#and my mind instantly jumped to 'and it did all the things we designed it to do'

[smile-files]

mommy let you use her ipad, you were barely two

and it did all the things we designed it to do

now look at you, look at you!

(objectober 2024 day 10: internet)

[girls-alias]

Tattoo - Dean Winchester

Title: Tattoo - Dean Winchester Words: 2,305 Relations: Dean Winchester X reader. TW: Strong language, slight nudity, sexual hinting.

[Why does the right gif look like it's reacting to the first 😂]

I sighed slamming the anti-possession tattoo design on the artist's table. "This is what I want," I explained simply. The artist looked it over once, a quick glance before scoffing and shaking his head. I sucked my teeth, annoyed instantly by his reaction.

"I'm not doing that, it's demon shit," He slid the design off the table, it falling slowly onto the floor. I glared at him knowing for a fact I would not be the one to pick that up.

"It's actually the opposite it's to protect me from demon shit. So, either pick up the design and get started or pick up the design and wish me a great day," I instructed, my tone forceful as I rested my hands on the table between us. He gave me his full attention. "Either way, you're picking it up," I added. He scoffed looking at me like I was stupid.

"Bitch, if you-" He didn't have time to finish his sentence as I slammed his head into the table. He jumped backwards, holding his busted nose. Looking at me terrified. I was angry beyond reproach.

"Call me a bitch again and I'll pull your teeth out so the next time you say it, it's sounds like your saying bench," I threatened. "Get up. Walk around this table. Pick it up." I said simply, emphasising my anger as I maintained eye contact. He hesitated to get up, cowering as he got closer to me. I stared him down even though he was taller than me, he bent down, using one knee to get low as he grabbed the design. He went to stand but I grabbed the shoulder of his shirt, stopping him from standing but looking up at me scared. I smirked. "Wasn't so hard, was it?" I asked menacingly with a smirk. He shook his head slowly like he was afraid to upset me. I smirked wider. "Now wish me a great day," I instructed, looking at him expectantly.

"I hope you have a really great day, sorry I couldn't help," He quickly spoke. I smiled politely, innocently.

"Thanks, you too," I added cheerfully before grabbing my design and walking out.

I had gone to 5 different tattoo studios, all getting denied and I was growing impatient and reckless. My anger rose before a plan formed in my mind. I smirked knowing it was genius.

Dean's POV:

Y/N had been gone all day. I know she was getting her tattoo but it shouldn't be this long. She's been gone since I woke up till now, I rechecked my watch growing anxious. I should have gone with her. I know she didn't want me to because 'she's an independent woman who doesn't need a man to hold her hand' or at least that's what she tells me every time I suggest protection on a hunt or company for certain things. She is the most stubborn woman I know, and I've met plenty of stubborn women. She only decided to stay at the bunker with us for a few weeks because she wanted a break from motels.

"Will you stop tapping your foot?" Sam asked annoyed as he looked up from his book.

"Where is she? She should have been back hours ago," I rambled, anxiously checking my watch again. 9PM. Where is she? I wonder if she was snatched? Is she okay?

"Dean, will you calm down? She's probably just gotten distracted." He tried but I scoffed.

"What if she's been abducted and we're just sat here?" I asked but Sam laughed, holding his finger in the book to keep his place as he lowered it to give me his full attention.

"We are talking about the same Y/N, right? She's been abducted, starved for months, tortured and still escaped. We did nothing to help, she just called us for a ride like nothing happened," He explained but I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, but that was before she moved in," I tried but Sam looked at me confused.

"She hasn't moved it, she wanted a break and came here. You must be head over heels in love if you think she's staying," He chuckled, going back to his book but noticing my silence. I wanted to deny it but my mouth didn't work. He looked up from the book, studying me a second before slamming the book down not caring about keeping the page anymore. "You're in love with Y/N?!" He practically shouted but I rolled my eyes, getting up to leave. He didn't take the hint that I was leaving because of him so followed me. "I knew you wanted to fuck her but I didn't realise you were in love," He continued. I groaned, walking down the hall aimlessly.

"I'm not in love with her," I tried but even I could tell my tone showed how bad I was lying.

"You are, oh my God. You have to tell her before she leaves." He cheered but I rolled my eyes. I stopped in my tracks, facing him looking annoyed.

"She tells us every day that she doesn't need a man to hold her hand, she'd laugh in my face if I told her," I sighed, finally giving in because this topic has been clouding my judgment for months. Ever since she wore a dress to a hunt and still looked badass I knew I wanted more than sex, when Lucifer himself threatened her and she practically scared him off I knew it was love. Ever since I have grown to love her more, even small things I wouldn't normally notice became my fixation. Like how she mouths the words when she reads slightly or bites down on her nail when she's thinking. All of it made me fall deeper in love with her. Yet she shows no interest in me.

"She doesn't need a man to hold her hand but she might want one," Sam tried but I scoffed.

"We've known her for over a year, I've never once seen her hint at even sex never mind a relationship," I explained. Sam went to dismiss my comment but stopped to look at me confused. He heard it too. I turned around, there's something here. It sounded like something metal clinking against marble. Confused I walked down the hall. Maybe she's back, hopefully, she didn't hear our conversation.

I approached Y/N's door as Sam stood close behind me, I pushed the door open. I froze as I noticed Y/N on her knees in front of the fire shirtless. She had a maroon bra on and hadn't noticed us. I watched mesmerised and perplexed by what she was doing. My jaw dropped as she pulled an iron stake from the fire and pressed it to her chest over her heart. I wanted to rush in and stop her but I was stunned as rather than scream she dropped her head back and groaned. It was borderline pornographic and would definitely infect my mind many times in the future. Sam grabbed my shoulder but didn't move, it pulled me back to reality, I glanced at him seeing his jaw drop open and concern written all over his face. I looked back at her, eyes wide as she moaned again, pushing the stake a little harder before pulling it away. My mouth dried as I watched the scene.

"I love you," She looked up at us, completely unfazed. You wouldn't think she branded herself just seconds before. She looked at me confused and it hit me that I said it out loud. She put the stake down with a smile, chuckling softly before she stood up, not bothered by her shirtless figure as she faced me. I knew Sam would be looking away but my eyes wouldn't let me. My God!

"Good to know," She said slightly confused. I sighed realising she probably thinks I'm a creep. I mean, I am. She's standing shirtless, in a maroon bra but brand new burn above her heart I should be concerned about but I can't take my eyes off her chest. My God. I've never been a tits man but for her, I'm an everything man.

"What did you do?" Sam asked. I finally pulled my eyes away as I glanced at him, he turned away to look up the hall. He has more willpower than I do.

"No one would give me the tattoo so I branded myself," She explained as if it was no big deal. I looked at her concerned, slightly worried and turned on. I fall deeper in love.

"Why wouldn't you just go somewhere else?" Sam asked but she rolled her eyes and walked away to grab a cardigan, tying it around herself loosely so the fabric didn't touch her burn but covered herself. I frowned slightly. I finally looked at the burn. I rushed forward moving the cardigan slowly to see it fully.

"What the fuck, you actually did it," I exclaimed as I looked at the red skin surrounding the black burn. A perfect print of the anti-possession tattoo that matched Sam and I's.

"Well, yeah," She chuckled as if it were obvious. We saw her do it, I wouldn't doubt she would have if she'd told me beforehand but anyone else would be too scared. Not Y/N, not perfect Y/N. Sam followed me in, looking at it closely. We shared a look before I stepped back. She laughed as she shrugged. "It's not a big deal," She shrugged moving away to grab her glass from the top of the drawers. I narrowed my eyes at her.

"Did it not hurt?" I asked, my concern showing in my tone. She chuckled.

"I've felt worse," She shrugged taking a sip of her drink. God, I really do love her.

"I'm going to get the first aid kit. No more branding while I'm gone," Sam warned but she chuckled as he walked out.

"Aw, but I had a tramp stamp made too," She joked but looked at me with an innocent smile. "I actually have another one if you want to do it for me?" She asked but I looked at her like she was crazy. She rolled her eyes, moving to kneel in front of the fire again.

"What? No!" I exclaimed, grabbing her shoulder to try and move her away.

"Ow," She exclaimed, I quickly pulled my hands away, thinking I pressed on her burn. I knew I fell for her trick when she quickly grabbed another stake that was heating in the fire, pulled the tie on her cardigan and pushed it into her skin above her right hip. I gasped, readying for her to scream but she groaned again. Standing above her and looking down on the scene only made it hotter. My God. I turned away knowing I would soon be erect if I didn't try to clear my mind.

"What are you doing?" Sam exclaimed from the door, quickly rushing in, he grabbed the stake, burning his hand slightly as he dropped it to the floor. She rolled her eyes with a theatrical groan.

"You're so boring, Dean didn't mind," She played but I quickly protested.

"I tried to stop her," I held my hands up in defence as Sam looked at me shocked. Sam shook his head, turning his eyes to the first aid kit he brought in with him. Y/N seemed to smirk.

"I can patch myself up," She groaned but Sam shook his head, avoiding looking at her.

"No, I'm putting my foot down." He insisted. I watched, amazed he stood up to her. I wouldn't even do that even if I had a death wish.

"You can't even look at me," She chuckled. Sam looked her in the eyes for a second before looking away not wanting to gawk at her. She laughed, sitting back so she could move her legs from under her.

"I'll do it," I chimed in. I regret it instantly. She looked at me, her eyebrows showing she was shocked but her clenched jaw and eyes told me she wasn't happy. I shouldn't have said anything, she'll kill me and I'd thank her while she did it. She dominates me with just eye contact how am I going to put my foot down to her?

I took Sam's place in front of her, I avoided her eyes as I knew if I looked into them I would lose the nerve. Sam walked out as she took the cardigan off. I used all my focus to look at the branding and not her boobs. I saw her smirking in my peripheral vision.

"So, you love me?" She asked, teasing in her tone. I gulped. I need to grow a backbone, she has too much control over me. Now that I'm putting my foot down to her, it's the perfect time.

"So what if I do?" I asked, focusing on her anti-possession brand as I began cleaning it. She didn't even flinch when the alcohol touched her burns, she just moaned. I felt my blood rushing to where I didn't want it. I focused on my actions hoping I had enough control to get through this.

"I just think that's a weird thing to say after watching someone brand themself," She commented with a slight shrug. I glanced at her lips as she bit down. My breath hitched, and I fixed my eyes on the brand.

"Maybe that's my kink," I tempted but she smirked.

"It is now," She smirked. I gulped, finally looking at her face to see she was looking flirtatious. A look I had never seen her make before. I smirked.

"To rights," I confirmed. She smiled as she rested back on her hands letting me clean her without argument. This was the best thing that could have happened!!!!

Masterlist

[eleanorjane0690]

Solidarity In Sonder

Excerpt from Chapter 20

Summer '76 - Katniss

Returning, I lay with my head in Peeta’s lap, and as he plays with my hair I relax into the repetitive task of threading flower stems through one another.  Disrupting the calm and making me jump, throwing the bottle of sunscreen with a thud, Johanna proclaims “Make yourself useful big Bevin and slather me up.” 

Twisting round to dutifully retrieve the bottle, my sight once again falls upon Thom’s scar.  Shuffling over to present him with her back, as Johanna takes a glob of the stuff out of his hand and starts to dot it along the bridge of her nose, I ask “When did you get shot Thom?” 

Looking away from gently coating Johanna’s skin, meeting my eye, quietly, he replies “In 2.” 

Reflexively sitting up, I exclaim “You were in 2!”

“Aye, for all ma faults I was.  Couldn’t wait t’ get away from the whole sorry mess though…bein’ a miner an’ seein’ that avalanche was the stuff of nightmares.” 

Judging by the distant pained look in his eye, a nightmare we both often relive.  

Despite the overpowering late July heat, rubbing at the gooseflesh that's risen on my arms, ruefully, I mumble “I agree, and the fact it was a miner who designed it just makes it worse.” 

Head snapping up, hands stilling on Johanna’s shoulders, aghast, Thom asks “What? Who?” 

Three sets of eyes stare at me, anticipating my answer, and as much I don’t owe him anything, a shred of loyalty is apparently still buried deep, as with a pang of guilt, barely audible, I breathe “Gale.”

“Hawthorn!” Thom all but growls, looking sick to his stomach.  

Hanging his head at my nod of confirmation, he falls silent, as Peeta’s hand starts to glide up and down my back. 

Lifting his head, after several minutes of weighty silence, huskily, Thom mutters “If y’all excuse me, I’m just gonna go clean ma hands off.” 

Rising to her feet beside him, softly, Johanna says “I’ll come with you.” 

Remorsefully, as I watch them walk away, tucking me under his comforting wing, with a kiss to my temple, Peeta quietly confides “After getting shot, it was thanks to you he decided to come home.” 

“Me?” 

“Yep you, similar story for me too.” 

Sinking into his soothing steadiness, while looking up at him, I ask “And what sort of story would that be?” 

Stroking my hair, with a subdued smile, he reveals “I’d dream of you when I was in the CRC and shortly before we started planning my discharge the same one kept playing on repeat…a little Jabberjay would lead me through 12 while singing in your voice.” 

“What did it sing?” 

“The same verse from the Hanging Tree over and over again.” 

The song my father taught me.  Recorded unintentionally at this very lake.  The song I was told had succeeded in penetrating through Peeta’s Tracker Jacker muddled mind while I was in District 2. 

“Which verse?” 

“Are you coming to the tree where I told you to run so we’d both be free.”

The most troubling of the verses. 

Flee to freedom and to safety?

Or, find freedom in death, hanging in matching rope necklaces from the tree?

Morbidly, after the past couple of years, with or without more knowledge as to what the creepy murders motives were, I’ve come to the conclusion that regardless of whether he and his lover found freedom in safety or death, the only thing that really mattered is that they were together.    

Resting his cheek against my head, Peeta sighs “So, when Doc asked me what I wanted to do on discharge, I took the dream as a premonition and told him I wanted to follow you to 12.” 

“Thank the stars for the Jabberjay.”

“With or without it, I’d have made my way home to you Honey, because deep down I’ve always known I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.”  

Instantly turning to meet his eye, hoping I’m not about to open myself up to hurt, apprehensively, I ask “You’ve said something similar to me before, real or not real?”

Positively glowing, with a gorgeous grin, he whispers “Real.  Oh so very real.” 

Overcome with joy, catapulting myself at him, as his arms wrap tightly around me, I kiss him with unbridled happiness. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56641270/chapters/147201754

[memobread]

𝕴'𝖉 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖔𝖗𝖊 - 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖊 -- (𝕵𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖓 𝕯𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖘 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗)

=================================

Contents: 1994! Jonathan Davis x reader (tag empty asf), HEAVY mentions of s*xual and mental ab*se, smutty smut, friends to lovers, TONS of fluff, angst, insane amounts of GORE, very violent language, violence, drug and alcohol use, etc.

Honorable mention: @jonathandaviskisser

=================================

~~find my nest full of salt…everything's my fault…~~

Kurt Cobain soothed my weary mind as I lugged my last load down interstate 110, trying not to pass out at the steering wheel. I dreamed of starting my two-week winter break with a sweet night at Wes's, an underground bar below a gas station that sold inexpensive but effective products, my favorite kind. I was in desperate need of a cigarette, just like after any long busy day of trucking. Once I got to the designated location, I heaved off the supplies and signed a few papers. Once I got back in my truck, I sighed in relief. I would have the next two weeks off for winter break. All that was left to do was to go to Wes's and drink the night away. Once I arrived at Wes's through a rough, snowy highway, I filled my truck with gas, parked it in a safe spot, and stopped under the store's awning to look at the snowy night sky. It was strangely beautiful to me, even though it was pitch-black under the streetlamps. I suddenly remembered this was the weekly night that hillbilly Joe Singleton and his wife go on a frenzy of religious insanity. I wanted to kill them both, so I avoided them to keep myself from doing so. I quickly ran inside when I heard their radio blasting behind me. I grabbed a Heath bar from the shelf near me and made my way to the register, waving to the cashier, my best friend, Mikey.

"Damn y/n, you runnin' from the devil or sumn'?" Mikey asked, slightly concerned.

"Yeah, man. Joe and Monica came here to unleash hell." I whispered, keeping an eye out for them.

Mikey leaned forward on locked arms.

"Don't worry about it so much, Y/N. They dumber than rats on PCP."

Mikey knew about my anxiety. He never failed to help me calm down with his humor. He's always been my human antidepressant ever since we were teenagers.

"They came in here earlier today bitchin' at me because we sell pot here." Mikey laughed, putting on his red baseball cap.

Mikey did a typical redneck pose and stuck a rolled-up receipt in his mouth,

"And-And they was all like-"

Mikey slammed his fist down onto the table, a mocking look of disgust.

"YOUSE ALL GOIN' STRAIGHT TO HELL WITH YOUR DEVIL HIPPIE SHIT!!! GOD CAINT STAND FOLK LIKE YOU!!!"

I cracked up laughing, my nerves disappearing mostly.

"Man, when will they accept that the Aryan race isn't a thing anymore!" I laughed, leaning forward on the counter.

That's when Mikey burst out into laughter, playfully slapping me.

"Jesus Christ Y/N…" He wheezed, unable to keep a straight face for even a quarter of a second.

While our laughing fit was happening, we didn't notice Joe and his whore wife hearing our conversation. Joe threw a dime at me to get my attention. My smile instantly faded. Mikey cussed under his breath. We both turned to face the two cunts. They looked as aggravating as ever.

"You two won't be sayin' that shit in the lake of fire, imma tell you that!" Joe snapped, stepping towards us.

Mikey looked like he was about to commit mass homicide.

"Great! I'll see you two there, cocksuckers!" Mikey fumed, flipping Joe the bird.

Joe lunged at Mikey, to which I responded by kicking him in the stomach, making him fall to the floor. Mikey jumped over the counter and started beating the living hell out of Joe while the whore made a beeline for me. I tackled her down and repeatedly punched her with all my might, forcing an annoying squeal out of her. It was the best I had felt in a long time since she reminded me of my mother. It was like I was trying to kill my past. Mikey held off Joe while I got up and stomped on the whore's face repeatedly, blood starting to ooze from her annoying nose. I was laughing while the whore screamed in pain, unable to fight me off. I got back onto her and plunged my fingers down her throat, thrusting them in and out at an inhumane pace until she started vomiting on herself. Nearly screaming with maniacal laughter, I took my vomit-ridden fingers and plunged them back into her throat, making her swallow her vomit. My elbow plummeted to her face, her eye exploding into seeping red. All the memories of her groping Mikey, aiding my mom in assaulting me, stealing my cigarettes, and reminding me of my mother fueled my primal rage while I beat her senseless. I felt like I was taking revenge on my mother; a wave of utter bliss and satisfaction washed over me, causing me to burst out in shrieking laughter before plunging my fingers into her eyes. She burst into tears and screaming when I fingered her eye sockets like my mother did when my brother broke her glasses. Blood spurted out of her eyes and onto my cheek, my maniacal shrieks only getting louder.

"YEAH!!! YEAH!!! TAKE THESE FUCKING FINGERS IN YOUR BLOODY HOLES, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT SLUT!!!" I got up and stomped on her bloody, snot-and-vomit-ridden ugly face.

Tears streamed down her bloody face when she wailed;

"No! Please stop it now! I've d…done *cough* nothin-"

Already having enough of Monica's shit, I jumped up and plummeted back down, my elbow making a beeline for her face before it crashed through her thick skull with all my body weight. I swear I nearly peed myself with joy when I heard her skull crack and a pig-like squeal, followed by loud sobbing and thick, metallic blood soaking my sleeve. I dove onto her and slammed my tight, rock-solid fist into her bloody mess of a face multiple times, each punch getting more lethal. When I looked up, not noticing my surroundings, Mikey knocked Joe unconscious with a bottle of Busch and dragged him back to his car.

"Hold her down with me, Mike!"

Mike rushed over to me and the dying bitch on the floor and gleefully held her wrists above her head.

"Yeah, fuck her up!!" Mikey shouted, spitting on her face before getting up and stomping on it.

"P…Please…..Joe….Joe made me do it…."

"Bullshit!"

In a fit of blind rage, I grabbed Mikey's broken bottle and plunged into Monica's face, lacerating the soft, pink tissue under a chalky burlap sack, blood spurting onto my face. I gave the bottle to Mikey with a bloody grin. He snickered and shredded the bottle side to side in the bitch's torn face, a tent growing in his jeans.

"Wait, wait, Y/N, hold her down for a sec." Mikey panted before standing up and unzipping his fly.

Mikey groaned in pleasure and relief when he pulled out his unit and started pissing on Monica. He and I both laughed maniacally at the humiliation.

"Yo Y/N, you think we should string this bitch upside down from the roof and have folks have their way with her for tips?"

Before I could agree, I felt a thick rope fling around my neck from behind; Joe woke up.

"Shit!" Mikey shouted, trying to fight off Joe but getting kicked by him square in the bare nuts.

Mikey howled in pure agony, his gonads obliterated and his eyes watering.

"Nobody fuckin' touches my wife…" Joe snarled, too shellshocked by anger to yell.

I kicked helplessly against my oxygen restraint, trying to pull off the rope while not being able to reach any punching points on Joe. With merely a few factors of dying, I accepted my fate; I had always wanted this, but I didn't want it to be then. I was having too much fun. My vision started to blur, and my head started racing with memories as Mikey's cries became more distant and inaudible. I flailed in Joe's grip and heard him laugh amid my panic.

"This is what you fuckin' get, slut…"

When I felt like I was a few seconds away from dying, I suddenly heard a loud crack, and I felt glass tumbling down my face and into my lap. Joe's grip went limp instantly, and I started coughing.

"Fucking piece of shit…" I heard a familiar voice spit.

I felt Joe getting hauled out under me, and my head hit the floor, awakening me a bit. With my vision blurry, I could only make out a tall blurry figure with long, dark brown hair kneeling over me.

"…c'mon…" The figure murmured, seeing me struggle to clear my vision.

Once my vision started to clear up, the familiar features of the figure became evident. The pretty, deep inky eyes, the heart-wrenching dorky face, the frazzled long hair; it was none other than Jonathan Davis in the flesh. He was the cute boy I worked at the Fritz warehouse with in high school. He was always shy and never talked to anyone except me. The second we met each other, we hit it off instantly like we needed to be best friends. We would laugh together about the shit we saw in magazines or what we wanted to do when we got older. We would play video games together at the local arcade, and Jon would always beat me at Street Fighter, and I'd have to carry him home as a losing punishment. We would even hang out in a nearby alleyway and eat Chinese food while looking at the smoky sky and talking nonsense.

Yeah Y/N, I kinda wanna start a band, but this job doesn't pay shit for equipment… 

Eventually, I fell in love with him, MADLY in love with him. I haven't spent a living second without thinking about him since.

He's so fucking cute-

"Hey!"

I snapped out of my dream-like state, bursting into a coughing fit, aiming my spurting blood away from Jon.

"Shit!" I heard Jon's voice again.

I wasn't hallucinating.

"Agh…fuck…" Mikey's voice trailed closer to where Jon and I were.

Mikey ran to Jon and me once he saw me coughing.

"Oh my god, Y/N!"

Hacking out my last bit of blood, I turned to Jon, shit-and-blood-faced, drooling everywhere. Jon couldn't help but laugh a little.

"Is that…y-*cough*you, Jon?"

"Um…yeah… You look kinda familiar…"

Oh god, please don't fuck this up…

I prayed that he recognized me.

"It's Y/N from high school, remember?"

At that moment, Jon analyzed me, processing the two versions of me. When he realized who I was, his face lit up, morphing the prettiest, most heart-wrenching smile known to the universe. I flung my arms around him and buried my face in his shoulder. Just as shocked as I was, he squeezed me back, providing a comfort I had never received from anyone else.

"I missed you so much…" I whispered into his shoulder, rubbing his back.

Burying his face in my hair and running his fingers through it, Jon said,

"I missed you too, Y/N…a lot…"

Jon hugged me tighter, nuzzling into my hair and groping at my back, leaving no space between us. I swear I almost fell asleep in his warm embrace until Mikey said,

"Yo…uh… Jon?"

Jon lifted his head, all flushed and full of serotonin.

"…mm?"

"You uh… you know Joe?"

Jon chuckled and pulled back a little, still keeping his arm slung around my shoulders.

"Oh, that sister-fucking piece of shit? He narced me and a meth dealer and nearly got us thrown in jail. If his wife hadn't fucked up the evidence on accident."

"Jesus, man…"

"Y-Y'know I was trying to quit, I really was, and I did! I fucking-"

I found myself completely zoning out, only listening to Jon's attractive voice, staring at the veins in his hands, his side profile, his dorky smile, his adorable laugh… I wanted him.

I need him so badly. I need him to know about my feelings for him. I need to-

"Y/N!"

I jolted awake, still semi-conscious and dreaming of Jonathan.

"Shit-sorry…" I coughed, my spit slightly red.

"Oh no no no it's fine Y/N, take your time." Jon wiped my teary eyes with his thumbs.

"Nah you're good Y/N, I was jus' gonna ask if you and Jon're ready t' go to Wes's."

"Oh yeah, mmhmm…" I said.

Jon helped me up, keeping a hint of his cute smile.

"So uh… what's your name?" Jon asked Mikey as we walked to the secret entrance to Wes's.

"Oh, I'm Mikey; I'm a friend of Y/N's."

Jon hummed before Mikey led him and me into the storage cabinet behind the front counter. I entered the code into the number pad attached to the trapdoor on the floor; 110192837. I pried the door with the broomstick handle next to me; the only way to open it.

"Damn, guys! This is insane!" Jon exclaimed, impression dusting his pretty face.

"Yeah, the owner designed this; it's pretty fuckin' cool," I said before stepping aside to let Jon and Mikey go in.

The second Jon held my hips to help me down the ladder I nearly had a full-blown panic attack due to how completely and helplessly flustered I was by this man. Even one tiny touch can send me spiraling into insanity. His grip on my hips was so tight, but not to the point where it hurt, but to an extent when I felt protected.

"Oooooh Y/N's blushing!!!" Mikey jeered like a teenage girl.

"Pr-probably because I almost just got murked." I lied, a slight stutter and a hint of nervousness in my voice.

Mikey scoffed and led us down the dim tunnel to the venue. My mind raced, wondering if Jon noticed my mannerism and thought I didn't like him touching me. Once we reached the entrance to the venue Mikey knocked on the door. Jon looked a little distraught. With one overreaching thought came another, then another, and so goddamn forth.

I acted so fucking nervous around him before he left, does he think I hate him, or does he hate me now? Does he even-…No. He was happy to see me, but why is he-

"Hey, Mike, who's this zesty Raggedy Ann lookin-"

"He's a friend of Y/N's, calm the fuck down." Mikey interrupted the bouncer, stepping forward slightly.

The bouncer, Jim, pursed his lips and lowered his eyes to me with dangerous intentions.

"He a friend or what?"

Clearing my throat, I said calmly,

"Yes, he's with us, I promise."

Jim's nostrils flared, and he pursed his lips again.

"Come in."

We hurried inside, avoiding Jim's death glare. The place was just as I remembered; dimly lit, with a touch of gray in everything, a putrid odor of meth and piss in one particular spot, but the rest smelled like sandalwood and cigarettes.

"Wanna go to the bar?" I asked Jon.

Jon obliged, and we slinked to the bar while Mikey trailed off toward a leopard-print-clad chick. We awkwardly sat down, and I waved to the bartender.

"Oh hey, Y/N! Who's this guy?" The bartender, Sid, asked me.

"Oh I'm Jonathan; I'm Y/N's old friend," Jon said.

"Always nice to see newcomers who aren't pieces of shit! Anything you want, Jonny Boy?"

Jon chuckled.

"Just a rum and coke, please."

"Oh, Y/N, you want that too?"

"Oh yeah, thanks, man," I replied awkwardly.

Sid walked off, leaving Jon and me alone. I nervously shifted slightly in my chair before asking,

"So, uh…you're in a band now, huh? That's pretty cool!" I said, screaming at myself not to sound so awkward.

"Oh yeah I started Korn last year after Sexart broke up, and we're doing pretty great!"

"Oh, I saw you guys in concert, all of you are just so talented, I swear to god."

"Wait, what? Why didn't you come to say hi?"

My head hurt with negative anticipation.

"I…I didn't wanna intrude on anything or piss off security…"

Fuck.

I swear I nearly burst into tears when Jon looked slightly hurt. I felt god awful, but my misspeaking was hard to take back.

"I-I mean, I really wanted to, but-"

"Y/N, this whole 'band' thing hasn't made me into some posh asshole! You can come up and say hi to me after shows! There isn't even that much security!"

I froze, trying not to cry as I watched my world crumble around me. I hurt someone I loved more than anything else to ever exist like an incompetent piece of garbage. I couldn't speak, or else I would start crying.

Okay, why is Jon so pissed off and why am I such a FUCKING IDIOT?!

Jon scoffed and turned back away from me, taking his rum and coke from Sid, who slid a second one over to me.

"Whoa, whoa Y/N! Are you alright?" Sid noticed me trying with all my strength to hold back tears.

"I-……I'm okay…" I choked out, my voice cracking.

"No you're not Y/N, what's wrong?"

I needed to lie somehow.

"M…My pet cat needs to get surgery, and I'm just-"

I burst into loud sobs in front of Jon, even though I didn't have a cat. Sid rubbed my back and said,

"Aw, Y/N, the vets here are great, okay? Your cat's gonna be fine, promise."

I looked up at Sid, tears still streaming down my red face.

"Here, Y/N, just drink the worries away, and you and your cat will be alright…"

I nodded, taking a sip of my rum and coke and slipping Sid five dollars.

"Th…Thanks…"

Once Sid left, I turned back to Jonathan, who was rubbing his temples and running his fingers through his dreads.

I hate myself so much…

Jon turned back to me, a troubled look on his face.

"Y/N, please look at me."

Fuck.

Reluctantly, I slowly turned to face him, my face red and wet with tears and snot. Jon knit his brow and lowered his head when he saw what he did.

"I…I'm so sorry, Y/N…I just…This whole 'fame' thing, it just…"

Jon set his hands on my knees.

"*sniff* It's really okay, Jon. You don't need to apologize."

Jon clasped his hands around my face, cupping and caressing it.

"Y/N, look at yourself! Of course I need to apologize! I hurt my best friend!"

"Jon, it's *sniff* okay, I know what fame can do to someone…" I sniffled, wiping my tears.

Jon sighed, taking his hands off my face and sipping his drink.

"Yeah… it's been god-awful, but that doesn't mean I just get to bitch at everyone." Jon said, setting his drink down.

"I know… But I'll let you bitch at me just this once." I said, attempting to lighten the mood.

Jon snickered, turning back to me.

"You should drink that before it gets warm."

I nodded and took a giant sip, feeling the sting of alcohol rush into my sinuses, starting to cleanse them of horrible thoughts. Jon cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I have security on my ass 24/7, I can't fucking go anywhere without being bombarded by fuckin' fans, I got fuckin' bruises from being tossed around during concerts, and I just-…"

Jon trailed off and ran his fingers through his hair, his brow knitting again in frustration.

"I needa stop drinking, but nobody likes me when I'm sober…"

My heart dropped into my shoes.

This can't be happening…He deserves so much better…I need to get him out of this…

I scooched over to Jon and wrapped him in a big bear hug, cradling his head to my breast while he clenched his arms around my waist for dear life. Even though I hated seeing him like this, I loved holding him so much. The side of his face resting against my chest while he held my waist flooded my stomach with butterflies.

His hair, oh my god…

Even though it was in dreadlocks, it was still soft to the touch, and it was so satisfying to scratch at his scalp, making him hum through sobs.

He's so adorable it hurts…

Jon looked up at me with red, glossy eyes.

"Jeez, it's like you never left…"

I smiled and nuzzled his head before taking another sip of my rum and coke. I was starting to loosen up.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't get ahold of you. I tried, I really did…" I whispered into his dreads.

Jon pulled away and held my hands.

"I know, so did I, but this whole fucking-…"

Jon trailed off, realizing he was repeating himself.

"Well, you have me now, and I have you," I said, trying to calm the mood again.

Jon turned back to me.

"I'm so glad I do…"

Over the next few hours, we continued laughing with each other through drinks, catching up and talking about what was happening within the past few years.

"Hehe…Yeah, I remember one time; Head got so fucked up on stage he pulled down his pants and humped his guitar…"

"Whoa, what the hell? Did you guys get banned or something?"

Jon laughed.

"Oh no, no; it was a chill venue…The guys were mad though."

I finished my rum and coke, setting the glass down, my nerves relaxed.

"Y-You guys were so fucking good in concert, like…I was afraid you were having a seizure or something, just turns out you're really fucking talented…"

"Nah, we're alright; we're just really *chuckle*, we're just really fucked up in the head, that's all…" Jon laughed, flashing his pretty smile yet again.

We continued laughing and talking until the dancefloor lit up in the center of the venue. All of a sudden, "Loser" started playing.

"Oh my GOD, I love this song…" I said, turning around to get ready to leave.

"Oh man, me too…You wanna dance?" Jon asked, hopping off the stool and extending his hand for me to take it.

I happily obliged, taking Jon's sweet hand and traveling smoothly with him to the dancefloor. The song started with us swaying next to each other, grooving to the beat, but when the beat dropped, Jon and I threw our heads forward and started headbanging, swaying around like headless chickens. But then again, so was everyone else.

"SOYYYYYYYYYY UN PERDEDORRRRRRRRRRR IM A LOSER BABYYYYYYYY SO WHY DON’T YOU KILL MEEEEE…."

"GET CRAZY WITH THE CHEEZ WHIZZ!!!"

Jon and I nearly screamed the lyrics while getting fucked up on straight dopamine.

It feels so good to have this much fun without getting blackout drunk…"

We danced through "Fucking Hostile," "Pull the Plug," "Enjoy the Silence," and god-knows-what-else, and spun ourselves silly. During "Total Eclipse of the Heart," Jon motioned for me to come into his arms. Of course, I obliged, blushing profusely, and he took me into his arms, swaying me side to side with my arms around his torso and his on my upper back.

He's so pretty up close…

His vantablack eyes twinkled with the dim lights, as did his soft features.

Right here is the most kissable motherfucker alive.

Without thinking, I tightened my arms around Jon and laid my head on his chest. He was taken aback at first when he suddenly loosened his grip but held me tighter as if he was trying to keep me as his. I laid my head on his chest and listened to Jon's heartbeat, which ran faster than Bullet Bill on speedball and steroids.

Am I doing anything wrong, or does he want me too?

Suddenly, I heard a loud crash and glass shatter everywhere.

"Get the fuck out now!"

I swiveled around to see Joe and Monica, both mutilated to unrecognition. Monica had jumped behind the bar counter and knocked over all the alcohol on the shelves, and Joe stood beside her, holding a lighter. Monica saw Jon and I and lunged at us.

"Jesus!"

Monica smacked me down before swinging at me with floppy fists, clocking me square in the nose. Jon tried to help me, but Joe tackled him, socking him in the stomach. I threw Monica off me and tried to kick Joe off of Jon, crying out for backup.

"Hey! Someone help us!"

As soon as those words left my lips, a stampede of beefy men and angry intoxicated girls came to our aid. Joe got knocked down, instantly thrown against the wall and socked in the face hard. I could only watch in awe as Joe, a man I couldn't even look in the eye, was effortlessly shredded to pieces.

"You heretics!"

Those words were Joe's last words before a guy grabbed a spoon and started digging out Joe's eyeballs, turning his swears into breathy screams and sobs. Watching the scene unfold, I prompted myself to grab another old spoon and lunge at Monica, who was sitting on the floor screaming at the men to stop, not doing shit about her dying husband. I tackled her to the floor and took a broken bottle, contorting her squirming body before ripping off her shirt and piercing the flesh of her thin abdomen, a pocket of thick blood bursting from the laceration and making her vocal chords raspy with how much she screamed. A random guy pinning her down with me, I got up, got a running head start, and plummeted onto her face, the heels of my boots bursting her eyeballs and nose with red, slimy fluid.

"Y/N please just stop! This won't bring back the little pussy, Chris, you called a brother!"

She did not…

Monica had the nerve to put the name of my brother she drove to suicide into her mouth. She tormented him relentlessly, telling him nobody loved him, pretending to kill his imaginary friends, and used his autism to make him do whatever she wanted, including sexual favors.

C'mon Christopher, be a man and fuck me! You don't want Whizzy to be sad, do you? He would just LOVE to see your porn star dick before he DIES OF CANCER!! Now come on, you little fa-

The memories flooded back to me of Monica's abuse towards Chris and how I was too young to fight back against her. I didn't understand that he didn't want it.

And now Chris's bones are still hanging in his bedroom…

With tears pricking at my eyes I got up, allowing Monica to hobble to her feet, a smirk teasing at her face.

Now's my chance to show Chris I love him…

Stepping up closer to Monica, my nostrils flared slightly.

"I hate you."

Monica scoffed.

"Oh really? You weren't saying that when I bought you pizza after your brother ate my pussy like he was starving! I just know he liked it when I used a little…FORCE on him, is all!"

"Chris wanted you dead."

Monica cackled, slapping her thigh before getting all up in my face.

"Then why was he so eager to fuck me and give me ALL his money when I was the only one that could save his little imaginary friend? That motherfucker needed me!"

Monica stepped closer to me.

"And all you and Chris could say was 'we love you Monica!'"

At that moment, I lost all means of composure, adrenaline shooting through my veins and my eyes red and wide as saucers. My blood was searing through my skin; it needed to dart my hands at Monica.

She's gonna regret even LOOKING at Chris.

Using one-hundred percent of my strength effortlessly, I seized Monica by the throat and slammed her down WWE-style to the floor. One of the guys pinning her down, I grabbed my spoon.

"No! Please!"

I cackled, followed by a harsh smack to her face.

"You were talking so much shit just a minute ago, and now you're crying like a little FUCKING BITCH for me to stop?"

Monica loved using that line with Chris.

"I'm sorry!" Monica cried, trying to slap my hands away.

I got up and stomped on her throat.

"Bullshit!"

I got back down and positioned my spoon at Monica's left eye.

"Chris would be so fuckin' happy to see this…"

I spread apart Monica's cyan-pigmented eyelids and started wedging the rusty spoon into her cornea, earning another strained scream from her.

"Y-You don't have to do this!" Monica tried pushing me away again.

The guy holding her down landed a violent smack to her face.

"Shut up, bitch."

I shot him a friendly smile through all my anger before slowly digging my spoon into Monica's eye again.

"Hey y'all, come watch this!"

The people who killed came and watched me torture Monica.

"Fuuuck, this is gonna be so good…"

I jabbed my spoon behind her eye, more blood seeping into the well of the spoon. At that point, Monica couldn't even scream anymore; all I heard was the attendees cheering. Deep red hues pricked and teased into the whites of her eyes while I pushed the spoon deeper, her eyeball emerging from her socket and out from under her decorated eyelids. I yanked the spoon, dislodging her eye and earning loud cheers. I stood up on top of Monica's retching body.

"Alright, who wants to keep the eyeball?"

Almost everyone raised their hands excitedly.

"Alright, let's see here…"

I chose a short girl in the back because she and I both liked Cannibal Corpse.

"You, in the Cannibal Corpse shirt! Catch!"

The girl squealed with joy as I ripped the nerve and threw her the bloody eyeball. I dug out the other eye and threw it to a big guy wearing no shirt and covered in tattoos, to which he responded by laughing,

"You crazy as shit!"

He and a group of guys came up to Monica and I.

"May we?"

"Sure!"

I stepped back and watched the scene unfold, my body trembling with sheer dopamine. One guy had picked her up by the wrists with ONE hand and hung her from a ceiling beam like a piñata. I grabbed a half-drank Heineken left on the floor and looked for Jon when the men had their ways with Monica, violating her in every manner, from sexually to emotionally, to straight-up physically.

"Yeah, take this fucking knife in your saggy ass, you brother-fucking cow!"

"Tsk…making my bro fuck your fishy cunt when you can't even suck dick? What a fucking ingrate…"

"I bet you had your first time with your dad, you little pissy shit-whore slut!"

I took another sip of my beer, getting into the closet where the exit was.

I need to find Jon soon…

I was about to leave when I got called back to where the guys and Monica were.

"Yo! You in the closet! Come out here you crazy motherfucker!"

I opened the door to see every attendee, including Sid, forming an aisle leading me to Monica's now naked and mutilated body. She was barely holding onto life.

"Will you do the honors?" One of the men asked, holding out a dull, rusty box cutter.

I happily obliged, approaching Monica while drawing the box cutter.

"Monica…"

All she could do was cough up semen and blood.

"You may think you're hot shit and that all the poor men you manipulated are groveling at your feet…"

I stepped closer.

"But all you are is a fucking disease that they just happened to catch."

I angrily drew the blade to her throat.

"…and I'm the cure."

I jabbed the blade deep into Monica's jugular vein and ripped it through pale flesh all the way to the other side, almost completing a 360. The bar attendees cheered while they watched Monica choke and bleed pathetically down her face. I dropped the boxcutter like a microphone and stood in the crowd to watch Monica die, finishing my beer. I earned pats on the back and cheers of my name.

"Damn bro, you fucked her up!"

"MAD respect, dawg."

Turns out I wasn't the only one Monica messed with.

I want to see Jon.

Nudging my way through the crowd, I exited the bar through the closet. Once I reached the snowy surface, I saw Jon sitting in the alleyway where we used to hang out.

"Jon!"

He turned to me, flashing his pretty smile.

"Hi Y/N!"

I hurried over to him and sat down next to him.

"Why'd you leave?"

Jon sighed, his smile fading slightly.

"It was just…too much."

I immediately went to comfort him. I hated seeing Jon like this.

"Oh no I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry I didn't look for you or fu-"

Jon put a finger to my lips.

"It's okay, Y/N! You need to stop apologizing so damn much…"

Jon chuckled, putting his arm around me. I laid my head against his shoulder and looked up at the snow. It was strangely beautiful to me.

"Besides, it wasn't even your fault! That bitch had it coming." Jon said, snuggling into me a little more.

I chuckled.

"Couldn't've said it better myself…"

I yawned, and without thinking, I wrapped my arms around Jon and buried my face in his neck. He pulled away slightly, taken aback and flushed.

Fuck!

I pulled away as well, scrambling to give Jon space.

"Shit, I'm sorry…"

Jon immediately scrambled back to me.

"Oh no, no, no, no I didn’t-…I mean I-…I liked it!"

My heart jumped out of my throat and into his hands.

"Oh…uh..."

Y/N, you idiot…

Jon broke the awkward silence by asking,

"Y/N, I'm just gonna say this straight up because I need to know; Do you love me?"

I froze, shellshocked by what I heard. Without holding back, I drunkenly blurted,

"Yes, Jonathan! I love you so much. I can't even spend a living minute without thinking about you! You're the only thing giving me hope in life, and I hope I did too with yours. You know why? Because I fucking love you! I would go through a fate worse than hell for you! I would give up everything in my life just to see your…BEAUTIFUL smile! Every night I hug my pillow and pretend it's you, and it's the only way I can sleep! I would do anything for you! I would buy you anything and everything I can't afford! I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU!"

Jon's face got burnt to a crisp. He never given that kind of dedication from anyone other than his mother.

"Y/N, I…" Jon stuttered, shifting in his place.

I scooched back, my eyes burning with tears.

I just ruined my relationship with him, like I ALWAYS FUCKING DO! I ruin everything!

"I'm really sorry, Jon. I'll leave you alone."

Before I could leave, Jon instantly grabbed me and pulled my face an inch from his, holding it in deep devotion.

"I love you too, Y/N."

He pulled me in and connected his soft lips to mine.

HOLY FUCK, WHAT?

My stomach jumped out of my anus, and my head raced.

Is it getting hot out here, in this snowy weather?

I hugged around his upper back and pulled myself in closer to Jon, deepening the kiss. He hummed, moving one of his hands to the back of my head, taking off my hat before scratching and massaging my scalp.

He's so perfect…

I moved my hand up to his head, letting go of all my nerves completely. I buried my fingers in his dreads and caressed his soft cheek with my thumb. Jon wrapped his legs around me to get closer, more blush spreading across my cheeks. I buried myself into him, wrapping my jacket inside his so there would be no space between us. Jon broke the kiss, still holding me in the cuddly position.

"You're a good kisser, Y/N."

I smiled, nuzzling his cute nose.

"So are you, Jonathan Howsmon Davis."

Jon giggled and pulled me in closer with his legs, shifting me over so my back was against the brick wall.

"I love you so much, Y/N. I always have…"

I pecked his lips.

"I love you more."

Jon kissed me again, this time a little more passionate, turning the kiss into a sweet makeout session.

I feel so safe under him…

Jon pulled away.

"You look so flustered, isn't this what you wanted?"

I stammered,

"Oh no, no, I want this, it's just…"

Jon cocked his head to the side.

"You're so fuckin pretty, it hurts." I finished my sentence, pulling him in for a harder kiss.

Jon kissed me back, grunting as he shifted more onto me, pinning me against the brick wall. He squished my face into his with his hands, starting to eat at my lips a little.

I need him so bad…

I moved my hands to his hair and face when he moved his to the small of my back, enveloping me into him and allowing me to bring him closer. His skin was softer than anything ever felt under my calloused fingertips. His hair was so long and frizzy; I could hold onto it for hours. EVERYTHING about this man was absolutely perfect in every way.

"I've been wanting this for so long…" I breathed in between kisses, lost in his pretty face up close.

Jon smiled again, nuzzling into me and pecking my red cheek.

"Me too."

We continued to lazily make out, snuggled in each other's jackets and making up for all the missed time we could have spent together. I felt like I could disappear into his arms and snuggle him forever. Jon's fuzzy hair surrounded my face while he straddled my lap and held my head sweetly. Our noses and eyelashes fluttered on each other under large snowflakes, more slow songs playing in the background. When we weren't kissing and nuzzling, we just gazed into each other's pretty eyes for a few seconds before kissing again.

He's so soft…

Jon pulled an unopened beer from his jacket pocket and cracked it open against the wall. He took a sip before offering me the bottle, to which I obliged to him feeding me like that. From then on, gentle beer kisses and sweet nothings got shared between us. As we finished the bottle, there was more tipsy shifting and growing lustful tension, both of us wanting more than just cuddles.

"My pretty baby…" Jon murmured before tilting my head backwards and planting sweet, open-mouthed kisses on my neck, making me gasp and bite my lip.

When Jon said those words and kissed my neck, my heart rate went from zero to infinity. Kissing Jon was every nightly desire come true; my fantasies had become realities. I felt my nether regions tingle in my thick, baggy jeans. I ran my fingers up and down his hot body under his jacket, raking my fingernails over his sensitive spots, making him whimper against my neck.

Fuck, his noises are so hot…

I could feel Jon's erection poking at my lower tummy as he started shifting on my lap.

He's so desperate, it's so cute…

Jon pulled away, crashing his lips back into mine while gripping the sides of my face again. My fingers trailed down to his waist, feeling all over his hot back.

"I want you bad, Y/N…" Jon husked between kisses, biting and tugging my bottom lip.

I slid my cold fingers under his shirt, making him yelp.

"I want you more, Jon…"

I latched my mouth onto his neck, feeling up his sides and hairy chest.

Now I'm in charge…

I snaked my hands down to his hips, dangerously close to his crotch.

"Oh fuck, Y/N, please…"

Jon was already at my mercy, begging me to touch him. I continued teasing around his throbbing cock, licking and sucking hickeys all over his neck. He was a moaning mess on my lap, like a little slut in heat. I snickered against his neck.

"You want me to touch you, baby?"

Jon buried his face in the crook of my neck and nodded frantically. I removed my hands from him and whispered in his ear,

"Use your words…"

Jon thrust hard into my hand and begged,

"Please, Y/N…make me cum all over your hand…or mouth…or pussy, I don't fucking care which…"

I got up, helping a whining Jonathan up with me.

"Let's go somewhere a bit more private…"

Jon followed me around the front of the building to my truck. He was practically shaking from my hands, making me shiver with anticipation at how he would take revenge on me later. I opened the back of my truck and turned on my lantern next to an old mattress.

"Shall we?" I asked, hopping inside.

Jon scrambled into the back of my truck, desperate to have my hands on him.

"Fuck yes…"

I stood up and closed the opening.

"Unzip your pants, babe."

Jon unbuckled his belt and pulled down his black khakis just past his ass, his erect cock stretching the fabric of his red boxers. He laid down, ready for me.

"C'mere…"

I slowly crept towards Jon, like a predator catching its prey, then I pounced on top of him, slamming my hips down onto his member.

"Oh fuck!"

Jon threw his head back and moaned helplessly, bucking his hips into my beaver. I bit my lip, holding my hips down for Jon to grind against, feeling powerful on top of him. I quietly whimpered when his bulge rubbed against my clit.

"You're so fucking hot…I need to go down on you…" I groaned, lifting up Jon's shirt and trailing hungry kisses down his hairy torso, him squealing when I nibbled at his nipple.

When I reached Jon's crotch area, it was warm and throbbing for me, a strangely comforting and cuddly feeling, even though it was a sexual situation. Jon whined when I cupped his clothed nuts and traced my tongue along his trapped length, placing kisses on his swollen tip through the elastic fabric. I teasingly nuzzled Jon's tip with my nose and kissed down his shaft to his balls, earning cute twitches from his cock. I slowly licked up between his nads and trailing lightly at the base of his cock with my fingers.

He's so cute, it hurts…

I turned my head to the side and put his shaft in my mouth corn-on-the-cob-style. I moved up and down, my tongue tracing the bulging muscle on the front.

"Oh, Y/N…" Jon keened, gripping my hair and humping into my face desperately.

I gripped Jon's erection and started slowly stroking him through his boxers, making his pretty little head fall back and making whimpers tumble from his cute lips. Continuing the teasing with my mouth while I stroked him, I cooed,

"You're so cute when you're all flustered like that…"

Finally gathering up enough strength to say something clearly, he replied with,

"Just imagine what you'll be like later…"

Feeling challenged, I yanked down Jon's underwear and sucked his tip hard, making him gasp and turning his cocky words into loud moans. Snickering at his duality, I slowed down again, sliding my wet tongue all over his tip sweetly while looking up into the prettiest eyes to ever exist. In between tingly licks, I pressed loving, gentle kisses to Jon's tip, precum sticking to my lips. When Jon bucked his hips into my face and groaned, I decided to stop teasing. I started pumping his wet shaft at a medium pace and sucking hard, twisting my neck different ways and putting my tongue on the bottom of his dick while I sucked his soul out, earning the sexiest moans and whimpers any ears could experience. Jon's grip on my hair pushed me down to deepthroat him, making me grip onto his feminine thighs for extra endurance.

"Oh my god, Y/N, you're so good at that…Oh shit!"

Jon yelped when I spread his legs out and started going faster, squeezing his nuts lightly. The saliva dripping from my occupied tongue trailed into the hand that squeezed Jon, lubing up his sensitive areas and making him lose his damn mind down my throat. Jon desperately fucked my face, rambling curses and praises while nearly ripping out my hair. I flicked my tongue wherever it could and went deeper, fitting Jon's whole shaft down my throat and increasing suction at the back of my throat.

"You're gonna make me bust twelve nuts at once, fuck…"

Already soaking wet, I ground my clothed pussy into the heel of my boot, needy for friction while I continued blowing Jon hard for the next several moments; I lost track of time in a fit of desire. I looked up at Jon again while he was nearing his orgasm, earning the view of a pretty head tilted back all the way and a spotted neck above a dark green heavy jacket.

"Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, good god, Y/N you're so…" Jon stammered, my wet, tight mouth driving him to insanity.

Once I started gagging, I pulled off and slobbered all over his cock, pumping his squelching cock with a vice-grip. Jon's pretty unit glistened in the lantern's light, all red, throbbing, and tingly. I dived back down and continued my attack, arching my ass up in the air and going all the way down, more precum leaking down my throat. My tongue explored him, tasting his desire for me.

"Oh god, oh my-oh shit!!"

Warm, salty, delicious ribbons of semen shot down my throat for each one of Jon's strained moans as he tugged on the roots of my hair, making me whimper a bit. He desperately fucked into my face, drunk on both beer and his need to cum. I took every drop down my throat, like I had always fantasized. Once Jon was done, he shakily leaned forward and caressed my raised ass.

"That was the best…fucking head…I've ever gotten…even compared to my own hand…" He panted, giving my butt cheek a squeeze.

I hummed and licked the remaining cum up his shaft teasingly, planting more sweet kisses to the tip, making him twitch and groan.

"Fuckin' tease…" Jon growled, smacking my ass.

I gasped and whimpered on his cock, not used to him being all dominant like that. My time was over.

"C'mere…" Jon said again, trailing his hand up my back.

I sat up and straddled his lap, looking down at his cute face and caressing it.

"Hi…" I giggled tipsily.

"Hey…" Jon replied before suddenly whirling me around, throwing me down under him with my back hitting the thin mattress.

I could feel my panties overflowing as my dominant demeanor dropped. Jon was in control now.

"We might wanna go home for what I'm about to do…" He breathed, his teeth scraping against the shell of my ear.

I trembled underneath Jon, feeling up his body as I nodded, both of us leaving the truck. We took a tense bus ride to my apartment, and once we arrived, we ran out, throwing the driver a dollar. Once the bus was gone, Jon lunged at my lips, grabbing me by the face and pulling me into him. I hugged around his waist and raked my nails up his back again, groping and scratching wherever I could reach. Jon pushed me to the stairs, traveling with me on his lips the whole way up to my apartment.

"Fuck…"

I fumbled with my keys to find the right one, Jon leering behind me impatiently, needing to fuck my brains out. Once I found the key and unlocked the door, Jon grabbed me and pinned me up against the wall, slamming the door behind him with his foot. He crashed his lips into mine, gripping my face hard enough to break my jaw while I shifted into him as much as possible, raking my fingers under his shirt after he took off his jacket. I quickly put down my purse before pulling into Jon harder.

"Mmh-.…" Jon moaned into my mouth at the mercy of my cold fingers.

Jon gripped my hair, and his tongue slithered between my teeth into my mouth, challenging my tongue to a battle for dominance (his obviously won).

I've always wanted his sexy body pressed up against mine…

Still making out, Jon led me to my pullout couch bed I slept on and pushed me down onto it, crawling on top of me. After giving me one last peck, he removed his shirt and undid his belt, throwing both on the floor. He came back down and started kissing my neck again, sucking and harshly biting my throat while pulling my hair, drawing an erotic whimper between my lips. Jon did his signature chuckle against my neck.

"Told you…"

I wrapped my legs around Jon's waist and humped into his crotch, making him groan against my neck.

"So…so…desperate…"

He took off my jacket and shirt, throwing it with his clothes.

"So pretty…"

Pale hands and long fingers immediately latched to my breasts, squeezing the plump flesh through my bra in an insane and hungry manner, making me dizzy with arousal. I was helpless under Jonathan, so pathetic I couldn't even speak. All I could do was whine and whimper into his mouth as we ate each other's lips hungrily.

"Please…Please, Jon, let's fuck…" I keened, my face hot and flushed a deep red.

Jon bit his lip, wanting nothing more than to pound me open.

"…I'm gonna need to prep you first…"

Yanking off my bra, Jon lunged at my tits, not caring what they looked like enough to look at them first. He buried his face between them, enjoying my warm skin against the sides of his face and leaving purple hickeys. My breath hitched in my throat, stopped by his demanding mouth. I gasped when Jon's tongue glided to my nipple and started sliding around comfortably, the tiny tingles in my chest and cunt making me whimper more. I helplessly ran my fingers through his dreads roughly while he gently attacked my tits, making him hum at the feeling and crack a smirk against my nip. More hickeys were sucked and bitten onto my chest and neck, making sure to leave no bald spots. Jon pulled back to admire the number he did on my chest, now covered in deep purple and red blotches.

I love his biting love language…

While he was up, I took the ample time to admire how pretty Jonathan is, running my fingers around his thin waist, his soft chest and tummy, his body hair that was strangely comforting, like every other part of him.

He's nothing short of an angel…

Completely smitten, I sat up under Jon and started kissing his chest, feeling his warm skin under my lips while still feeling up his body. I tugged down his pants a little, signaling them to come off. He obliged and pulled them off, only wearing red boxers bearing a throbbing erection before flashing a sexy smirk and pushing me back down.

"Be patient, Y/N…"

Jon nuzzled between my ribs before trailing kisses down my tummy, stopping at my pelvis, the anticipation of my wet pussy on his lips making me shiver. He undid my belt and pulled down my pants, throwing them onto the pile on the floor. When I looked down, I swear Jon was drooling when he saw my panty-clad core.

What a great day to wear gray panties…

Jon could see every ounce of wetness caused by him for himself; he could see, feel, and taste what he did.

"Oh my god…" Jon groaned before tearing off my panties hungrily, needing my pussy like oxygen.

He took a second to look at his midnight snack, a string of drool dripping onto my throbbing clit, making me bite my lip. Jon dived down to nip at my inner thighs, trying with all his being not to immediately start eating me out. I whined, and my pussy twitched, needing Jon's mouth. Unable to contain himself, he swiftly attached his mouth to my soaking cunt, nudging his mouth between my red, puffy folds and tasting my wetness.

"Mmh…you taste…so good…"

Jon slowly started licking up and down with his long tongue, making me gasp every time his tongue flicked against my clit. He snickered against me when he heard my little noises, proud of his dizzying tongue skills. My poor cunny was engulfed between Jon's pretty lips as he suckled on my clit, circling it with his tongue.

"Ah…Jon…that feels so-…good……" I whimpered and moaned helplessly, pushing back the dreads in his angelic face.

Moving his head side to side, Jon snaked his long fingers to tease around my entrance before easing two into it. Tingly sensations shot up and down my spine, producing more wetness to coat Jon's mouth and chin.

"Oh god….tastes so fucking good….." Jon huffed into my messy cunny, pumping his fingers faster and slurping my whole pussy hungrily.

I could feel the knot in my tummy start to tighten to the point of unraveling while Jon pushed his mouth deeper, paying the most attention to my clit.

"Oh my god, Jon….please don't stop….I'm gonna cum…." I whined, followed by more pathetic inaudible moaning.

Jon's actions became desperate, him moaning into my pussy while he devoured me senseless and punched my g-spot swiftly.

"Ah, fuck!" I squealed, my pussy pulsating as I released in Jon's pretty mouth, my back arching almost ninety degrees and my pussy magnetically attached to Jon's mouth.

He moaned relentlessly and drank up all my juices, swallowing me whole and trying to get more like he was starving. With a loud pop, Jon released my quivering pussy from his mouth, crawling back up to my eye-level with a cum-coated grin.

"How was that?"

My face red, I replied shakily,

"Fucking crazy…"

I pulled him back down to kiss me, tasting my salty cum on his lips.

"Ew…" I giggled, nuzzling his cute nose.

Jon snickered and pecked my lips again.

"Yum."

I was oblivious to the party upstairs until "Closer" started playing right as Jon crawled back up to me.

Shit's going down…

I fired a Kubrick stare at Jon and started teasing his erect cock with my fingers again while taking off his boxers, a pretty cock springing out, ready to fuck.

"Oh god, Y/N…"

Jon violently shoved my legs over his shoulders, throwing me upside down and angling me so he could pile-drive me insane. Leering down at me, he slapped his tip on my wet entrance, triggering a quiet moan and a lip bite in both of us.

~~you let me violate you~~

Jon slowly pushed himself inside me, his teeth gritting when he hit contact with my tight insides.

"Shit…" I moaned, my eyes rolling back in my head while I squeezed his unit hard.

With that, Jon started moving in in and out slowly, leaning forward a bit to get closer to me. I could feel his cock breaking my pussy in, claiming it as its new home.

~~I broke apart my insides…~~

"You good?" Jon breathed, subdued by my vice grip.

I nodded, needing him to go faster. He leaned forward more to hold himself up on my shoulders at a dizzying angle that could have anyone screaming in no time. Jon changed his pace from slow to medium, both of us choking out heated whimpers and moans. It was like our genitals were becoming inseparable friends, like a magnetic field inside me.

The view is so beautiful…

Jon smeared his face with desperation, his chest hair, eyes, and forehead shining with sweat in my dimly-lit apartment, tints of dark orange and yellow saturating him into the dark, raggedy, peeling room. I felt up his skinny waist, him fitting easily in my hands while I trailed them all over his back and torso.

"Ahh…."

Jon's movements turned into thrusts as he held onto my leg for leverage, kissing it between loud moans.

I swear, his moans could kill god…they're so hot, holy fucking Christ…

"oh-Oh god, Jon, fuck!…." I cried when Jon snapped his hips into my g-spot.

~~help me get away from myself…~~

~~I wanna fuck you like an animal…~~

I cried out when Jon slammed himself forward to clasp his hand around my throat and pummel my g-spot repeatedly, groaning and pussydrunk.

"I'm using…this-oh fuck!- this pretty pussy tonight…"

With an erotic moan, I thrusted back into him and did a Kegel, causing a yelp to jump from Jon's chest before he fell down to me.

"Do that again…"

I squeezed another cock-crushing Kegel around Jon's throbbing cock, earning the hottest whimper known to this earth right in my ear.

"…so good to me…"

His groans becoming carnal, and dangerous, Jon gripped the roots of my hair and starting pounding me into oblivion, my g-spot crying from all the battery. It felt like we fused together, like a loud, sweaty, horny creature whimpering, moaning, and producing every bodily fluid possible.

~~you can have my everything…~~

I hooked my arms under Jon's lean shoulders, pulling his chest to mine and squishing my boobs under his.

Empty space isn't allowed between us…

Still gripping my hair, Jon scooched up, buried his face in the top of my head, and rammed into me harder, both of us groaning and shaking at the feeling of each other.

"Oh my god, Y/N…so….so…tight…..shit!"

I violently raked my nails down Jon's back, sending each other straight to paradise and desperate for more. Jon's growls turned into loud whimpers, pleas, and cries as he struck my g-spot even faster at the mercy of my fingernails.

"You feel s-so good, Jon…..I've b-been wanting th-this for so long…." I finally managed to choke out through erotic noises.

Jon crashed his lips into mine, gripping my throat and jaw with brute force and sloppily pounding my cunt open.

"I have too…but I didn't-…know you'd be…this crazy…"

Jon reached his hand down to flick my clit, making me squeak and dig my nails harder. He groaned loudly, and his head fell to the crook of my neck.

~~my existence is flawed...~~

~~you get me closer to god…~~

Jon choked out various whimpers and loud, desperate moans into my ear, holding me down and pounding my gushing pussy open.

"Fuck, Jon…!" I yelped when he deepened his thrusts to the maximum and flicked my clit faster.

With a slutty groan, Jon bit down harshly on my neck, moaning on the marked skin,

"You're so fucking good….dirty slut…"

I hooked my legs around his hips and buried my face in his shoulder. Sounds of clapping, pornographic cries, and the painfully erotic song in the background seeped into my dim, filthy apartment. If I had not been horny, I would have cried tears of joy.

I dreamed about being with Jon for so long…It's just as amazing as I imagined…

I needed this pretty boy in my life and I finally have him…I love him so much…

I smothered kisses wherever I could reach on Jon's hot, sweaty skin, addicted to every part of him and never wanting to let go. He cried out when I bit down on his chest. Taking the hint, I bit another part of his chest and left a dark red hickey, my g-spot being destroyed in the process, distracting me and making me nearly fall back in a fit of slutty moaning.

"Shit, Y/N, I'm close…." Jon choked into my ear, followed by a harsh bite on my neck.

The dizzying feeling of nirvana crept into my tummy, my walls twitching on Jon's throbbing cock.

"Oh god, yes! Right there…" My back arched, and my head craned backwards into my pillow.

Thank god Livvie's out on a business trip…

"Fuck, Y/N!" Jon cried out, grabbing my hips and leaning backwards, exposing his decorated neck.

~~you are the reason I stay alive…~~

Jon's pretty eyes were fixated on my pussy gripping him, my thighs clapping at an inhumane speed against his.

"Oh god, I'm cumming!!"

When the song ended, Jon released strings of hot cum into me, quickly followed by a euphoric wave crashing over me and my pussy coming undone with my cum while I rubbed my clit. Jon's signature growls and whimpers trailed to my buried ears, causing my pussy to squeeze more cum out of Jon. Once we finished, Jon collapsed onto me, panting heavily into my neck. I heaved hot breaths under Jon and rubbed his clawed back, planting a sweet kiss on his shoulder. We laid there for a few minutes, trying to comprehend how happy we were with each other.

"…you good?..." I breathed, feeling the back of his neck.

Jon nodded.

"…yeah…what about you?...you doin' alright?"

Jon raised himself up and caressed my red cheek. I smiled up at him and said,

"Never better."

Leaning back on his knees, Jon reached out for my hands, taking them and pulling me to him, catching me in his arms.

"Round two?" Jon asked, brushing a strand of hair out of my face.

I ran my hands up his thighs and obliged, desperate for more. Jon held my face sweetly and pecked my lips.

"Ride me?"

When I heard those words, I toppled on top of Jon and positioned his tip at my entrance.

"Anything for you, Jonathan Davis…"

Flashing a dangerous grin, Jon smacked my ass and grabbed my hips.

"Such an impatient little whore…"

With a bone-breaking grip on my hips, Jon started grinding my cunt against his shaft, his head falling back in tingly pleasure.

"So wet…feels so good…"

I instinctively tried to buck my hips forward, but Jon spanked me again, tightening his grip.

"My pace."

With that, I continued to let Jon get off on my pussy, biting my lip and moaning quietly at the feeling of his hard cock against my clit. When Jon let go of my hips a bit due to the pleasure, I leaned back and held myself up, my hands on his knees. I started shoving my pussy farther into Jon's shaft, making him groan and completely engulfing it with my folds, leaning my head back and splaying out my boobs. Shortly, Jon pushed me off and huffed,

"Alright, NOW you can ride me..."

I snickered, swinging a leg over his and wrapping my arm around his neck, using the other to position his tip at my entrance. As soon as the head entered me, my eyes rolled back into my head.

"Ohhh my fucking god…" I groaned, pushing myself deeper.

Jon craned his neck back and moaned loudly while my pussy swallowed his cock whole. I felt so powerfu, like I had him in the palm of my hand. I slowly started moving up and down, clenching his cock like Andre the Giant was squeezing it in a massive fist. In mere minutes, Jon changed from a cocky dickhead to a whimpering, pleading mess inside me.

"God, I love you…" Jon growled, weaving his fingers into my hair and grabbing my face before pulling my lips to his.

When I sank down, I moaned pathetically into his mouth, squeezing my thighs around his.

"I love you more… I pulled away and wrapped my arms around Jon's neck, angling my pussy better to fit his fat cock.

Resting my head against the wall behind Jon, I picked up the pace, arching my back for maximum ass-bouncing efficiency. My walls crushed his cock so hard it made his head spin like he was getting fucked senseless instead of me.

"Ahhh Y/N!!" Jon cried, so deep in euphoria that he was nearly overstimulated.

Feeling too powerful, I went faster, overstimulating him and making him squeal like a little girl. He twitched rapidly underneath me, gripping my hips so hard it nearly broke the thick skin down there. I kept going, enjoying seeing Jon writhe underneath me. Trying to get revenge, Jon started sucking my left nipple and flicking my clit hard, triggering a pornographic moan to fall from my lips and more wetness to gather on his cock.

His dick is so sensitive, it's so cute…

I looked at him while bouncing with a Kubrick stare through my shaggy, long black hair, resembling a sex gremlin with tits. This attribute turned him on to the maximum.

"Fuck, you're so hot, Y/N…I wanna fucking destroy you…"

Speeding up more until I hit my maximum speed and depth, I pounded myself onto Jon's dick hard, the moaning and clapping louder than ever in the heated room. I rode this man like I would never walk again, unable to get my hands or pussy off his hot body.

"Oh god! Right there!!"

"Shit, Y/N!"

Jon suddenly trapped me in a big bear hug and slammed up into me rapidly, needing to cum more than anything. I hugged my arms around his neck and squeaked and whimpered into his ear, making him growl various praises to me.

"Fuuuck, you're gonna be the death of me…"

"You're gonna make me cum again, baby…"

"You want me to make you squirt like a little dirty slut, huh?"

Jon rolled over on top again, positioned my ass was in the air, and pounded me fast and violent like a hungry animal catching its prey.

…the best way to die…

I could feel butterflies raving in my stomach as my climax neared its time. I could tell Jon was close too.

…shit, do I need to pee or am I gonna squirt?...

"Oh my god, Y/N I'm cumming!!"

"Me too, oh fuck!"

A harsh stream of wetness shot from me onto Jon's sexy pelvis, soaking his nuts and pubes.

"Oh my fucking god, Y/N…that was so hot…"

Jon flicked my clit with his fingers so fast it made my head spin while he kept fucking me, trying to cum again. The pleasure of him continuing with me after I came and him flicking my clit hard made me bury my face into the pillows and twitch violently, squeaking like a mouse and tears pricking at my eyes. I could hear him nearly screaming as he and I came close to our second orgasms.

"Oh god, oh my- fuck!!" Jon cried out as he fucked the living daylights out of my twitching cunny.

Once he finished, Jon lazily flipped me around and gently laid beside me. When I saw him, his eyes glistened, and he was panting. I turned on my side to face him and wrapped my arms and legs around him like a koala, burying my face in his shoulder.

"Awww." Jon beamed, turning to face me and wrapping me in his comfy arms.

I snuggled up into his chest, happier than ever before.

…I finally have him all to myself…

Jon kissed my head repeatedly, just as happy as I was. We lay there panting for a few minutes before Jon said,

"…glad I could get that off my chest…"

I hugged him tighter.

"…me too, honey bun…"

He chuckled and nuzzled my hair.

"…are you sleepy?..."

"…not really…just relaxed…" I replied, my eyes slowly fluttering.

Jon took a thick strand of my hair into his mouth.

"…i'm hungry…wanna order pizza and watch movies?..."

My stomach growled right as he said that. I hadn't eaten dinner yet and it was almost midnight.

"…mmh…yes please…"

Jon sat up groggily, bringing me up with him. He was strong despite his skinny frame. My head fell on his shoulder, still hugging him. He quietly laughed.

"Babyyy, I need to get the phone…"

I sighed, not wanting to let go.

"…ok, but i'm coming with you…"

Jon chuckled,

"Fiiine…"

Jon struggled to get up with my arms around him, but he finally managed to do so, butt-naked and dizzyingly happy. I shuffled with him to the telephone, hugging him from behind around his skinny waist.

"What kind do you want?"

"…pepperoni and onion…"

"Me too."

Jon dialed Tony's Pizzeria lazily, resting his tired head against the wall.

"Yeah, hi. One large pepperoni and onion pizza please…yeah thanks, see you…"

Jon hung up, turning around to give me a big bear hug.

"I love you."

I nuzzled into his chest.

"I love you more, Jonathan…"

Jon picked me up, straining a bit.

"Lies."

I wrapped my legs around his waist and kissed him.

"Truths."

Jon carried me back to the bed and laid me down, crawling onto me. He kissed my cheeks sweetly.

"Yeah, well I love you just as much…"

Before I could protest, Jon kissed my lips.

"You better not say shit…"

I laughed, pulling him into me. He giggled against my neck, pecking it softly.

"Okay, fine…you win…"

Jon laughed evilly and laid beside me, pulling me into his chest and stroking my hair. I koala-hugged him again, squishing my cheek against his chest.

…he's all mine now…he's my boyfriend…or at least he's acting like it…

I couldn't believe it; the boy I had loved since I was a freshman in high school was holding me tight in my bed, squeezing me and kissing me because he loved me.

He loves me…?

Even though Jon told me he loved me and fucked the dogshit out of me, I couldn't convince myself that he, let alone anyone, liked or loved me; I hated myself so much. In the time spent in silence cuddling, I had time to think.

I hate thinking so much.

 I felt stinging tears well in my eyes.

…he's too good for me…he's out of my league…i'm such a piece of shit…

Jon noticed my sniffling and immediately sat up, pulling me into another hug.

"Oh god, baby…what's wrong?"

Jon pulled away and held my face, wiping away my tears. When I saw his concerned expression, I sobbed, burying my face in his bare shoulder. He stroked my hair and rubbed my back, sweetly muttering words of comfort to me.

"It's okay Y/N, take your time, baby…"

Embarrassing sobs escaped my eyes, nose, and mouth as I tried to explain myself.

"I…I just…"

I broke down again, Jon humming and stroking my hair.

"I…I hate myself so much… and I keep thinking I'm forcing you into this…and that nobody actually loves me when they say they do; I think they're lying…"

I felt like I was talking out of my butt right to my high school crush.

"…baby…why would I say I love you if I didn't mean it?"

That contradicted all my illogical thinking, stumping me.

"I….I dunno…I-I'm sorry, I'm not making any sense…" I replied, feeling helpless.

Jon held my face, caressing my cheeks and gazing lovingly into my eyes.

"Y/N, You're my best friend, well, now you're more than that but you WERE my best friend all throughout high school. You loved me like no one else. Why would I think you weren't good enough for me?"

I hung my head in embarrassment.

"I…I dunno…I'm sorry Jon, I just-"

Jon cut me off by connecting his lips to mine for a long kiss. He held the small of my back, and I moved my hands to his hair and around his neck.

"Don't apologize, Y/N…There's no need to…I love you…

We continued sweetly making out, just like we did in the snow. My bare skin locked with his, and it felt so good; rough hands ran along my back tattoos, tracing my shoulder blades and my ribs. I played with his dreadlocks with one hand while trailing the other one all over his shoulders and chest, him humming at my gentle touch. It felt like I was in heaven, like an angel blessed me with Jon. We kept making out sweetly until we suddenly heard a loud knock, startling us both. When we realized we were completely naked, Jon panicked, quickly throwing on his boxers and a random hoodie while I got up and searched my purse for a five dollar bill. Once I found it, I passed it to Jon, and he opened the door, blushing profusely.

"H…Hey, what's up?" Jon stuttered when he opened the door.

The delivery guy chuckled and said,

"Nothin' much, thanks for the cash, you have a good one."

"You too."

Once the door closed, Jon set down the pizza on the kitchen counter and lunged back at me, tackling me in another big bear hug.

"Jonathan!" I squealed, caught off guard.

He laughed and kissed me again, resuming our makeout session. Jon set me on his lap, allowing me to envelop his neck in my arms and comfortably hold him while he gently held my waist, rubbing my back sweetly.

"…we should probably eat that before it gets cold..."

Jon's tummy growled.

"Agreed."

Putting on a pair of boxers, a comfy Aerosmith t-shirt, and a thick, fluffy hoodie, I snuggled up next to Jon, who had already turned on The X-Files and was waiting for me with pizza and open arms before I came to him. Engulfed in each other, we finished our pizza and binged countless episodes, our minds calmed and forgetting about the earlier events.

…I have him now…that's all that matters…

At around two in the morning, Jon flopped his head against my chest and asked me to turn off the TV. We were both unbearably sleepy.

"…can I turn on my fan?..."

"…i was just about to ask you that…i hate silence…"

I carefully laid sleeping beauty down and turned on my fan, taking my sleeping meds and brushing my teeth on the way back. Jon used my toothbrush after me, which I somehow found adorable. Once I got back, I nestled into Jon's chest under thick, fluffy blankets and held him close. He dragged his fingers through my scalp, creating the effect of a horse tranquilizer.

…he's magic…

Jon sleepily placed tiny kisses on my embraced head, nuzzling my scalp with his nose and fingers.

"…i love you so much, Jon…i wanna be your S/O…" I murmured, feeling his arms tighten around me.

"…i'm all yours, Y/N…i'm your boyfriend…i love you too; so, so, so, so much…"

My sleepy head lay in Jon's protective arms, under warm blankets as I drifted into a deep sleep, never having slept that peacefully since I was in a coma. I remember dreaming about some guy dressed as a celery stick and buying a house where Jim Carrey was my realtor. It was a nice dream, in sweet arms, in a comfy bed.

…i never had all three until now…

…i love him so much…

THE NEXT MORNING:

"…oh and in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and JESUS CHRIST WHAT IS THAT?!?!-"

…..fwoooosh…..

krkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkr…..

The rattling windows and snowstorm outside awoke me from my dream, groggy eyes still closed and my surroundings still unclear. I felt well-rested, like I had slept for several days. I huddled back in my blankets and lay with my eyes closed and a familiar essence surrounding me. It was a comforting essence, like one of a sleepy cat. Once I noticed the arms loosely draped around me, I slowly fluttered my eyes open, coming face-to-face with an adorable sleeping Jonathan. My heart immediately warmed when I remembered the night before; all the revenge, fighting, cuddling, kissing, and a nice hardcore fuck. I gave Jon a light kiss on his nose and closed my eyes again, too sleepy and cuddly to think about my internal struggles. Jon's soft embrace and warmth melted my troubles like an ice cube in hot tea, making me sleepy. I felt myself drifting in and out of sleep, Jim and the celery guy reappearing to try and sell me an inexpensive but great house. It was a one-story shack-like abode with a dirty, stone-floored basement and a couch and TV right in the middle of all the filth.

…perfect for me and jon… 

Once I woke up again, I huddled up to Jon as stealthily as possible, not wanting to disturb his peaceful sleep. However, soon after I cuddled him, he shifted semi-consciously and instinctively hugged me close to him, groaning a bit in his sleepy state. I hugged Jon tighter and kissed his nose again, humming in his warm embrace. The frigid, howling winds outside my apartment calmed me down as I fell asleep one more time, a warm snuggle engulfing me into another dream about Jim and the celery man. This time, it was a recap of the night before, the celery man sharpening a celery stick and slitting Monica's throat with it, then Jim Carrey delivering a cheesy one-liner, then chopping her in half with an axe.

"How you like them celery sticks?-"

FWOOOSH

When my eyes fluttered open, my face got buried in a Pantera hoodie, and my scalp massaged gently. Jon was awake. I hummed and wrapped my legs around him, holding him tight. He giggled, ruffling my hair.

"…g'morning…"

"…g'morning…" I murmured, snuggling him a little harder.

Jon rubbed my head a little more, still being gentle. I hummed against him at the relaxing feeling.

"you're making me sleepy…"

Jon giggled and kissed the top of my head.

"mmh…can't have that happening, It's already 2:35 p.m…"

"oh really?..."

"yeah."

Jon sat up, resting his head on the headboard, leaving my sleepy head in his lap. I huddled up into him like a sleepy dog, trying to get as close as possible to him.

"Babe, if you do that you're gonna give me morning wood." Jon laughed, pulling me up into his chest and stroking my hair.

"…mmh, sorry hon…" I murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"It's okay, baby…no need to apologize…"

I love Jon so much. He makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside, kills the alcoholic drug addict in me, and makes me a cuddly bastard…

After a few moments of warm cuddles and random conversation, Jon asked,

"You doing anything for Christmas?"

I shook my head.

"Nope. Ever since I moved out, my extended family never wants to see me again."

Jon hummed, nuzzling the top of my head.

"Wanna spend Christmas with me and my mom?" He asked.

My heart jumped out of my throat with that sentence. Fully awake now, I sat up and faced Jon.

"Wha- Really?! I mean-…Are they okay with it?"

"Of course, they're okay with it! They love you."

I almost started crying again.

"Jon….What did I do to deserve you?"

I held his pretty face in my hands and kissed his lips.

…pepperoni…

My heart wrenched at the offer. I wanted to turn it down in humility, but I wanted to be a part of the Davis family so badly.

"You were my best and only friend throughout high school and after; I should be asking that question…"

Overcome with insane amounts of serotonin, I threw my arms around Jon's neck and pulled him into a massive hug, burying my face into his shoulder.

"I can't believe this…"

"I can." Jon beamed, chewing on a strand of my hair.

He pulled me into his lips, kissing me passionately and holding my head against his, initiating another lazy makeout session. Jon spun us around and sat on my lap, holding my face while I hugged his tiny waist. He squished my cheeks and caressed them lovingly as if I was a five-foot-two teddy bear. After several minutes, Jon pulled away, still holding my face.

"Wanna get breakfast and play in the snow?"

I pecked his nose.

"I'd love nothing more…"

[allthingsfangirl101]

Falling For Make-Believe–Joe Keery

My entire life, all I wanted was a fairytale romance. That came crashing down when my parents divorced. Mom got custody of me and we got the house. Dad tried to be involved in my life but eventually, all I got from him was a birthday card in the mail and a check, a Christmas present sent in the mail, and the monthly alimony check.

The divorce was rough. Dad was cheating on Mom because of her drinking and shopping addictions. Mom claimed she was always drinking or shopping because Dad was always at work. I wasn't really surprised that neither one of them wants to take the responsibility for the divorce. I guess I should be happy neither one of them blamed me.

How could they? Neither one of them was around long enough to blame me.

Four years ago I started working on set for Stranger Things. I started out a normal assistant for anyone and everyone on set but eventually, I got promoted to personal assistant for the woman in charge of costumes. In between seasons, I've been going to the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising or FIDM. I hope to eventually work as a costume designer.

Over the last four years, I've become great friends with the cast. Specifically Joe Keery. Maybe it's because we're the same age. Maybe it's because when we first met, neither one of us was really sure what we wanted. Joe was hesitant about his role and I was hesitant about my job. We bonded over venting and drunkenly blurting out our insecurities.

Over the last season, I've noticed Joe slightly start to change. He's made a bigger effort to stop by and say hi every morning. When he comes in for a fitting or to get something fixed, he spends the entire time asking me about school and the next step I had to take in my career.

With all the time Joe spent with me, I soon realized that I was falling in love with him.

I tried putting it off for as long as possible, but it was useless. Joe was too easy to fall in love with. Every time he'd make me laugh or make me smile or make me feel like the only woman in the world, I'd hear my mother's voice and would snap out of it.

"Don't fall in love, Y/N," she'd sigh. "It's a trap. That man won't take care of you. Only you can take care of yourself. Don't fall for it. Don't be gullible, Y/N. Only silly girls are gullible."

"Earth to Y/N?"

I jumped out of my thoughts. I looked up to see Joe holding out the jacket he wears throughout season 4.

"Sorry," I said softly. "Did you need something?"

"One of the seams is starting to rip," he said, slowly. "Matt sent me to have you fix it. . . Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I said quickly, clearing my throat. "You said a seam was ripping?"

"Yeah," he said still looking at me oddly. "Right here."

I took his jacket from him and instantly found the tare. I carried it over to my desk and started pinning it. I looked up and saw Joe still watching me.

"I can bring this to you once I'm done," I said, my cheeks burning. "You don't have to wait."

"I don't mind," he shrugged. He walked over and sat on the stool I used for fittings. He sat like that, neither one of us saying anything while I finished fixing Joe's jacket. I was just snipping off the spare thread when he cleared his throat.

"What are your plans this weekend?" He asked.

"Nothing," I shrugged. I stood up and signaled for him to come closer. He looked at me strangely before turning around and letting me help him put on his jacket.

"Really?" He asked before turning around and fixing his jacket. "You've got no plans?"

"Nope," I said, sighing. The look in his eyes made my breath get caught in my throat. "Did you. . ."

"How about I take you out?"

"Take me where?" I asked, my stomach doing a weird flip.

"To dinner," Joe said with a small chuckle. "Maybe a movie or we could. . ."

"You mean like a date?" I asked, softly cutting him off.

"Exactly," he smiled.

"Why?"

"Why what?" Joe asked, still his teasy self.

"Why do you want to take me on a date so badly?" I asked.

"I was kind of hoping that you'd, you know. . .fall in love with me."

"You don't want that," I mumbled looking down at my hands.

"Yes, I do," he insisted. I shook my head and took a step away from him.

"No, you don't," I insisted right back.

"Why wouldn't I?" Joe asked, slowly starting to get more serious. "Y/N, you're an incredible girl. You're smart. You're funny. You're sweet. You're honestly unlike any girl I've ever met."

"Stop!" I yelled, tears building up. "Please stop," I whispered.

"Y/N," he said under his breath.

"Falling in love is make-believe. And besides, I'm not the kind of girl who gets the guy," I said shakily. "I'm not the one who guys all secretly fall in love with. It just doesn't happen okay?"

"What makes you think. . ."

"Nick Walters."

"Who's that?"

"He was my best friend all through elementary and middle school," I said, wrapping my arms around myself. "End of middle school I made the dumb mistake of telling him that I thought I was in love with him. He didn't feel the same way. In fact. . . He laughed."

"He what?"

When I looked up at Joe, I instantly saw the anger in his eyes.

"I lost my best friend and my first love in a matter of five minutes," I whispered, tears building. "I've been too scared to. . . to fall in love again."

Joe's eyes softened when he saw the tears threatening to fall. He slowly took a step closer to me.

"Nick was a jerk," Joe said as clearly as he could. He started to reach for my hand but stopped himself. "But forgetting about him, can we go back to what you said earlier about falling in love? Why do you think it's make-believe?"

I wanted to tell him, but if I did. . .

"Just don't make fun of me, okay?"

"I'm not going to make fun of you," Joe said instantly.

"After everything with Nick, I watched my comfort movie, the 1997 Cinderella with Brandi. In it, Bernadette Peters sings this song warning her daughters that falling in love was a trick."

"A trick?"

"Falling in love is falling for make-believe," I recited. I cleared my throat before adding, "And it's also exactly what my mom said to me when I came home crying that day from school."

Joe gently grabbed my hands, pulling me closer to him. "Not every relationship is going to end," he whispered. "Some last. . ."

He didn't finish. Instead, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to mine. Every part of me screamed at me to stop, that he was just going to break my heart. But there was a small part that wanted to believe what he was saying.

A small part of me wanted to believe in love again.

I broke the kiss, breathing heavily. I stepped back a little, but I didn't go far. I didn't want to go far from him.

"If you want me to fall in love with you," I whispered, "there's something I'm going to need you to do."

"Of course," he said quickly. "Anything."

"I need you to promise me something," I said, still a little nervous. I took a shaky breath as I continued, "I need you to promise me, Joe, that you aren't going to break my heart."

Joe gently grabbed my chin, making me look up at him. He moved his hand so he was gently holding my cheek.

"You don't have to worry about that, Y/N," he whispered. His voice sent chills up my spine. "I could never break your heart because I'm already in love with you."

[just-a-carrot]

Yo yo yo Carrot.

I did do research on character design a bit ago. I was just wondering if there were any specific tips/things you kept in mind while designing any of your characters. I have a general idea of where I'm heading but I figured it couldn't hurt to try. No need to push yourself though.

(Orlam has a white shirt because he's basic :). It's perfect character design. )

hhhhh... i can try 💦

behind the cut because this got long

i think the problem is i never have any specific things in mind. for the life of me i can't even think back to how i came up with any of the characters i've ever come up with. usually they are like a mish-mash inspiration of various ideas tumbling around in my head, often influenced heavily by sheer vibes and/or music i'm listening to and/or media i've consumed or images i've seen

for me i think the biggest thing i've noticed is that i develop characters incredibly slowly lol. like i have a really hard time jumping into a new story with new characters that i haven't spent a long time thinking about (i.e., literal years). they all start from like a small random kernel of an idea or inspiration and then they grow and develop as the rest of the story starts slowly turning into random scenes into my mind, and i continue to learn new things about the characters even while actively writing (i think i've said before but some of the biggest themes and plot points in OW that feel like core parts of the story i didn't even come up with until i was actively in the midst of writing it, like, post writing arc 1 and even arc 2; arc 4 in particular like i had not planned 80% of what happened in that arc until i was writing it laksjdfa)

and i feel like a big part of this is because i'm actually really bad at designing/developing characters at the drop of a hat and can only figure them out through long periods of thinking and writing

2018 vs 2023

2018 vs 2023

i first drew the OW characters in 2018, but i'd had the idea for the general story (arc 1) even before that. from what i can remember when trying to come up with what they'd look like, i would try to think about their vibes from their role in the story. iggy is somewhat soft, awkward, and anxious, so i guess my mind developed a somewhat nerdy disalarming look for him with kinda muted colors (we don't talk about the fact that his shirt/overshirt combo makes no sense laksdjfads). orlam i knew i wanted a kinda scraggly little guy with greasy hair (sooper sekrit never-before-heard!ow lore: i actually did originally design him with a ponytail but it changed to a rattail while working on arc 1)

i'm quite bad when it comes to fashion design in general so i often come up with fairly plain-looking outfits. but some of the things i like playing around with the most are things like height dynamics and color variety (i always try to use a diverse range of hair colors for instance, as i feel like it's one of the big things that can instantly differentiate characters in a group)

you can see this in easter too i guess:

admittedly with easter it was a bit different in that tho i had some mental images in my head of generally what i wanted the chars to look like, some of the details and choices got limited because i had to use a sprite generator someone had made to create the sprites for the game (because it was an RPG maker game and i wasn't good/still am not good at creating animated sprites). so their final designs were a bit of a mix between my original ideas and my ideas translated into sprite generator options, hence some of the... odd design choices lakjdfsd

going back even further to characters i designed for other stuff like novels and stories, though my art style was different back then i feel like a lot of the same types of design choices can perhaps be seen LOL:

also please enjoy this old old old old OLD carrot!art from 2005 of three chars i created as a child that i thought were the coolest things ever...

i feel like i've lost the plot here a little bit LKAJDSFLKADSF

though i guess this is simply because i can't really explain what my head does when it comes up with characters. i don't have any sort of formal training in character or game design. i do have an art degree but that was more formal stuff (and i was often told that my personal cartoon-esque style of artwork and the stuff i drew in my sketchbooks was Not Creative). so i don't really have any set sort of guidelines or rules or even strategies that i use for coming up with characters. they tend to just kinda form over time in my mind according to my own aesthetics???? like i create characters that i would like to write and draw. i create groups of characters because i really really like group dynamics. i create characters with varying heights and body types and vibes. i create lots of short loud-mouth snarky asshole characters ldkajfsldkadlfafLDJFADFAD

if you have any more specific-type questions i can try to answer them but i think this might be the best i can do for just talking about my general mindset for characters... 💦

[nerdynumme-rp]

Dear Rosanna,

I believe with time you can learn to love me again. I have to. I can't let go of that chance. There's a big part of me that hopes you never stopped. I know it's unlikely to be the case, but I have to hold out hope. You're my green light at the end of a very large dock. Waters away, but one day maybe only inches.

I haven't received an email back that your address can't be found, or that the domain doesn't exist anymore. I also haven't received any 'return to sender' notifications, so I don't think you have me blocked. I have to believe you're receiving these. Sitting with them, digesting them, chewing them over.

Maybe you are. God I hope you are.

You were always on my mind, Rosanna. Even after it all ended. Even after I tried to move forward, pretend I was through. I never was. I never will be. You're the one for me. You always were.

It's too little too late. I know. And I know I've hurt you. But, I will spend every breathing moment I have here on earth trying to make up for that, I promise I will, if only you give me the chance .

Years have gone by, but nothing but time has changed between us. In my heart we are right where we were.

I hope you're well. I hope you're still writing. I hope you never lost your love for poetry. For words. For emotions. For love. God you always had so much of these in you. I hope they haven't budged, even a centimeter. Or perhaps grew more!

Grew with you and the beautiful woman you have always been. Mature. Elegant. Radiant in body and mind.

I shall stop here, or I'll wax on forever, but truly Rosanna, I miss you.

Always yours,

Wes

Another day, another red dot, bumping up the number in her email app, shooting the notification over her screen. She, like a strike of lightning on a tin roof, instantly swiped right, clearing the popup from her lockscreen, ignoring it... But the disregard only lasted so long. The minute she had a moment to herself, the minute things were quiet and she could let her thoughts take hold of her, shake her like a snowglobe, wrap their gritty little hands around her and pull her into the shadow with it's stabby claws on her tender skin, her tender mind. She holds herself up in her room, and opens it.

Her eyes dart across the screen, playing Frogger with memories like trucks and fast moving cars. She can't seem to make it to the other side of the road though. Jumping back and forth, line to line, lilypad to lilypad, cars zooming by with flashes of his hands, the smell of his cologne filling the room in a haze as her mind retraces moments of hushed words, the whispers kissing goosebumps under her ears and over her neck. She shivers.

She chews on her lip until it's raw, picks the gel off her recently done manicure, and sits in her desk chair till it leaves imprints under her thighs.

With a hitch, it's almost like she regains control of herself - like life breathing back into her in a gasp, as she breathes normal again. Almost like she has been under water prior, like she was holding in air the whole time. She shake her head, moving the cursor finally and sending the email into it's designated folder then logging out.

She shuts the laptop with a bit of a slam, dramatically, like a teen in a 90's movie would hang up the landline they were on just moments ago in angst and dismay. Still she sits there. She stares at the laptop, as if it would pop open again on its own, like a jagged maw, barring it's razer sharp teeth, growling, waiting to pounce and tear her to the shreds she so deserves to be in.

The ticking of the clock behind her perks up her ears, much like her sleeping pups would to the sound of the footsteps down the Alpha halls. With a tired ache behind her chocolate-brown eyes, she frowns. When did it get so late? So dark. She rises to her feet, finally. Pins and needles shooting from her knees down, an ache from the indent of the chair warming under her thighs. She allowed the blood flow to return before she moves to click on a lamp. She slides on a pair of slippers and an evening shawl, exiting her room with the intent of moving towards the kitchen, searching for the dryest Red she could find.

[chibi-celesti]

Phase 01-Book 01: Dia rosa rudje pt 5

Previously: A magestone was left in the ruins of where the monster once stood. It shined an aurora glow in the dark of the night.

“That’s… it, right?” Meryu panted. “The magestone we needed?”

Ace walked over to pick it up, looking carefully to make sure it was exactly a real Magestone. He turned over to the others, a face splitting grin on his face. “It is!”

The other threes’ eyes widened before collective shouting together:

“WE DID IT!!!!!!!!!!”

~Twisted Tonelico~

~Night Raven: Headmage’s Office~

“Let me see if I understand this correctly. You four actually braved through the Abandoned Dwarf Mines to pursue a Magestone?”

A nod from Deuce confirmed his questioning.“It’s just like you said, sir.”

“You asked for one, and we got you one!” Ace chimed.

After they managed to recover some of their strength, the quartet left the mines and headed back to Night Raven College. With Magestone in hand, they were ready to prove the Headmage that they could get it before sunrise. Scars and tethered clothes aside, and a nervous wreck Meryu apologizing for Ace’s ruined blazer(he would’ve mind but his uniform had seen better days as well, so he brushed it off, blushing from embarrassment), they’re now face to face with the man before them. Retelling the events of how they got ahold of one despite the odds.

…

The Headmage bursted into tears instantly; it startled the students a bit.

“Mr. Crowley?” Meryu hesitated to ask.

“In my eighty years as Headmage of this academy, to hear such teamwork from my students has moved my heart! I’m so overjoyed to hear this!!”

“HOW old is this guy?” Deuce muttered to himself.

The bird masked man had composed shortly after his waterworks. Facing the troublemakers before him, he spoke in a serious tone. “Considering your efforts after tonight, I revoke your expulsion and reinstate you as students of this esteemed academy! After all the trouble i went through to finalize those expulsion forms.”

Ace heard exactly what Crowley muttered. “You WERE gonna expel us!!!”

“Ah, well, that is old news. Now, what I also recall is that you boys said Melenas-san’s singing and quick thinking helped defeat this beast?”

“Yeah. She started singing, and a Giant Rose showed up and was holding the monster back.”

“It was weird, too. Like, she even summoned a huge wave at the same time she sang… whatever her song was.”

Crowley hummed at Grim’s explanation. “I see, I see. Well, while having a female on our premises complicates things, I’m willing to make an exception.”

“Hm?” This caught the Reyvateil's interest. “What do you mean, sir?”

“As a gracious, and generous man, I am more than happy to welcome you to Night Raven College!”

“Me?!”

“HER?!/ FOR REAL?!”

“B-but about me?! I deserve to be here, too!”

“Of course,” He draws out, almost sarcastically. “You are also a mage full of potential.Seems like my generosity knows no bounds!”

Someone’s on an ego trip…They thought together., sweat drops on their heads.

Crowley requested Meryu to bring Grim forth on the desk for a moment. With a flick of a wrist, a stripped, monochromatic ribbon with a palish blue magestone appeared on the feline’s neck. Grim could not believe his eyes, he was so happy.

“Nyah-Hah!! Check it out, I have my own Magestone~~!!” He jumped for joy and started doing a victory dance . His little dance got a giggle out of Meryu, and a chuckle from Ace and Deuce.

“Ah, and one more thing, Melenas-san”

“Yes, sir?”

The Headmage opened one of his drawers and pulled out a peculiar camera. “This is for you. I know that you are capable of holding your own.” He walks from around his desk and gifts her the camera.

It was a dullish brown color, with a design of two round circles connected to the big circle lens of the camera, almost like a mouse head. It had a mouthpiece where a photo can spit out after a picture has been taken. “What is this?”

“Why this is a ghost camera, Melenas-san!” He began going into detail to explain to Meryu that she can use that to chronicle her time in Night Raven College until a pathway for to go home has been found. In addition, it said that the photos taken with that camera can come to life, like little moving pictures.

Once his explanation was concluded, Dire Crowley finally dismissed the quartet so they could get some rest.

~Night Raven: Hallway~

“Looks like all of us are officially classmates.” Ace remarked.

“Mmm. I’m happy that we managed to survive that whole ordeal, right guys?” The Reyvateil got two sounds of agreement as Grim was busy admiring his magestone. They look at the cat with a mix of exasperation and joy(the latter mostly being Meryu).  I’m happy your wish came true, Grim.

Ace let out a yawn and stretched his limbs before crossing his arms over head. “Well. I’m off to bed. See you guys in class. Let's go, Juice!”

“It’s Deuce- ah forget it” Deuce followed behind the red head.

Those two really do make quite an interesting pair, Meryu thought to herself. She scoops Grim up in her, holding him close as they made their way back to her Ramshackled Dorm.

Unaware that, at the same time, just like before…

The Dark Mirror hummed to life. “Hymme yanje revatail anw ciel… enne mean.”

~???~

I swore that I’ve heard that language before, but when? And how is she able to know and use it so well?

…

Will she truly bring ruin to this world, or rejuvenation like the mirror said?

And if so, why now? Why after so many years did someone appear again with that kind of power?

…

Well, there is not much that can be done right now. We will have to supervise her carefully.

~Phase 01-Book 01: Dia rosa rudje: END~

Hymmnos Note(Rough Translation):

*Hymme yanje revatail anw ciel… enne mean- Sing forever more, O’ Reyvateil. That is our wish.

>//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////<

A/N: So ends Phase 01 for Book 01. Next parts delve into Phase 02, where the story can FINALLY begin! Also, I wanted to try a new format with the title chapters up top instead of the story title to avoid repetition. Tell me what you guys think!

[greeneyedpixie99]

Stars *Leonard "Bones" McCoy* Chapter Three

Summary: After living in her brother's shadow since the day they were born, Eleanor "Nell" Kirk decides to take her life into her own hands. Joining Starfleet, she finds not only a place to belong but potentially, someone she wouldn't mind spending her life with.

Pairing: Eleanor "Nell" Kirk x Leonard "Bones" McCoy

Warning: None that I know of, if you find any let me know!

CHAPTER THREE

       When it’s announced that there will be an academic hearing on such short notice that even the Professors seem surprised, you things are going from bad to far worse. We had barely started the study of dying languages when it had been announced over the comms that all cadets and faculty members were to report to the hearing hall at once. Part of me knew instantly what it was about, the other part of me hoped and prayed that I was wrong. Still, it wasn’t like I could completely pretend I didn’t know my moron brother cheated and I hadn’t done anything with the information.

"Nell, I think your brother is going to get in trouble for cheating yesterday." Despite knowing she was walking beside me, It still made me jump at the sound of Nyota’s voice. I didn’t bother looking at her when I replied.

     "I kind of figured." Ignoring the concerned look from my friend, I pushed through the crowd of Cadets and into the Academy Council Chambers keeping as close to the group in front of me as possible, hoping to blend. I wanted to be as far away from anyone I knew so they wouldn't force me to defend or throw Jim under the bus. The mood i'm in there was a chance I just might.

It took little more than five minutes for the cadets to settle on the left and the Professors and other faculty to settle on the right. The Academy’s council were already seated when we came in so it was clearly important if they rushed through whatever else they worked on to be present. Which meant it was likely about Jim and his ‘amazing’ win with the unwinnable Kobayashi Maru. Praying it was done and over quickly, and my name was kept out of it, I dropped my bag into the set behind me and waited for the meeting to start.

     "James T. Kirk... Step forward." Of course. Surprise wasn’t even an emotion In me at this point. The council President waved a hand to the podium, the surest sign that my brother was about to face the consequences of his actions. So be it.

     "An incident has occurred today that concerns the entire student body. Academic immorality by one is an assault on us all. It will. Not. Stand. Cadet Kirk, evidence has been submitted to this council suggesting you violated the ethical code of conduct pursuant to regulation 17. 43 of the Starfleet code. Is there anything you care to say before we begin?"

     "Yes sir. I believe I have the right to face my accuser directly." Scanning the faculty's side of the chambers and raising a brow when a handsome Vulcan male moved from his designated seat and stepped up to the podium on his side of the room. This was not good. Vulcan’s were all logic, no empathy. If this was the teacher that had programmed the test, there was a much higher chance that Jim was about to get expelled or suspended. And given logic dictated me as his sister, I was praying the Vulcan wouldn’t mark me as his accomplice since I wasn’t even aware of the cheat until midway through the test.

     "This is Commander Spock, one of our most distinguished graduates. He's programmed the Kobayashi Maru test for the last four years." Commander Spock’s hair was cut in the same neat style most Vulcan’s wear, eye brows set in the same sharp upward point. The color was obviously natural and complimented his almost human brown eyes. He stood stiff and tall, clearly used to being the one commanding conversations such as these.

     "Cadet Kirk. It is obvious you somehow managed to install and activate a subroutine in the programming code, thereby changing the conditions of the test." Of course he did, how else would he have been able to mess around with Nyota’s roommate and work the coding to allow for his cheat. It was clever but it also left it open for the logical call that he had help. "Given the nature of the coding and the talent required, I can only assume your sister was involved." That son of a bitch! Did he really? He couldn’t have, I had given the code and the only copy of it to Admiral Pike after learning how to break in.

I was beyond angry now, had my brother foolishly and recklessly broken into secure files to find my codes to cheat. And the little bastard had claimed it wouldn’t and couldn’t be traced to me because it was his cheat alone.

     "I can neither confirm nor deny that I did as you are accusing, but look at my sister’s face. Does that look like someone that would help me cheat?" All eyes turned to me, so I didn’t bother hiding the anger and hurt at my brother. I was going to end him.

     "Be that as it may."

     “And can I ask, what is his point?"

     "In academic vernacular, you cheated."

     "Respectfully... define cheating."

     "to deceive by trickery."

     "Now let me ask you something. I think we all know the answer to: the test is rigged, isn't it? Programmed to be unwinnable." I scanned the crowd for Len, hoping he had been at least let in on the pompous attitude my brother was displaying. Not able to find him in the crowd, I instead aimed my gaze at my brother and hoped what Leonard called, 'twin telepathy' would allow him to hear every colorful thing flashing through my mind. At this point, I hoped he was facing serious chargers. He came here to finish what dad started and to live up to that legacy. Instead he was essentially shitting all over it.

     "Mr. Kirk, I don't see how the intent of the exam is relevant to these proceedings."

     "Because if i'm right, sir, then the test itself is a cheat."

     Oh my god James you are an idiot.

     "Your argument precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario-"

     "I don't believe in no win scenarios."

     How could he not believe in no win scenarios? After what happened to dad, after what mom had to do on her own. After what we had to learn growing up. If there was anything he was meant to believe with any shroud of certainty, it should be that no-win scenarios exist and they take and they take and they take. It took the Captain of the USS Kelvin, dozens of engineering crew members and it took our father. I didn’t have to see Pike to know he was looking at me. I was always the one more sensitive to the story of my father’s death, maybe because he didn’t know I existed and therefore had no expectations of me.

     "Then not only have you violated the rules, you've failed to understand the principle lesson."

     "Please enlighten me."

     "You, of all people should know, Cadet Kirk-" Spock found my crestfallen face among the cadets. He could see I knew where he was going with this. " A captain cannot cheat death." Tears welled in my eyes..

     "Me of all people?"

     "Your father, Lieutenant George Kirk, had assumed command of his vessel before being killed in action, did he not." It felt like the room was caving in, my father’s final words echoing through my mind. Always in my mothers voice because I didn’t know what my father sounded like. The tears were hot and steady, rolling down my checks as I shoved through the cadets and out of the Council Chambers. All my anger and frustration with my brother was gone, replaced by a fear I had been trying to move past. Starfleet had gotten my father killed and chances were, they would get my killed too.

I don’t know how long I sat in the atrium hidden from the newly released cadets, tears staining my checks, eyes rimmed red. But it was long enough that clearly Commander Spock had been sent to find me, because there he was, standing just in front of me, his face impossible to read. Very Vulcan.

     "I did not mean to upset you Cadet Kirk.Only to prove a point to your brother." Shaking my head, I gave a watery laugh.

     "I don’t blame you, when I began piecing together what I thought he did yesterday…I knew bringing our father into it would be the only way to get through to him. But he never listens to me.Doesn’t stop it from hurting though." Nell paused, glancing at the Vulcan. "Make no mistake though, If I had been involved, you never would have found out he had cheated." With that I pulled myself to my feet and stormed off, following the other Cadets away from Council Chambers.

“You should know Cadet Kirk, it was your coding that was used.” I paused, shoulders tense.

“Admiral Pike was the only one that had access to it until it was logged. I would suggest creating stronger firewalls if my brother was able to break in so easily.”

“Of course. One last thing, you are to report to your CMO. A distress signal was sent from Vulcan and all Cadets are to be assigned to a Starship to aid in evacuation.” His home planet, that must burn. To wait to save his people, his home, to comfort a cadet whose feelings he had inadvertently hurt trying to get through my brother's stubborn head. Despite the uncertainty I felt about the Vulcan and his intentions, I nodded, sending one last look over my shoulder.

“I pray we resolve this with little casualty, for your sake Commander.” And then I was gone.

[ecsundance]

The Evil Dead Film Review

Sam Raimi’s The Evil Dead (1981) has easily become a cult classic within the horror genre ever since its release. With its handful of jumpscares, excessive use of gore, and a makeup and costume design that was insanely ahead of its time, it is no wonder that this film is still listed as one of the best horror movies of all time. The film follows a group of five friends who take a trip out into the middle of the woods to spend the night at a cabin, but things take a turn for the worse once they unleash a dark energy that lies within the cabin’s grounds. Although quite predictable, each friend becomes possessed over time, leaving Ashley (Bruce Campbell) to fend for himself in the absolute bloodbath that the cabin became. 

Despite the film’s small budget, Raimi managed to use this to his advantage and create a set that was so advanced for its time. When put in comparison to the type of horror films we see now, the blood and gore that we see in this film looks so painfully fake, however, it still left me feeling equally as squeamish and disturbed as I do now with more modern horror films. The costume design was incredible for the budget that they had, disgusting the actors with bright red eyes, gray hair, and severed skin, there were several moments where they didn’t even look human. It worked perfectly for what could be done and it absolutely blew my mind that this type of makeup was able to be achieved. One other aspect of the film that I could not stop thinking about was the use of stop-motion animation towards the ending. It truly caught me so off guard but I instantly loved it due to it being something that I had never seen before in a horror film. It made the gore look even faker, but it was so impressive and innovative that I couldn’t even bother to criticize its appearance. 

Although I had seen some of the other Evil Dead films in the past, I had never taken the time to go back and watch where the original story came from, but I am so glad that I did. Despite the storyline being quite generic and nothing too groundbreaking in regards to the traditional slasher, Raimi managed to execute it in a way that left audiences horrified and buzzing about any potential sequels. In a review published by The Guardian, they described the film as having “...the energy of a fresh new film-maker really going for it. There are inventive camera angles and effective jump-scares and atmospheric settings...”. I feel that The Evil Dead is one of those films that will never leave the horror conversation and it absolutely deserves its spot in being one of the bests in the genre of all time. 

-Manu Delgado

[h-worksrambles]

  I’m delighted to hear that people seemed to like my comparison of Max’s voices. And when I floated the idea of doing a similar comparison for Sam’s voices, people seemed keen. Now, Sam has had less voices than Max over the years, three currently, but fortunately, I have a lot to say about all of them. Sam is probably my favourite character in the series, and his voices over the years have given him a lot of charming little nuances. I will do my best to keep this to a voice comparison and not a shameless Sam appreciation post, but we’ll see...   I want to start by summing up one of the key things that I think makes Sam tick, and what I believe makes a good Sam voice. And that is that Sam is NOT the straight man of the duo...but he LOOKS like he is. Everything about Sam’s design makes him look relatively normal compared to Max. He’s a big dog which people associate with affection and friendliness. Sam wears clothing like every other character while Max is canonically nude, specifically a full suit which also doubles to make him look like a consumate professional. He’s also slightly more humanoid in appearance, compared to Max’s stumpy shaped body and massive head. All of this makes you think, ‘oh, this guy’s a sensible, professional detective compared to the insane rabbit next to him’.    Then he opens his mouth and tells you cheerfully about how Max made a clown choke on his own wig during their last case and it was the funniest, most adorable thing he’d ever seen. And THAT’s when you know this guy is a total enabler every bit as unhinged as his partner. A good Sam voice is able to make Sam sound perfectly normal at first glance, but all it takes is a minute’s conversation to learn that he’s ABSOLUTELY not.

  Anyway, let’s start as we did last time at Hit the Road. I don’t think it’s a bold statement to say that Bill Farmer is a terrific voice actor, but he does a splendid job here. Sam & Max has always had an element of noir parody, and a tongue in cheek take on detective fiction. The second Sam opens his mouth, you can instantly spot the Humphrey Bogart-esque voice he’s going for. Sam is supposed to put you in mind of a stoic, by-the-book noir detective. He sounds like he could have walked right of a black-and-white movie from the 50s. More than that, he sounds like a professional. Then you listen to what he’s actually saying and you realise...

Oh my god, this guy is a jerk!      Farmer’s Sam is absolutely Sam at his snarkiest. Most of his dialogue slips in some subtle dig at whoever he’s talking to. He and Max’s banter is quite dry and cutting, but still feels very natural (especually in the classic ‘lousy golfer’ exchange, which I think pretty much everyone in the fandom has memorised after that one fan animation). Just listen to how many roasts he dishes out in this game.   “Excuse us, but we need some help and although you seem dangerously unequipped brain wise, we’ve come to you for advice.”

  It means that he can shrug off everything, no matter how bizarre, as perfectly normal, which sells you further on that deceptive lunacy.   Sam also keeps up that air of faux-professionalism even when he’s being as un-professional as possible. Whether’s he shrugging off the flirtatious advances of a bungee-jumping instructor or getting into silly fights with a kid in the line, Sam never stops acting like he’s the star of his own personal movie. He’s got a severe case of ‘protagonist entitlement’, which makes his propensity to steal everything that’s not nailed down kind of fitting. I love the accent, I love the performance and I love his snark. I really wish we’d gotten that 2004 game so we could hear him for a little longer.

“This is so degrading.” “Shut up and dance.”

  Then we have the late, great Harvey Atkin from the cartoon, probably the most different and unique take on Sam, but still a very good one. Everything in the animated series is more cartoonish and over-the-top. So Sam’s pretence of professionalism becomes more of a jolly sense of bluster. He’s still very much a man (er, dog) on the case, but he’s much less dry and much more upbeat. That’s a lot like what I noticed with Rob Tinker’s Max, and it does help to give them a mutual high energy as they bounce off each other. While I personally like Sam to be a little quieter, and to hide that mad streak a little more, I still really enjoy this approach. It’s certainly the kind of voice you’d expect from a giant talking dog and fits very well with the fast-paced nature of the cartoon.

What Atkin absolutely nails, more than any other voice, is Sam’s temper. Being much louder and cartoonish in general means he can go hard on the moments where Sam gets mad. And that’s great because Sam has always been the more short tempered of the two. Max may be very violent but he’s not exactly one to get angry. Like I said last time, he’s more guarded with his emotions and more easy going. Sam is a lot more insecure and has much more things that set him off. Imply he’s bad as his job? Make fun of him for being a dog? Make a crack about his weight? Hurt Max in any way? All of those things can leave you with a very angry, 6ft tall dog with VERY large teeth.

‘Pinkbellies. I hated those. To this DAY I hate those. CURSE YOU MELON HARGAVES!!!”     Atkin sells ‘angry Sam’ very well, especially when it contrasts with how jovial he is the rest of the time. Atkin’s Sam is certainly a sharp contrast coming directly off of Farmer, but it’s an excellent performance in it’s own right.

  Last of all we have David Nowlin, by far the longest-running Sam voice, between all three Telltale games, Poker Night 2 and This Time It’s Virtual. And this is probably my favourite voice for Sam. Now if you listen to his first few performances, you can really hear a resemblance between Bill Farler’s performance and David Nowlin’s. And that’s partly because, if you read the interviews on the Sam & Max website, you’ll see Nowlin was actually a huge fan of Farmer’s performance and consciously tried to emulate it.   But overtime, his performance morphs into something distinct. In TTIV especially, his performance becomes a little less stoic and a little more upbeat. Ther’s a charming quiet affability to his voice somewhere between Farmer’s casual snark and Arkin’s cheerful enthusiasm.  And I really like that for Sam. It’s like he’s able to treat the most bizarre scenarios like they’re a typical Tuesday event. Being in this line of work alongside Max of all people for so long means nothing can phase him. His quiet delivery also re-captures a quirk of Farmer’s Sam. It’s one thing to sarcastically insult someone, it’s another to do so in a perfectly nice and civil tone. He can be biting or downright sinister in the most pleasant voice possible. A classic case of ‘beware the quiet ones’. “Max, do you have a piece of paper handy?” “You want to write down the phone number?” “(perfectly level tone) I remember the number. I want to write myself a reminder to smother you with a pilow in your sleep.”   The other key difference is that his Sam is a lot less confident and a lot more vulnerable. His tone is quieter, he’s a lot more easily flustered, and, much like Atkin’s version, it’s much easier to make him mad. And that’s honestly really interesting because, when you think about it, Sam is very insecure. No-one’s asking him to dress up in a suit or carry himself like a detective. That’s something he does himself because he so desperately wants to be cool. The best example of that is the Noir Sam segment. Sam narrates to himself on long, impassioned tangents out of his despair for Max, only for others to call him out for doing so, and he has to sheepishly apologise before gettng back to the point. “You. Me. The guy who delivers your deep dish pizzas...all of us bubbling over with sin and corruption and-” “Is there a point to any of this? Or are you just trying to get me depressed?” “(pleasant rational tone) Sorry, just thinking out loud. (furious again) WHERE WERE WE?!”

  And speaking of, 303 is probably Nowlin’s best performance. I think Atkin still has the best ‘angry voice’, but I love the growl of Nowlin’s delivery here. It’s a very dog-like angry performance if that makes sense, that walks a line between being aggressive but still funny, and his instant swaps from grief-stricken rage to calm conversation are hillarious.   The best way I can say it is that, much like how Rob Tinkler is my favorite Max because he was able to capture the essentials of the character while still adding his own dimension, Nowlin does the same for Sam. He hits all the beats of what I’d want from a good Sam: the business-like detective caricature, a quiet, pleasant, demanor that masks an unhinged enabler who can say the most nonsense stuff with a straight face. A barely concealed temper that boils up when you say the wrong thing to him. All whle giving the character a layer of subtle insecurity that works well both for comedy and sincere character development. Sam is a self conscious dork playing at being a cool, capable detective. Always putting up an act, and not doing a very good job maintaining it. And I think that especially helps in Season Three. It’s very easy to feel sorry for this more vulnerable Sam when he’s going through hell, but it never gets so overdone that he stops being funny.

  Ok, if this goes on much longer, it IS just going to be spiel on why I relate way too hard to a talking dog. So I’ll just say this. All three of these voice actors do a splendid job and they all have their strengths. I love Farmer’s effortless noir parody and merciless snark. I love Harvey Atkin’s jovial energy masking a fierce temper, and I love Nowlin’s quiet brand of madness and extra layer of humanity. They’re all funny and likable while still being complete jackasses in their own ways.   So many years, and not one dud performance along either of these leads. If you ask me, that’s pretty impressove. A lot of talented people put a lot of effort into bringing this duo to life, and I think it more than paid off.

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere RE8: TRP Part 4

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

Part 3 is here.

Part 5 is here.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

"Uhh... hello?"

You looked at the woman standing in the stairs. She was wearing a dark veil that matched the rest of her outfit- oh shit, that's a funeral outfit.

I really did pick a bad time to come here, didn't I? She's in mourning, she sees an intruder, and her day went from bad to worst. Yep, she's gonna kill me.

You took one look at the woman and then at all the possible exits: the doors- no, they'd be too heavy to move and what if they're locked? The window- but I'd have to jump out and just because it looks cool in movies to jump through glass, doesn't mean it'll work, Y/n.

So, the only option was to eliminate the threat. Or maybe... defuse it.

"This is your doll, right?" You asked, pointing at the doll, judging by the lace designs on both of their dresses. The woman didn't reply. "It looks like its been... used a lot. To be honest, she's very different than most dolls I've seen, definitely a lot more spookier." You nervously giggled, hoping she didn't mind. "But... she looks like she's been loved. A lot. Despite being broken from a lot of places, someone still took their time to fix her." You smiled sadly, remembering your own doll that Mia had ripped. "Wish I had someone like that. To sew up the wounds and fix them."You mumbled, not really sure if you were talking about your doll or yourself.

"Your doll, she's- she's very pretty. My sister would've liked her." You began. "Which is why I'm here. My family, we were in an accident- I know it was wrong of me to come here without permission, but I need to find my sister, Rose and my father, Ethan." You took a step closer. "They both of have blonde hair. Rose, my sister, she's just 6 months old. She was dressed in a baby pink onesie, bundled up in a blanket. My father, Ethan, he's about this tall and has big blue eyes. I think he was wearing a jacket, with blue denim jeans. H-have you seen them?" You asked, eyes full of hope and voice laced with eagerness.

Please, please let her have seen them. God, please.

Unsurprisingly, the woman didn't reply, but she did turn her head towards the left window. You didn't know whether she was telling you to get out of her house or signalling that they are out there, but you knew you had to leave.

Nodding, you slowly walked towards the window, your heart beating faster as you prayed that this wasn't some sort of trap, hoping she wouldn't attack you from behind because that would be like... really shitty.

But you left the house unharmed, and without looking back at the window because you didn't want to jinx it, you walked towards the forrest once again, thankful that the sun had finally came out.

Where are you guys?

You had been walking for a couple of hours now, the sun had been a bit warmer today, which was good since you hated the snow that surrounded you now. You looked at the map, tracing the path to your new destination. The Salvatore reservoir. It seemed like it would take you a day's journey to get there, and you sure as hell weren't seeing any lake in sight.

God, when will this nightmare end?

You decided to sit on a stone and take some much needed rest. Your feet ached from all the walking, and your calves were cramping. You rolled your head, popping it from the side, before taking off the rifle that had been weighing down, stretching out your arms. Digging through the little back pack you bought from Duke, you pulled out a thermos of coffee and twinkie. You don't know how or where he got it, but Duke had filled your bag with a couple of snacks; saying its for his loyal customer.

So, here you sat, in the middle of the snowy woods, eating a twinkie and drinking a lukewarm coffee. Both didn't taste good, but they're gonna keep you alive so, no complaining.

After drinking the coffee, you rested your head against a tree, recalling last nights events as you waited for the caffeine to kick in.

You tried to make sense of what happened when you got... locked in the basement. You thought you had forgotten about her, Angel. Guess not.

Wait- didn't that lady lock me in the basement? Maybe, she didn't look very hostile, her creepy doll looked scarier than she did.

You laughed at the irony. You always made fun of the horror movies where the family would become so attached to the most horrifying doll, and you'd scream at their stupidity, And yet here you were, falling for the cliche as you found comfort in that creepy doll.

Man, I'm really losing it here.

You sighed, closing your eyes as you tried to come up with the next plan. But the warm coffee had lulled you right to sleep, which was dangerous but you were too tired to care.

Just for a couple of minutes...

You woke up to the sound of growling and heavy steps. And as soon as you opened your eyes, you knew you had definitely slept for far longer than a few minutes. But that was not of concern at the moment. No, it was the source of the growling that had woken you up.

Just about 40 feet away from you were lycans. Plural. Not one, not two, but 5 lycans, and one of them was a really big one.

You held your breath as you watched them wander around; they hadn't spotted you yet, and if you stayed quiet, you hoped they would just go away.

Stilling yourself as much as you could, you watched them with wide eyes. One of them started to walk in your direction, it wasn't looking at you, which meant that it hadn't seen you, but he would if he kept on walking this way.

God, I know we haven't been on good terms, but like c'mon, you gotta give me a break. Please, I love you? Come on, you know this is not how I want to go.

You sent a silent prayer, and perhaps it worked, since the lycan suddenly turned the other way, joining its pack as they started walking deeper into the woods.

Slowly, you began to gather up your things, silently shoving them in your bag, one eye on the lycans and the other one making sure that you don't accidentally drop something that'd cause noise.

Fortunately, you didn't. You swung the bag over your shoulder, and took a step forward, careful not to step on any twigs.

Maybe God did love me. All that time in church-

THWACK!

You jumped back as a huge sheet of snow fell from the trees in front of you. You whipped your head towards the monsters and they all had stopped dead in their tracks. Slowly, one of them turned and if they hadn't heard the snow fall, they'd definitely heard the way your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Then, it growled.

Motherfucker.

You pulled out your gun just as the two of them began running your way. With a quick jump to the side, you dodged them and shot them two times each. Hearing your gun fire, the other two began running your way too, while the larger one stayed behind as it watched. This time, as you shot one of them, the other managed to kick you in the chest hard, throwing you against the rock. Luckily, you didn't hit your head, as you rolled and shot it dead.

Spitting out the blood, you looked back at the last lycan who had already started running your way. You began loading up your gun with trembling hands, but just as you aimed, the lycan took a giant leap and knocked the gun out of your hand.

Fuck.

The giant grabbed you by your neck, lifting you up high before throwing you across the ground. You wheezed, scrambling up to your feet as you began running away from it, its heavy steps following you. It roared angrily behind you, and that only made you ignore the burning pain in your chest as you ran faster.

But of course, God had decided to make you live a cliche horror movie, because you tripped over a fucking branch, making you fall on your stomach. You flipped over instantly, and saw your nightmare come true as the lycan jumped on you.

On pure reflex, you punched it square in the face, which you doubted hurt it more than it hurt you, if anything, the monster was momentarily perplexed, but that was enough for you to slip from under it.

But you were only able to take a few steps away when it suddenly grabbed you by your neck and lifted you up again, snarling as it began opening its mouth, revealing its razor-sharp teeth at you.

God, if you're hearing this, I'm converting to atheism because I did not need this today.

Looking at the horrifying lycan, you prayed one last time before you were eaten by it. Surprisingly, your life did not flash before your eyes, which you were kinda grateful for because you did not need to relive that before your death.

But that moment didn't came. No, what came were familiar moans of pain, and then the sound of a drill, followed by blood splattering on your face as the lycan was sliced vertically from the head to the toe by the aforementioned drill.

The lycan fell to the ground, revealing the pair of soldats that killed them and behind them a smirking Heisenberg, who rested against a tree, tipping his hat at you.

You were far too shocked to say anything, and after a few seconds, the man walked over to you, blocking the view of his monstrous creations just mutilating the lycans.

"So... that was a bit traumatising." He started, chuckling at your stunned face. "You okay, kid?"

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck-

"Yeah." You took his hand, and he helped you up. You groaned at the pain, touching the tender side around the chest where the lycan had hit you. Yeah, you probably broke a rib.

Heisenberg helped you sit down on a tree stump. "Hmm, that bastard kicked you hard didn't it." Wait- "But that was a phenomenal punch you threw at it. Nearly made me burst out laughing."

"You were watching? Why the fuck didn't you come in before!"

He shrugged. "I just wanted to see if you could really handle yourself- which you were pretty good at, but then you lost your gun and it was kinda an unfair match from there on." He pulled out some pills from his coat. "i was just passing by when I saw those lycans moving away. Thats when I pushed the tree which made snow sheet fall and you know the rest from there on."

Your eyes went wide. "You did that on purpose? What the shit, Heisenberg-?! Fuck." You doubled over in pain, clutching your ribs, heaving.

"Shh, stay still, kid. Here, take these. They'll help with the pain." You eyed the bottle before popping two in your mouth. Hey, if he wanted me dead, he wouldn't have saved me from the lycan. "I just wanted to see if you were worth the trouble, and as it turns out, you are."

"You didn't have to almost kill me to see that. And now I've lost my gun. And I don't have any money to buy a new one. I doubt Duke gives freebies." You huffed out.

Heisenberg rolled his eyes. "God, you sure do whine a lot. Here-" He dropped a tiny pouch in your lap. "There's some coins in there. That should be enough to buy you a new gun. And for fucks sake, get a gun with more rounds! You don't have time to be loading a gun mid battle." He huffed. "So, where are you going now?"

You rolled your head from side to side. "Well, I went to the Beneviento house. Didn't find Ethan or Rose there. Now, I'm going to the lake."

"The lake? Huh, well if you survived Donna, then Moreau should be a piece of cake. You got the map? Let me show you the short cut, it's not far from here." You gave him the map and he showed you the directions.

"Where are you going then?"

"Mother Miranda called. Don't worry, I'll keep our meeting a secret." He then nodded at you. "Alright, I'm off now."

"Wait!" Your voice stopped him. "I don't know when I'll see Duke again. And I don't have gun, so what if another pack of lycans come?"

Heisenberg slumped his shoulders as he let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine. I gotta do everything by myself." He dog whistled and one of the soldats stopped maiming the lycan and ran to Heisenberg. "From now on, you're gonna listen to her."The soldat looked at you and nodded. "If she tells you to kill, you kill. If she tells you to die, you die. Follow her around and keep her safe." The soldat nodded. Then Heisenberg turned to you. "He's already dead, so don't worry about throwing him in danger. Oh and also, just take him into the sun every once in a while so that his engine can recharge. You'll know when he needs the sun."

You were baffled. "Wait, Heisenberg- how the- what the hell am I supposed to do with him?"

"Figure it out, kid. Think of him as a guard dog."

You looked at the soldat then at Heisenberg's retreating form, then back at the soldat.

"So..." The soldat stared at you. "You got a name?"

"Handsome." You nodded to yourself as you trudged, using the soldat's arm to support yourself. "That's what I'm gonna call you. Handsome. What do you think?"

The soldat was wearing a metal contraption over its eyes, so you couldn't really tell what it was feeling.

"Well, you don't seem to have any complaints, so from now on, you'll respond to the name "Handsome". Do you understand?"

The soldat nodded.

You laughed. God, the pain meds were either making me stupid or everything else funnier.

You looked at the map again. Just a couple of more minutes and then a right turn. And then you should see the lake- god, this map was confusing as hell.

"So..." you wondered what you should ask the cyborg. Oh right. "You seen Ethan? Blonde man, crazy big eyes. Or a baby, Rose?" The man shook his head no.

Sigh. What else could I ask him? What about how did he die? No, what if that's triggering? I can't handle a Terminator right now. And I don't think I should ask him about his past or anything that'll cause him to have a existential crisis. Ah! I've got it!

"Hey, how do you see?"

The soldat looks down at you for a few seconds then points at his metal contraption.

Wait- is that sarcasm?

You scoff. "Of course, you see with your eyes! I meant, with the whole metal thingy covering them, how do you- oh, there's this vision specs in them."

You smiled. "Hey, you're kinda like Cyclops, yknow-" you were cut off as Handsome suddenly pushed you to the ground, turning on his drill.

"Wait, shit- you don't have to be Cyclops! We can talk this out-" but Handsome was focusing on something else, and that's when you saw it. Two lycans.

Handsome ran and easily maimed them to pieces, I mean, you had to look away from the horrific scene midway.

The soldat returned five minutes later, covered in blood. He extended his hand and you reluctantly took it, letting him support you as you began walking again, your heart still beating like crazy.

But you calmed down when you finally reached the lake, the setting sun gave serene feel to the entire reservoir. You inhaled deeply before looking at Handsome. "Lets go down there." You pointed at the lake.

You were both sitting at the wooden broadwalk, your legs hanging off the ledge. You looked at the water, it wasn't crystal clear, but you could see some fishes swimming around, so at least it wasn't dangerous to life. You looked at Handsome, then at his drill and you realised he was still covered in blood. "Lets get you cleaned up, hm?" You said, pulling out a rag from your bag and dipping it in the cold water below. You began with cleaning up his drill, then dipping the rag back in cold water and cleaning his chest and his other arm.

"Good job back there, Handsome."You smiled as Handsome nodded. "Heisenberg was right, you are kinda like a dog. Hmm, I wonder if..." You tested your theory as you petted him on the head. "Good job, Handsome!" But the soldat only tilted its head in confusion.

"Hmm, perhaps not." You cupped the cold water in your hands and washed your own face, You looked at your reflection in the water. "You wanna go for a swim? I don't mind." Handsome shook his head. "Yeah, I'm not a fan of swimming either."

Handsome stared at you. You scoffed. "Oh so you pretend you don't understand what I say, but you want to hear the story? Fine, but I'm only telling you because it might be important later."

You both stared at the water as you began your story. "Well, when I was 15, I had snuck out of the house to go to a party. It was at this rich girl's house and I knew she didn't like me, but I was surprised when she had invited me to her place. Yes, a red flag I should've seen from miles ago, but I was young and dumb and desperate to climb the highschool social hierarchy." You chuckled. "Anyways, long story short, one of the guys there pushed me into the pool because I don't know if they thought it was funny to see me drown? By some luck, I managed to grab onto the pool ledge and pull myself up. I immediately left the party, embarrassed and cold and on the verge of breaking down. Then on the way back home, there was this car following me and then some weirdo catcalled me and tried to get me in his car. Now, scared for my life because I watched a lot of Criminal Minds, I ran all the way home, praying that he leaves me alone. I think he stopped when he saw a Range Rover following him, but I don't know. I just rushed back home." You sighed. "You know what happened next? I bursted through the front door, slamming it shut and I turn around to see my dad in the living room, looking surprised to see me. He stood up and looked me up and down and then said, "Y/n? You're drenched completely. And you're messing up the floor. You know what? Mia's in the bathroom right now, why don't you go upstairs and I'll clean up here. You know how she gets when there's water on the wood." And I was just so shocked, that I didn't say anything and went back upstairs. Once I was in the shower, that's when I broke down crying. I almost drowned, almost got kidnapped and my father was worried about me messing up the wooden floor? Hell, he didn't even ask me why I was coming home at midnight." Your tears fell into the lake, making small ripples. You chuckled, "God, I always wondered how tired he must've been from work that day to ignore all these visible signs of distress. I always hated his job, you know? They made him work way too much." You looked at Handsome who was looking at the lake. "Anywho, now you know I can't swim so, save me if I fall into this lake, okay?" He nodded.

You guys sat in comfortable silence for a few more minutes before a question popped up in your mind. "Handsome?" He turned his head towards you, only to see a mischievous smile on your face. "Are you seeing someone?" The man turned his back to the lake, making you laugh. "Ahh, so you like someone. Tell me, is it someone from the village?" The man further turned his head away from you in embarrassment. "Oh come on, tell me! Is it a girl?" He nodded reluctantly, making you punch his arm. "You dog! Does she know?" Handsome shook his head, making you smile. "Tell you what? As a payback for saving me back there, I'll help you get her. I'll be your wingman, Handsome, hm?" He nodded a bit enthusiastically.

"We all deserve good things, Handsome. No matter how we look, or what we are, these things don't really define one's self worth. Its our intentions, you know?" Handsome didn't know, but he nodded anyways.

"Good. Now, lets go check out this place. Keep an eye out for Ethan and Rose, okay?" You told him, not knowing someone was already watching the two of you.

So... thought?

What did you guys think about Handsome? I'm gonna post a pic of him soon if you guys want.

Part 5 is here.

[theweasleysredhair]

Breathless [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 2783

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: “Stop biting that fucking lip!” In which Y/n is a sales assistant working in the Weasley’s store; Fred likes her but finds it difficult to show this, especially since all he wants to do is to throw her against a wall and shag her.

WARNING: this is NSFW, 18+, smutty, sexy times, idk how else to say it. read with caution. or delight. idk anymore.

Tags: @gracemayhateyou @wand3ringr0s3 @theweirdsideofstuff @harrysweasleys @thoseofgreatambition

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: I DID A THING (Fred Weasley is one hot motherfucker just saying)

also this was supposed to be a drabble... oops?

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

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Fred wondered why he had hired you.

Well he knew why he had - because you were amazing at your job - but right now, as he watched you, bent slightly at the waist, interacting with some young children who had entered the shop, he severely regretted his decision. The only reason for this was that, due to the nice summer weather, you had decided to wear a skirt. A form-fitting skirt. A skirt that made Fred’s pants a tad too form-fitting themselves.

It wasn’t your fault - the sun had come as a welcome change, prompting the majority of people to be wearing lighter clothes as they hurried through Diagon Alley, so as to beat the heat. You’d just happened to have chosen a skirt that made Fred wish he could bend you over the till counter and pull said skirt up to your waist.

He couldn’t help the way his eyes wandered down your form to the curve of your bum as you reached up to grab products for the customers you were with, or - even better - this morning when you had bent down to pick up something someone (Fred) had dropped. His heart was pounding from the thought, and he was still trying to live down the fact he’d had to ask to swap with George, who was behind the till, in order to hide a certain problem of his from customers and from you - something George had found hilarious, joking about it every time he passed his twin throughout the rest of the day - “Alright there, Freddie? Working hard are we?” - earning more than a few glares.

Merlin though, Fred wanted you. He wanted to be able to kiss you, hold you, love you openly. He wanted to ask you for your input on new inventions, to ask you for your opinion on anything - everything. To be the last one to kiss you at night and the first thing you saw in the morning. And he definitely wanted you in his bed. Or in the shower. Or against the wall.

Preferably all of the above.

He couldn’t remember when he first caught feelings - sometime during your years at Hogwarts, but Fred couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he realised he was in love with you as opposed to just loving you. Perhaps it was that one game of truth or dare that lead to you kissing him - a thought he savoured and thought back to a lot. The way your lips felt against his and how he was able to hold you close in that moment.

All he knew was that he was left breathless in your presence.

He spent the rest of the day with thoughts of you in his head, swirling around as he tried to focus on serving customers. This proved a difficult feat considering you were right by him on the shop floor - talking, laughing, smiling. Fred cursed himself for being so caught up on you, but he couldn’t help himself.

He was so wrapped up in watching the way your lips turned up into a smile, the way your hips swayed as you walked, imagining how they’d feel against his own that he nearly missed George bidding his goodbyes after the store had closed for the day - something about meeting Angelina - as he made himself busy tidying one of the stands near the entrance.

“Hey Fred?” You called from the storage room. Fred blinked, pulling his thoughts away from his fantasies and back into reality, “Yeah?”

There was silence for a moment, and Fred placed the vial he was holding back into its place before wandering over to the storage room just as you entered back onto the shop floor.

“George asked if we could find a place to put these new products,” you said, bringing out a couple of trays of a new product designed to give the taker the temporary ability to read minds.

Fred frowned slightly. He knew for a fact that this product was supposed to be set up at the weekend, not today, before he both cursed and thanked George mentally as he realised his twin had given him some time alone with you - and an excuse as to why.

You’d placed the trays down and began looking around the shop, trying to work out the best place to display them, absent-mindedly pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you did.

Fred’s gaze was directed at where your teeth met your lip and he swallowed, his jaw clenching as he imagined himself being the one biting your lip, and what sounds you’d make whilst he was doing so.

In his haze, he hadn’t realised you’d moved to the opposite side of the till counter, placing some other products you’d taken from another display down as you leant on the counter yourself. The movement caused Fred to glance over at you and his breath immediately hitched in his throat.

He could’ve sworn your top was buttoned all the way to your collar just moments ago and yet now, as you were leaning on your elbows on the counter as you spoke about the idea for the display you had, all he could focus on was the sight of the top of your breasts, in perfect view from the way your top had fallen as you’d leant.

“I suppose we could always move the love potions stand to the other side of the shop,” you looked up at Fred to see his response and instead were met with a soft gaze and no hint that he’d heard what you’d said. You raised your hand up in front of his face, an amused smile now playing on your lips as you watched him jump slightly, pulling him from whatever daydream he’d concocted in his head.

“I’m sorry, love, what we’re you saying?” He reaches up to stroke the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Were you not listening again?” You teased, giving him a playful eye roll. “I’m sorry, I was just distracted,” he replied.

“By what?”

Fred cleared his throat, not wanting to admit that he was very much imagining throwing you against the nearest wall and snogging the hell out of you. He instead changed the subject, he hoped subtly, as he returned his focus to the tray of products on the counter, “We could move the Pygmy puffs over and put the new stand nearer the front.”

“That could work,” you looked around and bit your lip in thought again, “Yeah and then we could move...”

But Fred’s focus was lost again. He knew he should be paying attention, that you’d beg him to know what had him so distracted but he couldn’t help it. Not when you were stood barely five feet in front of him, with your top practically unbuttoned and your skirt hugging your curves the way it was.

“What do you think?” You turned back to him happily, before seeing him in a trance again, “Um... Fred?”

Fred blinked, “Oh um yeah, yeah sure, sounds good!”

“Okay good! And then where should we move the snack boxes to...” And there you went again with the lip biting. Merlin, were you doing it on purpose? Could you tell how badly it was affecting him?

And suddenly Fred was only vaguely aware of you being mid sentence as he interrupted your planning with a growl, “Will you stop biting that fucking lip?!”

You jumped, a bewildered look dancing across your features, “What?”

“Stop. Biting. That. Fucking. Lip.” He spoke in a low tone that hit you between your legs and your mouth dropped slightly.

That’s when you saw it. His skin flushed, jaw clenched. His darkening eyes. Your own eyes wandered down his suit-clad arms, sleeves rolled to his elbows and displaying his toned forearms, knuckles white from gripping onto the counter.

You watched his tongue dart out to swipe across his bottom lip and nearly whimpered.

“Oh yeah? Or what?” You challenged him, purposely pulling your bottom lip between your teeth again.

“Or this!”

And suddenly Fred had slammed you against the nearest flat wall, his hands around your wrists as he easily pushed your arms up above your head. Your chests were pressed together, heaving from the deep breaths you were taking, his forehead resting on yours before he crashed his lips against your own.

He held onto your wrists with one hand, using the other to pull you closer to him by your hip, his tongue licking into your mouth as you moaned, completely taken by the man pressed against you. He ran his tongue across your bottom lip and gently nibbled, finally finding out what it felt like to bite your fucking lip.

You felt him through his pants, hard against your thigh as you sighed into his mouth, your hips rolling against his and making him let out a guttural moan.

He dropped his grip from your wrists just long enough to shake off his suit jacket, leaving him in his shirt as you ran your hands down his chest, revelling in the feel of his abs through the material.

His lips were still on yours, as if he was trying to imprint the feel of kissing you into his brain forever. In case this was a one time thing. In case it never happened again.

And then suddenly his mind was taken over by the feeling of your hands on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as his own hands ran along the skin underneath your own shirt, fingertips reaching up to dance along the base of your bra, his hands gripping your back as you worked to take each others’ clothing off.

You pulled away for just a moment, pulling your shirt over your head as Fred did the same, throwing your bra somewhere in the middle of the floor, instantly forgotten as Fred put his hands back on you.

You shimmied your skirt down before making quick work of getting Fred out of his pants, mouth almost watering when you saw his hard cock pressing against the material of his boxers.

He pushed his lips back on yours, holding your bum as your hands reached around his neck to pull at the tufts of hair there, earning what you could only describe as a growl from him.

“Tell me to stop,” he groaned, taking in the sight of you, breathless and writhing under him.

“What if... I don’t want... you to stop,” you gasped as his mouth ghosted down your jaw, pressing the occasional open mouthed kiss to your skin.

“You want me to keep going?” He asked, sucking at the skin just below your jawline. “I want you to make me feel good,” you said as you stared up into his dark eyes.

“Darling, I can make you feel better than good,” Fred promised with a smirk.

His lips were then busy licking down your neck, towards your chest and he gently teased a nipple into his mouth, nibbling and earning breathy moans from you. One hand gripped your bum as the other held the back of your thigh, slowly moving round and under your skirt as he lightly ran a finger along the lace of your underwear. “This wet just for me?” He grinned, pulling away from your breast to meet your gaze as you nodded breathlessly, “All for you, Freddie.”

“I like the sound of that,” he replied as he moved to your other breast, giving it the same attention as he hooked a finger under the band of your underwear.

He began trailing kisses down your stomach and then kneeled before you, slowly pulling your underwear down your legs before pausing, looking up at you, “These expensive?”

“I can buy more.”

And with that, he ripped them from your legs, throwing them off to the side, falling somewhere with your discarded shirts.

His warm breath hit between your legs and he gripped your thighs before plunging his tongue inside of you, licking into you and making you gasp. The sound you made when he gently bit your clit was downright filthy, and you swore you could feel Fred smirking against you. He pushed his fingers into you, lazily thrusting them in and out as you leant against the wall, eyes closing in pleasure.

Just as you felt yourself getting close, your breathing staggered as you edged towards your climax, Fred decided to pull away from you, the cold air hitting you suddenly, making you open your eyes and you whimpered at the loss of contact.

“Look at you, being so needy. My needy girl, huh? I’ll make you cum, don’t worry, I’m just... dragging it out a little,” Fred smirked as he stood up, his fingers suddenly entering you again but this time only moving slowly.

You desperately thrust your hips into his hand, hoping for more friction, sighing frustratedly as he tutted and removed his hand completely.

He stepped away from you, pulling his underwear off and you finally caught the sight of his cock, long and thick, precum covering the tip. He grabbed himself, slowly stroking himself as he stepped back towards you.

“Can I..?” You spoke, your eyes following his hands. “Be my guest, princess.”

Fred could’ve died happy, he thought, with your pretty lips around his cock, your hands pumping what wouldn’t fit into your mouth, letting out groans as your tongue swirled around the tip.

He felt himself twitch, when suddenly you’d pulled away and he knew as he watched you stand up with your swollen lips curling into a smile that it was your way of paying him back for denying you yours before.

“Dangerous game you’re playing here, love,” He warned, stepping towards you.

“I’m playing to win,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest and absent-mindedly pushing your breasts up with the action.

Fred groaned, “I need to be inside of you.”

His hands were back on you, kissing you again before he guided himself to push inside of you. You both groaned together, breaths hitting the other as he thrusted up into you, pinning you against the wall. He grabbed your waist, his muscles flexing, sweat beading along his collarbone as you leant forward to kiss his neck, biting the spot under his ear that made him suddenly moan and his hips stutter.

“Look at you, taking my cock so well,” he breathed out, his abs tightening with every push into you.

He then nodded over to the till counter just behind you, “See that counter? I’ve been thinking about bending you over it all day.”

“Then why don’t you?” You gasped out your breath hitching in your throat as he gave a particularly deep thrust.

Without a reply, he pulled out of you, making you whimper at the empty feeling, before pulling you over to the counter quickly. He shoved the product trays onto the floor, unbothered by them crashing to the floor as he pressed a rough, dirty kiss to your lips before turning you around and bending you over like he’d imagined so many times before. His hands roamed across your bum, squeezing before pushing back into you and making you cry out.

His hands were on your waist as he pounded into you, before he reached around to pull you up so your back hit his chest, both of you glancing towards the large front window of the shop.

“Anyone could come by and see us, but you don’t care about that do you? Just as long as I keep making you feel good,” he growled in your ear, and you felt yourself clench around his cock, earning a groan from him.

“Freddie,” you whispered, your head falling back against his shoulder as you felt your stomach tightening, building up to your release, “I’m gonna- I’m gonna-“

“There’s a good girl,” Fred praised, a hand running up your stomach to hold one of your breasts, “You’re so good to me. Come for me, princess.”

You let out a moan as your climax washed over you, collapsing forward onto the counter as Fred thrusted into you a couple more times before releasing inside of you, gripping your hips as he groaned, his head falling against the back of your neck as you both tried to catch your breath.

“I love you,” he mumbled, his lips tracing across your back and down your shoulder. And in that moment, as you were coming down from your high, whispering the words back to him, you knew this was the start of something that neither of you were prepared for.

After all, you left each other breathless.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Security Breach–Keys

I smirked as the road broke and started lifting into a ramp to get Millie's character and Blue Shirt Guy through the buildings that Mouser coded to squish them. I held back a laugh when Mouser angrily smacked his desk and stood up.

"Okay, who did that? Who is doing that? Don't play with me! Seriously! I'm under way too much pressure!"

We all watched as Blue Shirt Guy and Molotov Girl sped down the street. They skid across the top of the parking garage, almost falling off the roof. I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped around the pole that Keys was hiding behind. Keys leaned back against the pole and let out a sigh of relief.

"Nice one."

I smiled when Keys jumped. "Y/N," he stuttered. "I can explain."

When I saw Antwon angrily storming into the office, I lifted my finger to my lips. Keys followed my gaze and quickly ducked back behind the pole.

"I just checked with security. Keys hasn't left the building," Johnathan told Antwan.

"Sounds like you've done everything possible," Antwan said sarcastically. "Time to give up? You wanna give up?"

"No," Johnathan stuttered, "I'm sensing you want me to keep looking."

"Go," Antwan barked.

"Geez," I sighed. "Is there anyone in this office who isn't terrified of that guy?"

"You're not," Keys shrugged. I smiled at him, my face burning.

"Hate to break it to you," I said, slightly clearing my throat, "but this is the worst hiding place in the entire office building."

"You got a better idea?"

I reached my hand down to him and playfully wiggled my fingers. He smiled before reaching up and grabbing my hand. Once he was on his feet, I expected him to let go of my hand but he didn't.

"Where did you have in mind?"

"Kevin left last week," I started to explain. "His office is still empty. And since the guy was kind of a creep, no one goes in or out of it. It's perfect."

"I didn't even think about that," he whispered.

My face burned as we walked down the hallway with our hands still intertwined. It wasn't until we walked into the empty office that Keys let go of my hand. The second that Keys let go of my hand, I wrapped my arms around myself.

"Thanks for this," he said as we walked into the empty office.

"Of course," I shrugged. I was about to leave, but Keys stopped me.

"Wait," he stuttered. He hesitated before adding, "You want to stay? You could explain to me what the heck is Dude?"

"That is not my fault!" I said quickly making Keys laugh. "I tried to tell Antwan that a buff, shirtless, idiot version of Blue Shirt Guy was a bad idea, but he didn't care. Antwan did the coding on him so, naturally, he has half a brain. You should've seen my design for him."

"Can I?"

"Sure," I shrugged as I grabbed his laptop.

We sat on Kevin's couch as I went into the company's server and pulled up my design. As I turned his laptop towards him, I noticed that I was more nervous showing Keys my design than I was showing it to Antwan.

"So?" I asked when he had been staring at my design for two minutes without saying anything. "What do you think?"

"Y/N, this is amazing!" He laughed. "I can't believe Antwan didn't want to use it."

"I'm not," I sighed.

"What do you mean?" He asked, placing his laptop on the coffee table and turning towards me.

"Come on," I scoffed. "Antwan's a douche! He only cares about things looking cool and sweet and just as douchy as him. He wouldn't know real talent if it bit him in the ass. The only reason he hired me was because I included the comic book I made for my nephew's ninth birthday in my art portfolio."

"Do you like working here?" Keys asked, his voice slightly dropping.

I sighed as I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "I mean," I hesitated. "I didn't expect to be working for a guy who doesn't take me or my artwork seriously when I got my masters in graphic design."

"What did you expect you'd be doing?"

"You're just going to laugh," I whispered.

"No, I won't," Keys said instantly. "Tell me."

"I thought I'd be doing the artwork for a comic book or a kid's book. Something where people actually looked at my drawings instead of immediately saying no."

"Wow," he said under his breath. "I had no idea you were so miserable here. Why have you worked here for so long?"

I looked up at Keys, nervously biting my bottom lip. The longer we stared into each other's eyes, the more I could see Keys figuring out exactly why I continued to work here.

"I should probably get back to work," I said my voice soft. I stood up and stopped at the door. I turned around and hesitated.

"Hey, Keys?"

"Yeah?"

"Good luck."

                                * * * * *

My breath got stuck in my throat when I saw Keys being escorted by security across the office. I slowly stood up as they got closer to Antwan's office. Keys looked over at me and sent me a reassuring smile.

"I'm sorry," I mouthed.

"It's okay," he mouthed back.

My heart sank as the door shut. I didn't hesitate to walk toward Antwan's office to try and hear their conversation.

"Come to collect the knives you stabbed in my back, bro? You've been helping Millie Rusk this whole time. She's looking for your build."

"What build, Antwan?" Keys instantly asked. "It's not like you used our code anyway, right? And if you didn't use our code then how can our original build be in the game, right? Or am I missing something?"

"Leave us."

I gasped and quickly ducked around the corner when the security guard and Johnathan left Antwan's office.

"Okay, Keys," I heard Antwan sigh, "let's have a real talk. If I'd put out your dumb game, it would have bombed."

"Antwan, you don't know it would've failed."

"Yeah, I do know," he scoffed. "I looked at the numbers, the tracking, the focus groups."

"Has it ever occurred to you that some things matter more than numbers?"

"What matters more than numbers?" Antwan asked, his voice rising. "Money? Yo, news flash, bro, money is still numbers. Nothing matters more than numbers. You should be thanking me!"

"I should be thanking you?" Keys yelled. "What about the profits that you got from our work?"

"You chose your side, little Padawan. And now, it's time for you to take your place next to the Emperor."

I couldn't hear the rest of the conversation because people were too busy freaking out that Blue Shirt Guy pulled out Captain America's shield. I cleared my throat and quickly walked back to my desk.

A few minutes later, my heart sank into my stomach when Keys was escorted to his desk. With each thing he put into a cardboard box, my heart sank lower and lower.

As he was escorted out of the building we made eye contact. He sent me a smile but I couldn't return it.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered under my breath. I was slightly surprised that he understood what I said and even whispered something back.

"Don't be."

                                * * * * *

After Keys was fired, I couldn't focus on animating. Instead of working, I decided to quit. I went down to HR on my way out. As I left Soonami, I fixed my bag on my shoulder. I had just turned down the street, heading to my apartment when someone called out to me.

"Y/N, wait up!"

I turned around to see Keys jogging to catch up with me. I tightened my grip on my bag as he stopped in front of me.

"What's up?"

"Mouser just told me you quit," he said, slightly out of breath. "Is it true? Did you quit?"

"I did," I stuttered.

"I'm proud of you."

"Umm. . . Thanks," I said slowly. "After our conversation, I realized that you were right. I shouldn't keep working somewhere that I was miserable."

"What about the reason you stayed all this time?"

"I don't know," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I guess. . ."

"Maybe that reason can take you to get a cup of coffee to celebrate you quitting and Millie finding our build?"

"She found it?!" I gasped. I jumped forward and wrapped my arms around him in an excited hug. Keys laughed as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I knew you guys would find it," I whispered.

We slowly pulled out of the hug, a slightly awkward tension falling between the two of us. I immediately grabbed my bag and readjusted my strap.

"So?"

"So what?" I asked.

"Coffee to celebrate?"

"Sure," I smiled. "I'd love to."

[s-brant]

Angels Roll Their Eyes (2/2)

(gif: @toesure) (PART ONE)

Summary: Hurricane Agatha approaches Kildare Island during the aftermath of the eventful Fourth of July party. JJ and Y/N are determined to continue avoiding each other after what happened at the party, but John B has other plans for them.

Warnings: Smut, strong language, angst, implied physical abuse, depictions of anxiety/panic attacks, and sickeningly sweet fluff.

Word Count: 24k

A/N: Here we goooo! To celebrate the trailer dropping today, here’s part two to Devils Roll The Dice. If you haven’t read the first part, I suggest you read it and come back so this makes sense. This one has all the drama and spice, so buckle up! Thank you for the love and support on the first part. Let me know if you enjoyed this and have fun, cause I had a blast writing it.

Hurricane Agatha.

It was the first thing she heard about as soon as she woke up yesterday to the sound of her phone blaring with an obnoxious tone that reminds her of waking up too early in the morning for work or school.

Her sleepy eyes couldn't make out who was calling, so she pressed the button to answer and lifted the phone to hear her mom's voice squawking through the speaker at her about the hurricane projected to hit the island in the middle of the night tonight.

The problem is, her parents are out of town this week, leaving her all alone to prep the house and endure the storm alone. And for someone who flinches whenever she thinks she hears the sound of thunder in the sky, that is the worst it can get.

It's a fear her friends are conscious of. One time when they were out on the HMS Pogue, a quick summer storm started to drift overhead and it took all of her self control to not fall into a blind panic when thunder began to rumble above. John B was already steering them back in the direction of the Chateau but she knew it would do nothing to calm her nerves until she was back inside of the house.

The anxiety was starting to become too overwhelming when JJ sat down beside her and threw his arm over her shoulder. It was their first month of knowing one another, so the casual friendly gesture made her jump at first and turn her head to look at him, but he acted like everything was normal.

The next person to notice was John B. With JJ currently out of commission, the only person she thought to call to help her prep the house for the incoming storm was him. Since they never got hurricanes up where she used to live her whole life, she needed someone who's been through a couple to help her while her parents weren't home.

That's how she ended up here. Sweating bullets in the front yard of her house as she unloads the contents of the van with John B was not how she envisioned her Saturday night to go, but she's glad she has someone who's willing to help.

In the past five months of being with the Pogues, she's learned that it's lovely to have friends. She never used to have any before she moved, so in situations like this or when she got so drunk at the party, she never would've had anyone to be there for her. It's quiet moments of kindness and companionship like this that make her realize how much better life has been on the other side of uprooting everything to move here—self-inflicted boy drama and all.

The sandbag on her shoulder sends a growing ache through her back muscles with every step she takes to follow him up the length of unpaved dirt path up to her front door. As usual, he makes it look way easier than it is, and it almost makes her want to laugh at how different they are.

Most of her new friends are effortless, naturally picking up anything they decide to try at while she is inept by comparison. It's part of what attracted her to JJ in the first place. He may have his insecurities the same way every other individual does, but in her eyes, he has nothing to be insecure of. Even when he wipes out on a wave and appears out of the water with sand clumped in his salt-kissed strands of blonde hair, he manages to make it look cool.

"What are you smiling about?"

John B's laughter makes her look up from where she concentrated on the dirt path to see him looking back at her. He stands at the entrance to her house with the rest of the sandbags they carried up placed meticulously in front of the door to prevent water from entering the house. They did the same thing with the back door an hour ago.

Is she smiling? She hadn't even realized her expression changed from one of exhaustion and fear at the dark clouds closing in above to a grin, so her face instantly drops in guilt. After running out on JJ for the second time two days ago to go to work, any mention of him from their friends has left her drowning in shame.

She can't recall the bulk of her memories from the night of the Fourth of July party, but she fills in the gaps between those flashes of memory with what their friends told her about it.

Thanks to her overindulgence, there are holes poked in the fabric of her memory.

It jumps from her last fully sober moment of seeing JJ across the room with the kook girl to dancing clumsily with Kie to the floral scent of her makeup wipes that she can't attach a specific visual image to.

Then, she can remember waking up with a start in the middle of the night to throw up in a pot beside the bed while he held back her hair. Before John B explained it, she was quite confused after waking up about how she somehow got from being jealous over JJ flirting with another girl to waking up in the same bed as him.

She grunts as she plops the last sandbag down into place and decides to take a seat on the steps leading up to the door.

"It wasn't anything special," Y/N says and watches him come down to sit next to her, "I was just thinking about taking something so I can pass out and avoid having a panic attack over this stupid storm."

Unlike JJ, she isn't that skilled of a liar. It's obvious to anyone who knows her well when she does it based on the way her eye contact begins to drift away and her voice raises in pitch when she speaks. She's too honest with her friends to handle keeping secrets from them, which is why it's been so difficult for her with everything that has happened recently. Not only does she lie to the Pogues, she also avoids them by association in the process of trying to avoid JJ.

Regardless of how obvious her bluffing is, John B doesn't call her out on it. Instead, he focuses on a different part of what she said.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay alone? I know your parents are out of town till next week..." he trails off into concerned silence.

The tip of her sneaker hangs off of the edge of the bottom step and absentmindedly digs a line into the dirt as she takes in his question.

Being alone when she's prone to panicking is a recipe for disaster. Anxiety and loneliness have a relationship similar to that of a weapon and ammunition. It takes very little for her to fall down the rabbit hole of obsessive thinking and break down into a hyperventilating, fearful mess, especially when no one else is there to tug her out of those dark thoughts.

Most of the time, the people who help her with that are her parents. If they're home during one of these episodes, she'll come stumbling downstairs to them from her room for help, and they'll do everything they can to bring her down from hysterics. Her friends, on the other hand, have yet to witness her have one of those moments.

"Having people with me helps, you know? But it is what it is, I'll just try to cope the best I can and hope for the best."

He nods, and though he's a portrait of understanding, she wonders if he finds it as juvenile and stupid as she does.

Logically, she knows that this anxiety is something many people experience. She understands that it's something that is mostly out of her control but can't help but tear herself apart over it.

She thinks to herself, What kind of weirdo can't sit inside during a thunderstorm or hurricane without losing their shit? Why am I not the one in control of my own mind when this happens?

Do her friends think similar things? Do they think it's as pathetic as she does, or is she just paranoid that they pick her flaws apart as much as she does? And, of course, she wonders what JJ would think if he saw her panic like that. He may have seen her start to become anxious on the HMS Pogue, but he hasn't seen her panic panic before, not in the way that her parents have, and she wonders if he'd think less of her for it.

Right when she's about to change the topic and steer him away from a chance to think of how ridiculous she's being about the approaching hurricane, he says something that makes her look back over at him.

"Then come spend the night at the Chateau. I can distract you. We can play board games and shit."

"Really?" she asks.

The idea of anyone wanting to waste an entire night playing board games and possibly signing themselves up for having to talk her down from a panic attack makes her heart melt.

"Yeah, why not? You need a friend tonight. You know any of us would do anything for you. You're like my little sister, dude, we'd all probably hack off a limb if we thought it'd help you. Especially JJ."

John B's last second name-drop is designed specifically for where he wants this conversation to go. Underneath the need to get his friends back to normal, he does feel a little guilty for having to do this. She thinks he's only offering to let her stay with him to help her—and he is, even if there weren't a rift between her and JJ, he'd still offer—but he has a different reason.

"Right," she says softly. "Speaking of which...is he gonna be there tonight?"

With how often he escapes his house to spend a night or two in temporary safety at the Chateau, it's not an unfounded assumption. He and John B spend more time together than any of them because of this, and when she goes over to hang out, she knows that he and JJ often come as a package deal.

He tries to play it cool and not give up anything that could make her suspicious of him, looking off at the van parked in the driveway as he takes a second to collect his thoughts. It's never easy for him to deceive people he cares about, even if it's for their own good. It wasn't easy when he invited JJ to spend the night a few hours ago with the knowledge that he'd soon invite Y/N too either, but he managed.

As always, Pope is the brains behind this operation. He was the one to suggest inviting them both over to wait out Agatha together when the three of them put their heads together to come up with a solution to their oblivious friends' drama. After JJ stormed out of the house the morning after the party, they knew they had to do something about it. This was what it came to.

"Nah. I offered but he said he's staying at home until this whole thing blows over."

He isn't sure why she buys into it.

She knows JJ well enough to know that he would literally rather eat glass than be trapped in a confined space with his dad for an entire day. Perhaps it's only because it's what she wants to believe. She wants to believe that she won't have to see him again tonight after everything that happened. How can she handle having to tell him why got so drunk that night and made an ass of herself? She can't bear to tell him all of that unnecessary drama started because she was jealous.

What right does she have to feel that way? He isn't hers. They aren't together, and she thinks it's quite obvious that he doesn't want a relationship out of whatever it is they have together. It was one night. She has no right to be mad at him for flirting with other girls because of it.

"Then I'll definitely be taking you up on that offer. Thank you," she says.

The old wooden stairs make a squealing sound when she stands to make her way inside to gather her things for the night, but the feeling of a warm hand gripping her forearm stops her mid-step. Her eyes follow down the length of her arm back to where he sits, glancing at her with this knowing look in his eyes that makes her want to turn and hide.

"When are you gonna talk things out with him, Y/N?" he asks. "He misses you."

Since the party, no one has had the courage to burst her bubble of pretending not to care until now, but now that someone has, all of her bottled up emotions stir inside of her at a simple concept she hadn't considered yet.

JJ misses her.

For the first time since they began this stupid game of cat and mouse, she is confronted with how desperately she misses him back. So consumed with the task of concealing everything that happened and trying to avoid him, she hadn't acknowledged that all she ever really wants is to be with him lately.

She misses his jokes and the way he looks at her when she giggles at them. She misses his smile when they play fight on the HMS Pogue. She even misses when he dangles her over the edge of the boat as a means to end the wrestling match, making her squirm in his strong hold as he threatens to toss her overboard.

But what she misses most of all is how he never lets her fall in. It's something about the way he looks at her as he pulls her back onboard, how time itself seems to stop in the moment between when he's still holding her and when she feels her feet touch the deck again.

Then, they'll suddenly want nothing to do with each other for the next half hour.

JJ will make himself busy forgetting the way her hands felt holding onto his shoulders for dear life, burning the memory of her palm prints into his skin for the next few hours. And she'll try her hardest to forget that charming smile and the feeling of his arms around her. But it won't work, not really, and when they're both laying down to sleep at night, they'll have one thing keeping them awake.

She takes a second to internalize what he said and avoid exposing the effect it has on her to hear it before asking, "Did he tell you that?"

The sky overhead grows darker and darker by the second, but she has yet to notice it due to the topic of their conversation. With JJ involved, her attention shrinks to a tunnel leading only to him. There's no room for anything else but the audacious idea planted in the back of her mind that he might miss her as much as she misses him.

"No, he didn't," John B admits, and right when she's about to say more in response, he cuts her off, "but hear me out. I've known him since we were kids, so I can tell when things aren't right with him, and ever since your relationship with him got complicated, I picked up on some weird vibes."

Y/N doesn't give anything away with how she reacts. He can't tell if she's about to bolt like JJ did or stay to talk and open up to him. All she does is cross her arms over her chest and lean back against the railing.

"Weird in what way?"

"Weird in a way that makes me think you two have to talk it out before you ruin your friendship. I've never seen him act this way over a girl."

That doesn't surprise her. He has a reputation for chasing after any girl available to him, something the Pogues have gently teased him about, and it factors into why she doesn't want to have this dreaded conversation with him. She doesn't want to sit there and listen to him tell her that she was just another one of those girls to him.

Going for broke and being honest about what he thinks of their situation is a better strategy for trying to get her to talk to JJ than the other way around. John B can look back on what happened the morning after the party and see where they went wrong in their approach of trying to get him to talk, but she's less unpredictable and turbulent than he is. The fact that she's hearing him out is enough proof of their differences.

She sighs.

"I know we need to talk sooner or later, but it's hard, you know? I'm so embarrassed of how everything went down at the party, even though I was too fucked up to remember most of it, and I just—" There's a brief second that lapses between when she stops and when she starts again where he can almost see her working through it in her head. "I don't wanna get hurt."

John B's face falls at the mention of the party and her feelings surrounding it.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed of. You drank too much but who cares? The only person who should be embarrassed about that night is the guy that tried to take advantage of you."

That part is the most fuzzy in her mind.

She can remember what led up to it and the moment she saw JJ pull him away from her, but she can't remember anything about the interaction itself. It wasn't as if he did anything to her—not yet—but the thought of it alone makes her skin crawl because she's seen that before. She's been the JJ in that situation, pulling a wasted Touron away from someone who thought nobody would be looking out for other people at the party, and she knows how quickly those situations can escalate past "harmless" flirting.

The sound of JJ shouting at Tyler echoes in her mind as she reaches for any remaining memories left from the party. He said it right after he punched him, when he was starting to rush forward to follow him onto the ground and pin him there.

"If I see you near my girl again, you're fucking dead! You got that?"

She doesn't remember realizing that he called her that at the moment. She was confused and upset and all she wanted to do was stop him from getting himself in trouble, so she pulled him away from hitting Tyler again without realizing what he said. And even now, she tries to avoid acknowledging it. She reasons with herself, telling herself that he was pissed off and didn't mean it, because if he did, why hasn't he told her how he feels yet?

Y/N looks up and sees how dark the converging clouds have gotten in the time since they began working on prepping the house for the hurricane, so her next words are shakier than usual.

"I guess you're right." She pushes off of her spot against the railing. "But can we not talk about JJ tonight? I kind of wanna hang out and forget about the rest of the stuff I've got going on right now."

This makes him feel a pang of guilt inside of him for the ulterior motive he's kept hidden from her for the duration of the conversation, but he knows it's for the best. Even if her and JJ's inevitable conversation goes in the wrong direction and they don't end up mending fences, it's better that they let it out sooner than later. If they wait any longer, it'll make it worse, and he knows that they're stubborn enough to keep this childish game going for another week or so.

So, he keeps her in the dark for now and offers a kind, "Sure, that's cool with me," despite knowing how messy the night will soon become.

A smile pokes at the edges of her mouth, making the sides of her eyes crinkle, and she extends a hand to help him up from where he sits.

"Now," she says as they make their way inside the house for her to pack a bag, "are you ready to get absolutely crushed in Monopoly?"

It started to rain before they left her house, and by the time they pull into the driveway of the Chateau, it's pouring down on them with violent winds whipping droplets at their faces hard enough to hurt.

The rapid pace of her pulse beats with such an intensity, she can feel it in her head. They shouldn't have taken so much time at her place before heading over here. While she was packing, they talked and dilly-dallied the whole time, and now they pay the price for it.

If she knew that it would start this soon into the night, she probably would've hurried things along sooner, but it's too late. She's already starting to feel that tightness in her chest and each breath of air feels less satisfying with every inhale. It's not so bad that she loses complete control of herself, but it's getting there, and she can't express how badly she doesn't want to lose her shit in front of John B.

The passenger side door is slammed shut by the force of the wind behind her, the noise becoming swallowed up in the rest of the budding storm, and she stifles a sound of surprise that escapes her in reaction to it. They're lucky they made it here in the first place. Any later in the night and they probably would've had to take refuge at her place until it blew over.

She decides to focus on how the edges of her white sneakers are swallowed up by the muddy earth on her way through the front yard to distract herself. It stains them a deep brown color and simultaneously washes them clean from the rain coming down from above, which she'd probably be annoyed about if she weren't such a nervous wreck. But, because she's too busy keeping her backpack raised over her head to shield herself from the rain on her way up to the front door, it's not high up on her list of priorities.

Since both the screen door and the door behind it are unlocked, she doesn't hesitate to come bursting into the house as she usually does.

Y/N lets out a deep breath, feeling that telltale tension in her chest and shoulders, and laughs at the sight of John B running in as she kicks off her shoes. His t-shirt is speckled with rainwater, and his hair is saturated enough with it to stick to the sides of his face after he crosses the threshold into the Chateau.

The sound of her laughter makes JJ's heart stop from where he stands in the kitchen.

"There was an umbrella right on the dashboard, why didn't you take—"

Her heart might as well have stopped just as abruptly as the sentence she was in the middle of saying when she turned and saw him standing there.

Maybe they're both a tad too dramatic, but it takes a full few seconds for them to stop staring at each other in surprise. He looks like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide with surprise like he was caught doing something he shouldn't even though all he was doing was grabbing a beer from the fridge.

It's been two days since they last saw each other. For him, the last glimpse he got of her was when he peeked through the blinds to see her pedaling away on her bike to go to work, but hers was somewhat different.

The last time she saw him, he was asleep. Their legs were tangled together underneath the sheets and his face was smushed against her chest, allowing her to feel the soft puffs of his exhales on her skin every few seconds. It's a wonder that she managed to slip away unnoticed once she remembered she had work that morning. He was holding her closely, so closely that she found it hard to discern where she ended and he began in the dazed, hungover headspace she woke up in.

It's when the conversation she had with John B on the front steps of her house comes back to the forefront of her mind that she puts together what's happening right now. Now that they're here, it's far too late to leave. With how aggressively the wind and rain batter the area surrounding the house, it's obvious that they're not going anywhere.

It seems to click with them at the same time, because JJ turns to look at him only a half second after she does.

Y/N says, completely serious, "If you did what I think you did, I'm gonna kill you."

Before either of them can think of doing anything, John B shoots out from the doorway and runs past her in the direction of the hallway where his bedroom is.

"Gotta catch me first!"

They both chase him, JJ hopping over the back of the couch to run after him, but they end up coming to a screeching halt at the shut door right when they hear the lock turn and click.

Neither of them knows what they were planning to do when they caught him, cause it isn't like they'd hurt him, but they bang on the door nonetheless. The sound is drowned out by the sound of the wind and rain pounding the outside walls of the house, picking up speed, and for a second she wants to kick the door open.

She shouts, "John B! Open this door!"

The last thing she wanted tonight was to be trapped in a house with the one person she didn't want to see. Doesn't John B realize how embarrassing it is for her to be around him when she knows that he's gonna reject her? He may have said something about JJ never acting so weird over a girl before, but he's wrong. There's no way JJ actually wants her...right?

"I can't hear you, this storm's kinda loud!" he yells back at them through the locked door. "Maybe try again later!"

Neither of them wants to acknowledge the other. In fact, they don't even want to look at each other right now, so all they can do to stop themselves from acknowledging the elephant in the room is continue trying to get answers out of John B. What does he think that locking them together in the Chateau for the night will accomplish other than make them ignore their own drama and team up to plot their revenge on him?

Though he's significantly less angry than she is, JJ pulls the doorknob enough to make the door whine on its hinges and pleads with their friend, "This isn't funny, John B. Open the door."

"Not until you guys stop being immature and talk to each other."

She furrows her brows at him even though he can't see her, saying, "It's none of your business. You can't just trap us here cause you think you know what's best for us."

The sound of thunder rumbling above the house makes her flinch, hand shooting out to latch onto JJ's arm on an instinct she couldn't consciously resist. Feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her palm and the fingers clutched around his wrist sends shocks of familiar electricity up her body. Touching him always makes her feel hyperaware of herself, leaving her to wonder if he can sense her pulse picking up or notice how her breathing pattern turns uneven.

With that being said, it's safe to say that the night they spent together took that sensation of electricity and hyperawareness to a height it hadn't reached before.

That time, it wasn't a brush of their hands or an arm over her shoulder, it was the epitome of physical closeness. She couldn't handle it. He was so sickeningly sweet with her, yet, at the same time, he knew all of the right times to be commanding and in control too. There were awkward moments at first, sure, but once they became comfortable with each other, it was game over.

And whenever they've touched since, she hasn't been able to get those memories off of her mind. It's less prevalent now, since she's only holding onto him out of fear, but it's still there underneath it all—the unfiltered desperation of the lust in his eyes, the low noises that escaped his parted lips, and the strong pair of hands that pinned her hips down on the mattress to give him the leverage to really give it to her at the intensity she begged for.

It's pathetically easy for her to be sucked right back into the vortex of emotions, memories, and fears that haunt her whenever they touch, but he brings her back out of it just as easily when he speaks.

"You okay?"

John B was as good as forgotten by him as soon as he felt her jolt next to him and grab onto his wrist like she was hanging from a ravine and he was the only thing preventing her from falling. It makes him feel like a fool, but even when they're ignoring each other, the urge to comfort and protect her from anything that displeases her never disappears. He'd literally fistfight Zeus if it meant there'd be less thunder to scare her.

If he weren't hiding behind a locked door to avoid their wrath, JB would probably be calling him a simp right about now.

The concern on his face is so pure and unaffected by any of the chaos that surrounds them, both physical and emotional, that it makes her stomach turn with a sick feeling. God, he really does care about her. Why does that scare her? Why doesn't she want to believe that he cares? Why is she so set on believing that he wanted nothing more than a quick fuck from her?

Her eyes turn down to see their connected hands, realizing all in one moment what she did and pulling her hand away as if she were burned.

"I—Yeah," she stops, looking up at him, then back to the closed bedroom door, "I'm fine. You know how it is, it's just the storm."

They're both left with no choice but to face the music after days of avoidance that had no good reason behind it other than the respective doubts and fears they have. Yet even now that they're standing here, unsure of what comes next, they're hesitant to say or do anything that might disrupt the illusion they've created in the week and a half since they first ruined their friendship for good.

It feels as though the tension that has been boiling between them is coming close to turning explosive and all it will take is one tremor of their self-control for it to spill over.

Every feeling they have feels so contradictory. They want to but they also don't. They almost do it, then hesitate and decide to ignore each other for days. At the party, this tug of war game was at its peak for JJ when she was telling him about her jealousy and cuddling up to him, but he couldn't do it then, not when she was drunk. And by the time he had a whole night to think it over and see her biking away, he didn't want to risk it.

She looks away from him, hoping that "out of sight, out of mind" may ring true for once, and says to John B through the door, "Whatever, have fun. I won't hold JJ back when you finally come out of there though."

He won't actually do anything to him, maybe just a non-serious fight that'll end with her walking in on them rolling around on the floor trying to wrestle each other, but she likes to fuck with him anyway. For the dick move he just pulled, she thinks he can withstand a little teasing.

Without anything else to say, Y/N turns and walks off to make herself useful elsewhere—anything to distract from the buzzing, anxious energy that surrounds her from both the hurricane and being forced to confront JJ. She tries to play it cool though she is anything but at the moment, allowing herself to grimace once her back is turned to the blonde boy still standing against the wall in the hallway.

Maybe if she keeps pushing this false sense of normalcy, it'll work. It worked when they both started pretending things never happened between them initially after they had sex, so who's to say it can't work now?

All they have to do is get through the next 12-24 hours without talking and all will be well. Right?

They tried.

They truly tried to get through the night without inciting chaos within the Chateau, but, for these two idiots, not inciting chaos is a task easier said than done. Not only was John B much more stubborn with staying in his room than either of them bargained for, he didn't even attempt to speak to them for the first five hours and they were left with nothing to do but find new ways to avoid talking to each other.

It was simple in the beginning.

She went off on her own and sat with her headphones in to drown out the sounds of the storm.

With her eyes fluttered shut to block out anything but the sound of The Cure blasting into her ears, there was no reason for her to have to worry about anything once her nerves began to settle. Since the songs drowned out any sound and all she could see was darkness behind her closed eyelids, she was able to drift away with the distraction of the music.

The thing is, after a while, she started to see pieces of him in every song she skipped to. She made it a full minute into Just Like Heaven before a supercut of her most treasured memories of him began appearing in her head. Fade Into You? Skipped as soon as the first dreamy lyric flooded in through the tangled cords of the headphones. Cloud 9? Forty seconds in. By the time Dirty Little Secret came on, she decided that her playlist was mocking her.

The headphones were out of her ears, hastily wrapped up, and stowed away in the small pocket of her overnight bag before the chorus of the song could hit. Thankfully for her, JJ wasn't looking when she ripped the headphones out and put them away in a huff, so by the time he turned to see her again, she was laying down on the couch to "nap"—meaning she laid awake for another hour and cursed John B for making her endure this.

While she was daydreaming of a John B voodoo doll, JJ was worried about her.

Yes, the topic of their relationship/friendship/situationship/whatever-the-fuck-it-is was bombarding him against his will every five seconds, but not without him coming back to his concern for her. A small sound of thunder on an otherwise perfect day was enough to make her zone out and start getting antsy that day on the boat, so he didn't want to know how bad it could get during a time like this.

He tried to play it cool, and, in all honesty, his remaining scraps of sanity lasted a lot longer than hers. Four and a half hours passed, then, as the storm began to do its worst on their town, the power flickered out and left them in complete darkness. At that point, John B was passed out in his bedroom, so he didn't care nor notice when they had to find a few candles and stumble through the dark.

Somewhere along the way, having to search through the dark house for candles to light and place around the living room led them here...he isn't quite sure how.

JJ can hardly open his eyes enough to see through the rain that pounds against him the second he runs after her through the back door. The wind is so aggressive and unrelenting, it almost sends him stumbling a few steps when he follows her blurry figure a few paces behind where she tries to flee the house in a panic.

"Get back inside!" he shouts as he picks up his speed to catch up, "Y/N!"

The part of him that isn't focused on the pure physicality of trying to see and move through the stormy weather is utterly overwhelmed with fear. Not for himself but for her. She's deathly afraid of mild storms, let alone hurricanes, and yet she ran through the back door when he tried comforting her through an anxiety attack. One would think that she wouldn't want to go directly into the thing she fears the most, but what sent her running for the hills wasn't the panic itself, it was him.

It's hard for her to think rationally in this state, but all she knows is that he was there, he was saying all the right things and holding her, and she couldn't do it. The fear began to blend to one centered around both him and the storm. The hours of useless distractions and ruminating in her thoughts built up to this point of contention, then it snapped.

Between the thunder, his voice, and the voice in the back of her head that was urging her to confess her feelings and do as John B advised them to, it became too much. Maybe it was the most idiotic split-second decision she made without any regard for logic or reason or her safety, but she bailed. For the third time, she couldn't handle the pressure and ran from him.

The only difference is that he couldn't let her leave this time.

He gasps for air against the streams of water flowing down his face, soaking his hair and making it hang in his eyes to obstruct his view more than the weather already has. It happened so fast, neither of them are wearing shoes. His feet sink into the muddy yard with every stride he takes in his frantic pursuit of her and it frustrates him no end because of how it slows him down.

There's endless dangerous possibilities with her being out here. She could be knocked over into the marsh by the wind, or stuck and hurt by a piece of debris—merely thinking about it makes him call out her name louder in the hopes that it'll wake her from her panicked trance.

After trudging through the mud all the way to the edge of the yard, he finally manages to get to her.

"What are you doing?" JJ shouts, turning her around and grabbing onto both of her arms as if one gust of wind would sweep her away if he didn't, "You're gonna get hurt!"

Stumbling backwards in the direction of the screened-in porch that surrounds the back door, he uses their difference in strength to tug her away in the direction she came out in. The rain makes it difficult to keep a firm grasp on her, and she almost slips away a couple of times when the wind picks up enough to make him too unsteady to hold on.

His arms slip around her waist for a better grasp on her the closer they come to reaching the house. The last thing he wants is to almost get her back inside and lose her at the last second. She isn't thinking rationally right now with the panic she feels taking full control of her responses. He knows firsthand how it feels to be thrown headfirst into a panic attack, he's been in her shoes before and knows better than anyone the lengths your irrational mind will go to if it means survival. And for whatever reason, her response is flight, not fight.

The door to the screen porch takes all of his effort to open against the power of the wind blowing it back against the house.

He grits his teeth as he forces it open, one arm secured around her midsection, and helps her in before he slips inside too. The second he lets go of the door, it's sent slamming back into place and rattling in the frame behind them, but he doesn't spend anymore time on it other than the few seconds it takes to lock it. As soon as it clicks with him that they're safe—most importantly, that she's safe—he whips around to face her with a cold rage flowing through his veins.

"What the fuck?"

She stands in front of him with water pouring off of her in rapid drops onto the rug, and there are no thoughts in her head outside of the ones telling her to leave. Her tears blend in with the droplets of rain so seamlessly that he wouldn't know she's crying if not for the sound of it.

In between her rapid breaths and sobs, she yells back at him, "I was scared, okay?"

"Why'd you run out into the storm if you—"

"I wasn't afraid of the storm, I was afraid of you!"

The silence that follows is louder than anything they've experienced. Nothing can rival it, not the thunder, the rain, or anything can drown it out while he stares at her in shock. His eyes are wide, lips slightly parted as he reaches for something, anything, he can say in response to that, but there's nothing. For once, he is absolutely speechless.

Things got awkward between them in the initial aftermath of last week, but not like this. There was never an instance where he felt like there was nothing left for him to say to her to fill the uncomfortable silence that always brought forth memories of them together until now. Until she said the last thing he wanted or expected to hear.

His anger subsides as he picks over what he did in his head for anything that could've made her feel unsafe.

Before it evolved into him chasing after her through the hurricane, he noticed how terrible it had gotten for her when he lit the first candle. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and her chest began to rise and fall faster with each second that passed. He could see it on her face that things were getting worse, but, now that he thinks of it, it got worse once he reached out to put his hand on her shoulder.

It felt like a dream sequence in his head, so hazy and faraway now that it's over, and he was so stunned by what she was doing, he didn't run after her until a few seconds later. There was a delay in which he stood there in surprise and tried to process what the hell just happened to no avail. Though it wasn't very long, he remembers it feeling like eternity tucked into the cramped space of four seconds.

JJ's voice is softer than she's ever heard it, asking into the void of the near-darkness that encloses them, "What'd I do?" And it breaks her heart in half to hear him sound so concerned, so terrified of the idea that he did something to hurt her when all he did was try to help. "I never meant to scare you, I swear. I know how bad it can get sometimes, and I know we haven't been talking but I'd never try to hurt you if that's what you thought..."

His thoughts run rampant with the possibilities of what she was thinking at the time, and he realizes that he can't stand the idea of her thinking anything badly of him. He never cares about what people think, but, fuck, he loathes the idea of her having any ill feelings toward him.

Y/N immediately starts shaking her head, her face scrunching with the emotion and incessant tears.

"I know you'd never hurt me. I was scared because..." she stops herself mid sentence, catching it right when she was about to admit the one thing she promised herself she wouldn't.

But the need to say it doesn't go away this time. Usually, once she catches herself she comes to her senses and realizes how foolish it would've been to confess, but this time is different. This time, the urge to speak her mind and tell him everything sticks around. The words left unsaid creep up her throat, thrashing and begging to let out after months of being pushed aside.

The look in her eyes is strangely reminiscent of the way she looked at him the night they hooked up, almost yearning in its nature, and he couldn't be more confused. She's scared of him, but she's looking at him like she did when she was two seconds away from jumping his bones. And if he didn't do anything wrong, why was she afraid enough to face her worst fear in order to avoid him?

"Because what?" he asks.

That frustration from when they first stepped into the porch hasn't vanished, it only took a backseat once she said she was afraid of him, not the storm, and he can feel it stirring up again. He's tired of not having answers. He's tired of mixed signals and loneliness and unrequited love. Most of all, he's tired of her running away all the time. At this point, he questions whether or not it's worth it to expose his feelings to her and suffer the consequences.

John B was right. This isn't healthy for them, nor is it healthy for them to put their friends through this along with them, and it might be better to not be friends than to stay this way forever. At least that way they wouldn't be wishing for answers that would never come for the rest of their time together.

She decides at this moment that this has to be said before it gets worse, before she runs away again like a scared, immature child and ruins everything.

"Because," she has to shout over the lightning that cracks down on the earth down the street, something she would be trembling in fear over if she weren't so focused on him, "I've been in love with you for a couple months and it scares me more than anything, even this stupid fucking storm! And I've tried so hard to ignore it because I know you don't feel the same way, but you touched me and I just"—a soft cry escapes her—"I couldn't do it anymore."

There it is.

After months of ruminating over it and hiding everything, he knows, and her immediate feeling after she says it isn't what she thought it would be. She expected trepidation and regret, but what she finds on the other side isn't either of those, it's relief. Her dad often tells her when she's nervous about something that the anticipation is worse than the thing itself, and that has never been as true her as it is now.

However, some of the nerves return with the time that passes after she spoke in complete silence. Much like the delayed reaction he had to her running out of the house, it isn't as long as it feels to her. It's a short span of time that it takes for her words to process with him, but it feels like an eternity that he stands there with his head facing the floor in quiet contemplation.

Her heart sinks.

This means he doesn't feel the same way, doesn't it? If he were the one telling her he loved her, she likely would've leaped into his arms and said it back, but he stays where he is.

Then, after what feels like forever, she thinks she sees him start to smile and feels like she's losing her mind. It's quite dark out here, so there's only a limited amount of light to allow her to see his features, but there's no doubting it when a flash of lightning floods the porch with a split-second of harsh light.

Oh God, why is he smiling? What does it mean?

Much to her frustration, the first thing he says after her confession isn't much help in making her understand his feelings either.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Why? The voice in the back of her mind asks incredulously. Is he seriously asking why? He ignored me too. He didn't want to talk about it either, so what else was I supposed to do?

Maybe she was undeniably worse when it came to the avoidance and lack of communication, but he could've reached out to her too. They both could've. Instead, they spent day after day waiting for the other to make the move and pushed the tension further and further until it finally broke. Now she's waiting for him to hurry up and reject her so she can move on with her life.

She shivers from the wind blowing at her wet skin through the screens separating them from the outside world, crossing her arms over her body to hug herself. His eyes follow her movements down to the breaths that are slowly evening out without her realizing it. It turns out that confessing your love for the guy you've been crushing on since the day you met him is a hell of a distraction.

"I thought you wouldn't wanna hear me being all emotional and shit over a one time thing. You've literally never had an actual relationship before. And that's fine," she rambles, "I'll be okay eventually, but that's not who you are and there isn't a problem with that. I just caught feelings when I shouldn't have."

In her defense, she isn't making baseless assumptions about him, he hasn't had a relationship before. His love life hasn't ever really revolved around love itself, it was mostly comprised of random chicks he'd meet at parties or at the beach during the summertime when tourists come to visit the island. Out of all of them, he's the last one the Pogues would expect to fall in love with someone and commit to a relationship, but then...

He looks over at her with a swell of emotion within him that he's never felt before. It wasn't like he hadn't known before now. He did. He even said it out loud to himself that morning after the party, but this is when it feels the most real. Now that she's said it to him, he doesn't feel so stupid for toying with the four letter word in the back of his mind for the entirety of the past week.

In all honesty, he was the last person he would've expected to fall in love with someone this quickly too. He thought he knew himself better than this. He thought he could keep himself hidden away and not let anyone close enough to see him—the real him, faults and feelings and vulnerability included—but she proved him wrong. In walked Y/N with her pretty smile, teeny bikini bottoms, and oddly strong opinions on Ratatouille, and he stood no chance.

This sudden crescendo of emotion only continues to grow when he watches her shiver, soaked to the skin, across from him and decides that he never wants to deny himself of her again. Those feelings of inadequacy that forced him to question his relationship with her may not have gone away, not by a long shot, but they can't stop him anymore. Nothing can.

Like a light flickering to life in this swirling, stormy darkness, she hears JJ's voice asking her, "What if it is who I am?"

It was said so softly, she nearly lost it beneath the rain and wind. But it was not said with a lack of certainty, which is why she questions if she heard him correctly. He sounded so sure of himself that it feels too good to be true. After his reaction, or lack thereof, to her telling him she loved him, she accepted what was coming and this was not it.

"What?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

"You heard me." There's a pause. "Maybe I needed to meet the right girl."

There is no way he's saying what she thinks he's saying because if he is...if he is then that means the tears and frustration have all been for nothing because he loves her back. But if he loves her, then what was with the kook girl? Was it to make her jealous, or is she misinterpreting him right now and he was flirting with that girl because he doesn't have real feelings for her?

"JJ..." she trails off, looking down and thinking to herself how thankful she is that it's too dark for him to fully see how nervous he made her, "don't do that."

Partly, he should feel offended that she'd think he'd toy with her feelings like that, but he isn't. He's too busy wondering what on earth made this poor girl so insecure to think that someone has to be joking to confess their love to her. It makes him wonder if anyone wronged her before she moved here, and he feels that switch of impulsive anger inside of him flip at the thought.

But that anger has nowhere to go, so it shifts into something different—a need to spend every waking moment of the rest of their time together proving to her that she doesn't have to be so afraid. Does it make him a hypocrite? Probably. It wasn't too long ago that he was telling the Pogues how much he didn't deserve to be with her, but he doesn't see himself the same way he sees her. In his head, he has reasons to believe he doesn't deserve her love, but how could she ever think that herself?

He steps closer to her, the movement something so natural and unconscious to him that he doesn't recognize he does it until he hears her breath hitch in the back of her throat. They were already close enough to reach out and touch each other if they wanted to, yet now it's the kind of closeness that wipes the slate of her mind clean with nothing else but the thought of him there to stay.

He starts to say, "I'm not fucking with you, dude, I'm being serious—"

"Then prove it."

Oh.

The sound of his unfinished sentence lingers on the tip of his tongue as he blinks away his surprise at what she said, though it was less of a statement and more of a challenge. What the challenge is, he isn't too sure, but he thinks there could be a couple of meanings there.

The fire in her eyes when she looked up at him is one he recognizes very well, it stars in one too many of his daydreams that center around their secret night together. She rose to the occasion without fail and matched his chaos every time, and that steely-eyed stare is reminiscent of it.

Yet, the sexual undertone isn't the only part of it to be discovered. There's a clear meaning there for him to actually prove it, to put his money where his mouth is, grow a pair, and tell her how he feels with no room for confusion. No more miscommunication, running away, or insecurity getting between them, just a clear cut confession like hers.

His hand runs through his hair to sweep it out of his eyes and keep the wet strands from dripping down his face. It helps him see her a little better too, grounding him to the moment and calming him at the dimmed sight of her expectant, wide eyed gaze.

There were a million versions of this whenever he let himself imagine admitting it. He only let himself picture it on the worst days, days like the one two days ago when he went home to his dad, ending the night by cleaning his own cuts and inspecting his own bruises in his locked bedroom. He did it to distract himself from wanting to storm out of the room and finally kill the son of a bitch after years of suffering in silence.

JJ closed his eyes, shaking with anger, and dreamed of how he'd tell her. There were versions with long speeches that were far too sappy to exist outside of the realm of his imagination. There were versions with him burying the words between friendly jokes to play down the extent of his feelings too, but he thought it worked best in its simplest form.

So he puts it as simply as it gets, lips fighting a soft smile as he crosses the space between them and rushes in to kiss her. It's charged with an accumulation of the pent up love, anger, and sexual desire that has been repressed until now, resulting in something utterly explosive.

He stops for a second to whisper, "I love you too," into her parted lips, and she finally lets herself go at the sound of those words.

Forget that they've only known each other for five months, when you know you know. This is the real deal. This is the kind of feeling that possesses every accessible inch of her heart and she'd never be open enough to admit that to anyone but him at the moment, but neither of them minds that. It's such a new, rapidly developing feeling that they want to protect it and keep it close to them for the time being.

His arms twine around her waist, tugging her the last bit forward and leaving no space between their bodies this time. The sudden movement draws a sharp gasp from the back of her throat and sends her hands out to brace themselves on his shoulders. The sound of the gasp that disappears into their connected mouths only fuels him on more. It makes him more eager with how he touches her with his hands drifting down the plane of her back, one of which playfully slipping beneath the hem of her soaked shirt in a way that makes her smile into the kiss.

He knows exactly what he does to her. He can sense it in the small reactions that would often go overlooked if it were someone less familiar with her.

It's easy to tell by the way she completely surrenders herself to him, letting out these soft little noises she doesn't even realize she's making when he takes control of the interaction and kisses her like he's starved for it. In a way, he is starving for affection and attention from her. He never knew it was something he needed so badly until he got it, and now he never wants to go without having her again.

That's why it doesn't surprise him when she starts getting antsy after a moment or two, especially after keeping away from him for days.

Her hands run down the length of his chest over the soaked t-shirt, taking a quiet victory in how his stomach flinches inward in response to her exploring touch, and she could swear his next exhale trembles as she continues lower. Never once does she break the kiss, which, by the way, has gone past the point of being passionate and straight to downright needy, but her concentration does falter. The perfectly paced rhythm of her mouth moving with his is interrupted when she touches him over the fabric of his shorts.

Those plushy soft lips go on an exploration of their own too. Leaving him with the first opportunity to catch his breath in minutes, she dips her head beneath the sharp edge of jaw in pursuit of the sweet spot she remembers reducing him to a grabby, moaning mess the last time they did this. It doesn't take her long, not if the tightening of his arms around her and the satisfied hum of a moan she feels vibrate beneath her mouth has anything to say for it.

He loses himself in it for a second or two...okay, fine, maybe ten.

The separate sensations combined spark a flame inside of him that burns so hopelessly for whatever she'll give him. His mind sends him images of them together, both real memories from their first time together and imagined fantasies he only let himself visit in his dreams, and he realizes how thinly spread his self control has become lately.

First, it's the thought of her from last week, thoughts of her gasping, writhing, and begging beneath him that makes his cock throb under the teasing contact of her hand through his shorts. But then he's brought elsewhere. Then, though he hasn't thought of it since the day after the party, he thinks of the mix of jealousy and anger he felt when he saw Tyler with her.

He remembers being sane one moment and charging across the room like a madman the next. He remembers how it felt to watch another person's hands slip under her dress, how it felt to see someone else try to kiss her the way he had, and this raw wound of a memory is all it takes to spur him into action.

It happens so quickly, she doesn't even notice what's happening until he has her scooped up in his arms with her legs around his waist. She doesn't even have the chance to voice her surprise or crack a joke at the expense of his neediness before he reconnects their paused kiss with enough force to make her teeth ache in the collision.

JJ's rings are colder than ice, digging into the flesh of her thighs as he holds them with a tight grip and blindly takes the few steps necessary to reach the back entrance of the house. His wet handprint smudges on one of the cracked-open glass doors and sends droplets of water dribbling down the surface. The teardrop of rain zig-zags at the swinging motion of the door on their way in, only changing course again when he nudges it shut behind him a little too loudly.

"Wh"—her question is cut off by him laying her down on the rug-covered floor in between the couch and coffee table—"What if John B wakes up?"

His first thought was to bring her into the spare bedroom, but then he realized that it shares a wall with John B. Then, he considered the pull out couch but realized that would be louder than the room adjacent to their friend's. His only conclusion was this.

It isn't nearly as romantic as either of them would've pictured, but they're not exactly picky either. They're so desperate for it, they'd likely do it on the porch in the middle of a hurricane if there weren't another option. And in their own weird way, they make it romantic.

There's no one else she'd rather risk rug burn for, and that is the peak of romance.

"John B sleeps like a fuckin' rock," JJ says, "and it's own his fault for trapping us here anyway."

He follows her down onto the floor without a second thought, not even looking up to see if they woke their friend with the sound of the door shutting behind them.

Hovered above her, he looks particularly captivating in the flickering candlelight. The fire burning in one of the three-wick candles they scoured the bathroom cabinets for brings out the warm hues in his blonde hair and highlights every edge of the angular face that looks down at her. The porch was far too dark for her to see him in all of his near-perfection, but this is enough for her to notice a multitude of things.

His slicked back, wet hair allows her to see his features better and the way he looks at her...it's enough to make anyone feel red in the face. How hadn't she see it before? She knows it was denial, but, somehow, she used to overlook the small hints along the way like how he looks at her like she's the only thing that makes sense to him. For the first time in a while, she allows herself to embrace the idea of being loved without looking for something to justify her fears surrounding it.

The sound of her voice brings him out of the mesmerized trance he fell under at the sight of her.

"I've missed you," she says softly, "like a lot."

The sweet admission slows him down for a second, making him stop to ignore the distracting desire that she sparked to life a moment ago and take the time to cherish this moment of rare serenity with her.

It's a wonder that she hasn't even acknowledged the storm raging on outside since they've come back in. It's all thanks to him, of course, since she's been too focused on everything happening between them, but it surprises him. It makes a sense of pride flare up in him on her behalf for being capable of forgetting something she fears so much.

But, on the other hand, it reminds him of how distraught she was right before their conversation/argument on the porch shifted from her panic to the topic of their relationship, and he can't help but hesitate a little.

"I missed you too." The hand he isn't using to support himself above her cups her face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. "Are you okay though? You were just crying and I don't wanna make you—"

"Yes."

It was so said so quickly, there was zero hesitation. It's not that it doesn't surprise him that she's as eager as he is after what started to happen out on the porch, but it does make his eyes widen a little. His mouth curls with a slight grin. It's the kind that never fails to make her stomach fluttering and light with butterflies.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm okay, and I promise I'll let you know if I'm not," Y/N clarifies.

"Okay."

There's a short moment where all they do is look at each other with a complete loss for words to convey what they feel right now. It isn't as awkward as it would've been prior to tonight. Before they confessed their feelings, they wouldn't have been able to look at one another for any longer than a few seconds without needing to walk away to break the tension. Now, things have changed. They don't feel the need to conceal how much they care anymore.

They're still the same bickering duo they've always been with the added fun of being head over heels. She never used to understand how some people could let their feelings for another person drive them crazy, but it's done more than make her crazy this past week. It made her jealous, obsessive, and somehow happy too, and no one has ever made her feel so many varying emotions in her life.

Her fingertips graze the stretch of skin between where his cargo shorts sit on his hips and his shirt rides up the side of his torso, and he swallows thickly at the feeling.

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks.

Her lilting, smooth voice is enough to soothe any nerves he could possibly have. It's as if hearing her ask that paired with the hand teasing the waistband of his shorts pulled him back to the place he'd been before when she was teasing him over his clothes.

He answers honestly, his head going fuzzy with the crushing desire that courses through him, "Not as nervous as I make you," and closes the space between them again.

The cheeky comment doesn't go unnoticed by her, not one bit. It makes her face heat up in embarrassment that is purely instinct after having to hide her feelings from her for so long. Maybe after they've been together for longer, it won't make her blush every time he acknowledges the effect he has on her out loud, but that day isn't today. Today, she goes hot in the face from a sole second of his attention, let alone this.

JJ lets his hand climb up the length of her torso as they kiss as if they have all the time in the world, as if their best friend isn't sleeping less than twenty feet away from them, until it flattens at the base of her neck. It doesn't curl around her neck and squeeze, nor does it do anything but remind her how much she loves the feeling of him touching her, the large palm of his hand simply stays draped over her throat to flaunt his ability to sway her nerves.

She's pretty sure if it were anyone else, it wouldn't work, but he's JJ for fuck's sake, and the quiet display of dominance sends an exhilarating little thrill rumbling through her. It isn't anything over the top or exaggerated like some people would do in an attempt to stake a claim over the person they love, just a simple gesture that they both know the meaning of.

She's his. After five months of friendship, two months of silent pining, and a week of sexually confused hell, she's his, and he'll never let her forget it.

The wind rattles the windows over the couch with its force and she notices that his hips grind into hers at the sudden sound. Even in the midst of such a heated moment, it's downright cute how he still makes an effort to distract her from what she fears. And, boy, does it work.

Their panting breaths in the brief seconds they allow themselves to break away from each other are the only sounds audible in the small living room. The storm drowns it all out for now, including the noises that start to leave them from the steadily building pleasure of their bodies moving together.

She can feel how hard he is through the layers that separate them with every absentminded thrust that brushes the fabric of her panties up against her clit each time. It leaves her breathless and wondering, despite already knowing, what it'll feel like when he finally slips inside of her again.

They both fantasized about it in the time they spent apart. Neither of them would dare deny it, least of all JJ. It actually became frustrating after a while because she started to become the only scenario he could conjure to get himself off when he had a rare moment of privacy. His fantasies, all stemming from the night that was so perfect, he began to question the reality of it, linger in his head.

The best part of his fantasies were the parts of them based in truth, and if he knows anything about her when she's in this state, it's that she's needy. Her tongue swipes along his bottom lip in a silent urging to let her deepen the kiss, and he complies without a second to spare, willing to entertain her every whim so long as she keeps being so good for him.

He revels in her muffled squeak of a moan when he presses down on the sides of her throat at the precise moment his hips grind down to meet hers. She can't keep herself still for any longer than a half-second, always meeting his movements halfway and unknowingly doing another thing that will be the death of him.

She leads his shirt up his body without having to second guess herself, knowing that he's always on the same wavelength as her no matter what. This was how it was the last time too. Anything she did, he was already one step ahead, and tonight isn't much different. By the time her hands ball up the dripping cotton fabric, JJ is lifting the hand off of her neck to reach for the neckline of the shirt and help tug it off.

There's a sense of urgency in everything they do. Charged up with frustration and jealousy that brewed within the days they spent apart, there's nothing to stop them from reducing themselves to a pair of panting, impatient lovers too consumed in each other to care about the outside world.

The sopping wet fabric is thrown beyond her line of sight and lands on the hardwood floor with a 'thwack' that accompanies their cacophony of moans and gasps, and she whimpers at the sight of him. It may have to do with the fact that he's guiding their bodies together at a cadence and pressure perfect enough to make her legs tremble, but seeing him like this does nothing but aid the sensation.

Golden skin glistening under the candlelight, tendrils of half-dry blonde hair falling into his face with the lazy effort of his movements, and a stray raindrop that squeezed from the wet shirt dripping down his chest...she's not gonna make it out of tonight alive, is she? In her memory, she knew he was a sight to see in the midst of a heated moment, but, fuck, memories do not hold up beside the real experience of it.

Y/N is so caught up in his seemingly endless beauty, she doesn't notice him peeling her damp denim shorts off of her hips until they're halfway down her legs, and the only reason she does notice is because he must shift his position to do it. Suddenly, the budding feeling that stirred from their needy antics is plucked away and left to ache for more in the absence of him between her thighs.

Her middle and index fingers hook around the front of his necklace to pull him back down to her, but he doesn't budge at first. He's too busy trying to rid her of her shirt to care.

It was too much of a distraction while they kissed for him to resist slipping it off of her when he got the chance to. Much to his frustration when he first realized they were trapped with each other, she's braless underneath, and it's only worse now that the t-shirt is soaked to her skin and clinging to every delicate curve.

Once the clothing gives way to the canvas of her bare skin, he submits to her urgency and follows her down by the fingers hooked around his necklace without any qualms.

As soon as they resume, it's as if they never stopped to begin with, and they start to realize how seamlessly they fit together as the seconds elapse. Neither of them are actively thinking about it while he dips his hand into the front of her panties, but it is in their subconscious.

It's a revelation of sorts, an ah-ha moment where it hits them both in a sweeping realization that it was obvious from the day they met. They should've known sooner, they should've dropped their pride and admitted it as soon as the first inklings of desire began to pop up, but they didn't. Instead, it washes over them now and they let the current take them away together.

Her mouth falls open against his cheek at the feeling of his fingers swiping through the arousal that pools in her underwear for him, dragging the wetness over his fingertips and spreading it up to brush fleetingly against her clit. It's a split-second of a touch that it makes her hips lift up off the floor on their own accord to seek out more. It makes her dig her nails into the skin stretching over his taut shoulder muscles in a wordless plea for more that he doesn't indulge her in at first.

He makes her earn it from him without having to say a single word. He touches her, but he doesn't touch where she wants or ease his fingers into her to satisfy the need she feels yet. It's a blessing and a curse that he manages to turn her on to such an extent. He does it for her like nothing else can, so much so that she's noticed a distinct difference in how it feels when she's alone versus when they're together. When she's alone, it can tend to feel like active effort, but when she's with him, it's as natural as the urge to breathe.

His smirk is felt against her skin the entire time she begs for it through the revealing actions of her body—her hips jerking up toward him, her chest pressing tightly to his, and the sound of her murmuring, "Please," in a breathy tone that could stop his heart.

"Tell me what you want," JJ says, every word constrained and tight in a way that tells her he's a lot less composed than he lets on, and "accidentally" swipes his thumb over her clit again. "Talk to me, baby."

She almost forgot in their time apart how much of an effect he has on her, but this is the best reminder of that she could possibly imagine. If she could, she would find a way to bottle the feeling he gives her and keep it with her forever so that, no matter what happens between them, she'll never have the misfortune of forgetting him.

What he said simultaneously melts her heart and frustrates her to no end because he knows! He knows damn well what she wants from him and won't give it to her unless she asks for it, and she hates herself for loving it. She hates herself for enjoying the flushed-face embarrassment it brings to her cheeks to be so open with him about what she needs.

She swallows the lump in her throat and tries to focus through the clouded landscape of her head to speak to him. It's hard to concentrate when he's above her like this, touching her, calling her pet names, and looking at her like that.

With his lips worshiping the sensitive skin along her neck, she finds it hard to choke out the words, "I want you," into the humid air that has infiltrated the house.

It's not a lie. Anything regarding her wanting him or any related feeling is no longer something she can hide anymore, but they both know it isn't exactly what he wanted. No matter how it took his breath away to hear her say it, he was seeking something more specific. He was aiming to make her ask, maybe even beg, for it. They're both too impatient to wait and based on how wet his fingertips are from barely dipping into her, he can tell she's as eager as he is.

It's been thirteen days too long since the last time they allowed themselves to meet this way, and neither of them wants to let it happen again.

She was nearly trembling with the urge to go to him whenever they were together in the company of their friends, unable to think about anything except for how badly she wanted him. All the while, he appeared so unbothered, especially on the night of the party when he flirted with someone else, that she didn't even believe he felt the same way back. Thankfully for her, she couldn't have been more wrong.

He clicks his tongue and says, still teasing her with light touches that never linger in one place for too long, "That wasn't very specific."

Part of her should know that he's about to do something based on how he withdraws his head from its cherished place in the crook of her neck, but she's too caught up in the anticipation and seeing his face for the first time in a minute to think about it. How dare he look so good? She could cry in frustration, although she might actually already be tearing up a little with the rush of neediness hitting her in its full force.

Never has she felt so turned on by so little physical contact before. It usually takes longer for her to get to this point, whether it be alone or in the past with previous partners, yet all it took was being kissed, touched, and being given his undivided attention and now...She realizes she's in trouble. He has her in an emotional and sexual chokehold at this point, and she fears that no one can compare.

"I want—" her voice is snuffed out in an instant when he eases two fingers into her, "Oh!"

So that's why he pulled away from her neck to look at her.

It was worth abandoning the mark forming on her neck just to see the expression on her face shift. She gets this cute look when anything overwhelming starts to happen where her brows scrunch a little to create a soft wrinkle between them as her mouth drops open in a moan. And after ten steady minutes of doing nothing but some over the clothes action and painstaking teasing, this is as overwhelming as it gets without it crossing the line to being too much.

It never occurred to her how much larger his fingers are compared to hers until now. This type of pleasure is like an itch only someone else can scratch to her, she feels virtually nothing when she does it to herself, but when he does it, it's like an explosive being set off inside of her. Especially with the thumb that sneaks up to circle her clit without stopping to tease her again, she is putty in his hands at this point.

Every smooth stroke of his fingers into her reaches a spot she can never quite find on her own, and she can feel the cold bite of rings when they're buried into her to the knuckle.

It's a surprise every time, even when she knows to expect it. Like a delightful chill running up through her body and down her spine exactly how it's intended to. It strikes an idea in her head for when he eventually pulls them out of her, conjuring the image of her sucking them clean for him just for the sake of imagining what it'll do to him.

With that idea tucked away in the back of her mind, he's the center of her world right now. All she breathes, thinks, and feels is him. Whether it be the sight of him, or the feelings he's giving her, or even the taste of his kiss that still lingers on her tongue, it connects to one common thread.

"What were you saying?" JJ asks, and she wants to wipe that smirk right off his face.

It's virtually impossible for her to piece together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence detailing every filthy idea she has for him, but she tries. It takes another moment or two of her succumbing to the rapid incline of pleasure that he gives her, watching her in wonder through any greedy buck of her hips or gasping inhale that makes her head loll back onto the floor.

At first, what she wanted to say was that she wanted him to touch her, to do anything more than the fleeting touches he gave before. Now, she wants more than that. Now that she's drawn in closer to the eventual high that's to come, she doesn't want it to happen like this. She wants to feel closer to him than this, wants to feel him throb inside of her and fuck her with all of the urgency and desperation that has accumulated in their time apart.

That's why her hands start to grab at the belt loops of his shorts to tug him closer by them, meeting his gaze through the hazy bliss of his fingers pumping into her. It's not enough.

"Please"—she keeps pulling him closer to her, so close that there's hardly any space left to cross, and he revels in her desperation—"just fuck me already..."

Internally, JJ is losing his shit.

Though this was what he wanted, what he coaxed out of her with the teasing and the pretend sense of a nonchalant attitude on his part, it hits him harder than he expected it to to hear her say it. It's not necessarily the act of begging itself either, it's the fact that she's the one doing it. She may have been jealous of the girl at the party, but she had nothing to worry about. Not in the slightest.

Before her, he never thought he'd fall for someone this way. It's not like he had a hatred for love or anything, he understood the appeal, it simply wasn't his thing.

He was perfectly content with his only form of companionship being his friends. Then, she came along and changed it. So to hear her say something like that isn't just breathtaking, it's the kind of thing that makes his heart ache for her. It hits him precisely where she wanted it to, and he has never felt as consumed with love the way he does now.

JJ can do nothing to stop himself from pouncing on her at this point, like some animalistic form of himself has worn down the restraint he used to keep himself at bay.

The loss she feels when his fingers slip away from her is an emptiness she mourns at first before she realizes what's happening. He pulls away slightly to reach down between them for the front of his shorts, and their hands clash as they both frantically try to undo them together. The rings adorning his fingers glisten when they catch the light and remind her of the thought that popped into her head when she first felt their coldness against her skin.

That idea paired with the promise of what they're trying to accomplish in their uncoordinated attempt to get the rest of their clothes off makes her want to press her thighs together. Her hands abandon the task of undoing his shorts for the sake of ridding herself of the last layer that separates her from him.

Her most embarrassing old pair of brightly colored panties, courtesy of past Y/N's questionable decision to trust her mom to buy some on her behalf, are hardly a sight to behold. They're the kind that come in a value pack from Walmart, vibrant blue with the word, "Tuesday," printed on the front of them, and she could hide her face into the rug in shame if she weren't so determined to get them off. Of all the days to wear the day of the week undies her mom accidentally got her, of course she chose today.

By the time she reaches for the waistband, he has pushed his shorts and underwear down his thighs and comes back to her with just as much excitement as he left with, but when he helps her tug her panties down her legs, he laughs. Apparently, he had also been too eager to touch her to notice what was written on them before.

"Cute," he breathes out through a laugh, then adds as the cotton fabric slips over her knees, "Pretty sure it's not Tuesday though."

"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll—"

He cuts her off, "Whatever you wanna threaten me with won't work, chances are I'm gonna be into it."

Her eyes are alight with a certain fire he's had yet to fully lure out of her. Even her voice is slightly more airy and seductive as a result of it.

"Promise?"

JJ grins down at her as he finally tosses her panties aside with the rest of their clothes, "Cross my heart, pretty girl."

His hands grip her thighs and tug her down the  rug to him with a quick jolt that snaps them out of the playful nature of their back and forth teasing. No matter how lighthearted of an interruption it was, the mini-conversation might as well have never existed for how easily they fall back into it again.

She watches with her forehead pressed against his as he strokes himself a few times, then drags his tip, messy with precome, through her wet heat. And though she watches it happen, her body still arches into his when he lines up with her and sinks his hips forward.

She anticipated it, but she still gasps and digs her nails into his biceps at the sensation of him pushing into her. Neither of them bothers to worry about the obvious lack of a condom—it was discussed the first time around when he offered and she told him it was okay. He's often the one to silence the alarm on her phone warning her in its title to, "Take your birth control or else, bitch," while she searches her bag for it anyway, so he trusts her.

Both of them prefer it this way enough to risk the  minuscule failure rate of the pill anyway. It's more intimate, closer, and they can both feel the warmth of each other in a way that would've been somewhat muted with an added layer between them. It makes the feeling of him entering her all the more gratifying as she tenses up around him in reaction, drawing a groan from where his parted lips brush against hers.

She lifts her head off of the floor as much as she can to capture his mouth with her own and stifle the sonorous sound despite the storm doing a better job of it.

It seems that every blast of wind and roll of thunder is in their favor tonight, so much so that he isn't even worried about getting walked in on. It's not a thought in his head at this point, the only thought he's capable of having is this. Forgive him for being shortsighted, but he doesn't give a shit if John B notices or hears what's happening when he's buried inside of her so deeply.

His hips are flush with the backs of her thighs in a matter of seconds, and right when he pauses to give her a breather, he feels her shake her head ever so slightly against where their faces are pressed together.

The touch of her hands on his hips is not timid by any means, it's commanding. Her palm prints singe an indelible claim into the surface of his skin as she guides him to start moving without a second spared to dwindle the discomfort of him filling her up. It's less like a pain and more of a pressure blooming from the insistent presence of him, not so overwhelming that it's painful, but it's an effort to breathe evenly and the only thing that'll ease this transitional moment is to continue.

At first, their bodies start to rock together lazily as though on autopilot. They'd hardly be conscious of the fact that they're doing anything if not for the initial sensations of heady ecstasy that flash like the sparks of a lighter in response to their movements. As soon as he felt her hands coax him into action, he sighed happily and surrendered himself to the instinct of wanting to move.

The merging of their bodies is less of the aggressive rutting motions they'll surely succumb to once their current pace is no longer satisfying, but that doesn't make it any less intense. She's partly sure that this is one of the most vulnerable moments either of them has ever had when it comes to sex, and it wouldn't work if it weren't them together. No other person could consume her the way he does, taking up every unoccupied space of her soul until there's nothing left but the silent begging of her heart for him.

Their kiss is messy when it breaks to allow them the chance to suck down a couple breaths of air, saliva shining on his lips in between the seconds it takes them to come crashing back together.

It's loving enough to rot her teeth with its sweetness, a slow but impossibly deep grinding of their hips together that continually presses the tip of him into that sweet spot inside of her, but it takes a turn.

Not only do her hands shift from his hips up to the sides of his waist to get a firmer hold on him, the kiss starts to become vigorous, almost hungry, in search of something more. The dreamlike sequence of the first moment or so they spent slowly fucking under the warm hues of candlelight starts to unravel to reveal the baser instincts that guide them forward.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispers the praise into her mouth.

As soon as the words are said, he can feel the effect it has on her. The hands braced on his waist pull his body closer to her at the same moment that she involuntarily squeezes down around him, making the smooth drag of his cock against the velvet-soft heat of her walls even tighter than he thought possible.

The sudden feeling of it makes his first returning thrust much harder than the last. He jerks forward into her with none of the restraint he's retained for the past few moments, and her reaction is nothing short of perfection, at least from his perspective. He watches her throw her head back in a moan, hips bucking to him in pursuit of more, and feels the tips of her fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks into the unmarred skin along his waist.

"JJ!" she gasps in surprise, and if her initial reaction weren't enough to spur him on in a frenzied state of desire, this is.

He almost forgot how intense it had been the first time. Their confessions of love preceding this made them both somewhat softer and sweeter in their approach when they started, but he knows how she likes it.

Nobody would expect it from her. He's another story entirely, especially considering how much John B and Pope know about him, but her? He didn't have any in depth conversations about it with either of them, so none of their friends know how dirty she is.

But when you start to tease it out of her, she's got a side to her that makes his blood run hot. Considering how polite she is, he sure as hell didn't see it coming. For fuck's sake, she's the kind of person who'll apologize to a chair if she bumps into it. With that in mind he never thought she'd be the type to demand such things of him.

Just like that, with one moan of his name, it's like she flipped a switch in him that they forgot was there in the first place. It'll never stop surprising him how little it takes to get him going when he's with her, and he doesn't see that changing no matter how long they spend together in the future. Just a touch from her is all it takes, so it's needless to say that the sound of her calling out his name was more than enough.

Those slow, deep movements he made to sink into her again and again have turned rapid and rough, but still controlled enough to have a semblance of precision to them, hitting in all the right places.

"I bet," JJ speaks lowly, "that you want John B to walk out and see us right now."

She doesn't want to admit how much of an instantaneous effect those words have on her, but the feeling of her clenching around him as she bites back a moan completely betrays her. Partly, she worries that he'll take that the wrong way and think it has something to do with John B when it has nothing to do with him at all, but he doesn't. For the spare second of thought she's allowed to have before her mind goes hazy again, she notes how much more eager he is on the upstroke of the next thrust.

Noticing how right he was in his assumption about her liking the risk of getting caught jumpstarts his heart and makes everything he does rougher. She can sense that he's starting to lose control over himself and is acting on instinct alone.

It makes her much more sensitive to everything he does, and all she can do is cling to him and enjoy it as she takes in everything he says and does. It's hard to pick one thing to focus on between the switch up in pace and what he said.

"You want John B to know you like getting fucked like a slut, don't you?"

She could get off on the sound of his voice alone. Hearing him say stuff like that kills her, it makes the swirling bliss that builds in the pit of her abdomen with every thrust he gives her triple in its extremity.

Her legs are tightly wound around his hips to keep him as near to her as possible, her hands sliding up around his waist to keep a steady grasp on him while he pounds into her. The rug scratches at her back enough to make it sting alongside the immense pleasure building in her, but she doesn't care. When blended with the good sensations, the pain underscores the addictive feeling of him inside of her, fucking her exactly how she asked him too.

Looking up at him when he's like this is simply unreal. There's no other way of describing it in her eyes except for that. He's so stunning, she's inclined to believe that he isn't even real as a means of explaining it. This shouldn't be real. It should be one of her daydreams while she steals covert stares at him as they hang out with the Pogues, but it isn't. She can't wrap her head around it.

Those strands of hair that were damp from the rain are mostly dry as they fall into his eyes with the force of his movements. The sight of him alone, set aside from the rest of it, is enough to make her writhe beneath him and claw at his back in tandem with another thrust that sends her jolting against the rug.

He takes one of his hands up from where they both held her hips for leverage to weave his fingers into the roots of her hair.

He demands between the panting breaths and moans that flood the limited space between them, tugging on her hair, "Answer me."

She instantly blurts out the words, "I want him to see us." The feeling of him tilting her head back by the fistful of hair he has wrapped up in his hand is her persistent reminder to concentrate enough to continue, and she bites down on her lip to contain a moan before speaking again, "I want him to know..."

Her cheeks burn with the mere thought of it, let alone saying it out loud. He's the only person she'd ever let in on this intimate side of her, the side that makes her crazy when she hears him say stuff like this. The reason she feels so comfortable doing this with him is that she knows he understands her. It's as if he can read her mind without even having to try, knowing exactly what to say and when to say it.

It wouldn't matter if the topic of their exhibitionism were any other Pogue or a stranger, it isn't about who it is, it's about the thrill attached to the concept of almost getting seen during such a heated moment. In all actuality, John B is probably snoring face down into his pillow right now with no care for what's happening out here, but he knows what it does to her when they push the boundaries of decency this way. It's the same rush he gets from stealing random, useless things every so often, it's the thrill of getting away with something.

The hand tangled up in the roots of her hair sneaks down between their colliding bodies to rub her clit, and her mouth drops open to take in a shaky breath.

The sight of her beneath him is undoing in and of itself. Head tilted enough to expose her neck to him, chest rising and falling rapidly with her breaths, and breasts bouncing gently with the momentum of their actions—seeing her this way makes his thrusts ramp up into more of a frenzied, uncontainable pace rather than one with the same control and cadence as before. But it's mostly the eye contact that kills him. She doesn't dare to shut her eyes the entire time, as if she can sense that he'll tell her to look at him again the second she does.

"You want him to know what?" he asks, and she knows he won't let her get away with not saying it.

She whines, utterly helpless to the climax starting to build inside of her, "Please."

What she's pleading for, she isn't quite sure, but he can tell by how she's acting that she's starting to get closer, and he wants nothing more than to tease her with the impending chance of her orgasm.

"If you wanna come, you're gonna have to do a lot better than that."

Just like that, he withdraws his hand from between them and leaves her desperate, blindly grasping for the peak she was so close to reaching, she could almost feel it already.

With JJ rocking into her at a relaxed, slower rhythm, the pleasure hasn't disappeared completely. It's there, but she can sense the feeling of her orgasm receding as quickly as it had creeped up on her as soon as he slips his hand out from between them.

It's instantly clear to him how desperate she is as all of her previous shyness surrounding having to admit this to him out loud withers away in seconds. She isn't beneath begging again at this point. He could tell her to crawl across the floor to him and she'd happily do it for the chance of touching him. It's pathetic but true. As much as she has him wrapped around her finger, he has done the same to her and she isn't afraid to admit it anymore.

Her hips jerk toward him in search of the familiar frenzy they were in before that sent her to the brink of climax, but he is impressively stubborn. Despite the fact that it physically pains him to dial it back again, he tries to keep the signs of his own frustration at bay. She knew what she had to say to get what she wants, so he'll only cave when she does.

This time around, she doesn't give a fuck about how badly she blushes or the voice in the back of her mind telling her she should keep this side of her to herself. This time, the one thing she needs to do to prompt her to open her mouth and speak the dirty words he asked her less than a moment ago is look at him. One second of staring up at him and here she is, driven mad enough to say or do anything to get him to pick up where they left off.

She says between the soft noises and breaths coming from them both, clinging to him through every slow but deep thrust that sends sparks ricocheting through her body, "I want John B to know I like getting fucked like slut." Her voice is breathless, and he hangs off of each word as she pauses, looking up at him with a challenging attitude swirling in those pretty eyes. "So stop being a tease and fuck me like one."

His jaw clenches at the bratty statement, one he's too far gone to resist at this point, and right when he's about to respond to her, she speaks again.

"Either that," she says, and a deceptively sweet smile crosses her kiss-swollen lips, "or I can go ask him to—"

She doesn't even get the chance to voice the rest of that thought before he's set into motion.

The hands on her hips flip her over with such casual strength, all she can do is yelp in surprise at the sudden movement that blurs the living room in her peripheral version until she lands with her hands and knees pressing into the rug. He was so swift in pulling out of her and tossing her onto her front like she was nothing more than a rag doll, she hardly had the time to take a breath before she ended up here.

There's hardly any time between when he pulled out to flip her over and when he returns to her again, but it feels like an eternity for them. The few second transition might as well be a few years as she feels his hands guiding her body where he wants it, pushing down on her back until it arches just so, and falls down onto her arms. But as soon as she gets situated, she feels a pair of hands yanking her arms away from where they were braced against the floor and put them behind her back.

It's only then, when he has an unflinching grasp on where he keeps her wrists behind her back with one of his hands, that she is met with the relief of him sinking into her again.

Y/N's jaw goes slack, and she cries out into the rug that her cheek is pressed into as he gives her no chance to adjust or catch her breath before resuming the brutal pace they kept a moment ago. Mentioning anyone else but him doing this to her was the quickest way to get him to snap, so it's safe to say that she's getting what she wanted. After all, she did what he asked, it's fair that she gets rewarded for it.

Amidst the sounds of the storm waging war on the landscape outside of the house, the one thing she can hear over the buzzing pleasure that drowns out her senses is the sinful blend of sounds they create together. It's the sound of their bodies merging, his name falling from her lips, and the curses he makes under his breath that never fail to drive her a little wild.

The hand that isn't holding her arms behind her slides down the length of her curved back until it wraps around her throat to pin her down, and her reaction is everything he could ask for. Seeing her rock back against him to meet him halfway makes his grip on her wrists tighten enough to turn his knuckles white.

Her hair is spread in endless directions in a fan around her head, and he can only see one side of her face from where he kneels behind her, but that glimpse is more than enough. Brows scrunched in pleasure, mouth dropped open in a gape as soft 'uh's and 'ah's escape her on the upstroke of each thrust—she's a mess right now. A beautiful, perfect mess.

"Oh God, JJ," she moans between her rapid breaths and the strong hand constricting her neck, "I'm so close. Please, just let me come."

It took virtually nothing for her to be pushed right back to the edge of the peak she was at less than a minute ago. It took a mere half-minute of this and she's once again reduced to incoherent pleas for more and shaking with no control over herself. Her legs tremble with the effort to keep herself up in this position, and she isn't even the one doing most of the work. In all fairness, this change in position has made the intensity triple. It's deeper this way, and with how harshly he slams into her, it's as though she can feel it in the base of her abdomen.

It's the enjoyable type of pain, however, not the bad type. It'll surely end up with her being sore tomorrow, but she can't hide how much she loves the painful pleasure of how rough it's getting. Being denied an orgasm when she was so, so close to it was initially disappointing too, but it was worth it. If the build up to what would've been her climax before was a spark, this is a flourishing fire spreading through her with no chance of smothering the flames.

He lets go of her throat and taps the side of her jaw in a silent request that she picks up immediately, letting her lips fall open to suck his fingers into her mouth without a second of hesitation.

The taste of her arousal on them is faint, but still there, and it occurs to her that she thought about this earlier before things evolved into chaos. Her tongue swirls around the tips of his fingers as he starts to pull them away in what feels like the blink of an eye to her, leaving him to remember what it felt like when her lips were once wrapped around a more sensitive part of him a week and a half ago.

The one other time he let himself remember it was when they were on the boat with the Pogues, yet that wasn't really of his own volition. It was hot out, so Kiara bought ice pops for them and his mind wandered far from where it should've stayed.

Shining with her saliva, his fingers are pulled from her lips with a soft 'pop' in pursuit of that sensitive collection of nerves at the apex of her thighs. She just needs is a little push to go over the edge, and when he slips his hand down her body to rub tight circles onto her clit, she loses whatever remnants of control over herself she had left.

The steady rhythm of her hips moving back against him falters as she is overwhelmed with the separate sensations culminating into one and giving her the push she needs to come. Her entire body tenses up in anticipation, and since she's pinned to the floor with her hands behind her back, she can only lay there and savor the feeling as it hits her.

After what felt like ages of having it build and build within her, then having it taken away to start the process over again, finally being given a release is a relief beyond any she's felt before.

It's so consuming, it takes away her ability to think of anything outside of how it feels to dissolve into the shockwaves of euphoria rushing through her. Every pulsing wave is prolonged by him, not even through the peak of it does he let up on his precise touches and unforgiving thrusts into her that turn a typical orgasm into the most intense thing she's ever felt.

She's melting in his arms through it all, and as if the change in position didn't make it worse, her involuntary spasms leave him hanging on by a thread.

JJ collapses onto her, barely having the chance to keep himself propped up on his arms as he lets go of her wrists and falls forward onto her sweat-slick back.

The heat of his panting exhales raises goosebumps in its wake where his face is buried into the curve of her neck, and he whines at the impossibly tight feeling of her squeezing around his cock through the end of her climax. Those sounds he doesn't realize he's making have her writhing through the aftershocks, answering with a sound of her own that almost makes him come instantly.

For that reason, he makes the decision to pull out and flip her onto her back.

At this point, she's so dazed and fucked out that she doesn't register any of it until she notices the hollow absence of him inside of her, but it doesn't matter when his face appears through the partial darkness above her.

Despite how sensitive she is right now, the sight of him makes her hands reach out blindly to pull him closer again. They're frantic in their need to get back to one another, grasping and clawing until he finds his way back to her in less than a second, hiking her legs up around his waist with a touch that is somehow demanding and tender at the same time.

It's only when he's inside of her again that it occurs to her why he rolled her onto her back again, and it makes her want to kiss him until her lips turn numb. It may be undeniably hotter to pin someone down and fuck them hoarse, but, no, that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be able to look at her, to see her face, and the thought of that has her biting back a sudden confession of love. She isn't sure why she doesn't say it right away, since it isn't like they haven't already done it, but she keeps it to herself for a second first.

It's different now. It's not less passionate or frenetic. It isn't as if he isn't being as rough with her as he was before, but they can both sense a shift in the energy between them as soon as he reenters her. It's less about the pursuit of pleasure and more about the feelings they've kept hidden away for so long. It's a simultaneous realization that hits them a little late after they initially confessed their feelings for each other: this is reality. It's real, and when she touches him this time, he isn't going to disappear if she opens her eyes.

The realization of what happened tonight had yet to hit them until right this second, but now that it has, they move forward with a sense of sentimentality that remained partly dormant before.

If there's anything JJ dislikes, it's being vulnerable. The idea of letting someone in to see every part of him, including the parts he doesn't want to see of himself, has always terrified him after years of being made to believe he's undeserving, yet he isn't uncomfortable right now. Somehow, he feels safe with her. Sex has never been something so emotional for him until now, until her, and he doesn't want it differently.

Their bodies are drawn in close, her arms thrown around his neck, and he's so close, he can feel the muscles leading down past his lower abdomen contract with the inevitable approach of his orgasm. She can sense it too in how he acts.

When he gets close, he becomes clingier and lets his feelings get the better of him. His hands squeeze at her hips, sliding up her sides and back down to hike one of her legs up high around his waist to press deeper into her. He can't bear to allow his touch to stay in one place for too long before exploring another part of her, wanting to memorize the delicate intricacies of her body in its entirety.

It's as if she can read his mind too, cause even when she's sensitive enough to gasp when he pushes her thigh to her chest and throws his remaining energy into fucking her at a satisfying pace, she understands what he needs. She knows to reach up and run her fingers through his hair, to tug on it gently until the light strands are taut from his scalp. She knows to lift her head off of the floor enough to trail tender kisses along his face, his jaw, his neck—anywhere she can access.

"Come for me," she says into a kiss placed on the edge of his cheekbone, reeling in overstimulation as she jolts with his quickening thrusts, "I want to watch you..."

Hearing those words, paired with the kisses and fingers pulling on his hair, does it for him. It doesn't take more for his hips to falter and jerk forward into her a final few times before he comes.

Their foreheads press together as they cling to one another for stability, though it's mostly JJ clinging to her while she watches in adoration, and she has to bite her lip to contain a moan at how it feels. The aftershocks of her orgasm have yet to fade as the feeling of pulsing warmth inside of her makes them stronger, reigniting the fire she felt a moment ago if only for a second.

There's a closeness to this situation that they hadn't felt the last time, and they know it has everything to do with what was said before this happened. The sex itself feels like a dream sequence in her mind now that she's coming down from it with him, moving together slowly and gently beneath the candlelight until they ride out the ends of their highs. It was like they were put under a trance by each other, and now that it's over, the first thoughts that come to mind are of what comes next.

It's not the sole topic on their minds though. They're more focused on catching their breath from where they lay, tangled up together, on the living room floor. As soon as the very last of his orgasm faded from him, he fell onto her without a single ounce of energy left to spare. He's careful not to crush her, but, for the most part, he relaxes on top of her and lets his head rest on her heaving chest.

Strong arms slip down to loop around her waist, and she sure that she couldn't get him to release her if she wanted to, which she doesn't.

But they can't stay like this, not for any longer than a few moments anyway, since they don't know how if John B might wake up and come out of the safety of his bedroom after hours of leaving them to their own devices. JJ was right. He's out cold, but for as much as it turned them on in the heat of the moment, neither of them finds getting caught by him as hot with the clarity of their rational minds coming back to them.

He's the one to break the silence.

"As much as I wanna stay like this, we should probably move in case John B wakes up."

The sound of his voice settles in her with the effects of a sedative. It calms her more than anything else could, especially with the added comfort of him cuddling her so closely. One of her hands strokes through his hair and pushes the damp tendrils of sunshine away from his face as he cranes his neck to look up at her. And, for fuck's sake, what else is she to do except admire him?

His cheeks are dusted pink in a way they often are when he spends too much time outside without one of his hats shielding his face, and she thinks he's never looked better.

Ever since they became friends, she's had this theory about him. In the unrealistic landscape of her overactive imagination, JJ didn't come to this world the way the rest of them did. To her, it seems impossible that someone so good, even in his worst moments, could've come from someone like his dad.

So, in idle moments where she would watch him on a day out with the Pogues or daydream about him, she decided that he's the sun.

She imagines he was created in those breathtaking but brief moments where the sun meets the horizon atop the ocean and washes the sky with a vast array of colors. She likes to think he's the incarnation of it. Golden, warm, and bright for everyone but himself, he keeps the world light for her and their friends without intending to.

Some days are warmer than others too. Some days, the light is dimmed by another bruise beneath his clothes or a bad run-in with some kooks, but today is not like that. This moment is eighty-five and sunny with a balmy breeze. Looking at him right now feels like basking in the sun, and she'd burn here forever if he let her.

Without realizing she zoned out, she jolts when he pinches her arm to rouse her from her ridiculous thoughts. He has this dopey half-smile on his face that nearly draws her back into them again.

"You know what they say," he says, "if you take a picture..."

Her soft laughter invades the room, filling his heart with this light, fluttery feeling that always finds him when she's near. His smile grows as she playfully shoves him and reaches above their heads for her wet shirt to cover up with just in case. Odds are, their friend isn't waking up at the exact moment before they seclude themselves to the spare room and get dressed, but she doesn't wanna take that chance.

"I wasn't staring."

She was totally staring. But who could blame her? When someone looks at a person the way he looks at her, how could they ever stay away?

"Whatever you say."

JJ keeps smiling to himself while he pulls his underwear and shorts up his legs and waits for her to be decent enough to sneak past John B's bedroom to the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

The clothes are soaked through with rainwater, so they feel quite uncomfortable to slip back on, but they merely redress enough to be covered. She stole his shirt to avoid putting her shorts back on, the hem of the grey tee hanging right at the tops of her thighs when she walks. As soon as she slips her panties back on and picks up the rest of their cold, wet clothes, that's the cue he needs to scoop her up and take her away.

Y/N curses under her breath in surprise at feeling her feet being plucked off the ground, but she relaxes again once she's settled in his arms, realizing that it was just him who snuck up behind her and lifted her into his arms.

She doesn't say anything on the way to the bathroom. Instead, she lays her head on his shoulder in exhaustion and finds herself staring at the mark she left behind on his neck.

It's a deep, purplish red against the backdrop of his tan skin...the Pogues will surely notice the next time they see him. And while it will make her blush, it won't make her scared as it once would've. There may be a lingering sense of doubt and insecurity within her, but she wants this with him. Even if it means being teased by their friends or dealing with the jealousy of watching kook girls and tourons at parties hit on him, she wants this.

By the time the shower is spraying the rainwater from her hair and washing her clean of sweat sticking to her skin, she realizes that he isn't saying anything either, but she doesn't think it's out of any awkwardness or miscommunication. There's truly nothing to say, at least for now.

Though they didn't have the chance to talk in depth about everything yet, neither of them thinks of that right now. All they know is that they're together, whether it be officially or not, and it feels good. For once, something in his life feels right, and he lets himself enjoy it in silence.

The shower is a cramped space when shared between them and the wet clothes they have draped over the back edge of the tub, but they make it work. It's not like they mind anyway.

They bump into one another whenever they do so much as breathe, and the white walls echo the sounds of her giggling when he tries to tickle her. She leans her head back against his chest and lets out a laugh with shampoo dripping down the front of her face, and he'll be damned if he ever heard a sound as intoxicating as that.

It's a little weird. He's never been as soft and loving with a person before, and he has already felt overwhelmed in the lulls of quiet between them when he's given the chance to think about it.

When she washes his hair for him, insisting that she must return the favor after he so kindly washed hers, he was struck with the same mixture of wanting to simultaneously lean into and pull away from her that he felt the night of the party.

The warmth of the water loosens his sore muscles, washing suds of the green apple scented shampoo over his shoulders and down, down, down until it circles the drain beside his feet. All the while, her fingertips are delicately tracing over a healing bruise on his torso. Those pretty lips of hers are painted in a suppressed frown that she can't hide from him.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

His instant reaction is to fake a smile, to brush it off and distract her as he usually does, yet he doesn't. He forces himself to remain neutral and not push her away.

"Happens all the time," he murmurs, shrugging and averting his eyes to reach for the soap off on the ledge.

The hands holding either side of his waist tighten as he tries to turn, pulling him back to her with more strength than he knew to anticipate from her. Their chests gently collide back together beneath the stream of water, and she can feel his breathing catch for a second or so in response.

The fact that their relationship has changed doesn't change how she handles this aspect of his life. Their new confessions don't have an impact on the part of his life he never wants to let anyone see, so she isn't going to force him to talk about it because they're trying out this whole relationship thing now. He has hard boundaries that she knows not to push sometimes. That's the way it is, and it might change as they grow closer but she knows to accept it for the moment.

As soon as he hears what she has to say next, he could crumble in relief at the realization that their new dynamic doesn't change anything.

"I didn't necessarily mean...that...I meant generally, you know? It's just that—" she sighs, "you shrink away a little when I hold you, and I wondered if I was making you uncomfortable."

Before she could finish the sentence, JJ was already thinking of what to say to prove her wrong, because that's not it. That's not what it is, and if she thinks she's done anything wrong, he'll do anything to convince her otherwise because it isn't her. It's him.

It's his dad lingering in the darker trenches of his mind, commanding his fear and attention so that even when he isn't physically present, he's still here. Part of why he denied wanting her was because he knew these types of things would arise in the beginning, that there would be difficult adjustments to make and conversations to be had, and he didn't want her to leave him as soon as she was faced with one of these things.

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything."

The feeing of her chest rising and falling with his begins to steady him after a moment of allowing the initial hesitation to dissolve. His internal reaction to her touch is the mental incarnation of a flinch. It's him waiting for the other shoe to drop and expecting her to do something, to hurt him, before his mind catches up with his heart. But once he realizes everything's okay, he loves it.

"It's kinda embarrassing, but I guess when you touch me, I'm expecting something else," he says softly, scared that if he speaks too loudly, everyone in the world will know how weak he feels.

She should've figured, but hearing him say it is different than wondering what the reasoning behind it is. Hearing him admit it after months of strict avoidance on the topic is a sucker punch to the gut.

Both times they had sex, he was too distracted and thoughtless to get caught up in that part of himself, but it's when the bliss of the afterglow disappears that it creeps back in. That's why he could always handle touch when it came in that context. It was his way of obtaining what he wanted without having to face this side of it—a temporary fix to a greater web of issues.

But there's nothing temporary about her. He doesn't want her to leave him, not without him resisting the urge to beg her on his knees to stay and at least remain his friend, so there's no choice but to face these momentary challenges head on.

She pauses for a second, thinking, then says, "You don't have to be embarrassed about it, I get it. We'll just have to take it day by day then. We can take it slow, and you'll let me know if it gets to be too much, okay?"

It's hard not to be shocked by how well she's taking it. A lot of people probably wouldn't feel too great after someone they love tells them they expect to be hit whenever they touch them, yet she's taking it in stride.

Things are back to normal as soon as she sees the grin on his face.

"So, you're saying you're gonna be trying not to throw yourself at me all the time?" JJ asks, then clicks his tongue as though in thought. "I give you a week. Tops."

Her eyes go wide as she looks at him. She holds her hand over her heart as she pretends to be scandalized by such an accusation, but they know it's true. They both can't keep their hands off of one another, which is why it confuses him. How can he want to reject and enjoy her touch at the same time? Sure, the discomfort disappears after the first split-second, but the fact that it happens in the first place annoys him to no end.

She rolls her eyes and tries to hide the fact that she's giggling as she reaches for the soap.

"You're a little shit, you know that?"

He doesn't miss a beat, saying back, "Yeah but I'm your little shit, so I feel like that says more about you than it does me."

While he's too busy rinsing the rest of the shampoo out of his hair, she smiles to herself at what he said.

Hers.

Nobody has ever been hers before, or proclaimed themselves as belonging to her as proudly and casually as he just did, and her heart melts over the sweet sentiment he didn't think twice about.

Less than a day ago, she was agonizing over her relationship with him and trying to ignore how powerful those feelings for him were, and now they're here. She no longer has to steal glances when he looks away or hide how jealous she feels when other girls flirt with him. To finally let the tension disappear is an immense weight off of her shoulders.

The rest of the shower is as quiet as the start of it was, and that comfortable silence continues through from when they're drying off and redressing to when they hit the mattress in the spare bedroom with tired sighs.

After the day they had, the mere suggestion of sleep is enough to make them start yawning, so being able to slip beneath the sheets and rest their heads almost sings her to sleep instantly.

Their bodies are laying in the exact outlines of where they laid the night of the party, the only difference this time being their mindsets. This time around, they aren't holding themselves back from anything, and it's most evident in the little things. Like how she doesn't turn around to shield her face from him, instead laying with her head propped on the other end of his favorite pillow.

They're so close, their noses brush if they make any slight movements, and this would be enough for him to submit to the urge to drift into sleep if not for the fact that he feels her jolt when thunder rumbles loudly outside of the window.

Much like his own fears being pushed to the side amidst their desire for each other, her anxiety about the storm wasn't on her mind until they laid down to sleep.

She was so wrapped up in him and everything that happened between them that she didn't have the time to think again until now, until she hears the violent patter of rain against the roof and feels her stomach drop at the sound of the thunder. Suddenly, she's not the one reassuring him about his fearful reactions, it's the other way around.

His warm hand takes hers, snatching it up as though he's worried it'll disappear if he doesn't take it quickly enough, and she lets him. Her eyes flutter shut with the release of a slow, deep breath, and she lets the presence of his hand in hers bring her back to earth.

JJ asks into the darkness, "Can I take you out on a real date?" After a beat of silence, the comforting sound of his voice returns to her. "Not that this isn't fun, but I think you deserve a little more effort than John B's living room floor."

A short-lived chuckle escapes her—a win as far as he's concerned. It's difficult to lure her head from the clouds when she gets this way, and it isn't like he has much experience with calming her during these moments either, but that sounded good to him. It sounded like she wasn't thinking about the increased pace of her heart or the howling wind outside.

He was planning on asking anyway. However fitting of a first night together this was, he wants to take her out for real sometime soon. He doesn't have much money for it, like at all, but they can come up with something special together, even if it's similar to the same shit they usually do together. As long as it's time alone together, they don't necessarily care if it's a perfectly traditional first date.

The tip of his thumb rubs comforting circles onto the back of her hand in the brief time it takes her to respond, stroking the soft skin as if to tell her that everything's okay. It seems to say, I'm right here. Nothing can hurt you. And it might make her crazy, but she believes him. JJ could take her back out into the eye of the hurricane at this very moment and she'd still believe his unspoken promise of not letting her into harm's way.

"Of course," she says, then pauses, and the sound of her sleepy voice hardly reaches his ears when she speaks again, "...I'm sorry I avoided you for the past few days. I was scared to tell you how I felt but I shouldn't have left that morning."

The memory of waking up in his arms is fresh in the forefront of her mind, so much so that she can remember the way his breath felt where it exhaled in warm puffs onto her skin.

In the first few moments of consciousness, it was peaceful.

She laid awake for a minute or two to count his breaths and soak in the comfort of being cuddled up next to him, wishing she could stay there for hours. It wasn't until another moment passed that it clicked with her where she was and what was going on between them recently, and that was what prompted her to slip away from the bed to get ready for her day at work.

It was the second time in a row that she left him in that bed with nothing to wake up to but the cold absence of her body between the sheets he slept under, and he can't deny that it's part of why he holds onto her hand so tightly tonight. Even though she's promised him otherwise, he can't help but think she'll be gone by the time he wakes up. At this point, he's struggling to stay conscious. She can see those pretty eyes drooping more and more by the second, yet the hand holding hers doesn't loosen its grip.

He takes a deep breath and scoots closer to her, keeping his one hand in hers while the other arm drapes itself over her waist, and he can feel her relax into the touch.

"It's okay," he says.

It's easier for him to adjust to so much physical contact when he's the one initiating. He knows that's why she only reached out to hold his hand. If she had it her way, she would've already been cuddling with him as soon as they laid down, but he likes that she gives him the space to initiate it. In the ways it counts the most, she cares about him more than anyone else has.

The touch in itself is his way of accepting her apology. However, truth be told, he already forgave her for it before knowing his love was reciprocated could be a possibility.

Right when she's about to fall asleep, the screen door slamming open and shut with the wind on the back porch makes her whip her head around to look over her shoulder in the direction of the sound. It seems like every time he successfully distracts her from it, the storm finds new ways of reminding her of what's happening outside of the safety of the Chateau.

There's the sound of a barely audible, sharp inhale, then her whispering into the dark room as she looks at the closed door, "I can't believe I went out into that. What the fuck was I thinking?"

It's beginning to close in on her again; the sounds of the storm, the sense of being trapped no matter how safe they truly are, and the rising tidal wave of anxiety that picks up speed the more she tries to will it to stop. This is the part where she tries to relieve it in some way, usually by smoking weed to sleep or going to one of her parents so they can help her through it, but she can't help herself right now.

Debris was being picked and tossed around in the wind like it weighed nothing when she was out there, she could've been knocked into the marsh or struck by a piece of debris.

How could she be so stupid?

Not only could she have hurt herself, she could've hurt JJ knowing that he'd likely follow her out into the storm to bring her back inside, and the thought of him being hurt makes the tension in her chest heavier. Her breathing picks up speed, the anxiety starting to snowball out of control when—

"Hey, look at me," JJ says, reaching up to turn her head to face him, and she damn near crumbles in relief at feeling his hand cup her cheek. It doesn't make it all disappear, but it provides a momentary comfort that she doesn't take for granted. "You're safe here. You know damn well I'll do anything to protect you. I mean, shit, dude, if I have to go out there and tell that rain to fuck off, I will."

This draws out a laugh from her, chest stuttering with the happy sound through the tears glistening in her eyes, and he never wants to stop hearing it. His thumb swipes away the first teardrop that falls before it can slip over the apples of her cheeks. I'm Her quiet cries and shaky breaths continue for a while after the laughter disappears. For a second or two, he watches with his thumb still wiping her tears away and hopes that it'll be enough to comfort her, but it can't do it completely.

He pulls away from her to get up from the bed with an idea popping into his mind, but upon hearing her whine at the loss of contact with him, he pauses to say, "I'll be back quick, don't worry."

The remaining humorous side of her left wonders if he's actually gonna go tell the rain to fuck off, but he's just opening the bedroom door to trot out into the living room.

A candle burning on the coffee table illuminates the space for him, guiding him straight to the forgotten backpack she left slumped against the arm of the couch hours before their relationship was changed for the better. It takes him an instant to get there and back with the bag in hand, and he's digging through it for a second before climbing back into bed with her.

If anyone else rifled through her bag, sifted through her personal belongings, and dug her phone out of it, she'd probably be annoyed, but she never is with him. She's inherently protective of her things, but JJ can do whatever he wants and it has always been that way. It should've been the first warning of what was to come.

He pulls the sheet back over his body and scoots up close to her, trying to resist the urge to retreat at first when he maneuvers her to lay with her head on his shoulder. It should trigger the flight or fight response that often alarms in his head, but he's able to push it away.

She's so vulnerable right now, so gentle and in need of the warmth of another person that he isn't as intimidated. It's not that she couldn't hurt him if she wanted to right now, she could, but he knows her. He knows that the last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt him, so he has to remind himself of that and give himself the permission to enjoy the physical intimacy of her touch. The part of him that questions if he even deserves it can't reach him now, not when he's so focused on her.

"Thumb?" he asks with the phone held out expectantly.

The screen is less than two inches from her face, so she has to push it back slightly, but she flattens her thumb to the button without further hesitation.

When he unwraps the pair of headphones from around the palm of his hand and plugs them into the charging port, she realizes why he left in the first place.

When she was facing away from him, eyes shut and headphones in to distract herself with music earlier, he was stealing glances at her every so often. He tried to keep away from her for the most part. It was difficult though, especially knowing what she said about being jealous the night of the party and knowing how scared she was of the hurricane. He couldn't help but keep an eye on her, for both his own selfish needs and his worry for her.

He keeps an arm tucked around her, pressing her body into his while he pops one of the headphones into her ear and the other into his. The thing is, her eyes aren't trained on the screen like his are once he starts looking through her vast collection of not-so-legally acquired music for a song that suits both of their tastes, they're trained on him.

Their taste in music tends to diverge in certain ways and overlap in others, so there's always a fifty/fifty shot of him liking what she plays when she's the one picking the music. That is why he smiles to himself and halts the endless scrolling in its tracks to hover his thumb over one song.

He obviously heard it before she played it that one time, but it's different for him now. They were riding together in the backseat of the Twinkie on the way to the beach with John B, Kie, and Pope when they let her take her turn to play a song.

That's how it is with them, the driver goes first, then it goes to the front seat passenger, and so on and so on until they make their way back to the beginning of the rotation. It was her turn when she picked this song, and it could've been the song, or the sunset shining through the window, but he felt as though his heart exploded when he looked at her in the middle of it.

He remembers feeling confused, confused as to why he couldn't catch his breath and why he suddenly adored the song he only heard casually a couple of times.

It was her. It was everything about her. The soft hum of her voice murmuring the lyrics, too shy to actually sing them in the presence of anyone else, was too delicate for the others to appreciate over the sounds of the van. He heard it though. He clung to it and admired her, so unashamed in his staring that he didn't realize he was doing it. It wasn't until she noticed that he stopped.

"Do I still have ice cream on my face or something?"

Her fingers came up to wipe at the corner over her mouth, and the action sent him turning his attention away quicker than he knew he could move, pulling the lighter out of his pocket to fiddle with as he mumbled, "Yeah, but you got it off now."

The cheery melody of Just Like Heaven bursts out of each headphone into their ears.

How did he know? How is he constantly reading her mind without realizing it?

This was her first song on the couch that she couldn't stand to sit through without thinking, naturally, of him when confronted with the topic of love. Somehow, it's like he knew that, and instead of feeling exposed and scared he'll know her feelings like before, she feels loved.

She is never skipping this song again.

"Go to sleep," he murmurs, clicking the screen off and resting it on his stomach.

It takes him a short thirty seconds to fall into an easy, calm pattern of breathing that tells her he isn't asleep, but soon will be. But she's fighting her sleepiness to continue looking at him. His eyes are fluttered shut, hair messy on the pillow, and she'd want to reach up to kiss him if he weren't trying to fall asleep.

Instead, she settles for matching her quickened breaths to the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand and shuts her eyes along with him.

By the time the song reaches its end, she thinks he's asleep, but she still whispers, "Thank you," and feels his arm squeeze around her body in response.

The next songs fade into white noise at this point for her, drowning out the storm to the point where she begins to forget it's happening out there.

Maybe they can be each other's safe place when things get rough. After all, he handled this wonderfully considering his lack of experience with her anxiety and she never pushes him on his plethora of unsorted issues, even when she wants so badly to be the one to initiate the touch.

She never makes him think she pities him, or wants to "fix" him like so many partners with savior complexes who will never try to understand how it feels often do in these situations. With each other, maybe it doesn't have to be so complicated anymore, even when they have those inevitable arguments here or there.

The last thing he does before allowing himself to be dragged under is brush his lips on her forehead in a tender kiss. And when he eventually wakes to the rising sun shining through the windows in the aftermath of the violent hurricane, she's still there.

Tag List: @jjjmaybank, @its-simply-fanfiction, @naughtydild0swaggins.

[crystalcow]

𝑆𝑎𝑝𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑//𝑆𝑎𝑝𝑛𝑎𝑝 𝑝𝑡 3

Masterlist // part one // part two

Sapnap x reader !p !child reader

Pronouns used: none specified!

Warnings: swearing, death, betrayal

•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰

╔.▪️.═════════╗

Being sapnaps child will include..

╚═════════.▪️.╝

𝐏𝗼𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐥

Apparently the castle got attacked

George was killed by the one and only technoblade

You haven’t personally met the man but you respected him

After all he is a legend

But he killed George

So you were dragged with sapnap when he got pinged on his coms

Dream and George were arguing on the prime path

The sight somewhat terrified you

They were supposed to be best friends?

Dream is the strongest person on the server

George was supposed to be the most unproblematic and protected person

For some reason Quackity was also there

Hiding in the corner of Tommy’s house

“You don’t give a shit about us”

Those words brought some hurt to you as they left sapnaps mouth

“Of course I care about you! I just want to keep him safe.”

The three most important men in your life

The dream team, and ultimate trio the friendship that could never crack! The ones who raised you to be who you are

They were falling apart

“George is no longer king!”

Quackity was just eating all of the drama

Damn duck

“I’ve done so much for you, I hope you don’t forget.”

“Like what?” “I helped you raise a child Sap, a damn child.”

That pissed the both of you off

As if you didn’t just recently spend a whole day with him

None the less your whole life

Being drawn into wars, multiple actually

Practically being drawn to death

“Don’t you bring them into this Dream.”

“Eret is now king again, he can actually rule this place.”

“I was the best king this server ever had!”

So there it happened

The crown was snatched off of George’s head and you were dragged along with it

“Don’t worry, we can start our own place!”

“El rapids it is”

𝐄𝐥 𝐑𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐬

You were 100% skeptical about all of this

You didn’t trust that this would be good

I mean how could you

Everything that someone starts on the server

Dies, explodes, nukes, or straight up fails

So instead you went down to Lmanburg for the day!

You went to Nikkis bakery to get something to eat

She was glad to give you a couple snacks for the road

So while you were walking around the new area you spotted dream

“Where you heading off to?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You both eyed each other weirdly

“Aren’t you supposed to hate me?”

You just laughed

Ofcourse you were upset

But you were also bored

“And?” “Come on let’s go see tommy”

So you agreed and carelessly followed the green man

You missed Tommy, after not having seen him for a bit

Fucking hell you needed friends

But when you got there

“Why the fuck is everything gone!”

You ran around the now blown up area

The tents were destroyed and signs were thrown around

Then you noticed the large pillar

You instantly ran to dream, begging him to give you a pearl

He was upset himself he lost his leech

So you threw the pearl up thankfully landing on the pillar

Looking around to see if there was any way he could’ve survived

But you accidentally tripped

And lost your first life

𝐘/𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝗼𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝗼𝗼 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 ♡︎♥︎♥︎

𝐏𝐫𝗼𝐩𝗼𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐬

You woke up screaming in your bed

The three lines on your wrist now faded into two

Sapnap came rushing in holding you lose to him

You tried not to but you cried a little

This was your first time loosing a life..

And you didn’t even mean too!

“Your never fucking leaving me again.”

Karl came in with Quackity following after

Karl just like snatched you away from sapnap and just held you

That man was ready to go back in time and reverse that from ever happening

Trust me he will if you ever loose another life

So after that everyone kept a close eye on you

That was until one day you were with your dad

You both were at your old house just chilling around

Before he handed you two velvet boxes

You were in awe of the two rings that sat in them

Who the fuck paid for these??

“I’m going to purpose.”

You almost dropped the boxes

“What?”

Sapnap just kept smiling

“You really like em huh” “Yeah flame, I love them.”

So you just hugged him

Internally freaking the fuck out

What would this mean???

Three dads? What if they wanted another child! Oh hell no

So you all stood in el rapids

Candles were spread around the top of the grassy hill

There were flowers blooming from every direction and lanterns set afloat

It looked mystical

You watched as sapnap got down on one knee

Karl was in shock, tears streaming down his eyes

Quackity looked love struck, looking into sapnaps eyes with total adoration

So when they said yes your dad called you and the other two just hugged you

“I’m guessing they said yes” you laughed

“Yeah they did!”

You couldn’t help but be happy

Your dad finally found some happiness

Even tho life was going to shit

If you won’t be there

He’ll have them

𝐋𝗺𝐚𝐧𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐞𝗺

Oh wait shit did someone spot tommy?

There was supposed to be a festival today

So you went to go check it out

Maybe throw a ball at the furry

“Go fetch!” You shouted at fundy

Yeah he was not happy and just threw you the finger

“Hey N/n is Dream coming?”

You were excited that Tubbo was actually talking to you again

“Huh? Oh yeah I think” “Great thanks”

And back to the disappointment

So you walked over to get a pretzel or some shit

And then heard everyone making a commotion

There he was, Dream walking in (angry) with full netherite armor

Damn dude respect some tradition

“Tommy blew up the fucking community house”

Did someone say tommy?

Oh you were ready to kill that bastard

Hell if Dream didn’t you most definitely will

So you followed everyone to the community house

Yeah you were ready to fucking cry

One of your homes, the place you’d always confide in since you were little

Where dream and George both helped raise you

Now blown to shreds

“What the fuck”

They were talking about Tubbo giving up the discs

Oh we are not going through that shit all over again

And this time the odds are most definitely not in your favor

Then tommy appeared half invisible

“YOU FUCKING DICKHEAD I THOUGHT YOU DIED YOU FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT”

You litterly stabbed him, having to be held back by Quackity

“Alright hot shot, lets let them have their argument”

Tommy sent you an apologetic look already on the verge of tears

“Tubbo your not seriously considering this”

Then it hit everyone

“The discs were worth more then you ever were!”

Oh yeah we’re you already pissed off at tommy?

Yeah

And he just made it worse

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY TO TUBBO YOU SHIT HEAD”

Yeah you didn’t take pretending to be dead very lightly

Oh shit why was techno there

never mind, Lmanburg will be gone by tomorrow

No point killing tommy yet

Whos side were you on?

Neither. You litterly went into that battle feild and killed some shit

That was until multiple pieces of tnt landed ontop of your head

And that’s where you lost your second life

Shit

𝐘/𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐰 𝐮𝐩 ♡︎♡︎♥︎ ⚠︎︎ᴏɴᴇ ʟɪғᴇ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴɪɴɢ

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐬𝗼𝐧

This time when you won’t up it didn’t feel as bad

But you still screamed

A rush of a heartburn and scars employed on your body

The second line now faded into one

Shit

You were only 16-17 and on one life??

Die young the better

You waited out in your bed until the end of the fight

Death alerts and messages drowning out your communicator

But you had no energy what so ever

Until it all went quiet

You tried your damn best to get out of bed and walked to the damaged Lmanburg

There were people crying

Others were severely hurt

Then there were those who were perfectly fine

The whole place was a crater

Lmanburg.. the place of agony and depths of your pain

Now it’s finally gone

What the hell are you gonna do now?

Quackity spotted you calling out for Sapnap

You felt like you were gonna be crushed under their hold

“I’m gonna fucking kill dream.” You heard Quackity mutter

Sapnap felt like a bad father

Who lets their kids die twice?

(Cough cough Wilbur and dream)

Then suddenly things switched around

You were walking around with a bloodied nose and black eyed Tommy

Yeah you did a number on him

But it’s okay since he was your best friend

And there was a sign inside his house

“Wednesday you and Tubbo. Bring no one or anything, lets settle this once and for all”

The final disc war

“Tommy you can’t go” “I’m going N/n, he has my discs.”

So you like cried a little bit lined up on the prime path

Giving the two probably the last hugs they’ll ever get

Prime you really didn’t want to loose them

So you ran straight to church prime

Litterly begging Master Oolong that they won’t die

“Please please please spare them. Pogchamp.”

(Please this is all jokes and old references don’t cancel me)

You got a blast message from punz on your comms with cords

“Come here. bring your best armor”

So you did so running to the nearest ender chest

If walking means saving tommy and Tubbo, it’s somewhat worth it

Sapnap made sure you didn’t leave his side as you traveled around the nether

even tho you could literally swim in the lava

So just to piss him off

You jumped in

The sigh of relief this man

Yeah he’s gotten a little more paranoid for you

But it’s okay since it’s in love

You looked around the weird black stone room

There were two giant photos of the discs

And everything was made out of the same material

No design what so ever

Tommy and Tubbo ran to you like you were gonna protect them

“Dream why” you asked as he was incased in the blocks

Down on his last life

Just like you

‘I’m sorry’ he mouthed to you

Why was he apologizing to you?

Hasn’t he hurt everyone here

You looked around the different items

Tracing the outline of the item frames

Gasping in shock as you a cage with your name on it next to badboyhalo

“Tell em what you told me! How you blew up the community house!”

Your neck spun around faster then an owl doing that 360 thing

You picked up your ace seriously read to slash his head off

“Wait wait! Lets put him in the prison.”

So they took him off

And it pained you to see it

You trusted that man for a very long time

Nothing stays the same on the Dream Smp

•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰•⊱✿•✿⊰

TUMBLR WOULDNT LET ME WRITE MORE KMS. So yes I’m sorry but there will have to be a part FOUR. I just wanted to finish this-

As always! Ask or request anything and ask if you want to be on a tag list :))