and his friend tries to knock some sense into him.

My gift for @cherrypigeon as part of the @drinkwithme-exchange ! You requested Enjolras and Eponine friendship and I really wanted to see what I could do with them, so here you go <3

Also a big thank you to @aceofspades-smt for being an amazing beta, it was my first fic and you really helped me through it !

Enjolras doesn't really know at what point he lost track of time. Sure, after the meeting was over, he told Courfeyrac and Combeferre that he wouldn't stay here for too long, but there is just too much stuff he needs to get done. He tried to keep writing his speech for the next protest, and when he ran out of inspiration went back to reading that article about the changes in the Congress, made a note to himself that he needs to get Grantaire a birthday present for next week, then went to see if the online petition Les Amis started got more votes since the last time he checked (ten minutes ago). Then replied hotly that guy on their website who apparently had nothing better to do than to insult the group and their actions. Then-

"Earth to Enjolras, is anyone there ?"

The unexpected voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

"Sorry, you were saying something ?" The blond asks, removing his headphones and looking at the person standing next to him.

Eponine sights heavily (and, he thinks, quite dramatically).

"I was asking if you were planning to stay here all night or if, very hypothetically, part of you would be sensible enough to think about getting some sleep ?"

He shoots her a confused glance "What are you talking about ? I've been here for-"

"Three hours straight. It's almost midnight, dumbass, and I hate kicking you out but we have to close at some point."

With a look of horror, Enjolras realizes he got lost working on this for way longer than he thought.

"Shit, shit, shit", he mutters, very eloquently, while glancing at his watch. Maybe there is still a way he can make it to the metro station before it closes- he really doesn't want to walk an hour to his and Ferre's apartment in the middle of the night.

"Man, you look really bad. Like, worse than usual. Need a ride ?"

Ignoring the exhausted part of his brain that wants to accept, he shakes his head and sends her a smile that tries to look thankful, but is really just too tired to be convincing.

"I will be fine, don't bother. You need to go home, too."

"I mean, I told Gav I'd come back early, but y'know, I think the kid won't die if I leave him alone twenty more minutes. At least I'm gonna pretend I trust him not to set anything on fire while I'm not there."

Enjolras can't help but snort at this - Eponine isn't really one to talk, being on Courf's list of "people most likely to set something on fire in a kitchen" (along, for the record, with Enjolras himself).

"C'mon, Enjolras, you look ready to fall asleep on the spot. You really feel like being an idiot and refusing my help ? Because that's, like, a very stupid move."

Again, he vaguely tries to protest, or at least to sound offended, but she doesn't really sound like giving him a choice. God, I'm definitely too tired for this.

After packing all his stuff carefully (Ferre is gonna kill him if he forgets his coat again), he follows his friend outside. Part of him briefly wonders when and how Eponine got a car, but his brain is so clouded he decides it's not worth asking. Still, it feels weird to rely on Eponine for something. He is more used to arguing with her than to seeing her being helpful.

As a matter of fact, the first time Eponine showed up at a Les Amis meeting, the two of them didn't exactly get along well - Enjolras seeing her only as a lovestruck girl who came along because of Pontmercy, while Eponine already had her own not-so-positive opinion on him based on Grantaire's endless rants.

It took them exactly two weeks and a protest gone wrong to realize that maybe they needed to change their opinion on each other. Since then, they didn't exactly become friends, as they never really had a conversation that wasn't either about their actions with Les Amis or Enjolras's relationship with Grantaire, but at least they managed to get along. Kind of. Given how headstrong and outspoken they both were, their relationship was still a rather tumultuous one. The kind that involved a fair amount of annoying the hell out of each other from time to time, through almost-constant bickering and bullying (affectionate bickering, you might say, although both of them would rather die than call it that way).

But apparently, they were comfortable enough around each other to just sit in silence together without it becoming too awkward. It was one of the things Enjolras unconsciously noticed about her : since she started dating Cosette, Eponine became a lot more relaxed and easy to hang out with. They may not be close, but Enjolras is glad to see his previously morose friend looking so happy.

"Y'know, I wasn't joking earlier" Eponine suddenly says, snapping him out of his thoughts for the second time in the evening, which makes him realize he had been on the verge of falling asleep on his seat. Again. Which is a little concerning, since he has never ever been able to even come close to sleeping in a driving car.

Okay, so much for avoiding awkward conversations.

"What ?"

"Are you actually planning to get some sleep anytime soon ?"

"I am getting sleep !" snaps Enjolras, slightly annoyed by the question. How is that any of her business ? "It's just… there is some stuff I need to finish, but it's nothing more than usual."

Again, his friend lets out a sigh while shooting him a concerned and slightly exasperated look. Enjolras staying up all night to plan a rally or some other action, or even just study something, was nothing unusual. All of les Amis knew that when their friend was getting passionate about something he could stay up for days to think about it, and they usually tried not to worry too much when that happened. But this time something felt different. The blond had been acting like this for weeks, drowning into work and not really taking time for himself or to hang out with his friends.

"Listen, Enjolras, I am your friend, okay ? I just want to help you here. I know what this means to you, but you need to understand you can not keep going like this. You can't just get caught up in the idea of saving people to the point where you forget to live your own life."

"Wha- I don't-" he feels so frustrated by what she is saying that he doesn't even know what he wants to say. "Are you serious, 'Ponine ? Who cares about my life ? When I look at the world around me, you think I want to keep living my life like nothing is happening ? People need help ! We need to do protests, tell more people to- to just do something !"

He seems to be on the verge of tears now - which is how Eponine understands that this may be worse than she thought. It's not that she thought Enjolras wasn't capable of being emotional, obviously, but he never actually showed it to people who weren't his closest friends. And even then, it took the combined forces of Courf, Combeferre and Grantaire to get him to admit what was wrong.

"Okay, listen. Just for once, don't be an idiot and listen, okay ?"

She waits until he gives her a reluctant nod to keep talking.

"You are enough, Enjolras. You are doing more than any other person I know, and - god, I can't believe I am saying this - I really, really respect you for it. I respect the way you just always try to make other people's lives better, no matter what. Trust me, what you are doing is good enough. But you need to understand that at some point you can't just always keep doing more. And most importantly, you can't take everything upon yourself, not when we are all here to help you. You aren't gonna save the world by working yourself to death, Enjolras."

He vaguely tries to say something, but Eponine shoots him a look that makes him very effectively shut his mouth. Maybe the girl seems harmless to people who didn't know her, but she could be terrifying sometimes - like when Enjolras started dating Grantaire and she showed up at his door to give him the basic "you hurt him, I kill you" talk, which the blond has absolutely no reason not to believe given the way she looked at him. Which is why, for once, Enjolras thinks it might be wise not to argue back - this, and the fact that a part of him, even if he really doesn't want to accept it, knows that she is right. But still, that doesn't make it easier to accept.

"I know how much you don't want to listen to my advice, but at least take time to think about it, okay ? And whether you like it or not, your friends care about you. So you need to understand we won't stop giving you those talks until you actually start listening, got it ?"

Enjolras still doesn't answer - but this time, it's because he has a knot in his throat that makes him feel like he is going to start crying if he says anything. Eponine is, has always been, a brutally honest person, and the way she told him that his friends care about him went right through his heart. Even if, sometimes, he still struggles with the idea of people loving him for who he is, he knows his friends care. And he knows that if he doesn't listen to them, they would very well be able to lock him up until he starts taking care of himself. And as much as that frustrates him, he really, really loves his friends for it. So yeah, maybe this one time, he can consider listening to Eponine. Maybe.

Still, when he gets out of the car, it feels like a weight has been taken off his chest.

"Thank you. Really." He doesn't add anything else, because he knows he will always be too stubborn to admit he really needed the help from Eponine Thénardier. It doesn't matter, though, because he knows his friend understands what he meant - she can't help but smirks, and he sees very well how hard she is trying not to say anything sarcastic as an answer.

"Anytime, blondie."

"Don't call- yeah, okay," he sighs. Could be worse.

#hope you enjoy it !#i for one am pretty happy how it turned out given it's my first #*runs away and hides for the next thousand years*#platonic friendships #drinkwithme2022 #remind me to post it on ao3 when i'll have decent internet connection #i am bad at finding titles #enjolras #eponine #enjonine but platonic #les mis #platonic frienships

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ellowynbeimler · 2 months

Text

Mar 13

Dear Dad,

We’re still being followed, and we've been seeing the Donkey cult people when we stop. We're pretty sure it's the right group, in part because they're, you know, following us.

We’ve barely stopped in days; we haven't really had a chance to make any money, so we don't even have money for inns, and when we do, we're barely stopping long enough to sleep. Riley and Reese won't let us sleep on the road, even though it's been messing up our sleep, because they're worried about the cult people catching up to us when we don't at least have four walls to protect us.

I feel like I haven't been sleeping at all. Almost as soon as I lay my head down, I'm being woken up, and almost as soon as I can sleep after my watch shift, we're back up. The innkeepers we've stayed with have been concerned about our hours. Show up in the evening or morning, or what have you, and check out a little later. Not enough time for us to sleep at all, but we really need the minimal sleep. And we're not getting it.

Everyone's got eye bags, and when we're walking, we're moving at a snail's pace.

Everyone is getting snippy with each other, and I hate it. I just want to sleep more.

The towns are distractions at best. We've changed course a couple times, and we're still heading toward the city but darting off side to side. Zig zagging.

I don't think it's helping very much, if at all.

No one knows how they know how to find us. We've all checked ourselves and each other for anything and everything that might be a tracking device, electric or magical.

Willow suggested we should just get rid of all our clothes and stuff and get completely new stuff just in case it was invisible. Which sounded insane when she first mentioned it, but now that I'm thinking about it, I think it might be the best choice.

We’re scared. That's really what it boils down to. I'm scared. Riley, Will, Reese, Zunair, and Grace are scared. Everyone's scared. We don't know why they want us, what they want us for, how they track us, or anything. We don't know anything. We just want to get away.

I don't know if we even can get away. If the city really is big, maybe we'll be able to lose them in it, but I don't know for sure. It might be a tiny city, or maybe the high priest person was right, and they're already waiting there for us.

Our only hope is to lose them, but they've been relentless. Maybe once we get the information, we can see if the temple can help us again. I'm not too hopeful. I mean, we basically ignored them the first time. But if we're at least somewhere, anywhere else, maybe they won't be able to find us again? Or we'll be able to put enough distance between us and them so that we'll be able to get home before they catch up to us again?

We’re trying to get home, but what if something happens to us first?

Grace has already almost died from being attacked, Zunair has already almost died from freezing to death, and I'VE ALREADY ALMOST DIED! We've gotten so close, so very, terrifyingly close to death

. And that was almost all just pure chance, wrong place, wrong time, and my not knowing just how dangerous of a situation I'd put myself into.

And now we're being hunted down, actively, like animals.

It's terrifying, it really is. I just want to go home. I just want to sleep. I just want to see you again and know that it's all going to be okay.

I don't think it's ever going to be okay again. I really don't think it is, and I don't know if there's anything I can do to fix it.

I don't know if anyone can fix it.

I’ll write when I can. I can't believe I even had enough time to write you now.

I’m sorry for everything I've ever done. For complaining when you weren't home. For everything I can remember doing wrong and anything I don't remember.

I'm really sorry, and if I don't make it home, I hope you'll be able to read these and know that I love you and that I really, really tried to get home.

I'm sorry I'm leaving you alone. I didn't mean to. I didn't want to.

I'll keep trying till my dying breath if that's what it takes, I really hope it doesn't come to that.

But I'll keep trying.

This is not just for you but for everyone: for Grace's family, for Riley and Willow, and for Zunair and Reese's families, too. So even if I don't make it home, even if none of us do, you'll all know that we tried, that we wanted to, that we didn't give up.

I'll keep trying,

Jack

Read the rest of the series here:

Or read more by this author here:

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beels-burger-babe · 3 years

Text

With You Always

***So I really really really love this idea, but I'm going to tweak it just a little bit so rather than only seeing them in mirrors, MC can just always see them when the brothers aren't around. This one is going to take place after they return to the human realm. I'm also going to be using he/him pronouns for the crush that'll be mentioned. I figured since all the dateables in the game identify as male, it'd be a safe bet. Thank you so so much for this creative request @gender-less-lemon (also I freaking love your profile picture. Monster Camp/Prom is hilarious)***

Summary: An average day of high school with MC...and the seven pact manifestations that haunt their vision.

TW: Bullying You were awoken not by an alarm, or your guardian, or even some random noise from outside, but rather a phantom gnawing on your arm. With a groan, you blinked open your eyes and saw just your regular old room, with one minor difference; a spectral red bear was happily teething on your elbow. You chuckled and pet the manifestation, noting the brightly glowing symbol of gluttony resting in its stomach. "Okay, Beel," you mumbled to yourself as you dragged yourself out of bed, pushing the purple translucent calf sleeping on your stomach, in the process. "I hear you." Ever since you had returned to the human realm, you had been followed around by spectral manifestations of the seven pacts that you owned. By the looks of things, no one else could see them, and they only appeared when the connected sin was active or needed, but it helped you feel less alone. You missed the brothers more than you had anticipated. It was more than a little bit of a culture shock to go from being loved and spoiled every day to being the misfit in your high school. Speaking of which, you needed to get going if you weren't going to be late. As you rushed around our room frantically grabbing the things you needed to get ready, the calf-like manifestation of sloth sat on your bed mooing in complaint. You sent a glare over to it as you finished collecting your belongings. "Trust me, I rather stay home and sleep too, buddy. But I have to go." Grabbing some fruit on your way out the door, you just managed to make it to school on time. Now it was simply a matter of surviving the day.

In all honesty, you preferred RAD to high school. In RAD, the subjects were interesting and grasped your attention without any problems at all. You had friends, even outside of the brothers. Sure there were always demons that would talk down about the kid human that clung to the demon lords, but you had the brothers to protect you. It was nice.

Now that you were back in the human world, you had none of that. In fact, you were even more of a misfit than when you were before. The teenager that vanished for a year and came back weirder than before; that was you. At first, you couldn't get people to leave you alone, but once they realized you weren't going to give them answers they backed off. You would occasionally laugh or whisper to the manifestations, which would earn you some more than weird looks, but you didn't care. These weird little ghost-like creatures were one of the only things you had connecting you to the Devildom. They meant more to you than anything else. As you entered your classroom, you had to bite back a laugh at the sight of one of your classmates looking around in confusion as, unknown to them, a golden yellow crow flapped around their head and pecked at the shiny earrings they were wearing. You took your seat in the back of the classroom and watch in amusement as the crow continued pecking at the various belongings of students, causing subtle chaos and confusion. Leave it to Mammon to make your day even when he wasn't actually there. Your teacher walked in and sat down in his chair. "Alright, class. Today we're going to continue with our history presentations. Remember these were subjects of your choice, so I do hope that you can at least pretend to be interested," he sighed and pulled out a clipboard. "Looks like the next person presenting is...MC." You winced and looked down at your notes. The topic was definitely one you were confident in, but to present it in front of your class. What if no one liked it? What if people laughed? What if- You felt a nudge on your arm. You glanced over to see a dazzling blue peacock, straightening its long neck out high as it puffed out its chest. The pride manifestation gestured forward with its head and almost seemed to smile at you. You smiled gently as you felt warmth grow from his pact mark on your inner wrist and stood up beside the peacock. It cawed and began to strut forward, leading the way to the front of the class. The mental image of Lucifer doing the same almost caused you to burst out laughing. You finally turned to the class and held your head up proudly as you began to speak. "My presentation today will be on biblical demonology and the way it has evolved throughout the eons of its existence." It was the best presentation you had ever given in your life. Riding off of the high from history class, the day seemed to fly by. Before you knew it was time for lunch. The bear was back, this time just softly moaning it continued butting your back with its head in an attempt to get you to go to the cafeteria faster. With one particularly heard shove, you were sent stumbling forward, directly into the chest of someone. "I'm so sorry! I'm a total clutz. I just tripped, I hadn't meant to-" you cut yourself off as you looked up and noticed you were looking at your crush. Your jaw snapped shut as you felt your face suddenly become uncomfortably hot. He smiled and waved off the apology. "It's alright. Just an accident right?" Your face became even hotter as you noticed a bright pink rabbit jumping up and down happily behind him. "I- Uh...Ehm...Y-Yeah! Yeah, t-totally an accident. I'm seat so I should go find my hungry. I-I mean!" He chuckled and nodded. "No worries, I get what you're trying to say. Enjoy your seat, MC," he gave you a wink, causing you to squeak as he walked off. You glared down at the rabbit running happy circles around your feet and the red bear that was sulking guiltily in a corner. "I blame you two for this." With an embarrassed huff, you entered the cafeteria and found yourself instantly wanting to walk back out. Everyone was laughing and talking with one another in their friend groups at their tables. Some gossiped eagerly over a magazine. Others sat silently with one another while they gamed or read books. There was even a table where a group of theatre kids were drumming out a soundtrack beat on the table while singing their favourite

songs. You ducked your head down and grabbed a tray of food before moving to the lonely table in the back, doing your best to ignore the giant orange snake that slithered between the tables, occasionally hissing and tripping students. You tried not to think of how you could be just like those groups of laughing friends, if only you were still at RAD. Your heart ached as you thought about the brothers. Maybe you could call them tonight. You let out a heavy sigh as you stood up and went to leave. You had almost made it to the door when a familiar face stopped you. Standing just a couple inches taller than you, surrounded by their groupies, was your tormentor, Taylor. You weren't entirely sure why they hated you so much. You just knew that they did, and that it got even worse when you came back from the Devildom. Taylor smirked with their arms crossed over their chest. "Where do you think your going? You haven't come to say hello yet." You scoffed and tried to walk past them. "Leave me alone, Taylor. I'm not in the mood for this today," before you could get very far, you were harshly onto the floor, stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped and glared up at them. "What the fuck?!" The bully just sneered down at you. "You may not be in the mood for this, but I am. You know I heard about your weirdo presentation. Demons? Really? What are you, a satanist?" Their word choice was really ironic, for at that moment you noticed the large, white unicorn with flaming green hair and eyes appear behind them. The beast stomped its hooves and whinnied dangerously. You gulped nervously and looked up at Taylor. "Even if I was, it's not your business. I just find the topic interesting is all." You went to stand up, and therefore force the angry horse with a horn away from Taylor, but were stopped as they placed their foot on top of your chest. "I bet that's why you have all those weird tattoos, huh? What did you run away and join a cult for a year? Freak!" You could feel Satan's pact mark on the back of your neck grow hotter and hotter to the point that you were concerned the manifestation may be trying to summon him. Your eyes widen as you noticed it back up a few steps and point its horn at Taylor. You knew that the creatures normally could do small interactions with others, such as tripping or pushing, but you had never seen them attempt anything so violent. You couldn't just let it kill someone. "STOP!" The cafeteria fell quiet, but you weren't looking at them or even Taylor, you were looking at the unicorn. The manifestation neighed in frustration and jumped around, but obeyed your command. You slumped in relief. Looking back over to Taylor, you found them glaring down at you like you were nothing but a bug. They opened their mouth to degrade you even further when a teacher finally stepped forward. "What is happening here?" You walked over to the unicorn while Taylor fed the teacher a handful of lies. You leaned over to the manifestation and whispered under your breath. "Thank you for trying to protect me, but you can't hurt people. Just leave it be." The creature snorted and nuzzled your shoulder. In comparison to the hectic lunch hour, the rest of the day passed by with ease. In no time at all, you were back home in your room. You had just plopped onto your bed, when you heard a familiar ringtone. You smiled brightly and quickly grabbed your D.D.D. before immediately answering the phone. "Hello?" "Oh, you answered that quite quickly," you grinned at the surprise in Satan's tone. "I was just calling to-" "IS THAT MC?! GIMME!!!" You laughed as the sounds of Satan yelling and running from Mammon came through the other end. There was a yelp, a bang, and a victorious whoop before you could hear the device get picked up by someone. "'Hey MC! How was your day? I hope you didn't miss the great Mammon too badly. N-Not that I've missed you or anything just wanted to know how you're doin' is all." Belphie's purple calf climbed its way into your lap once more as you gently patted its head.

"I miss you too, Mammon. And today wasn't bad. I'd say it was pretty average overall." You could hear Satan growl in the background before there was a loud thud followed by a scream from Mammon. Satan took the phone back. "Just average you say? Nothing special?" You frowned and narrowed your eyebrows in confusion. "No, why?" To your right, the unicorn neighed softly and plopped down beside your bed. "Well, I could've sworn I felt our pact become triggered at some point today and...Well in all honesty I was concerned. We worry about you getting hurt without us there with you, MC." You couldn't help but smile softly as one by one each of the manifestations of your pacts made their way to your bed and laid down. "I know," you replied affectionately. "Though I'm never completely alone. So long as I have my pacts, you guys will always be with me." ***This was such an interesting concept to toy around with. I hope this wasn't too confusing and actually makes sense 😅😅 Thanks again for the amazing request @gender-less-lemon!***

Taglist @thegrimgrinningghost

@henry-and-the-seven-lords

@satans-beloved-riv

@cosmixbun

@sufzku

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me fic #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me demon brothers #obey me pacts #obey me requests #teen reader #teen mc #b requests

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skiyoosmi · 3 years

Text

post-break up heartaches

verse 1. in the car that used to drive us to our home

⤷ kuroo tetsurou, oikawa tooru — more characters coming soon

⤷ verse 2 | verse 3

⤷ play. never let me go by ghostly kisses, forget about us by clinton kane

commissions: open

⇢ KUROO sighs for the umpteenth time of the day. he was so fucking exhausted and his body's about to give in to sleep any moment now. work has been beating his ass; there was this newbie who kept on messing up the documents needed by the board and for the whole day, he had to be the one to fix said issues. it's not like he wasn't paid enough for that; if anything, his paycheck was one of the most beautiful things he laid his eyes on— but god, even his body has its own limits and yet...

"ya.... yer not supposed to do this anymore. y-ya left me, remember?" you slurred, index finger pointing right at his chest as he circled his arms around your waist, huffing as you practically dropped all your weight on him. here he was, suddenly given the task of having to take you home after your supposed-to-be designated driver, miya fucking atsumu, also drank his brains out with you.

"be patient. still heartbroken because of you, y'know?" kenma softly tells him despite the tipsy feeling lurking in the back of his mind, shaking his head as he looked at you, whose system finally shut down and were now dozing off in the black haired man's arms.

"..... still?" he mumbles, looking down at your figure and he feels his heart contract with pain all over again.

"you can't expect her to be fine immediately, kuroo. it was your wedding day, supposed to be the greatest day of her life and yet it became the worst one... you left her at the altar alone."

he didn't reply anything— or rather, he was unable to. because what can he say to refute the truth? nothing. instead, he proceeded to his car with you still in his hold. he places you on the passenger seat, locking the seatbelts before jogging to the driver's side.

the car ride was calm as you slept soundly with your head occasionally hitting the window lightly as it swayed from side to side. he was sure as hell that if you were sober right now, you wouldn't even have the thought of seeing him cross your mind. he just knows for sure that you despise him with your whole being... at least, that's what he thought until...

"i'm sorry, tetsu. please come back," you whimper in your seat, voice quiet but he heard it nonetheless, "tell me what i did wrong so i can fix it."

the pitiful sounds and mumbles you made struck kuroo right in the heart and which makes him pull over an empty but safe road, just a block away from your (previously shared) apartment. looking over your form, he finds himself reaching out to touch your face, caressing your cheeks as drops of tears fell down slowly on them, "you didn't do anything wrong. you were fine. you were so perfect."

you squint your eyes at him, probably wondering if this was real or just a part of your drunken imagination. nonetheless, you hiccuped, "y-you... you left me and i... i still can't even bring myself to hate you... i just wanna ask you why? i just want to understand."

he thought he also knew the reason why but every single time he thinks about it, he's only led to one conclusion: because he was a coward. no way was this any of your fault— it's definitely not your fault that right at that moment, as he stared at the mirror, wearing the black suit you chose for him, the sudden fear of commitment loomed over him. it's not like it was your fault he suddenly got scared of losing you the way his parents lost each other. but now he thinks it's ironic, because he lost you anyway.

maybe... just maybe, if he had just met you where you stood at the altar, instead of leaving you alone in it, maybe he would've been happier. maybe his days would've started more with a smile from you as you helped him fix his necktie before going to work. maybe, the working hours he spends in the shitty corporate world would've been more worth it if it meant he can come home to you at the end of the day. maybe... maybe he wouldn't have to be stuck with this lump in his throat as he wonders what could've been happening if he just chose to show up and vowed his life to you.

but he didn't.

"i realized i wasn't just ready to tie my life with anyone yet. that's all there is to it, yn."

so with a heavy feeling stuck in his chest and a quiet promise to never see you again for the sake of not hurting you further, he starts the car's engine again, ignoring the words you replied but he was sure they will haunt him for a very long time... again.

i can wait for you no matter how long it takes, tetsu, you know that.

⇢ OIKAWA gives you what seems like a guilty smile as he stands in front of you, opening his arms and gesturing you to come closer. but the stoic expression on your face takes him back to the reality that the last thing you wanted to do today was to actually fetch him from the airport. it just so happens that his three best friends were caught up with work that they had no choice but to send you, the main ex-bestfriend slash ex-girlfriend, to him.

why did you agree when you practically loathe him with your whole being? well, it was probably because you weren't the devil who would reject your friends when they were literally on their knees as they begged you and for some reason, you thought he'll look pitiful going back to his home country after five years with no one to welcome him. yeah, that's it. it's not like you're still in love with him or anything.

"my car's just around the corner," you begrudgingly walk towards the car park with him quietly following. at the moment, he knew better than to get on your nerves or else there would be war. he hates that this happened to the both of you but he can't blame anyone else but himself. because who wouldn't hate their ex-boyfriend if they suddenly broke up with them over a phone call?

tension filled the car as you both sat beside each other. perhaps, this was what other people were talking about when they say that it's impossible for exes to be friends again, to not feel any awkwardness because you were sure as hell that the word "awkward" was an understatement of your situation right now. nevertheless, your eyes couldn't help but wander to his figure as he adjusted his body, opting for a more comfortable position in the passenger's seat.

he looked more youthful and you felt bittersweet— proud that his whole aura screams of "success" which meant that gone were the days where he longed to get that winter cup trophy, nor the times when he overworked himself and put a strain on his knee which led to countless arguments with you. if anything, he looked happier and it sucks because you're not even close to feeling that way... not without him.

"i heard you've finally gotten yourself your own condominium? that's great, yn!" he exclaimed as soon as you began driving to your destination, a hope lit within him that maybe you might just respond to him. just one smile, that's all i need, he thinks.

but you remain focused on your driving, choosing to reply with a single nod and a soft "yeah..."

disappointment fills his heart as he faces the truth that your relationship has really been ruined, along with your friendship. all because he was foolish to think that he couldn't handle the physical distance between you two. realization dawns upon him that he just made that same distance worse as you pull your heart further away from him.

"... i actually bought it for the two of us, you know?" he whips his head to your direction in surprise, heart clenching as he watch you let out a sad chuckle, "i just... i thought it would be nice if we had a place to permanently stay at and for you to have a home to go to when you're at japan. but yeah... i guess things doesn't go our way sometimes, does it?"

"i'm sor—"

"it's okay. i'm fine now," you quickly reply, shaking your head but keeping your eyes on the road. he tries to ignore the tears that start to form in them because he has no right to stop them, knowing full well that he was the one who caused them in the first place.

as if on cue, you halt your vehicle in front of a familiar apartment and much to your dismay, you find yourself looking back in the past when you used to live in that same place, making wonderful memories with the chocolate haired lad with you. you clear your throat to stop the sob that desperately attempts to escape your throat, "uhm... we're here."

"oh, yeah. we're here," he numbly states, already missing you despite the mere inches of space separating the two of you. you just felt so far away and he hates it. but this was the path he chose so he gets out of your car along with his things, turning to you once more, "uhh... thanks for the ride, yn. i know you probably hate me but yeah... it's very nice of you to put that past us and i guess i just want to say sorry for hurting you... i just..."

"i don't hate you, tooru," you softly tell him, "i just don't want anything to do with you anymore. to see you this happy, without me, is like a slap in the face because i'm not. it still hurts and i'm not fine. i just hope this will be the last time we'll see each other. be safe on your trip back to argentina. welcome home."

and with that, you start the car's engine again, no longer having the energy nor the strength to hear his reply. but he wishes you did because as he watches your car drive further away from him, he can't help but wish that he can take back time so that you don't have to go to that condominium and instead, go inside the home you once shared with him.

but i'm not happy, yn. because how could i call this place my home when you're not here with me?

at that moment, unbeknownst to the two hearts that long for each other break at the same time, you finally let out the tears and cries that you've been keeping since you saw him, knowing that no matter how much you try, you'll never be as happy as you were with him— simply because he left you with a hole in your heart that no one else can fill.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #kuroo x reader #oikawa x reader #kuroo headcanons #oikawa headcanons #haikyuu writings #haikyuu angst #kuroo tetsurou #oikawa tooru #haikyuu imagines #post break-up heartaches

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velvett-tearss · 3 years

Text

Checkmate — Eren Jaeger

summary: A vicious cycle where you and Eren fight over who gets to light the match while dousing each other in gasoline.

warnings: toxic relationship, manipulation, domestic altercation, slut-shaming, gaslighting, cheating, heavy cursing, suggestive themes, mentions of alcohol and marijuana use, fem!reader (she/her)

genre: modern au, angst (?)

word count: 3.4k

a/n: my venus scorpio hates to love Eren lmao pls don’t think this is a healthy relationship, (lmk if i forgot any other warnings pls), this was on repeat while i wrote, hope you enjoy it <3 (again, pls lmk if I missed anything!) and stay safe!

You knew it was wrong. Everything about you and him was wrong. Nothing could justify it anymore, you knew that much. You didn't think you could lose yourself in the game, but you had.

And, all of it was Eren's fault.

He didn't worry about feelings, responsibilities, or duty. He didn't care if he came back later than he said he would you, if he left you waiting in that pretty dress you had picked out just for him.

And, you loathed that about him. You loathed that Eren Jaeger was free. Totally and utterly free of everything and anything. Nothing would hold him back. He wouldn't allow it to come to pass.

He had his freedom, but you had something else.

You questioned things when you weren't satisfied with the answer you had been given. You did things just to see what would happen after. You pushed people just to see how long it would take from them to fall over the edge.

You had often been told you were simply too much to deal with. That you pushed people's buttons until they no longer wanted to be around you. That you stole parts of their sanity until they had no choice other than to run away.

But, you never saw it like that. You didn't mean to be a parasite who ate away at people's peace and patience. You simply liked testing your boundaries.

So, you preferred the word curious.

Maybe Eren had been walking around the earth without shackles his entire life, but you knew everyone was a prisoner to something, even someone like him.

Naturally, you wanted to see what it would take for Eren to break. He was so shameless, so completely free of any care in the world. Eren obeyed his own rules and his alone. He was such an inconsistent asshole half the time, but you couldn't help yourself.

You wouldn't forgive yourself if you had looked away from that charming smile and those pretty teal eyes.

Despite the facade of him being a simple-minded person, you found out what was truly hiding underneath the mask.

Eren was intemperate with a sharp tongue and a loud mouth. He did things his way, and there would be no other option. There was such a mix of emotions boiling inside him, it was like it was asking to be disrupted.

How could you not indulge yourself?

You knew it would be gratifying to see how he would react when backed into a corner. Would he cry like the others? Would he fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness? Or, would he shut down?

How long would it take for him to leave you?

Eren was already known to be hot-headed, and you wondered what it was like to burn. You figured it wouldn't take long to find out how far you could push him. He was the crybaby type, so you didn't think he would be hard to crack.

But, he wasn't like the others.

See, Eren Jaeger wasn't a person who would easily crack. He wasn't the guy who gave up under pressure. In fact, he was the complete opposite. He was a fighter, and he would stop at nothing till victory was his.

It was only too bad for him that you were the same. Your thirst would only be quenched when you saw him break. You needed it more than you had ever needed anything.

You pushed, and he pushed harder. You shouted, and he shouted louder. You bitched and moaned and complained and did awful things to him, and Eren did them right back.

It was an endless cycle between the two of you.

You would do something to tick him off. Maybe it was telling him how Jean looked so sexy in black or how Armin's intelligence was out of this world you didn't know how he wasn't dating anyone.

Perhaps you were a parasite who ate away at your own liberty to do what you wished. You stretched yourself to push him into a corner, and it always worked.

Whatever it was, Eren would explode on you. You knew it pushed his buttons, it fucked with his mind, and that's why you did it. Because maybe it would be the day he finally gave in to the pain you inflicted on him and leave you for good.

Sometimes it would be him doing something that rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps you wore something too short, so he called you a whore before fucking you like one. Or, he didn't answer your texts all night because he was with God-knows-who.

You shouted at him, called him all sorts of different names, and even trashed his apartment if you felt like it. Eren would fight with you, blame you for pushing him far enough as to dip a toe in the unforgiving pool of infidelity, and the two of you wouldn't speak for a week or so.

"I can't even walk around my own damn apartment without you being so annoying!" Eren shouted with so much force you held back a flinch. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, green eyes wondering about the room.

You didn't know if he was shit-faced, high, or a mix of both. You didn't care anymore. It seemed like you had been arguing for hours, but who really knew? All perception of time was lost on you when you were around Eren.

All this started because he asked you to stay the night at his apartment. He usually preferred to go out and have some fun around town, but this was his way of making it up to you for leaving you stranded at the restaurant on your last date.

Well, it was a way for the both of you to make up with each other. Before Eren decided to steal your phone and drive away without you, the waiter serving you had left his number for you. It was only the consequence of your actions earlier that night.

You spent most of the evening flirting with him every chance you got. Batting your eyelashes at him, leaning against the table the slightest so he could get a peak of the dainty little necklace that sat pretty on your cleavage.

He wasn't even that attractive, really — you and Eren both knew that — but he still let his emotions get the best of him. If there was one thing you could trust to be consistent it was his red-hot anger.

"Don't leave when I'm talking to you!" Eren ordered, green eyes blazing hard at the back of your head. He watched you walked around the house, following you to continue your argument. "What? You're gonna go and cry like a little bitch now?"

"Why can't you leave me alone, Eren?!" you screamed, grabbing your sweater and shoving it into your bag. You turned around only to find him inches from your face. "I'm not staying here if you're gonna be a dick!"

He let out a dry chuckle as you continued gathering your things. "What a perfect fucking excuse to go fuck that jerk in your class, right?" Eren hissed, reaching to grab your arm. "Gosh, can't you ever just keep your legs closed for a night?!"

"Keep my legs closed?!" you shot back, shoving him away from you. "You're the one who's been out doing who-knows-what, Eren! You're the one who comes home with lipstick stains from whichever whore you fucked!"

"You shouldn't talk about your friends like that."

You snapped your neck to him.

His face was stony with his jaw clenched, and his hands balled up in fists. None of those things frightened you, though; it was those eyes of him. Those pretty green eyes that had once stared at you so sweetly, so lovingly long ago.

Now, all you could see were glaciers in his irises.

You swallowed down the thick lump in your throat. "You are such a fucking dick." you declared, averting your gaze from his cold one. You advanced to the door, but he caught your arm in his grip again.

"Let go of me." you ordered, attempting to pry his hand off your arm, but he wouldn't budge. "Fuck, Eren. Are you fucking stupid and deaf? I said—"

Your voice got caught in your throat when he shoved you against the wall of his bedroom. He had you caged in, one hand pinning you to the wall and the other right beside you.

It seemed like Eren learned from the last time he tried to keep you from escaping. His last efforts of getting you to stay put were always futile, and you somehow still managed to break away every time.

He always tried to grab you a second time, but you left his cheek with a bright red outline of your palm, smacking him good and hard before leaving his apartment in a fray.

None of your past escapes mattered right now, so you continued squirming around in effort to release yourself from his iron clutch. "Wow, I guess you're not as stupid as you look." you scoffed, your other hand clawing at his.

"Don't be such a bitch." Eren ordered, but you continued your attempts to leave that were only feeble against his strength.

"Why don't you go with your other girlfriends, hmm?" You scoffed, reaching for his wrist and struggling to release your arm. "Tch, Eren, you're fucking hurting me. Stop—"

He brought you towards him, pulling you into his arms. You let out a grunt of disapproval as you tried to shimmy out of his crushing hug. "Oh, my gosh, let me go! I don't want you!" you protested, pushing your hand against his hard chest to create space between you, but he thrusted you back into his chest.

"Don't be such a bitch." Eren murmured into your ear. He had one hand wrapped around your upper back, keeping you close to him, while the other held your wrist tightly to stop you from pushing him away.

His shirt still smelled like the cologne you gifted him for his last birthday. Eren was extra kind to you that day, holding your hand and giving you kisses on the cheek.

The fresh scent was familiar on your nose. You breathed it in, allowing yourself to give in to his touch. "I'm not a bitch." you told him, closing your eyes. You hoped it would help you travel back in time to that beautiful spring day.

He only grunted in response, leaning his head against the top of yours. You felt the slight brush of air down your neck when he let out a sigh. The hand that held your wrist released it, finding purchase on your waist.

A few moments of silence passed between the two of you. Eren's fingers found solace in the ends of your hair. You hadn't realized how much his words affected you until you felt your hair twirl around his fingers.

Did he really think you were a bitch? Is that why as much as you loved his cologne, you could still smell the unfamiliar scent of someone else on him?

If he cared about you, why would he leave you alone in his messy apartment all night? Why would he even bother inviting you? Why did he make an effort to speak to you so lovely that your heart fluttered?

"I just wanted to have a nice time with my girl, and you're making that so difficult. Why?" Eren questioned softly, a strand of your hair between his fingers. "Why do you go out of your way to do shit that irritates me?"

Tears prickled your eyes. "I could ask you the same thing." you replied, holding back the urge to sniffle. How could you not cry when he hurt you? You loved him with so much of yourself, and everything he did seemed like it was just to cause you harm.

"You're so mean to me, Eren. You never treat me like you should."

"I know." he said, the movement of his mouth against your head. "I don't mean to treat you like that, baby. I'm sorry. I really am." You didn't believe him, though. You didn't even want to look into his eyes because you feared you would be right.

You let out a sigh, wiping the tear that escaped the corner of your eye on his shirt. "You're bad for me, Eren." you stated, turning your head to rest against his shoulder. "You're a bad guy and a bad boyfriend. You cheat on me and call my names, and you make me cry."

Eren hummed, rubbing your back in circles. "I'll be better. I'll try harder this time." he offered, his tone almost sounding pleading on your ears. "I promise I'll do better for you."

You didn't believe it. Eren couldn't do better. He was sick with an incurable disease. He no longer felt safe in his own body. He couldn't trust his thoughts to lead him to the correct answer. It all started when he met you, and your infection spread throughout his entire system.

You had infiltrated his way of thinking and acting, his way of feeling and speaking. Eren Jaeger would never be the same person he was before he met you.

He couldn't hide his disdain when he was around his friends, not with all the remarks you made of them. Did you really think Jean was better looking than him? Was it his hair?

Maybe he should start spending more time in the library. Would that make him him look smarter in your eyes? Would you come to him for help with your homework or would you still go to Armin?

And, it was in your silence that his questions of doubt were answered. "You don't believe me." Eren stated as if he were reading the very thoughts from your mind.

A bolt of lightning shot through your spine at his tone. This was the side of your boyfriend you hadn't quite figured out yet. He could loving and playful and crack jokes all day, and mean and standoffish where he wouldn’t even look at you, but he could also be fucking sadist.

His fist curled into the roots of your hair, yanking your head back to meet his gaze. There was a sharp ache pounding on the back of your head, but you forgot all about it when you saw the slight curl of his lip.

"No one else would put up with you. You know that, don't you?" Eren asked you, green eyes appearing darker than they ever had. "You know no one would ever give you the time of day like I do."

"I know." you managed to tell him, leaning into where he gripped your hair to ease the pain you felt.

"Do you?" he questioned, raising a brow.

You tried your best to keep the hammering of your heart against your chest from showing on your face. Eren may have been a sadist, but he wasn't the only one.

"Yes, Eren." you stated, deciding to take a risk and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. You felt him tense under your touch. "You misunderstand me. I only what what's best for you and me. That's all I ever wanted."

He furrowed a brow at your words.

Sure, you would admit that Eren had power over you. He was stronger than you, taller than you, quicker than you. He was the one who had your back against a wall, and it was your hair in his fist.

But, you had something he didn't. You honed the skill he wouldn't be able to polish for years to come. He may have been overly aggressive and carried the ability to make an environment where he would always be the person with the most power, but you had experience.

And, that was something he couldn’t create.

"I've done so much for you, Eren. Why would I go through all this struggle if I didn't want to be with you?" you explained, forcing a pout on your lips. "Is that how you feel about me?"

His grip on your head began to loosen. "No," Eren forced out, eyebrows so scrunched forward they lost their sharpness. "That's not what I want. I was—"

"If you know that, then why would you stand me up?" you demanded, gazing you at him. "If you know all I want is for you to be happy, why would you start a fight with me? You know I would never hurt you like that, baby."

"I didn't mean to start a fight." Eren admitted, swallowing. "I just don't want you to leave me. I don't want to be alone. I don't know what—"

"I know. You don't have to explain it to me, baby. I know exactly what you're thinking." you told him, reaching for his hand to hold in yours. "It's okay, Eren. I know you wouldn't ever want to hurt me, right?"

He nodded, teal eyes watching as you brought his hand to your pillowy lips. You placed a feathery kiss against his knuckles. It had been so soft, so sweet that he wanted to cry.

He had just had car sex with one of the girls who lived in your dormitory's building, and you were kind enough to give him another chance. He did something that hurt you, and you still only wanted what was best for him.

"I love you." Eren sputtered out. His eyes were wide at you, and his voice sounded like he was begging you for something you refused to give him.

You let out a sweet sigh, eyes snapping to his. "You love me?" you repeated, taking a moment to savor the way the words felt on your tongue. Your brows furrowed at the words. "Do you really?"

He nodded quickly, maneuvering his hand to hold yours. He peppered kisses along your fingers, your knuckles. "I do. I really fucking do. I love you." Eren assured, kissing the inside of your hand before grabbing the side of your face.

You raised a brow as he planted soft, needy kisses along your cheeks. "How much do you love me, Eren?" you inquired, bringing your hand to massage his scalp.

Eren swallowed, looking up at you. He was quiet. You blinked back at him, waiting for his answer. You had been so surprised to find he had nothing to offer you in that moment.

You quirked a brow at his silence. "How much, Eren? How much do you love me?" you repeated, voice advancing from a curious tone to a demanding one.

He shook his head, bringing your lips to meet his gently. He tasted like . . . was it honey? Or was it just how sweet the lies he told sounded on your ears?

You weren't able to tell what his mouth tasted like, but you knew you had earned another spit sister? Had he kissed her the way he kissed you? Did he feed her the same lies he did you? Could she taste him? Was she able to put a finger on what the candied flavor on his lips was?

Eren pulled back from you slightly. You couldn’t tell if it was his turquoise eyes that were glassy or if it was yours. "Too much." he told you, lips brushing against yours. "I love you too much." He collided his face with yours, tongue slipping into your open mouth.

His kisses travelled lower — along your jaw, down your nec. He sucked hard when he found your pulse-point, only stopping once a soft moan escaped your swollen lips.

There really wasn't a way you would ever leave him, even if you tried to. Despite all the fights, all the times you professed your hate for him, all the times you tried tried to break it off, Eren stayed with you.

But, it was the same for him. Even if you hurt him, flirt with his friends right in front of him, cuss him out and manipulate him the way you had already done a profuse amount of times in the past, Eren would always love you. How could he not?

Maybe it was because both of you were equally fucked in the head, or because you both loved the concept of pain whether you be playing the role of the inflicted or inflicter, but in some twisted way, you never wanted to leave him.

Somewhere in the messed up relationship that you two had, you realized you loved him. God, you fucking loved him, even if he treated you like a pet.

And, he was your favorite toy. Yours to use and to lie and to fuck. Whether Eren Jaeger was so free he couldn't help but trample over you, or you were too much, too curious that you pushed him to the very brink and a little more, one thing wouldn't change.

You knew it was wrong. Everything about you and him was wrong. Nothing could justify it, you figured that much. You didn't think you could lose yourself in the game, but you did.

And, all of it was Eren's fault.

note: welp they were toxic huh

#snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x y/n #eren yeager x y/n #eren yeager x you #aot eren #eren jaeger angst #toxic!eren jaeger #eren yeager angst #aot x reader #aot x you #eren yeager x reader

474 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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