#and then a thunderstorm rolls in overhead

[dipperscavern]

your comment abt ice being 6 FUCKING feet and cregan casually has it strapped to his back 😀 hi yes so unfortunately i need him in my soul!! all of him even though i know i can't take all of that. he's so big and burly and fucking divine masculine. is all of the ice in the north melting or am i just wet asf rn 🤨 cregan cregan cregannnn we need to unpack this fact and the size of this fucking man

IS THE ICE IN THE NORTH MELTING. OR ARW YOU JUST 😭😭 IM CRYING

okay but i’m so serious. when i had that ice thought last night… lord. it took me an extra hour to fall asleep because i kept FUCKING THINKING ARGH. walk with me, anon. and then the entire council is following us LMFAO OK ANYWYAS

ice is, in fact, six feet long. it’s “as wide across a man’s hand”, taller than (an adolescent) robb stark, and almost as tall as ser ilyn pane. ilyn panes exact height is unknown, but since ice is nearly as tall, and ice is 6ft, i’d say ilyn is around 6’2. ice is also valyrian steel, so it’s not heavy heavy, just awkward. but even if it’s not the heaviest thing ever seen, the fact that cregan has that mf strapped across his BACK. is INSANE.

(i enhanced the pictures so they look a bit strange) it’s positioned to come above his head and looks like it ends at around calf level? i think? also, that’s just tom’s natural height.. not cregans. cregans exact height is (i think) unknown (everyone says over 6ft though), so what that means is we get to decide. SUMMON THE COUNCIL.

[tender-rosiey]

I have a ✨request✨

So I would like to ask (if you want to do this) if you can make husband!Sukuna and wife!Reader but the reader gets scared easily and she’s terrified of thunderstorms.

Thank you! Btw, love how you write everything 😌❤️

thunder — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: glad you do, love! hope you like this as well! <3

the skies turn an ominous gray, heavy clouds swirling as the first low rumble of thunder rolls across the horizon. you feel your stomach twist in response, a familiar unease creeping up your spine. the storm is approaching, fast.

you swallow hard, trying to distract yourself with the mundane tasks of the day, hoping the sound of the thunder will fade into the background.

but with each passing moment, the storm grows louder, the skies darker. a flash of lightning lights up the room briefly, followed almost immediately by a crack of thunder that shakes the walls.

you flinch, heart pounding in your chest, and hurriedly step away from the window, as if being near it somehow makes the storm more dangerous.

your fingers tremble slightly as you clasp them together, trying to keep your breathing steady.

it’s ridiculous, you think. you are the wife of ryomen sukuna, the king of curses. by all accounts, you have no reason to fear anything. and yet… thunderstorms always find a way to unravel you.

another bolt of lightning splits the sky, and you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the inevitable roar of thunder that follows.

the sound reverberates through the room, louder than before, and despite your efforts to stay calm, you can’t stop the small gasp that escapes your lips.

you hate feeling this way—small, vulnerable. you have faced so much worse and come out unscathed, but the irrational fear of storms clings to you, reminding you of your humanness.

a faint sound behind you makes you jump, your pulse quickening before you realize it’s just the door opening. you exhale in relief but freeze when you sense his presence in the room.

sukuna’s aura is unmistakable—heavy, oppressive, and dark. yet there is something familiar and comforting in it, like the weight of his power grounds you in reality.

he stands in the doorway, watching you in silence for a moment, his four eyes taking in your tense frame, the way your shoulders are slightly hunched, and your knuckles are white from gripping your hands too tightly.

“you’re scared,” he says, his voice low.

it isn’t a question. he senses it, of course. there’s no hiding anything from him, least of all your fears. you try to shrug it off, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“it’s just a storm,” you mutter, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, though your fingers still tremble. “nothing to worry about.”

sukuna steps further into the room, his towering figure casting a shadow over you.

he raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your attempt to downplay the situation. another crash of thunder booms overhead, and despite yourself, you flinch again.

his gaze sharpens. “don’t lie to me,” he warns, his tone cold.

you bite your lip, feeling foolish. of course he sees through you. he always does. there’s no use pretending.

“I’m… not good with thunderstorms,” you finally admit, your voice quieter now. “I know it’s stupid.”

sukuna remains silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he observes you. he is never one for unnecessary softness, and certainly not the comforting type.

but there is something in the way he looks at you—calculating, thoughtful, as if he is deciding what to do with this newfound knowledge.

another streak of lightning illuminates the room, casting sharp shadows across his face. you instinctively take a small step back, but before you can fully retreat, sukuna moves faster, closing the distance between you in an instant.

his large hand wraps around your wrist, firm but not harsh.

“are you serious?” he asks, incredulity lacing his tone. the idea seems laughable to him.

“I can’t help it,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. the thunder crashes once more, and your body tenses involuntarily.

sukuna exhales, a low, rumbling sound that seems to match the storm outside. his grip tightens slightly, pulling you closer to him until you’re inches away from his chest.

he looms over you, his eyes dark and piercing, yet there is something oddly reassuring in his presence—something that makes the storm outside seem less terrifying in comparison.

“you fear something as insignificant as this when i stand before you?” his voice is a mixture of disbelief and amusement, but beneath that, there is a thread of something else—something almost protective.

you can’t meet his gaze, embarrassed by how small and fragile you must seem to him. sukuna, of all beings, thrives on chaos and destruction. the very elements of the storm that terrify you are likely nothing more than a minor inconvenience to him, if that.

“look at me,” he commands, his fingers tipping your chin upward to force you to meet his eyes. his red irises burn into yours, fierce and unyielding.

“do you think something as trivial as this storm could harm you while you’re mine?” his words are sharp, almost cutting, but the underlying meaning isn’t lost on you. sukuna would never allow anything to touch what was his.

he would never allow the world—let alone a storm—to hurt you.

you swallow, your voice shaky but trying to sound braver than you feel. “I… I know. It’s just—”

“you know nothing,” he cuts you off, leaning down until his face is inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. “if you truly understood, you wouldn’t be trembling.”

you open your mouth to respond, but the thunder booms again, and instinctively, you press closer to him, your hands clutching the fabric of his robes as if he were the only anchor in the storm.

sukuna’s expression shifts subtly, his eyes softening—just barely—as he feels your grip tighten on him. he doesn’t pull away, doesn’t mock you for your fear, but instead, he allows you to cling to him, his body solid and unwavering.

“pathetic,” he mutters, though there’s no venom in his voice. he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you firmly against him. “but if you’re going to be scared, at least hide here.”

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[austinbutlerslovers]

Chokehold

Label Mature 18+

Benny x You One Shot

Summary

When Benny decides to take a thrill ride before a thunderstorm, you chastise him about his safety. With his free spirited nature, he flat out dismisses you as “causing trouble,” riding off on his bike and setting off your short temper.

When he returns from his ride cockier than ever, you hurl an insult his way, frustrated by his recklessness. Benny enjoys your fiery and overbearing nature, knowing you can never tame his wild side. He playfully puts you in a chokehold until you submit to his will and carries you to the kitchen to tame the temper right out of you.

Established Relationship Bennys Girlfriend

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥

manhandling•fiery female•chokehold�� male dominance • edging•fingering •dirty talk •pxssy taming•“good girl”•neck pinning•sex over a kitchen counter •overstimulation•simultaneous orgasm •cream pie•aftercare

🫦Smut consultant @purejasmine

Choke Hold

“You’re seriously going to ride out in this weather Benny?” you question, your tone laced with frustration and a hint of anger, as you eye the dark clouds gathering overhead.

“C’mon baby don’t be such a buzzkill,” Benny replies, sliding on his riding gloves, his grin only adding to your irritation. “I’ve ridden in worse.”

“But it’s not just about you,” you argue your voice rising slightly. “What if something happens? What if you get hurt?”

Benny shrugs, seemingly unconcerned by your worries. “Baby your always stirring up trouble relax, I’ll be fine a little rain never hurt anyone.”

You clench your fists, struggling to contain your frustration.

“Fine Benny do what you want. Just don’t come crying to me when you get caught in a downpour and end up stranded somewhere.”

Benny laughs and with a swift motion he kick-starts his Harley, the loud roar of the engine grating on your nerves.

“I’ll be back before you know it, baby. Try not to miss me too much,” he says with a wink.

His casual dismissal only serves to fuel your anger, and you feel the words bubbling up in your throat, ready to spill out in a torrent of frustration. But you bite back the retort swallowing it down with the bitter taste of resentment. You know all too well that once his mind is set, there’s no changing it back.

Benny, seeing your restraint flashes you a cocky grin and revs his engine drowning out any further protest. Then with the flick of his wrist, he rides his motorcycle out of the driveway and speeds off into the distance.

Your frustration mounts as you watched him embark on his thrill ride into the horizon with the ominous storm clouds.

You can’t help but feel a surge of anger rising within you. It was his casual dismissal of your opinion on several recent decisions that ignited your spark of defiance. Benny had a way of underestimating your insights, and though he meant no harm, it grated on you to no end.

A while later after the first crack of thunder, cutting through the air like a warning, you strain your ears and hear the familiar sound of Benny’s bike approaching. The rumble of his Harley growing louder with each passing second until finally he pulls into the driveway and abruptly cuts the engine.

You come to stand in the doorway and lean against the frame, your arms crossed in displeasure as you judge him.

"See? I told you it was fine," Benny quips, his grin unapologetic as he dismounts from his bike.

He approaches you and leans in, planting a kiss on your forehead before walking past you through the front door. Your hidden rage in striking contrast to his relaxed demeanor from the recent ride. With a practiced ease and without a care in the world he hangs up his riding gear.

You watch as heavy droplets of rain begin to patter on the driveway as a streak of lightning fills the sky. A roll of thunder rumbles, shaking the ground beneath your very feet. The storm is going to be severe, Benny barely made it in by the skin of his teeth.

"Your fine Benny ?” you retort closing the door. “You were practically going to ride through a monsoon out there! It’s like you’ve got a death wish or something." You say as the sound of heavy rain suddenly pelts the house.

Benny brushes off your concerns with a casual shrug “Come on, you worry too much” He says nonchalantly.

When he sits in the lounger and pulls off his boots, your frustration boils over, and you can’t hold back any longer. The insult that’s been lingering on the tip of your tongue bursts forth.

“Yeah, well, maybe if you had half a brain to go with all that brawn Benny, you’d actually listen to reason for once!” you snap.

Benny looks up at you and tosses his boot aside rising from the chair. His tall and imposing frame towers over yours as he stands, his muscular build only adding to his presence. His grin widens, mischief dancing in his piercing blue eyes.

“You’ve got a real smart mouth,” he says, his tone laced with amusement as he approaches, each step exuding his confidence and a hint of challenge.

Coming to a stop before you he gazes down, his eyes trailing over your smaller stature.

“But I guess that’s all you’ve got when you’re lacking in the brawn department,” he adds, his tone tinged with a hint of superiority.

Though his authority is infuriating it arouses you, and you find yourself fighting the urge to touch him, to feel the strength of his grip. Even as you resist the idea of giving in, his dominance is overwhelming.

You can’t deny how attractive he looks, especially in his muscle tee. The ruggedness of his appearance, combined with the confidence exuding from his every movement makes you crave him deep inside of you.

But this time, you’re not going to let him have his way. You double down on your resolve, determined to make sure he knows you won’t be easily swayed.

As you stand in a face off the air is charged with tension. The sound of rain pounds against the house as thunder shakes the foundation. You glare into Bennys eyes, your resolve doubling with each passing second. You choose your words precisely, knowing this is the moment to show him your strength, your words laced with determination as you answer.

“Brains beat brawn any day, Benny, you should kno-,” before you finish, Benny grabs you by surprise.

His grip is strong as he pulls you to him whipping you around in his arms and holding your back to his chest.

“Come on troublemaker, you think you can take me?” Benny chuckles, his voice deep and vibrating against your ear as he wraps his impressive bicep around your throat.

“You’re asking for it, Benny!” you retort in anger as you put up a fight pulling and struggling against his vice-like grip.

His strength is unyielding, every muscle in his arm flexed and tense, holding you firmly in place. As you struggle, you can feel his chest pressed against your back and his breath warm against your ear.

“Got you good now, don’t I?” Benny murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “Think you can break free?” he asks as his bicep clenches even harder around your throat. The pressure intensifies against your windpipe and a wave of panic sets in.

Your struggle turns into genuine resistance as you realize he is overpowering you with his strength in a chokehold. The air quickly grows thin and your movements become desperate. “Benny..-ease up a bit!” you manage to gasp out your voice strained with effort.

Benny remains calm, his grip firm yet controlled as he exerts his strength. “Don’t worry baby I’ve got you” he says, his tone firm yet reassuring. “Just surrender to it.”

Your vision begins to blur and your body starts to go limp as you cling to his forearm for support. Exhausted and gasping for breath, you reluctantly give in and weakly tap his forearm, signaling your surrender as you see stars.

“Looks like you’ve had enough, huh?” he chuckles as he releases you on your easy submission.

You stumble forward unable to gain your footing and he quickly reaches out grabbing your waist to prevent you from falling and pulls you back to face him.

“Guess brawn did beat brains this time,” he murmurs low and seductive, his eyes locking with yours in a heated gaze.

“You win this time, Benny,” you say, your voice laced with the hint of threat as you glare back at him. “But payback’s coming.”

Benny’s face lights up with a big grin at your threat of revenge.

“You look real adorable when you’re mad, baby,” he admits, his voice laced with charm. His eyes wander over your body, as he takes in your fiery demeanor.

“I’m not here to be adorable, Benny,” you retort, your voice edged with defiance. “I’m here to be respected.”

As you speak, your eyes hold his, conveying your determination to stand your ground.

“Alright then trouble maker” he says and before you can regain your composure, he surprises you by lifting you up over his shoulder with effortless strength and carrying you off.

“Benny where are we going?” you protest, your voice a mixture of surprise and anger.

“To a place where I can tame that temper of yours,” he responds, giving your backside a playful swat.

He carries you to the kitchen with determination his grip firm and unyielding as he sets you down gently in front of the center island. You look up at his intense gaze with a flutter of excitement coursing through your body.

“You know, you’re not as tough as you think,” he teases as he cups your jaw in one hand. When you open your mouth to protest he pulls you into a deep kiss.

Your arousal instantly wins over reason and you find yourself melting into his touch, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his lips on yours.

Your hands instinctively find their way to his chest grabbing his shirt pulling him even closer.

He smiles against your lips at your neediness for him and you feel the soft press of his mouth intensify as it moves against yours in a tender deliberate rhythm.

You respond eagerly, matching his pace with a hunger of your own. You feel the softness of his lower lip beneath yours, the gentle tug of his teeth as he teases and tantalizes, drawing out every moment with precision.

You arch into his touch, craving more of his kiss as you lose yourself in the intoxicating sensation of his lips on yours.

He presses himself against you, backing you to the edge of the counter and pulls his lips back in anticipation. You are breathless and exhilarated, your heart pounding in your chest as you gaze into his eyes.

“What were you saying about payback?” he murmurs, as you feel his impressive hard on touch between your legs as he pins you against the counter.

You meet his gaze with a mischievous smile, your eyes filled with seduction as you respond, “I think payback can wait.”

Benny chuckles softly, a playful glint dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer.

“Because you know you won’t win against me,” he responds, his voice laced with confidence and a hint of challenge. “Even if you tried, you’d never get your revenge.” He says as his eyes trail seductively down your body “I’m too good at this.” He confirms making your heart race with excitement.

He swiftly grabs your waist, effortlessly turning you around and bending you over the counter. His strong hand presses your chest to the cool tile surface pinning you down in place.

He brushes your hair aside and you feel a surge of excitement coursing through your veins, the anticipation sending shivers down your spine.

With a knowing grin Benny leans in closer, his chest pressing against your back, his voice low and soothing. “Let’s bring down that fiery temper of yours hm?” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

His tongue darts out and traces a tantalizing path along the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. As he sucks gently, his lips create a sweet, tingling sensation. Each movement of his mouth against your skin ignites a fiery passion within your body.

You can’t help but let out a soft sigh of pleasure, completely lost in the sensation of his tender kiss. His hands strong yet gentle trail down your body, caressing every curve with a delicate touch.

He leans back to standing, his grip firm yet gentle as he guides your legs apart with ease. With a confident touch he lifts your dress over your back exposing your bare skin to the cool air of the kitchen.

A rush of heat floods between your legs as he slides your panties down, the fabric grazing against your skin before settling just at the folds of your thighs. His fingers, warm and skilled, trace intricate patterns against your heat teasing you mercilessly.

“You’re getting so wet for me, aren’t you baby” He smiles feeling your arousal on his fingers “It’s like you can’t resist my touch.” he says punctuating his words with gentle strokes.

“You think you can …make me lose control that easily, Benny?” you pant against the tile, trying not to give in. “You haven’t even …done anything yet,” you say, a hint of defiance in your voice as you try to hold your resolve.

Benny chuckles softly “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with confidence. “I haven’t even begun to show you what I can do.” He glides his fingers over your folds and traces them around your sensitive entrance with increasing pressure until your arousal intensifies as you become wetter under his expert touch.

Then with his fingers fully soaked he trusts them into you pushing them deep inside as he continues to tease and explore. His fingers move in and out of you with deliberate thrusts to drive you wild with desire.

Your body tenses with effort as you try to resist the intensifying sensation. Every muscle is coiled with anticipation with each passing moment until you give in to the urge and surrender to the pleasure building within you.

Just as you moan in acceptance against the counter, he withdraws his hand, leaving you craving more, your body still tingling with desire. Your anger rises within you once again “Your such a tease Benny” you say taunting him in frustration.

“Just a taste of what’s to come,” he says with a smirk as he takes a step back leaving you wanting more.

You hear the faint sound of his zipper being lowered and feel his hand return reassuringly on your back, as he lines himself up.

He presses his hard tip to your entrance and runs it up and down your folds collecting your arousal for penetration. Your back arches from the extreme sensation and he gives your backside a playful slap, the sound echoing the kitchen. “Look how quiet and docile you are for me now,” he says with a grin.

“You’re impossible,” you gasp, your voice breathless with desire as you resist the urge to give in completely again.

Benny chuckles huskily, murmuring, “And you love every minute of it.”

With a slow deliberate push he thrusts his large cock into you, the sensation is overwhelming yet undeniably pleasurable as you both lose yourselves in the heat of the moment.

Your body trembles as he presses you firmly against the counter, the cool surface providing a stark contrast to the searing heat of your body.

His strong hands grasp your hips with a primal need, pulling you back as he presses his cock completely into you stretching you full. You moan as he sets a relentless pace thrusting you forward into the counter.

Each movement sends shockwaves of pleasure rippling through your body, the force of his thrusts driving you deeper into ecstasy. Your muscles clench around him with each powerful stroke, your senses consumed by the overwhelming intensity of his plowing cock.

“You’re being such a good girl for me,” Benny teases, his tone playful as he observes your response in his thrusts.

“I am not …a girl… Benny!” you retort firmly. “I am…a woman.”

“Is that right, darlin’?” he asks, his playful demeanor unwavering. You nod determined to stand your ground as he thrusts into you.

Benny responds by placing his large hand on the back of your neck, pinning you in a submissive pose as he guides his movements. With each snap of his hips, he thrusts into you hard with a raw, primal energy that consumes your every thought and sensation.

You moan against the tiles with your face pressed to them as every collision of him against your body thrusts his cock deeper against your cervix. After several aggressive thrusts in a row a deep moan escapes from you as he breaks down your resolve. Benny revels hearing the sound of your pleasure.

He begins to clap his hips against you, deepening his thrusts until the intensity builds to a fever pitch. You can feel the tension of the coil inside of you winding tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment.

Leaning over you he grabs your waist and changes the intensity of his thrusts, driving his movements slower and deeper until you gasp in pleasure as your core throbs from the sensation. His grip on your waist tightens as he leans in to whisper, “You sure are taking my cock like a good girl.”

Overwhelmed by the pleasure he’s giving, all you can do is moan, your body completely surrenders to his will. Benny sits up and pulls your arms back lifting your chest from the counter using them as leverage to bounce you on his hard, thrusting cock.

With each slap of your bodies meeting, your loud moans fill the air as his grunts of exertion echo the kitchen. Your walls begin to flutter around him and you cry out his name like a prayer, he smiles to himself, relishing in the sensation of you fully surrendering to him.

“There’s my good girl,” he says, his voice husky with desire. You let out a guttural moan losing all your anger as the pleasure surges in your core.

And then with one final, explosive thrust, you both orgasm to the overwhelming waves of pleasure. His ropes of cum painting your fluttering walls.

“Benny!” you cry out trembling as he holds you against him standing up. You pant for several moments as he presses his cock deep inside releasing every once of his sperm. He kisses along your neck as he holds you to him savoring your shared connection.

When he begins to soften he pulls his hips back grasping his cock at the base sliding it from you as you feel the loss of contact.

He turns you to face him and pulls your lips onto his softly kissing you once more before he leans back to gaze into your eyes.

They are filled with satisfaction and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips

“You look real pretty when you’re not being a little trouble maker baby” he teases as he smiles caressing your temple.

With a mischievous grin, you respond, “Dont get used to it Benny trouble is my middle name.”

You both share a laugh and he holds you close, his strong arms wrapped securely around you. The rain outside begins to subside, the soft patter against the windows gradually fading away.

You feel the warmth of his body against yours, a comforting embrace in the aftermath of the storm. As you smile to yourself, a sense of satisfaction washes over you knowing that while he may overpower you physically, you’ll always find a way to turn the tables with wit.

⛈️END⛈️

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[unboundprompts]

Hiya, can you write some thunderstorm setting prompts? Such as activities, dialog, how to describe the storm itself and ect? Thank you so much!!

Thunderstorm Prompts

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

The air was thick and charged with anticipation. Dark, heavy clouds loomed overhead. The atmosphere was tense, as if nature itself was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable release.

"Don't be nervous," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her in a safe embrace. "The storm can't bother us in here."

A distant rumble echoed across the sky. A warning of what's to come. The wind picked up, swirling through trees and knocking leaves from branches. The scent of rain hung heavy in the air.

He had always been a little afraid of storms. The sudden, loud noises never failed to make him jump. "Don't worry," his partner told him, "I'll protect you. Lightning doesn't stand a chance."

The storm intensified, unleashing its fury with unabated vigor. Lightning continued to crackle across the heavens, painting fleeting landscapes of stark contrast. Thunder rolls continuously, punctuating the relentless assault of rain and wind.

"Well," she said, "there goes our plans." They watched the downpour from the window, rain coming down in sheets. "Do you want to watch a movie?"

Jagged streaks of lightning illuminated the sky in brilliant flashes, illuminating the world in start relief for split seconds. Thunder followed closely behind, a deep, booming percussion that reverberated through the air and through your bones.

"This is kind of perfect, actually," he chuckled. "There's this card game I've been meaning to show you. I don't think we'll be going anywhere anytime soon."

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[cevansbrat0007]

Request: Andy Barber & Baby Girl having sex during a thunderstorm.

Through the Storm

Summary: Andy helps you overcome your fear of thunderstorms.

Warnings: Astraphobia, Smut, Anxious Reader, Dominant Andy, Manhandling, Fingering, Spanking, CMNF (Clothed Male, Nude Female), Safe Sex, Cuddles, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Finally finished this WIP! This request takes place early in Andy and Reader's relationship. Part of my ongoing Growing Pains Series, but can also be read as a standalone. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

You stare out into the backyard, watching sheets of slanted rain pelt against your boyfriend’s newly installed patio. While it wasn’t much, it was enough to give the compact enclosed space the cozy feel it had long been missing. You’d even helped him with the landscaping, much to your chagrin. 

Andy had been quick to learn that while you enjoyed gardening you were also terrified of virtually all things creepy crawly, like bees. Especially bees. Your man hadn’t known what to make of that one, which had certainly made for an entertaining afternoon. 

A loud crash of thunder suddenly booms overhead, startling you so bad that you nearly drop the bottle of water in your hands. You fucking hated thunderstorms, a fun little nugget that you had yet to share with the man who was currently waiting for you to join him upstairs. 

Truth be told, you hadn’t even planned on staying over tonight. You were supposed to be home by the time the storm rolled in, tucked away safe and sound on your couch. All the while clutching your stuffed bear, Mr. Sprinkles, for dear life and watching your favorite comfort films until Mother Nature decided she was done with her tantrum.

But dinner with friends had gone long and then the show had started late. Well, the dinner itself hadn’t actually been with friends – more like one of his work colleagues. But the guy’s wife had been nice enough. And after enjoying one last round of drinks, you four had wandered across the street to take-in a production of Aladdin on Broadway. 

Of course musicals weren’t really your thing, but since it was a childhood favorite of yours you’d been all for it. Your boyfriend didn’t know how much of a Disney fan you really were. Which was okay. Because he was older, more mature. And as such, you always tried to come off more sophisticated than what you actually were.

He’d already been married once before and had a child. One he’d lost a few years back. You two had yet to actually have a true conversation about that one but you were almost certain it was coming.

It had to be, right? Because it wasn’t like you both could skirt around the topic forever. But, at the same time, it’s also not like you could be the one to bring up. Like, how would a conversation like that even go? 

Exactly. It wouldn’t. Because you couldn’t. It wasn’t your place. 

So, you would allow that door to remain shut for as long as it took to allow him to open it and guide you through. You could be patient. 

Alright fine. You would make yourself be patient. And until then you would keep trying to demonstrate the right amount of emotional maturity needed to prove that you could be a good partner and support system. Or at least a little worldlier than you probably came off.  

But all of that would be pretty hard to do if Andrew Barber knew that you were secretly afraid of thunderstorms. He wouldn’t get it and you would only end up tripping all over yourself if you tried to explain. Which meant that you had to make a decision.

Either you could be brave and climb the stairs so you could crawl into bed – his bed – wearing nothing but a pair of panties and one of his oversized t-shirts. Or you could sneak upstairs, grab your clothes, and dash out your man’s front door into the night like a madwoman and hope that he would be too stunned to chase you down. 

“Whatcha doin’ down there, Baby Girl?” Andy bellows from up above, making you jump.

“Noth–coming!” You shout back as you pad towards the stairs, still trying your best to devise a plan. Andrew Barber was deceptively fast, which meant running was out. So you were most likely gonna have to suck it up until he fell asleep and then you would be free to tremble in peace. 

The city’s hottest attorney could not know that he was dating the world’s biggest scaredy cat. If he ever found out, you might never recover from the embarrassment.  

You find yourself holding your breath as you round the corner before stepping inside Andy’s bedroom. Your man looks up from his phone when he notices that you’ve finally joined him. A warm smile spreads across his handsome features as he leans back, allowing his big body to relax against the frame. 

“Thought I was gonna have to come looking for you.” His husky purr sends a tiny shiver coursing through you, all the way down to your toes.  

“Uh, nope. Here I am.” Your eyes stray towards your overnight bag nestled innocently in the corner. Because if you weren’t mistaken you were also beginning to sweat. “But I was thinking that maybe I ought to – nooope!” 

An loud, unexpected clap of thunder has you diving towards the bed with a shriek. You seek refuge under the blankets, ignoring the sounds of a bewildered Andy calling your name. He tries to lift up the edge of the comforter, but you refuse to let go. 

At this point, you have no desire to acknowledge just how ridiculous you were being at that very moment. Because you were scared.

And also a smidge mortified.

“Um, honey..?” Andy works to keep his tone light. “What’s going on?” He pauses briefly as one big hand comes to rest on what he assumes must be your head. “Are you okay?”

“Yep!” You squeak out, clutching the blanket even tighter around you. “But I’m also really, really sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Again he tugs at the edge of your makeshift shield, prompting you to try and roll away. “You haven’t done anything – can you at least look at me? Please.”

“Um, I…I don’t think so. No.” Your words come out slightly muffled.

You’re rewarded with a heavy sigh followed by a brief moment of silence. Although you’re not sure what you expected him to say, you’re still surprised by what comes next.

“Well, if you won’t come out, then I guess that means I’ll just have to come under there then, won’t I?”

Fine by you. Because you were pretty sure that you were only seconds away from dying of embarrassment anyhow.

“Kay.”    

“Let me in, princess.” 

Relief fills him when he sees you finally relax your grip. Seconds later he joins you under the blankets, cocooning you both within the plush softness.   

“Hey.” Andy breathes as his eyes strain to adjust to the light.

“Hey.”

As if of its own accord, one of his hands reaches over to gently brush your curls away from your face. A quiet sigh makes its way past your lips as you feel yourself melting into his touch. In a way it acted as an unspoken reminder. 

You were safe with this man. Which meant it was time to fess up. 

“Umm…” He makes an exaggerated show of looking around. “Why are we hiding?”

“Because.” You whisper, only to flinch when another crack of thunder echoes above. 

“Because?” Your man drags out the word. “Because what? Are you–?” He cuts himself off before trying again. “I’m gonna guess that all this has something to do with the storm. Am I somewhere in the ballpark?”

His question has hot tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

“I don’t like it.” You croak before giving into temptation and burying yourself in his tattoo-covered chest. “In fact, I hate it.” 

Good Lord, you sounded so pitiful right now. 

“The…storm?” 

“All of it.” You confirm as you begin to tremble ever so slightly. “The lightning, the thunder, the heavy winds, the sound of the rain. S’too much.”

“I see.” Is all he says, even as his hand goes to rest on the small of your back, rubbing in easy, soothing circles. 

“I’m sorry.” You feel even worse when the tears spill over onto Andy’s bare skin. 

“Hush.” Comes the soft-spoken command, drawing you flush against his much larger body. “There’s no need to be sorry. I just wish you would’ve said something earlier. Is that why you were so adamant about going home tonight?”

“Mmhm.”

But then your handsome ogre just had to go and be difficult.     

“And I convinced you to stay.” Andy huffs out a disappointed breath at the same time as he drags his knuckles along your spine. “I should’ve noticed something was wrong. All I could think about was how much better I sleep whenever you’re next to me.” You can tell he’s annoyed now – not with you – but with himself. “Should’ve thought to ask why you seemed so skittish.” He drops a brief kiss on the top of your head.   

“Andy…”

“I’m sorry, Baby Girl.” He grunts, pulling away so that he can get a good look at your face. “No–” He continues when you open your mouth to interrupt. “I should’ve been paying better attention. That’s on me.” He takes a moment to whisper his sensual, full lips over your own. 

“It’s okay.” You assure him before pressing a tender kiss on his left pec, just above his heart. “I probably should’ve said something earlier. It was just…I guess I was embarrassed.” You finish with a shrug. 

“Why?” He cocks his head to the side as he patiently waits for you to answer. Although it was hard to read his expression in the dark, you knew he was genuinely curious. 

“Because it’s a stupid.” You mumble a few seconds later. “It’s stupid and I’m stupid for–”

“No it’s not.” Andy swiftly interjects. “And no you’re not. So please let that be the last time I hear you refer to yourself that way.” His gruff tone leaves little room for argument, not that you were in the mood anyway. Seconds later, another clap of thunder, followed by a flash of lightning, has you diving back into the safety of his arms.

“Fuck.” Pissed at himself, he quickly wraps his arms around you before gently rocking you back and forth in an effort to calm you down. “When did it start?” More thunder booms overhead the whole house, loud enough to shake the whole house. 

Andy frowns when he hears the tiny whimper that escapes your throat. .   

“It’s silly.” You warn, even as you close your eyes and force yourself to take a deep breath. 

“Try me.”

He’d stay up all night if that’s what it took to get you to talk. The last thing he wanted was for you to shut down on him. Again.  

“Please.”

Guess that was your cue to start spilling your guts. 

“Wh–when I was a little girl, I couldn’t have been more than six or seven, there was this really bad storm. I mean later we would find out that tornadoes had touched down all over the region. But that night – I swear the rain was coming down so hard it sounded like hundreds of baseballs were being pelted against the roof. And the wind was blowing so hard that it kept rattling windows.”

“Mmhm.” The small, noncommittal sound rumbles from somewhere deep within his chest, spurring you forward. 

“So my dad woke us all up, me and my siblings, and herded us down to the basement. I guess he’d been watching the news and figured we’d be safer there. My mom had laid out blankets and sleeping bags for us. At first it seemed kinda fun – almost like we were camping out.”

Another bright flash of light briefly illuminates the bedroom, but you’re too engrossed in your story to really care. Plus, you had Andy to keep you safe. Nothing bad ever seemed to happen when you were with Andy.

At least not so far. 

“I could see that.” Your boyfriend affirms, before giving your hip a light squeeze. “Bet you probably had a cool sleeping bag.” 

“I totally did. I actually had one of those Disney character sleeping bags.” The memory makes you smile as your initial anxiety begins to lessen. “Come to think of it, we all did. But mine had Genie from Aladdin on the front of it. I remember because I got to pick it out myself.” 

“I knew I had the right idea when I invited you out tonight.” Andy muses, brushing his mouth against your curls once more. 

“Yeah, Big Man. I’m a Disney girl. And I sure did love that sleeping bag.” You take a moment to lace your fingers through his, needing the connection. “Which was why I climbed right on in and let my mother zip me up. At that point, I think my little sister started crying or something, so I let her crawl inside with me. After that she went right to sleep.”

“But I’m guessing you didn’t.”

“Nope.” Your grip on his hand tightens, but your man doesn’t pull away. Even so, you allow your thumb to sweetly caress along the ridges of his knuckles. “I stayed wide awake for what felt like hours just…listening. Listening as the wind picked up, as the thunder got louder and louder. Until it became so loud that it sounded like the storm was happening right above our house. And then suddenly there was this crash that shook the entire house – almost like a bomb went off.”    

“Listen, I know sometimes storms can seem–”

“It was a tree.” You quietly forge on. “The storm had knocked down a tree. It fell through the roof, into the room I shared with my sister. Of course nobody was hurt, but ever since then I’ve been terrified of thunderstorms.” You finish, somehow feeling even more foolish than when you’d first started. 

“Holy shit.” Andy exhales before briefly nuzzling your nose with his own. It was a simple stress touch, nothing more. But at this particular moment, it means everything. “I mean, I’m sure this probably goes without saying, but I’m so glad you weren’t in there when it happened. You or your sister.”

Wordlessly you nod, still wishing that you’d found a way to make it home tonight after all. Come tomorrow you’d finally bite the bullet and start looking for a therapist. Perhaps it was finally time you found a way to move past some of your childhood trauma. And maybe then–

Your thoughts are interrupted by the deep, rich timbre of Andrew Barber’s voice. 

“I’m afraid of clowns.” Your boyfriend grunts in a very matter of fact tone. “And spiders.” He tacks on with a slight grimace. “Can’t get near either one of them without breaking into hives.” 

“Oh.” Is all you can manage, clearly surprised by his sudden openness. You hadn’t been expecting that at all. “So I‘m guessing anything to do with Pennywise is probably – ahh shit!” You cry out when the familiar sound of thunder makes you lose your train of thought, leaving you unable to finish your small attempt at humor.

Almost immediately, you feel two strong arms band themselves around your waist, drawing you closer even as you try your damnedest to scramble away. You throw off the covers before attempting to swing your legs over the side of the bed so that you can make a mad dash in the direction of the basement.     

“Hold on, baby.” Andy growls, wincing when your elbow accidentally connects with his ribs. “Just settle down for a second, okay? We’re gonna get through this, I promise.”

“Nope – I’m good! Just let me go, please.” Instead of doing as you ask, he flips your bodies, using his considerable weight to keep you still. “I’m serious, Andrew!” You tell him, thumping his back with your fist for good measure.

“Hush.” He takes advantage of your positions long enough to glide his lips along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. “Just focus on me – on us – and let everything else fade away.”

Hmph. Easier said than done, handsome.

Andy gifts you with a glimpse of his pearly white teeth before slanting his hungry mouth over your own. He moans into the kiss, gently sucking on your bottom lip and releasing it with a slight pop. When you don’t respond he does it again, this time tracing the curve of your lips with his sinful tongue. 

“But what if –.”

“Shh.” Your boyfriend pauses his sensual assault long enough to stare down at you while he braces himself on his forearms. “You have my word that nothing bad is gonna happen while I’ve got you here, with me, in this bed. We’re safe, Baby Girl.” He then angles his head to nip along your jaw. “Let me show you.”  

“Do you trust me?” Where had you heard that before?

“I…” You trail off as he continues to nip at your heated flesh, paying special attention to the sensitive shell of your ear. “Y–yes.”

“Good.”

Apparently that’s all the permission Andrew Barber needs, because the next thing you know he’s sliding one large hand up your thigh, his lightly calloused palm sending pinpricks of pleasure straight to your core. Seconds later, you both are treated to the sounds of tearing fabric. 

Well, there went your panties. They’d been shredded to hell just like every other pair that went before it. 

Next up is your shirt. He manages to whip it over your head with relative ease before resting his delicious weight on top of you once more. Clad in only his boxers, he makes a show of grinding rapidly hardening cock against your damp pussy.

“Andy.” You whine, wantonly arching your hips in time with his thrusts. “Don’t tease me right now.”

“Why not?” He purrs as a hand moves to fist itself in your hair, wrenching your head back with just enough force to make you feel dizzy with lust. 

Reaching up, you capture his face between your hands to pull him down for another kiss. The scruff of his neatly trimmed beard feels so good against your skin.

“Fuck me, please.” You hiss, seeking a much needed distraction as a flash of lightning threatens to send you running for the hills. Since this man wouldn’t let you leave, your next best option was to let him bury his thick cock inside you so hard and so deep until you no longer had the capacity to think. 

Or walk properly, for that matter.

“Your wish is my command, baby.” Your boyfriend groans as he continues to circle his hips. With that said, he then makes quick work of removing his boxers before tossing him aside in the direction of his hamper. He misses, of course. Which is why you silently vow to pick it up later.

Now freed from its confines, you watch Andy’s impressive manhood immediately spring to attention, lightly smacking his abdomen as it bobs up and down.

Good God, you’d be lying if you said the sight didn’t make your mouth water.  

His mouth curves into a roguish grin as he purposely slides himself between your slippery folds. He revels in your wetness, loving the way your slick coats his aching cock. Shit – if he wasn’t careful he risked blowing his load before it was time. 

Which absolutely would not work. You always came first. That was the rule. There were no exceptions, unless you were playing a game or something.

Reaching over you, Andy grabs a foil packet from his nightstand. Tearing it open with his teeth, you lean back on your elbows while he handles his business with the condom. Maybe next time he’d allow you to put it on for him. You’d always wanted to try…

You also weren’t quite sure of exactly when he’d gone and removed his boxers, but you also weren’t complaining either.         

“Now, sweetheart.”  Your man begins as he takes a hold of your calf, tenderly draping it over his muscled shoulder as the wheel continues to howl outside. “All you’ve gotta do is lay back and focus on how good you feel.” He leans forward so that he can trace his tongue around your nipple before sucking the delicate flesh into his waiting mouth.  

Your back bows as you thrust your chest forward in silent offering. Andy groans as continues to toy with your pouting nipple before switching to the other. You let out a sharp cry as he brings the pebbled tip in his mouth, lightly pinching it between his teeth just hard enough to make you writhe beneath him. 

That’s part of what always made this feel so good. The way he always seemed to mix pleasure with a little bit of pain. 

His mouth eventually finds yours again as your hands smooth their way over the blades of his shoulders, allowing you to run your fingers along the contour of his muscles. And when you finally reach the firm globes of his ass, you can’t help but giggle as you finally give into the temptation to smack it. Hard.    

Just the way he liked it.

“Remember, sweet brat. If I’m gonna wear your handprint then I think it’s only fair you wear mine too. Understand?” Of course he doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead he maneuvers himself up so that he can expertly flip you over onto your stomach before pulling you up so that you’re now resting on your hands and knees before him. 

Instinctively you arch your ass in the air, inviting him to make good on his promise. This man loved spanking your ass every chance he got. And what’s more, you seemed to enjoy it almost as much as he did.

“Now be a good girl and put your hands where they’re supposed to go.” 

A small shiver of anticipation courses through as you move to obey. He chuckles softly as he watches your eager fingers grip the headboard. Later he would tell you how proud of you he was in that moment, that he was honored by your faith in his ability to distract you from the violent storm taking place right outside his window.

It meant the world that you trusted him enough to take care of you at a time like this. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Andy purrs as the heavy weight of his palm comes down on your upturned rear with just enough force to make your naughty pussy gush. Unable to stop it, you can’t help the groan you emit when he does it again, loving the way he kneads and caresses your most intimate curves.  

“So are you.” 

Your body jerks when he decides to focus his attention on your greedy little cunt. Nimble fingers spear you open as they between your glistening folds to tease your throbbing clit. It’s not long before your hips begin moving in time with his ministrations. 

Soon your eyes flutter closed as you bear down, shamelessly grinding yourself against his calloused palm. At first, Andy is content to simply watch as you slowly work yourself into a frenzy.

Because this time, when the sound of thunder crackles throughout the room, you barely react. In fact, you hardly hear it. You’re too engrossed in the pleasure, too caught up in just how good your man is making you feel, to remember to be afraid. 

“Easy, greedy girl.” Andy hums after another beat goes by before finally removing his hand. The fucking bastard.

“Nooo!” You whine, hating the way your impending orgasm lingers just out of reach.

"Yeees.” There’s a slight mocking edge to his tone that has you glancing over your shoulder to shoot him a glare. 

“Swear to God you’re so fucking beautiful. Even when you’re trying to turn me into dust.” He winks at you then before allowing his hands to settle on your hips. Goosebumps pebble across your sweat-dampened flesh when you feel the head of his impressive cock nudge at your entrance.

“Please.Please.Please.” That one word is whispered over and over, like a fervent prayer. 

Just then, a stroke of lightning brightens the room, treating you to a fleeting glimpse of your man right as he thrusts himself inside of you, all the way to the hilt. Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head as he forces you to take every deliciously thick inch of his cock, stretching your tight pussy until you can’t help clench around him.     

Andy starts off slow, gradually building up the pace as your velvety walls continue to milk him for all he’s worth. His fingers dig into your curves as you rear back to match his movements. Soon, he adjusts the angle of his thrusts, allowing him to go even deeper. 

“S’good, Andy!Fuuuck!” You moan as Andy continues fucking you into oblivion. “Yes!Harder, pleeease!”

“My baby wants it harder?” He growls, adjusting his position to give you exactly what you asked for. A desperate sob bubbles up from your throat, prompting you to bury your face in a nearby pillow.

Too bad your man is having none of it.        

“Oh no.” One large hand moves to wrap itself around the delicate column of your throat, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your pulse spike. “You don’t get to hide that pretty face from me. Not tonight.” He grunts before allowing his free arm to encircle your waist to haul you against the hard wall of his chest. 

A hand soon finds its way to your breast. He lifts the tempting weight, before plucking at your nipple with his thumb and forefinger, evoking the most exquisite sensations. 

“You’re doing so good, Baby Girl.” Andy rasps, tweaking his angle so that he can find your spot. “So good. Told you I’d keep you safe.” The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echo throughout the room, creating an erotic tempo. “Would never let anything bad happen to you.” 

Your boyfriend’s Boston accent grows thicker and more pronounced with each passing second – letting you know that he’s close to losing control. That’s when you decide to push him closer to the brink by reaching behind you to pull his head down for a kiss. It’s hot, wet, and deep. And by the time you both come up for air your heart is hammering in your chest. 

“I…I know.” And you did know.

Tipping your chin back, you allow your walls to flutter around his fat cock, making him twitch. Your core begins to spasm as you feel the coil in your belly tighten even more. Andy makes sure to keep a tight hold on your sweat-slicked body as his lips continue to whisper kisses along the curve of your jaw.  

White hot pleasure dances along your skin, meanwhile Andy’s thrusts continue to grow more and more erratic with each passing minute. One of your hands slips from the headboard to help keep you upright. 

“Cum, princess. Give it to me.” He snarls through clenched teeth before reaching down to deliver a slap to your pussy. It feels so good that you beg him to do it again and again. “Be a good girl and fucking cum!”

That’s all you need to hear before you go tumbling over the edge and into bliss. “Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!” Ecstasy slices through you, making you cry out loud enough to wake the neighbors. Thank goodness there was a storm going on outside, otherwise someone might’ve taken it upon themselves to call the police.  

Chest heaving, you continue bouncing on your man’s cock. He felt so amazing it bordered on obsession. And you knew he’d feel even better once you had him in your mouth. Andy shudders behind you, his big body trembling with the force of his orgasm.  

Completely spent, you both flop down on the bed. You’re both naked and sweaty, but neither of you really cares all that much. You curl up in his arms, resting on his chest so that you can listen to the soothing sound of his heartbeat. 

“You okay?” Andy murmurs a little while later when he notices that your eyes have begun to droop. “Do you need me to–”

“Mm…” You purr, stretching your arms above your head as you stifle a lawn. “I’m thinking I need some more of that. Like tonight.” 

You grow quiet once you realize that you no longer hear the sound of the rain. Or the wind. Or the thunder. All is as it should be. Thank goodness.

“Give me ten minutes to refuel and I’m all yours.” He grunts before disposing of his used condom in a nearby garbage can.. 

“Thank you.” You mumble, feeling your cheeks heat. “For tonight, for what you did.”

“Not sure if I did much of anything.” Andy smiles down at you, his brilliant blue eyes filled with sincerity. “You’re always safe with me, princess. So just relax."

“I believe you, Andy. But the storm –"

“Is about over. We fucked right through it, baby.” You don’t have to look up at him to know that he’s got some kind of shit-eating grin plastered across his handsome features. "But most of all, thank you for trusting me with your secret.”

“Thank you for not laughing.“ Your hand reaches up to stroke your knuckles along his bearded jaw. 

“Hm.” Andy mutters. “Maybe next time we’ll have to try making love in the rain. What do you think, princess?”

“Um, baby steps, Andrew.” You counter, expertly dodging his first question. “Let’s go smaller. I’m talking waaay smaller.”

“Fine. I’ll settle for a kiss during a light drizzle.” Your boyfriend concedes, laughter and warmth suffusing his tone. 

“Consider it done, handsome.” You mumble as sleep threatens to overtake you.

Later, Andy would tell you that he let you fall asleep that night on purpose. Your earlier anxiety had really done a number on you, which is why he was content to let you rest. Instead of complaining, he holds you close, silently willing his heart to beat in time with your own. 

And when you wake in the middle of the night, cocooned in the safety of your man’s arms, you know without question that you are cherished beyond measure.

END

[solarmorrigan]

The crack of thunder is loud enough to jolt Steve awake, and for a moment his sleep-clouded eyes search the room wildly for the threat, for whatever woke him, before another peal of thunder seems to roll the tension right out of him.

“Shit,” he sighs, relaxing back into the mattress. “Big one.”

“Yep,” Eddie says tightly from where he’s sitting up against the headboard beside him.

Steve squints up at Eddie in the dim light of the bedside lamp (which Eddie has no plans to turn off, despite the fact it’s gone past two AM). He’s clearly not quite awake, but something in Eddie’s tone has pinged in his brain, and he’s trying to work it out.

Another crash of thunder rattles the house and Eddie can’t help it – he jumps.

It’s small—maybe more like a twitch—but Steve catches it. He always does.

Frowning, Steve reaches out and soothes a hand up the top of Eddie’s thigh, stopping at the bend of his hip and rubbing circles with this thumb.

“Hey,” he says softly, half muffled by the pillow. “Okay?”

Eddie shrugs, hunching over the book in his lap that had been an adequate distraction until the storm had rolled right overhead.

“Not a fan of thunderstorms, I guess,” he admits, lowly, because he’s kind of embarrassed, but willingly, because he knows Steve won’t give him shit – not for something that really upsets him.

“No?” Steve asks, still looking up at Eddie through his lashes, still not entirely awake and an invitingly soft distraction from the rain spattering the window like bullets.

“Nah.” Eddie shrugs again.

Steve hums—a short, distracted sound—and leans in to press a kiss to Eddie’s hip. Then he’s sitting up and stretching with a sharp intake of breath before draping himself over Eddie’s side, kissing his shoulder and looking up at him with expectant eyes.

I’m awake now, he’s saying. You can talk to me.

And Eddie knows he can – and Eddie would, except he’s never really had to put into words why he—Eddie Munson, champion of chaos and discord—has never liked thunderstorms. He’s never had to articulate how the trailer walls had never felt thinner when he was a kid than when a storm was furiously beating at them, or how all the noise and destruction had been something totally out of his control.

Wayne is the only one who really knows, and Wayne had just gotten it. He’d started playing music for Eddie when those Midwestern spring storms started rolling in – and maybe Eddie didn’t love thunder and lightning, but that had been how he’d fallen in love with the idea of making music.

There, at last, had been a form of noise and chaos that Eddie could control and wield for himself.

But it’s late, and Eddie is strung out and wrung out and it doesn’t feel like he has the energy for that conversation.

“Never really liked them when I was a kid,” he says instead. “And then after all the shit with the Upside Down, I think it was the final nail in the coffin.”

Steve makes a little wounded noise, maybe at Eddie’s phrasing, maybe just in sympathy, and he turns his head to press a kiss to the side of Eddie’s throat.

“Anyway, it’s stupid, and I can deal with it. You can go back to sleep,” Eddie says, very much aware that he’s clutching one of Steve’s hands as he does so.

“Not stupid,” Steve says. “I’ll go back to sleep if you lay down with me.”

Eddie sighs. “Steve…”

“I’m serious. Hit the light and lay down with me.” Steve kisses Eddie’s neck again, twice, three times, trailing up to the hinge of his jaw, where he murmurs, “Trust me.”

And Steve is a bastard, because Eddie can’t say no to that, so with another (greatly put-upon) sigh, Eddie leans over to put his book on the nightstand and then, after just a moment of hesitation, he turns out the light.

The storm wastes no time in reilluminating the room with flickering lightning, followed by another crash of thunder.

But Steve’s hands are on Eddie, warm and sure, and he’s telling him come here and then pulling him nearer like he can’t wait.

Eddie lets himself be rearranged without complaint and finds himself lying face to face with Steve, legs tangled, arms caught between them, their foreheads brushing. He can feel Steve’s breath against his lips when he begins to speak.

“When I was a kid, I loved thunderstorms,” Steve says, voice soft.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, the word feeling small in the scant space between them.

“Yep,” Steve says. He takes one of Eddie’s hands and pulls it to his chest, pressing it flat there where Eddie can feel the beat of his heart, calm and steady. “My favorites were the ones just like this. Loud and strong, in the middle of the night.”

Frankly, Eddie can’t imagine a worse type of thunderstorm, listening to the deluge falling on the roof of the tiny house he and Steve share, his body practically rattling along with the windows when thunder booms overhead.

Still, he dutifully asks, “Why?”

Steve is quiet for a moment, still collecting his words.

“The world didn’t feel as empty, when there was a storm outside,” he finally says. “If there was noise, it didn’t feel like I was alone.”

It’s a much more thoughtful admission than Eddie was expecting, much more somber, and he’s not quite sure what to say. He presses a little closer to Steve, nudging their foreheads together.

Another rumble of thunder passes over them, still so loud that Eddie can feel it in his bones, and Steve sighs like he’s perfectly content.

“I liked that, too,” he says. “When you could feel the thunder in your chest like a second heartbeat. Like there was someone there with me.”

Eddie finds Steve’s free hand with his own and squeezes.

“I think I just forgot after a while. Or maybe it wasn’t enough. When I got older, I went out and surrounded myself with people instead. The noise at a really big party felt like a storm sometimes.” Steve gives a subdued little laugh. “But when I was a kid… just this was enough.”

“What about now?” Eddie asks, practically whispering, just loud enough to be heard over the percussion of the rain.

Steve tilts his head forward until their lips meet, sweet and certain.

“This will always be enough,” he says when they part.

He doesn’t go far; their foreheads are still pressed together, their noses are still brushing, hands and arms and legs are still tangled like Steve wants to pull Eddie inside of himself so he can feel the storm the way Steve does.

So Eddie closes his eyes and he tries.

He and Steve lay there quietly, listening as the storm finally begins to pass from over their heads. It isn’t great—it’s loud, it’s violent, it’s nerve-wracking—but Eddie never has to check to know that Steve is still awake, still with him, keeping Eddie’s hand pressed to his steady heartbeat.

Eddie doesn’t start to magically enjoy the storm. He’s not sure he ever will. But – for the way Steve loves them, for the way they had given him comfort for so many years, Eddie thinks he might just be able to make his peace with them.

[Prompt: Touching foreheads]

[into-the-grey]

~Novocaine~ Part 2 - Noah x F!Reader fic (18+)

Alright, so it's been requested that I add part 2....

I'll warn you, there's no smut in the official part 2, but if that's why you're here, you'll find what you seek in the epilogue...

@dominuslunae @thisbicc, you're welcome.

Part 2 Warnings: Severe panic attack, mild violence, talk of drugs, talk of death

Epilogue Warnings: Smut, P in V, blindfold

Word Count: 5.9k total

Part One

Alright, here we go

3 months later

Wind battered against the windows, and heavy raindrops sporadically tapped against the glass. Thunder rolled in the distance as the storm that brewed moved closer to the neighbourhood. It was uncommon for LA to see storms. Sure, there were small showers here and there, but it had easily been months since the last decent storm.

The weather had been building over the day, and the skies only started to open up as everyone in the house was settling into bed. The moon and stars hid behind the dark clouds, leaving the night sky a deep void of black. The only natural light came from the odd flash of lightning.

Noah enjoyed thunderstorms. The ambient noise soothed him, and he found it easy to sleep through one. Often he found they added a coziness to the atmosphere that was hard to replicate.

The same went for that night. Noah had drifted off quickly, tucked in under the fluffy comforter. He was warm, comfortable, and safe.

The night crept on and became early morning. When he woke, the small digital clock on his nightstand told him it was barely three in the morning. As his groggy eyes opened, he became aware of his surroundings.

The storm had truly settled in, the rain pounding hard as the wind slammed it against the windows. Lightning cracked overhead and lit up the night, and thunder followed close behind, booming and rolling in every direction.

Noah sat up slightly, holding himself up with his elbow and running his fingers through his recently cropped hair as he peered around the room. It took him a moment to register the rasping sound inside the room. It took another embarrassingly long moment to register the girl in the bed with him.

Y/N was curled up, practically in the foetal position. Her hands clamped over her head, fingers tangled in her hair as she shook. Her heavy breaths were staggered and uneven and her eyes squeezed tightly shut. In the brief flashes of light, Noah could see the flushed colour of her skin and her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

'Hey, hey, hey,' Noah called softly, turning quickly under the covers and reaching for the shaking girl. 'Y/N, baby wake up, come on.'

Y/N only curled in tighter on herself, her spasms strong enough to rock Noah as he tried to wake her. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, using the other to pry her fingers away from her hair.

'Come on baby, come back,' he whispered, locking his fingers in hers and squeezing hard. Her breaths became short and laboured, almost choking. 'Please,' he said, sitting up and hovering over her, 'you've gotta breathe for me baby girl.'

Her choking worsened, gasping for breath. As her mouth opened, he could see the blood beading on her lip. Noah felt the panic rising in his chest. She struggled desperately, but nothing came. Some invisible force blocked her airway. Her fingernails dug into the skin of Noah's knuckles, piercing deeper the longer she went without a breath.

'Fuck, no, no, no,' Noah cried, 'come on baby, breathe, breathe,' he begged, his heart twisting in his chest as her lips began to turn blue. Fear ran through his veins, chilling him to the bone. Each second that passed without a breath, his heart beat grew faster. He had no idea what to do.

His mind was a whirlwind of panicked thoughts; should he try compressions? Should he call an ambulance? Should he try to wake her up more aggressively? What if she didn't start breathing again? What if this was it? Is this how he loses her?

Finally, she threw herself onto her back and a sharp, gasping breath broke her silence. Noah took his own deep breath, a small wave of relief washing over him.

Her hands fought to rip at her hair, her body beginning to thrash on the mattress. Noah had never seen her like this. He'd seen her have panic attacks, he'd seen her have the odd meltdown, but this was different. It was terrifying.

'Y/N, baby, please,' he called, swinging a leg over her and straddling her. Pinning her down felt like his only option. He grabbed her wrists and held them in one hand, the other hand gently rubbing her cheek and trying to wake her up. His legs held hers to the bed as best he could, but her adrenaline made her strong.

Her breaths became gasps, mingling with cries of terror. Whatever she was seeing, it had a tight hold on her.

'Come on, I'm right here baby, come find me,' Noah begged, still trying to wake her carefully. Her hands fought against his, flailing in his grip. He wasn't ready for the swift jerk down, her elbows colliding hard with his thighs. Instinct drove Noah to pin her arms above her head. He felt his gut wrench as a cry of pain escaped her mouth. He felt her skin twist in his grasp, knowing it would hurt later. 'I'm so fucking sorry, baby,' he whimpered.

Her nonsensical cries grew louder. Blood smeared across her lip as she tried to speak, her sputtering sending droplets skittering down her chin. Noah was thankful that they were home alone, he could only imagine what Nick would be thinking hearing these sounds.

As the thought crossed his mind, Y/N bucked her hips hard, lifting Noah a surprising amount and she tried to throw him off.

'No way, baby. You're not getting rid of me that easy.' He was lost, having no idea what else to do, he laid himself down on top of her and brought her hands to his hair. 'Come on, you wanna grab something? Grab me, grab onto me baby, I'm right here.'

His face rested just above hers, their noses almost brushing. Up close he could see the tears squeezing out of her eyes and the smears of red dribbling down her chin. His heart ached at the sight, but he forced himself to stay focussed on keeping her safe. Her fingers ran through his hair and tangled in the strands. Just as she seemed about to pull, she released. Her arms flung around his neck, holding him tightly.

'There she is,' he breathed, relief flooding his body. Her iron grip around his neck was unrelenting, like she was certain letting go meant death.

'Come on baby, it's okay,' Noah whispered into her ear, pressing his cheek to hers. He let his weight rest on her, sliding his arms around her and squeezing. The pressure seemed to calm her. 'I've got you, I'm right here.'

Y/N's rapid breaths became even, albeit quick, and began to turn into soft sobs. Noah felt the warmth of her tears running down her face and leaking into the crevice of their joined cheeks.

'Shhh, it's okay, I've got you,' he assured her, pulling his face back. Her grip released only a little, just enough for him to see her face. He was greeted by the sight of her barely open eyes glistening with tears.

'N-Noah-' she tried to say, stammering. Her body shook hard underneath him.

'Yeah, baby, it's me.' He brushed a stream of tears away from her face, holding her cheek.

'I-I-'

'Don't apologise, it's okay, just breathe for me, okay?' He instructed. Y/N obliged, taking a deep, stuttering breath in and releasing it quickly.

'N-Noah, you're sh-shaking,' Y/N managed to choke out. Her arms loosened around his neck, and Noah took a moment to take stock of himself.

She was right. He was shaking like a leaf. His heart pounded in his chest, his breaths were just as unsteady as hers, and tears had welled up in his eyes. His thighs felt tender from her sharp elbows, and he remembered her wrists.

He silently reached for her hands, bringing them in front of him and seeing the skin inflamed in the low light. It was clear they would bruise badly. Given the struggle, he wasn't surprised, but it didn't stop the guilt.

'Fuck, baby, I'm so sorry,' he said quickly, wiping his free hand across his face and cautiously sliding off of her. He laid on his side, letting her catch her breath and trying to control his own breathing. As he moved, Noah spotted the tissue box on the nightstand and grabbed two. He dipped the tissues in the glass of water by the bed and turned to Y/N, gently finding her face and cleaning the smears of blood off of her chin and lips.

'Why are you sor-ry?' Y/N managed to say while Noah dabbed at her chin, her soft hand reaching for his. Noah paused, hovering the tissue over her now clean skin.

'I shouldn't be panicking, and I fucked up your wrists... I had no idea what to do... you scared the hell out of me, Y/N,' Noah confessed, defeatedly tossing the tissue onto the nightstand and returning to cup her cheek. 'What the fuck was that? Are you okay?'

Y/N paused, thinking about her answer for a minute. Noah waited patiently for her to reply. He wasn't about to push her, that was the last thing she needed.

Y/N took a deep breath, sitting up and leaning against the headboard of the bed. Her arms crossed, hugging knees as she began to speak.

'I think you've earned the tragic backstory,' Y/N said weakly. Noah watched her carefully, kneeling beside her and brushing her mussed up hair away from her eyes.

He gently thumbed over her lip, freeing it from between her teeth again. 'You don't need to tell me if you're not ready yet,' he murmured.

Y/N shook her head, 'no, I know. If I don't tell you now, I never will.' Noah nodded silently, letting her muddle through her thoughts as she steeled her nerves. He could see the hesitation in her face, but she swallowed hard and began to speak.

'It was a long time ago,' she told him. 'I was 7. It was a night a lot like this, really bad wind and rain. I was trying to sleep. My dad was out of town, so my mom was looking after me on her own...'

Her eyes welled up again, her throat tightening around her words. Noah took her hand in his, squeezing softly.

'She woke me up at two in the morning and told me to get in the closet and not come out,' Y/N said, her fingers squeezing his. 'I didn't know why. For a little while, there was screaming and a lot of loud noises. My mom was screaming and there was a voice I didn't know yelling back at her. I just remember covering my ears...'

Bit by bit, it made sense. Noah felt the tears falling down his cheek as she spoke, his mouth hanging slightly open. No wonder she had never wanted to get into it...

'I was in there for a long time. After a while I heard different voices. A couple of people tried to call for me to come out, but I wouldn't. I was waiting for my mom. Eventually, a police officer found me. They covered me in a blanket and carried me out. I didn't see anything inside, but there were ambulances and police cars outside. My uncle was there... I never saw my mom again.'

'Jesus fuck, Y/N...' Noah breathed, horror etched on his features. His heart sank to his stomach while she spoke.

'My dad told me the truth when I was 17. I found the file in his things when we were moving to a new apartment, I saw the pictures... A man had come to the door and he yelled at my mom to let him in. She hid me away and he broke the window while she was upstairs. She called the police and tried to lead him away from me.'

Noah shuffled closer to her, pulling the comforter tight around them. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and with his free hand he wiped the tears from her cheeks, sniffling back the tears of his own.

'The police said that he was on drugs, he killed my mom,' her voice hitched, the images replaying in her mind. 'He, uhh, he butchered her. He used the glass from the window he broke. There was blood everywhere, that's why the officer covered me with a blanket. He took her purse, and tried to take off. They found him a few weeks later in the next county over. There was no justice. He was dead in a ditch with my mom's license in his pocket and a shitload of heroin in his system.'

'I'm so fucking sorry, baby,' Noah whispered, his throat tight. His heart broke as his mind flooded with images of her as a small child, hiding in terror, hearing the wind whipping through the trees outside and the storm, the screaming downstairs...

'That's why I moved out here. There's almost no storms in LA. Every thunderstorm takes me right back to that closet. I've tried therapy, but I can't afford the kind of therapy I need-'

'Y/N, if you need help, I'll pay for it. I may not be filthy rich, but I can do this for you,' Noah interjected. 'If there is anything I can do to help you, let me do it.'

Y/N swallowed hard, looking up at Noah's earnest eyes. 'It's a lot of money, love. Tens of thousands of dollars, and years of work go into this kind of treatment. It's a lot to ask of you.'

Noah dropped his face to hers, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. 'You're not asking, I'm offering.'

'Noah,' Y/N began, huffing softly. 'What if things go wrong with us? Then you're just saddled with this bill, or I have to stop going, it's a bad idea.' Noah silenced her with another kiss, this time a soft peck on her lips.

'Please, let me. Even if things do go wrong, I would rather keep paying for it. I can't imagine being responsible for you going through what I just saw on your own, and I would never forgive myself if I was.'

Y/N twisted to face him and her hand lifted to his chest, feeling his shuddering breaths and pounding heart as he tried to pull himself together.

'Noah, breathe, please,' she murmured, her fingers gliding up to his neck, her thumb on his jaw as she gently held his face.

'I just... baby I don't think I've ever been so scared... you couldn't breathe and I didn't know what to do. I felt so useless,' he admitted, resting his forehead against hers. He sniffled again, the tears falling freely now.

'It's okay, I'm okay,' Y/N assured him, taking his hand and placing it over her heart. 'It's still there, still beating, I'm still breathing. I'm not going anywhere.'

Noah's hand trembled on her chest. He was trying so hard to keep his composure. He fought to regulate his breathing, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. Y/N copied his motions, feeling the anxiety quelling under his touch.

'Noah, I'm sorry,' she said softly between breaths. 'I don't know what you saw, but I'm sorry you saw it.'

Noah's head lifted, looking into her eyes fiercely. 'Don't ever apologise for something you can't control. Yes, it scared the shit out of me, but that is not your fault. What happened to you is not your fault.'

Y/N huffed softly. Her eyes drifted to the hand still on his neck, seeing the skin darkening with a bruise. She flinched as a crack of lightning illuminated the room, showing her the deep red band of inflammation around her wrist. Noah followed her gaze, his stomach sinking.

'That was my fault, I'm sorry baby.'

'Noah, please, what did I do?' She asked quietly, her hazel eyes pleading as she looked up at him.

Noah's gaze shifted, not wanting to tell her. He knew she would blame herself or internalise it.

'Promise me you'll let me help you first. Please.'

'Noah-'

'Y/N, please. I can't let you keep going through this. Not when the only thing I can do hurts you. If you want me to get on my knees and beg, I will. I'm not above it if it keeps you safe.'

Y/N froze, seeing the desperation in his eyes. Whatever he had seen, it must have been awful. She had seen him beg before, but never like this. This was life or death to him. It sent a chill to her core seeing the fear in his eyes.

She nodded slowly. 'Okay.'

Noah sighed nervously, thankful for her answer and worried for the can of worms telling her may open. 'You're sure you wanna know?'

'If I don't, what do I tell the therapist?'

He pursed his lips and swallowed hard, nodding once. She had him a point.

'You were holding your head, curled up in a ball on your side. You were ripping out your hair and biting your lip again,' he recounted slowly. 'This time your lip bled. I tried to stop you, and I had to restrain your hands... you elbowed me pretty hard and I jerked your hands. You cried... God I feel so fucking awful, I just didn't know what else to do. I had to pin you down to stop you from hurting yourself. Then, uh...'

Noah trailed off, taking a deep breath as he remembered the fear that had turned his blood to ice. His heart thudded hard in his chest at the thought of her choking sounds. He could see the effort she put into measuring her breaths, but her downturned lip told him she had guilt burrowing in her stomach.

Y/N sat up, shifting so she could see his legs. She adjusted his shorts, seeing the bruises blooming above his knees. The large marks coloured his skin a deep red, already turning purple.

Her heart sank, realising how hard she must have hit him. She raised her arms, inspecting her elbows and seeing the redness around the joints.

'Fuck,' she whispered. 'Noah, I'm so sorry.'

'Don't be, I'm okay and you're okay, that's all I care about,' Noah said quickly, his hands running up her arms and searching for her hands.

Y/N shook her head. 'There's more, isn't there?' She asked quietly. Noah nodded, nervous to meet her eye. 'Please, I need to know,' she murmured.

'Uhm...' he swallowed, 'you stopped breathing. It was like you were choking. It scared the hell out of me... I thought I was gonna lose you for a second.' His hands trembled in hers, his fingers tightening around her hands.

'Jesus,' Y/N whimpered, her lip quivering as tears welled in her eyes again. 'Noah I am so fucking sorry you had to see that.' Her voice wavered as she spoke. She lowered her knees and opened her arms to him.

Noah reached for her, pulling her close into his chest and holding her tight. Her arms wrapped around his neck and his face tucked into her hair.

The adrenaline had finally faded, leaving him feeling raw. The reality of what had just happened crashed down on him, and the floodgates opened.

All he could do was hold her while he cried. Y/N stroked his hair, tears slipping down her cheeks while Noah coughed through his sobs. He had never felt so helpless before. He'd never been so sure he was watching someone die.

'I'm so sorry, baby,' she whispered over and over, 'I'm so fucking sorry.' She could feel his heart racing as he held her to his chest. She clung to him, letting him process everything however he needed to.

After a few minutes, Noah lifted his head and released his grip on Y/N.

'I'm sorry, I'm meant to be looking after you,' he coughed, wiping aggressively at his face and fighting for his composure.

Y/N shook her head. 'Don't, I can't imagine how scared you were. I won't pretend you didn't just see something terrifying.'

Noah cleared his through, running his fingers through his hair and sitting up. 'I know, but I'm fine, you're the one who just went through it. I'm meant to be here for you.'

'How about we just be here for each other?' Y/N offered, offering her hand to him. Noah smirked sadly, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles gingerly, feeling her flinch at the sound of thunder rolling over the neighbourhood.

'How did I ever get lucky enough to find someone so smart?' He said quietly as she rested on his chest again. She still trembled, her nerves alight with adrenaline burning its way out. With a deep breath, she closed her eyes. Noah rested his chin on the crown of her head, allowing her to nestle in around his body.

'We should try and go back to sleep,' she said quietly.

Noah hummed in agreement, peering over his shoulder at the clock. 4:18am.

'Come on,' he said, releasing her and lying down on his back. He waited for her to settle down, he head on his chest and her arm draped across him, before wrapping an arm around her and letting out a deep breath.

'I love you,' he whispered, 'so much.'

'I love you more,' she responded, finding his free hand and lacing their fingers together.

Epilogue

6 months later

Y/N dropped the last box on the floor in Noah's room. Noah grinned, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, her back pressing against his chest as he nosed into her hair and kissed the back of her neck. The sweet scent of her filled his senses, closing his eyes and basking in her warmth for a moment.

The room looked so different, the bed now in the middle of the wall instead of being tucked into the corner. Noah had bought another bedside table to match his and placed it between the bed and the wall, adorning it with a picture of the two of them in an ornate black frame. To add to his sweetness, a dozen red roses sat in a glossy golden vase on the table. 

Y/N loved how excited Noah was to have her move in. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her. He kept giving her little gifts and surprises through the whole process. He cleared off shelves for some of her figurines and hung up hooks for her posters and photo frames. It was clear that the room was not just Noah's anymore.

'What are you thinking?' He asked her, swaying from side to side with her in his arms. Y/N turned in his grip, looking up at the tall man.

'This feels more like home,' she said. He brushed a stray strand of hair out of her eyes, her hair dishevelled from the effort of moving boxes.

'Good, because you're stuck here now.' He grinned, taking in the space they now shared. She was right, the room felt full now, like a real home. Some of her things were scattered through the house, but this was where it was clear that she had moved in.

As soon as Noah had asked if she wanted to move in, it was like a weight had lifted from Y/N's shoulders. No more chaos and spontaneous house parties, no cleaning up after hordes of drunk people, no more girls stumbling in at four in the morning with a new hookup. Just peace and quiet, a home she felt safe in.

Noah was elated to have her there, knowing he would get to wake up to her face every morning and fall asleep with her every night. For months he had craved her closeness, now he finally got to keep it.

'So do I get to see this surprise yet?' He asked. Y/N had been teasing him with a surprise for a few weeks now, and Noah had only grown more curious as time went on.

'Maybe, you've gotta find it first.' Y/N giggled as Noah rolled his eyes and groaned dramatically.

'Can I have a hint?'

Y/N mused for a moment, trying to think of a clever hint that wouldn't immediately give away her little secret.

'Hmm, try unwrapping things?' She offered. Noah's eyes scanned the room, looking for anything that could be unwrapped and coming up empty. The room was full of boxes, but most of them were already unpacked and flattened.

'You're gonna need to be more specific than that, baby.' He ran his hands up her back, resting on her shoulders.

'Well, there's a nice little bow on it right now...' she grinned, locking eyes with him, biting her lip. Noah paused, his hand moving to her face and his thumb tugging her lip free.

'Oh, It's that kind of surprise, huh?' He purred, leaning in so his lips barely grazed hers. She hummed in confirmation.

Noah took a step back, looking over her body and seeing that the only bow was the neat knot tied in the drawstring of her grey sweatpants. His hands traced down her body until he looped the strings around his fingers. 'Am I getting warm?'

'You're on fire, baby.' With a tug, the bow came loose, and Noah hooked his tattooed fingers into her waistband. He watched her closely, waiting for a hint of hesitation, but nothing came. Slowly, he pushed the fabric down until it fell to the floor.

Y/N stepped free of the garment and her hands rose to his shoulders, guiding him down. Smirking, Noah thought he knew where she was going, but as he sunk to his knees he finally came face to face with the surprise.

There, in ink on her thigh, was his name written in his own handwriting. She had tattooed it right where he had written it with his finger after their first time together.

Her first tattoo, and she chose his name.

'Y/N,' he breathed, his fingers grazing lightly over her now inked skin, 'how?'

'The letter you sent me when you were doing the festival last month. You signed your name, and it reminded me of that night,' she said with a giggle. 'Do you like it?'

'I love it, but you're sure you won't regret it?'

'Unless you're about to turn around and tell me we're done, I'm sure,' she teased, her fingers tilting his chin up to look at her. His face lit up with a stunning smile.

Noah stood up, placing his hands on both sides of her face and pulling her to him in a sweet kiss.

'I would never. I'm yours for as long as you want me, remember?'

'I remember.' She wrapped her fingers around his wrists, holding his hands to her skin and losing herself in his touch. Her head leaned into his left hand, her eyes closing for a moment. Noah's stomach flipped as he watched her. She wasn't afraid to touch him anymore, instead she craved his closeness and unafraid to say so.

'You know, tattoos are meant to last forever, so is that a hint?'

'It might be. But you might need to remind me why I thought forever was a good idea,' she said with a smirk. Noah's gut twisted. Y/N rarely pulled punches anymore. It could be hard for him to get anything done with her confidence.

'I think that can be arranged...'

His hands left her face, reaching down to her thighs and bending his knees. As his grip tightened, Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck. In a fluid motion, Noah hoisted her up, her legs wrapping around his hips and her arms tightening around his neck. Noah kissed her neck lightly at first, listening to her soft giggles. He was sure she could feel his hard length through his sweatpants.

Her fingers ran through his hair. Shivers ran down Noah's spine with her touch. This was something he would never have enough of. He nipped at her skin, smiling at the stifled moan she made. Noah made his way to the bed, practically throwing her onto the plush comforter. Y/N squealed as she landed in the cloud of fluff, looking up and beckoning him over with a single finger.

Noah didn't need to be asked twice. He took the hem of his shirt in one hand and pulled it off in a swift movement before climbing up onto the bed. Y/Ns hands found his toned biceps, gliding over his shoulders and up to his face, guiding their lips together again.

'I love you,' Noah told her between kisses.

'I love you more,' she whispered, arching her back to press their bodies together.

'Don't ever let me go.' Noah's tone was desperate, begging her. There was no denying that she had him in every way. He was putty in her hands.

'Don't make me,' she breathed. Noah reached down, sliding her panties to the side and finding her dripping. He eased two of his long fingers into her, massaging her favourite spot on her upper wall.

Y/N's mouth opened with a gasp, her hips bucking against Noah's hand as his thumb wrote his name on her favourite nerve. 'Jesus baby,' she said.

'Not Jesus, Noah,' he corrected with a smirk, kissing her deeply before she could respond. His tongue ran across her lip, feeling her moaning into his mouth.

Y/N reached for his pants, trying desperately to undress him. Noah's free hand grabbed her wrists with ease and pinned her arms above her head.

'Eager, are we?' He asked playfully, pulling his fingers most of the way out of her. She nodded, panting as he examined her.

And suddenly his fingers were gone. His hands reached for her panties, sliding them down her legs and dropping them on the floor. His pants followed suit. As he kneeled over her, his thumbs hooked the hem of her tank top and slid it up her body so the fabric bunched up in a neat little line. With her arms still inside the top, Noah laid the bunched fabric over her eyes, a simple yet effective blindfold.

'This is because I made you watch Fifty Shades, isn't it?' Y/N said with a giggle.

'I told you I was paying attention.'

He leaned down, kissing down her body before pausing at her chest. Noah took one of her nipples into his mouth, biting it gently and melting with her moan. Lightly, he ran his tongue around the nub, feeling her twitch beneath him.

Noah adjusted himself to kneel over her, taking each of her wrists in his hands and holding them down on either side of her head, ensuring the blindfold stayed in place. With expert movements, he aligned his hips so the tip of his cock stroked through her folds and found her entrance.

'Deep breath, baby' he instructed. He watched her chest rise, easing in as she exhaled. He saw the grin on her face as he filled her, knowing how much she loved the sensation. 'Good girl,' he purred through his own groan.

As she adjusted to the feeling, he pulled almost all the way out, keeping just the tip in place. Her little whine made him twitch.

'You want it bad, don't you?'

'Mhmm,' she hummed, trying not to bite her lip.

Noah grinned before slamming back into her, watching as she arched her back and gasped.

'I won't make you beg this time.'

He began to roll his hips, using his full length to please her as he gradually built up speed. He adjusted his position, searching for the little bump, and hearing her breath hitch when he found it.

'There she is,' he said with a moan, her muscles flexing around his cock. 'Fuck, you get so tight when I find that.'

Y/N's breaths became laboured, each stroke hitting that bump fuelled the swelling feeling in her lower belly. A delicious tingle ran up and down her body as Noah released her hands and grabbed her thighs hard.

He reached back, finding her ankles and lifting them, guiding her legs over his shoulders. Her back curved up off the bed, allowing him to slide deeper.

'Oh fuck,' Y/N panted.

'Touch yourself, I wanna watch you come,' he commanded with a growl. The sound was like electricity up Y/N's spine. Eagerly she removed her arms from the tank top serving as a blindfold, leaving the fabric over her eyes, and began to swirl her finger over her clitoris.

'Good girl,' he said with a groan. The same feeling of tightness was starting to build in him. Her muscles began to spasm, clenching around him and squeezing him tightly. His head fell back as their orgasms built up. Her panting became moans, his name falling in staggered breaths from her lips.

'No-ah... Jesus, I'm gonna...' Y/N whimpered, biting down on the knuckle of her free hand.

'Don't hold back,' he told her, driving as deep as he could. 'I wanna hear you scream for me.' He sped up his thrusts, slamming deep into her pussy and driving her wild. Her hand left her mouth as he reached forward, her fingers clinging to his forearm as he pressed his palm down on her lower belly.

The pressure made her tighter, and Noah gasped. A deep, primal groan left his mouth as his gut tightened, right on the brink of orgasm.

'Fucking hell, baby, I'm gonna come,' he told her, his legs starting to shake.

'Oh god, Noah, please,' Y/N begged, her ankles crossing behind his head, locking her legs around his neck.

'Not until you do,' he panted, 'I'm not stopping til you scream.'

It didn't take much longer. A slight adjustment and he hit the spot that undid her. Her head fell back, her back arched, and a gasping scream left her throat. His name sounded beautiful in such a desperate cry.

Her pussy practically strangled his cock, squeezing hard around him. Noah let out a guttural groan and a long string of profanities as he followed her over the edge. His eyes rolled back in his head as he filled her, claiming her as his.

Her fingers finally stopped their assault, her legs quaking on his shoulders. Noah breathlessly helped her lower her legs before he slid out of her. He was barely able to hold himself up, lying down next to her and lazily draping his arm over her chest.

'Jesus... fucking... Christ...' Y/N panted.

'That was insane,' Noah said, gasping for air. Y/N's hand fumbled about, searching for his face and pushing his hair back. Their bodies were slick with sweat, and the room smelled of sex.

'If that's how you handle house-warming presents, I'm moving out so I can move in again,' Y/N said with a breathless laugh.

'Fucking hell I love you,' Noah laughed, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles.

'I love you more,' Y/N said, squeezing his fingers.

Noah grinned as his eyes closed. The pair laid in comfortable silence, catching their breath and waiting for feeling to return to various body parts. This was bliss, and every day would be like this as long as she was around.

For the first time in a long while, Noah drifted off peacefully, his lover in his arms, and not a worry in the world.

[sallyamongpoison]

Graceless Gabriel standing in the middle of a motel parking lot while a thunderstorm rages. He tips his head back, rain soaking his face and hair, and opens his hands to feel the water on his palms. It’s dark. Lightning makes it seem like midday in angry flashes overhead. The thunder is deafening. The ground seems to tremble in time with the sound. The wind whips his hair, but he seems unfazed.

Sam runs out to meet him, jacket pulled up over his head in an attempt at staying dry. He stops just short, flinching as another wave of thunder and lightning rolls and fills the sky, with his focus fully on the angel in front of him. He shouts, asking what the fuck Gabriel is doing out in the storm, and reaches out to grab for one of Gabriel’s hands.

Gabriel doesn’t move. He hardly acknowledges the interruption. His eyes are closed. Water streaks down his handsome face like he’s under a shower head. Sam doesn’t know how long he’s been out there, only that he saw Gabriel’s familiar silhouette in a flash of lightning. The weather is raging, but for the first time in a long time Gabriel seems calm. Quiet without the undercurrent of anxiety and fear. He breathes deep and slow as the water pours over him.

Sam yells again, asking what he’s doing and that they should go inside, and it’s only then that Gabriel seems to hear him. He slowly lowers his chin and opens his eyes. They’re wet, but in the random flashes of lightning and the quivering light of the lone street lamp at the end of the parking lot Sam can see that it isn’t rain that’s on his face. Not just rain, at least. Tears. The same kind of tears that are cried in the shower when there’s already water on your face. They mix with the rain, salt lost in the fresh water that’s coming down in sheets from the sky, and Gabriel swallows hard. Maybe he’s swallowing a scream.

He steels himself, golden eyes looking up at Sam’s slightly hunched and completely soaked form. It’s like Gabriel is taking him in for the first time as he stares with almost unseeing eyes. His jaw is trembling. It’s not cold, summer storm that it is, but Sam can see Gabriel’s shoulders shaking. Another lightning flash, and the shadow on the ground is incomprehensibly large with wings spread out like they’re trying to soak up the storm. It’s Gabriel, but not as Sam has ever known him. This is angel. This is a broken angel standing alone in the middle of Creation.

Sam feels a hand wrap around his own. He’s still reaching out, but is suddenly unsure of what might reach back. Gabriel takes his hand, squeezes it as another bolt of lightning streaks across the sky and the air is filled with the cacophony of thunder, and their eyes meet. Gabriel’s, usually so full of mischief and laughter, are dark. They’ve been dark for a while now. They’re dark and scared, like a child in the night, and Sam squeezes Gabriel’s hand back in what he hopes is a comforting gesture.

“I can feel Him like this,” Gabriel says, but it’s so soft that the noise of the storm almost drowns it out, “like He never forgot about us,”

The storm rages. Sam wonders if this is what Heaven was like before Gabriel left. He can imagine Michael and Lucifer warring with the storm in the background like a Renaissance painting come to life. Gabriel doesn’t let his hand go. They’re both soaked to the bone, but Gabriel looks as though he has no desire to move. It’s dangerous, Sam knows that, but another plea to go inside dies in his throat.

They stand outside until the thunder fades and it’s just steady sheets of unending rain. Sometimes Sam thinks he can hear Gabriel sob, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he lowers the collar of his jacket and stands up straighter. He holds Gabriel’s hand and squeezes it when it seems like it might all be too much. Inside might be more comfortable, but outside is the connection Gabriel needs.

Gabriel never lets go of Sam’s hand. He stays grounded to the spot: all the things he loves swirling in the dark with him.

[novasintheroom]

Prince!Vash AU. Thunderstorm in the dead of night means one spouse seeking out the other to feel safe.

Thank you for sending this in, anon! I appreciate it!!

--

“Vash…”

“…”

“Vash…”

“Hm…?”

“Vash, can I…?”

He doesn’t catch the end of your sentence, too drowsy from sleep. He blinks his eyes open in the gloom, registering the sound of rain and thunder booming overhead for a moment. Ah, the storm season. He’d forgotten it was coming.

Where are you?

Vash’s brain is slowly catching up. He heard your voice. Here. In his room. Had he been dreaming? He’s been having more dreams about you, lately. Perhaps that’s all it was – a waking dream. Vash sighs and rolls over, toward the door between your rooms.

It’s open.

And you’re standing next to his bed.

“Can I sleep with you?” you whisper.

That wakes him up.

Vash sits up in bed, looking at your shadowed form. You’re hunched, almost like a scolded child. He can hear you cracking your knuckles in the dark – a nervous tick you have.

You’re here. In his room.

You’ve finally crossed the line between rooms.

He says your name like a question. “What are you doing here?” Such a silly question for a husband to ask his wife, but…his heart skips beats. Is this it? Is this when you’ll…?

You clear your throat and flinch when another burst of thunder roars overhead. “The storm…it woke me, and I…I’ve always had a fear of them, so I was wondering if I could sleep. Here…Tonight.”

He pauses. Sleep? Here? The rain torrents on the roof overhead; he can hear the sheets of water even through the thick stonework. A flash of lightning bursts into the room, and for a moment, your terrified face is lit in full stark white. His mind finally catches up to what you’re asking.

Ah. That explains it.

Vash quashes any kind of disappointment that springs up from the truth and nods emphatically. “Yeah, of course!” He opens up his bed sheets like you’ll crawl in right there with him.

But you don’t. You hurry to the other side and lift the blankets, scurrying underneath. He feels the brush of your bare legs against his as you adjust yourself, and goosebumps trail all over his body. You settle. The room goes quiet but for the rain.

If he listens hard enough, he can hear your breathing. And he can’t stop the question bubbling up, now awake. “You’ve never liked storms?”

You shift your head to look at him in the gloom. “No. I hate them. It’s the thunder.” On cue, thunder breaks overhead, and you hunch further into the covers. “It always scares me awake, and I fear someone is in my room when I do. So I stay up all night looking at every shadow.”

He hums. His eyes feel heavy, but this is new information. He pursues it further. “Who would you go to when you were at home?”

“My siblings would usually come to me for comfort. I never…had to seek anyone out but for when I was a little girl.” You scooch further into bed, arm brushing his. You don’t pull away. “I’m sorry. I know I must be brave, but – “

“Who said that? I didn’t.” Vash reaches out and takes your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. Even now, he can feel the tremors shaking your body, the bed. “I’m scared of lots of things, and I think that’s okay.”

He feels your eyes on him again. “What are you scared of?”

Vash yawns, then clears his throat. “Don’t laugh. But I hate bananas.”

You laugh. “What?”

He shakes your arm in reprimand and continues. “I don’t know what it is, but ever since I was a kid, I’ve been terrified of them. Their shape, their texture…eugh.” He shivers. Your laughter, though, is worth it.

“I’ve never heard of such a thing!” You giggle. “I just thought you didn’t like fruit at banquets!”

“I love fruit! I’m very fruity!” He realizes his mistake and shakes your arm again when you snort. “Shut up. You know what I mean.” The thunder rolls overhead, and you go quiet. He strokes his thumb along your hand and squeezes. “Hey, it’s okay. Nothing’s gonna get you.”

“I know,” you murmur. Then, slowly, as if waiting for him to reject you, you turn to him and wrap your arms around his torso. When he in turn wraps his own arms around you, you both settle into the embrace and warmth. Vash hadn’t realized how cold it was in his room ‘til then.

Minutes pass by like this. Vash is fully awake now, heart pounding. This…this is nice. This is really nice. Even if his arm is falling asleep under your head, he isn’t going to move. Nope. This is what he’s wanted for a while, now. He rubs a hand along your back, slow and methodical. He teases the skin at the base of your neck with tickles. Your breath evens out, and, eventually, you fall asleep.

Vash stays awake longer than he intends. He just can’t get over the feel of you this near. You’re warm. Soft. Your hair smells good – a day or two from washing, but good nonetheless. He thumbs at the fabric of your nightgown. It’s well-worn; a favorite of yours.

“Would you mind if we do this more often?” He asks openly, knowing you were too far gone to answer. “I really enjoy it…”

He falls asleep.

-~-

A gold morning wakes you slowly. Its beams shine through the cracks in the shutters and window panes. The storm has passed, and with it, the night.

You feel breath on your forehead. Such a strange place to feel it. You reach a hand up to brush at your bangs, only to feel toned muscle beneath your fingers first. What…?

Your eyes creak open. You stare at a white shirt, the chest it hides rising quietly. The night comes back to you, and you look up at your husband.

His eyes are closed, and he lets out small snores.

You didn’t know he snored.

You don’t know a lot of things about him. Much less than you would like. But…you reach up and move his bed-tangled hair from his face, he is kind, and good, and unfairly handsome. And isn’t that what matters most? You could have gotten a lot less lucky being married off to someone else.

But that’s the thing isn’t it? He is more than kind and good and handsome. He is loyal, and quite funny, and sociable, and…and he’s afraid of bananas!

That startles a laugh out of you, and it stirs Vash in his sleep. You put your fingers to your mouth and watch with guilt as Vash’s blues open and blearily look at you. “Wha…” he says, clearing his throat, “Wha’s so funny…?”

Your eyes crinkle, and you can’t help but brush his face now, laughing openly. “Just…you have a bit of drool, coming out here.”

Vash groans and rolls away, wiping at his face. You continue to laugh. Today is already going to be a great day.

[fayes-fics]

Electric

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: Modern AU. Passionate al fresco thunderstorm sex…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, vaginal sex, passionate sex al fresco during a thunderstorm, a touch of biting, marking. Also, beware, this has a very soppy ending. Yes, that needs a warning.

Word Count: 3.7k

Authors Note: Not what I should be working on, sorry. Sort of a request fill for a handful of my lovely discord mutuals (you know exactly who you are). Blame the thunderstorms that tore through the Northeastern US yesterday for this one. Thanks to @colettebronte for reading through for me. OK, now back to my queue that I should be writing. Enjoy <3

“We must have taken a wrong turn,” you sigh, watching the gathering shelf of dark grey, almost purple-hued clouds rolling overhead just as dusk approaches, the lightning flashes you had seen on the horizon a few minutes before a harbinger.

“Yes, I think so,” Benedict admits quietly, scanning the surrounding countryside of the narrow single-track lane you are on somewhere in the wilds of Cornwall. He took over the driving duty a couple of hours ago.

“I don’t think we’ll make it to the reception dinner on time now. We probably should have downloaded the route so we could have navigated offline,” your voice rueful about your lack of planning.

“Hindsight is always twenty-twenty,” he shrugs as he flicks on the wipers, rain pattering onto the widescreen. His laissez-faire attitude to the dilemma is somehow a calming influence over your vague anxiety about being late. And lost. In an approaching storm. He always seems so calm in the face of everything; you envy him a touch.

There are a few minutes of silence as you ponder what to do. Whether you should try to find a spot wide enough to turn around and backtrack or keep going, knowing you are headed in the approximate correct direction, in the hope the patchwork of country lanes crisscrossing the area will eventually lead you somewhere more promising—all the while, glancing up at the darkening sky.

“Pull over. I might have an old-fashioned roadmap lurking somewhere in the boot,” you offer as the car slips into a tunnel of trees, the lack of view galvanising your resolve to find a way out.

“Will it be detailed enough for us to work out where we are?” he frowns.

“Better than hoping for our phones to work out here, especially in a storm,” you point out, holding up yours that still reads No Service as if mocking you.

“Okay,” he agrees.

He drives a little further until there is a pull-in designed for passing; it’s just about the length of your car. By now, the rain is pelting down; it is almost night-time dark under the canopy of trees; the thunk of heavy drops on the car roof is more pronounced as it filters through the dense branches above.

“What are you doing?” he asks as you unbuckle your strappy evening sandals.

“It’s pissing it down, and I’m certain this lay-by will be all muddy. I’m not ruining these fancy new shoes.”

“So you are just going to get muddy feet instead?”

“Yes, my feet are washable; these are not,” you argue, waving the shoes before tossing them into the backseat.

“Look, you stay here. I’ll get the map,” he offers chivalrously, “just tell me approximately where you think it might be?”

“I have no idea,” you admit sheepishly, “somewhere under our suitcases… and, well, everything else piled back there. Sorry…” you wince a little, apologetic.

He rolls his eyes without heat, throws open the driver’s door, slams it shut, and sprints to the back of the car just as thunder claps make you jump. You hear him rummaging around in the boot for a while then there is a muffled voice saying that he can’t find anything. You glance in the rearview mirror and see him close it, then tip his head up and let the rain sluice over him, giving up on attempting to stay dry. 

“Ben, get back in here,” you shout, cracking your window a tiny amount, droplets painting your arm even with an inch of opening.

“No point now, I'm soaked through,” he laughs loudly, and you watch as he jogs around in front of the car and throws his arms aloft in the beam of the headlights whooping in child-like delight. “Come join me!” he yells over the din of the rain. 

All you can do is stare incredulously as he stands there, his white shirt turning translucent and clinging to his torso, rivulets of rain running down his face and slicking back his hair.  He looks beautiful. Handsome. Carefree. His face cracks into a large grin as he spins slowly and tilts his head back.

“Come on!” he calls again, shouting skyward. 

With a twisted pout, you reach over and flick off the ignition, the headlights cutting out. Tentatively you open the door, and the noise hits you like a wall, the rain sheeting down, splattering noisily onto the road, that intensity which only comes with a summer storm rolling in to usher out the heat. You take one rueful look at your floral dry-clean-only knee-length dress and then step out. Your foot sinks into the squelchy, verdant grass verge as he jogs up to you, arms aloft in celebration, almost giddy with excitement.

“This storm is intense, isn't it?! Let's go into the field over there. I bet the view over the valley is amazing!” he declares, grabbing your hand and heading for an opening among the line of trees.

“Ben…” you trail, your gait reluctant, feeling a trickle of rain track down your spine from your neck all the way into your underwear.

“We are never going to make it to that wedding reception on time now,” he accurately surmises, “So… lets's just… enjoy this! Live in the moment! When do we get thunderstorms this intense?! Hardly ever. Come on!!” he grins, shaking your joined hand slightly to gee you along.

His enthusiasm is infectious, and the rain is surprisingly refreshing after the last few days of stifling heat; you find yourself capitulating and letting yourself be dragged along.

“Come here,” he laughs, picking you up bridal style when he notices the slightly rough stony ground under the tree cover.

You can’t help your laughing bubbling up as he carries you until you reach the grassy field, his body flexing against you, stirring something in you. You've been together for a few months now, long enough to be each other’s plus one for friends' weddings, such as was supposed to happen tonight, but still in that early flush of romance where given half a chance, you will not leave a bed all weekend.

He gently places you back on your feet, and once outside the tree cover, you are soaked through within seconds. Your dress rapidly becomes heavy and glued to your skin. You don’t even want to think about your hair and makeup….

“You look beautiful,” he assures, as if reading your mind, a soft smile on his handsome face, all jaw and cheekbones as water sluices over the contours. 

“So do you,” your reply is a truthful reflex, and his responding demure smile melts a hot pool in your chest, like a little oil lantern you hold behind your ribs just for him.

“Let's go see,” he urges, wrapping an arm tight around your shoulders. Yours bands around his slim waist, the water from the back of his shirt seeping over your forearm as you do so.

It’s about fifty feet of slight incline until the field falls away, and there is suddenly a beautiful rolling vista of the Cornish countryside before you. Little fields dotted with hedgerows and in the sky above the storm slicing across the valley, half still dry and half obscured by a grey fug of heavy rain. Beyond, you can just see a slice of the sea.

You both stop short and just stare at the wonder before you. “See?” he enthuses, squeezing your shoulder.

“It's beautiful,” you admit, even as you have to brush a sodden strand of hair away from your face. A sudden flash of lightning rips high across the sky, making you jump instinctively into him.  His hand curls tighter around your shoulder, and your gaze cuts to meet his; something wild there, electric, like the storm you are in.

Wordlessly, he twists to kiss you, the fervency taking you by surprise, his lips hot, the water trickling down his face cool by comparison. Just as you go to deepen it and open your mouth, he pulls back with a little smirk and grabs your hand again, drawing you off to the right. He is making a beeline for a large, sprawling oak sitting majestic but incongruous in the middle of the brow of the field. Likely the remnants of a great wood that once stood here, hundreds of years before, a singular monument to the past.

“Isn't it dangerous to shelter under a tree in a storm?” you question, your words almost stolen by a stray gust of wind.

“Probably,” he buzzes and something in his tone feels daring; he stops moving and pulls you hard into his body. “It's exciting, isn't it?” his words hot over the shell of your ear, and your body feels alive. 

Only he can do this. Just one rumbled sentence and a frisson runs through your entire being. Your hands map his neck as you push up onto tiptoe to meet his lips, unable to resist your body's siren call for him. The kiss this time is more frenzied, and as your tongues touch, there is a rumble of thunder you feel reverberate in your ribcage.

“Have you ever had sex outside in a storm?” he whispers over your lips as you part.

“No,” you confess, your eyes fluttering closed as he peppers little kisses across your face.

“Me either. Would you like to?” the ask is murmured into your ear as he gently sucks the edge of your earlobe.

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, excited by the prospect, feeling an entirely different wetness between your legs. 

Out here in nature with a beautiful view and a storm raging seems adventurous and so elemental, the ozone in the air making every hair on your body stand on end, the petrichor oozing from the earth beneath your toes, the sight and feel of his toned body, soaked, warm skin under cool rain. 

You back away from him towards the tree trunk, and although he stays rooted to the spot, his stare is predatory, and his chest heaving as you bite your lip and wordlessly shimmy under your dress until you can drop your underwear.

The noise he makes is as savage as the roll of thunder it accompanies, and in three long, athletic strides, thigh muscle prominent under his clinging trousers, he is on you. Large hands grab your bottom and haul you off your feet; your legs wrap around his hips on instinct as he sucks your neck, walking you backwards until rough bark abrades your shoulder blades. Your fingers card through his drenched hair as you moan under his attention, his hands frenetically pushing your dress high up your thighs until you feel the wind around your bare bottom cheeks.

Everything between you suddenly frantic, like the storm, roiling and tempestuous, every sensation heightened. Warm skin and cold, wet cotton, soft earth and solid treetrunk, light and dark as the view is almost daylight under the intense flash before plunging into dusk again. And the noise. So much noise. The pounding rain, the howling wind whipping through the tree above and whistling low through the grasses, the rolling thunder, his breath hard in your ear, your own moans as you fumble to unzip his fly, feeling his cock insistent against you, so very desperate for him to be inside you immediately. 

Your head tilts into a knot of wood as he slides into your body in one swift motion, pulling you down onto his cock as he thrusts upwards. The feral noise you make is almost lost to the wind, and your eyes roll closed, just going limp at the overwhelming heat and stretch, toes curling around the back of his knee as his trousers slip further down his legs. It's only recently you both agreed to go condom-free, and every time his unsheathed cock plunges into you, it feels so visceral, like every contour and vein was designed to hit just the right spots deep inside.

A hand yanks aside your neckline, with what sounds like a rip in the fabric under your arm, as a wet hand cups your left breast, a fingernail dragging bluntly over your nipple as it puckers almost painfully. All his movements ferocious, so different to his usual gentle, sensual pace in the quietness of your beds. But somehow, it’s precisely what you need, crave, and want. Untamed and tumultuous.

Your base demand for him to fuck you hard is a clarion call that catalyses him to begin moving, his hard hot tip splitting you open with every thrust. Your hands want to be everywhere at once, in his hair, gripping his neck, his shoulders, his back, his bum, tearing open his shirt. They settle on a combination of all; your motions just as fevered as his. When you are able to peel his shirt down to his elbows, he takes over briefly, propping you against the tree, speared deep on his cock as he fights it off around his cuffs and tosses it aside.

“How does this dress undo?” he pants loudly in your ear, and one fumbling hand unzips down your side, giving enough slack for him to tug it over your head. 

Then you are both naked, fucking hard against the tree, your sodden clothes discarded around you as you take from each other primally, sucking and biting shoulders hard enough to leave marks, the rough bark rubbing abrasions into your spine and his kneecaps. And yet you do not stop. Like the storm, the intensity is almost like whiplash. He has never fucked you this hard before, and you have never been so rough, fingernails digging into flesh until he grunts, teeth biting his neck, his ear, teeth even grazing his cheek on the way to biting kisses. 

Staring over his shoulder at the wondrous view as he surges into you over and over, as you moan encouragements, always so greedy, begging for more, and now, and to never stop. He obliges, kneading the flesh of your bottom, fingers snagging and tugging your nipples, pulling back to stare into your eyes and lean your heads together, slack mouths breathing each other’s air as you ratchet higher. 

This is the least you have ever communicated during sex, but somehow it feels superfluous. Like your bodies are in tune, moving in tandem, push and pull, together and apart, over and over and over, your sweat sluiced away by the rain tumbling from the heavy boughs above. The only words spoken are your names, and as he pulls one of your legs up over his forearm, your thigh muscle burning slightly with the stretch, you know it's burning intensity now. Open and vulnerable to him, he brushes your clit with every thrust. You start to scream, the liberating feeling of solitude, miles from anyone and anything, making your inhibitions tumble away. And he loves it, growls at you to be loud, scream his name, his chest swelling with heaving breaths and pride about how he can wring such sounds from you. 

This is the sort of sex you have only read about before now - passionate, near animalistic, rabid, frantic, and so addictive you want to move to the countryside and fuck in the woods for the rest of your days. Rain or shine.

“Look at me,” he murmurs, and your movements slow a touch as you tilt your eyes up to meet his, seeing the lightning flash behind you reflected in his inky pupils, mouth open and face unable to mask any of your teetering shudders. You are so close to a precipice, almost reluctant to tumble over it, wanting this intoxicating experience never to end. It feels like he wants to say something else, something profound, but the words appear stuck in his throat, almost afraid to be declared. 

“Me too,” you whisper urgently, a cryptic enough response to any number of statements he could be struggling to articulate. 

He nods ferociously and kisses you like a starved man as he grabs one of your hands and guides it between your bodies, pressed into each other. 

“Touch yourself for me, please,” he begs, and you do as he starts that punishing pace again. It's only a few strokes, and you are convulsing, lightning piercing the sky and painting the inside of your eyelids as you screw them shut and allow yourself to tumble over the edge into oblivion, your body convulsing hard, rain trickling hard down your limbs, your skin both hot and cold and too tight at once as you fracture in his arms and slump into him babbling incoherently, Distantly you hear him biting off curses, and with a few thrusts, that push you up off your feet, he stills and shouts a biting version of your name into your shoulder as he comes hard, the warmth coating inside you as yet another clap of thunder causes you both to jolt.

The sound of both of your ragged breathing is louder than the rain as you slowly return to the scene, your thigh slipping from his forearm as he leans into you, into the tree, almost a crushing weight.

“Wow…” he sounds awestruck.

“Ditto,” you struggle out, sharing a lighthearted chuckle. 

You wrap around each other in a wordless tangle of limbs, leaning on the solid trunk and mesmerised by the beautiful view, watching as the worst storm clouds move away towards the sea. 

Deciding there is barely any point in attempting to re-dress, once the rain abates slightly, you agree to brave the dash back to your car nude, hand in hand and laughing carefree. Once there, you yank open your gym bag and giggle as you both attempt to dry off using the one towel in the backseat, discarding your sodden garments into a plastic bag and laughing uproariously as you pull on your casual clothes for the journey home in the tiny cramped space.

“I’ll never forget tonight,” he says softly, sincerely, after you clamber back into the front seats.

“Me either,” you smile gently back.

You never did find the wedding venue, but somehow, neither of you particularly care.

____

Twelve months later, you are back in Cornwall, and he pulls up in that familiar layby.

“Is this…?” you twist to look at him; it appears so different on a bright sunny July day you almost double-take.

“Yes,” he answers, a nervous energy vibrating off him that seems odd.

“How on earth did you find it again?”.

“A lot of time spent pinching in and out on Google Maps for many weeks,” he confesses meekly.

You laugh and allow him to drag you out of the car, enjoying the sun's warmth as you emerge from the treeline and walk up that slight slope.

The view is just as breathtaking as you remember on a warm sunny afternoon; the memories of that night, always so clear and vivid, come tumbling back as he leads you under the shade of the mighty oak.

You laugh as he whips a penknife from his jeans pocket and carves your initials into the wood, like some cheesy teenage couple. He doesn't release your hand as he does so, so you push up your sunglasses, enjoying drinking in the vista, idly thinking this is such a beautiful spot that you would happily live right here.

“Whoever owns this land will be mad if they ever find this,” you state drolly.

“I think they are just fine with it, actually,” he answers somewhat cryptically, but you let it slide. Perhaps he looked up the owner when researching how to locate the field again. 

It's only when he steps away that you notice he has not carved a last initial for you. 

“Do I not have a last name?” you raise an arch eyebrow, body checking him lightly in jest, but your brow knits as his nervous energy returns. “Are you okay?” you check.

“What I carve depends on your answer to my next question…,” he rushes over an exhale. 

Before you know it, he is down on one knee before you.

And you entirely forget how to breathe.

“I… I couldn't think of anywhere else to ask this…,” he begins tremulant, but you don't even let him finish.

“YES!!” you squeal behind a shaking hand cupped over your mouth.

He laughs and hangs his head briefly. “Can I please ask anyway?” his eyes sparkling as he looks up again.

“Sorry!” you squeak and squeeze his shoulder, fingers trembling. “Please, continue….”

“Y/n, will you marry me?” his face radiates devotion as he holds out a ring box with your ideal ring nestled inside.

“YES!!” you squeal again, impatient and vibrating with emotion as he shakily pushes the ring onto your finger, and you haul him to his feet and launch yourself into his arms, almost knocking him over.

“Ooof!” he exclaims as you partially knock the wind out of him, but he rallies, and you share sweet kisses.

“How much do you love this view?” he queries when you finally part and slip back to your feet.

“I love it as much today as I did that day,” you sigh dreamily.

“Something you would perhaps like to look at frequently?” his voice uncertain, seemingly hedging.

“Of course… why?”

“I may have done something… a little rash,” he admits.

“What?” you frown.

“So the owner of this land doesn't mind the oak being carved because… well… that owner is me.” 

And your jaw drops for a second time.

“Benedict…” all other words fail.

“And you too now, of course; what's mine is yours.” He points to a far-off spot at the end of the slope. “That hedge down there? As far as that is ours. I brought this whole field from the farmer, and umm, I’m in the process of applying for planning permission to build a home right here. For us. This view will be our back garden. Right next to this very special tree,” he concludes, tapping the sturdy trunk with his knuckles.

“You utter romantic idiot,” you whisper through blinking tears. 

Back in his arms this time, you tumble to the ground, rolling in the cool grass under its sheltering might.

“One electric night changes it all, doesn’t it?” he whispers.

You couldn't agree more.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz

[ameagrice]

Genesis

chapter three

summary: you begin the journey across the country with two adults who couldn’t hate you more.

Marlene handed you over to them without hesitation. Take her, she yelled, getting away before FEDRA showed up. Get her there, Joel!

Now, Joel is a man you decide to be in his late forties, with greying hair, and a pissed-off-don’t-talk-to-me look about him. He’d looked at you with nothing but distain the second Marlene hauled off.

Here’s how it went:

“She’s immune, Tess. No—listen! I know what you’re thinking, but I’ve seen it. I’ve watched her for a week. She’s immune.” Those words meant nothing to Tess, a woman near Joel’s age, with also greying, brown hair and a piss-me-off-and-I’ll-kill-you look about her. They’re a team, this Joel and Tess. They’re going to take her across the country and hand her over to them when they arrive, them, being Marlene’s team.

“Do you have a clue what’s out there?” Joel spat, waving his gun around. Slight exaggeration—he waved it. Marlene pressed her hand against her stomach, against the blood bulging out there, breathing deeply.

“Of course I do! But, do this for me, and you can have whatever supplies you want for however long you want. I promise. You’ll have no trouble from us. We’ll help you out—the Fireflies; if you need protection, we will—”

“Yeah, alright, Marlene,” Tess scoffed. She paced the rotting hall, floorboards creaking, all the while the sound of FEDRA got closer. She stopped short and shared a look with Joel. Neither of them had spoken to you, like you were invisible, an imaginary thing they could only talk about. “What are you thinking?”

Marlene huffed. Your head turned like a ping-pong ball, this way and that, between the three adults. “Y’all talk it out, but remember I’m bleeding here!”

The pair talked amongst themselves for a few seconds, in a corner of the hall, voices hushed. Finally, just as the flashing lights arrived through the grimy windows, Tess strolled over, picking up your knife from the floor—you had unsuccessfully tried to stab Joel. Feral, he had called you, you want us to take this feral kid?

“We get all the guns we want,” she declared. “Accommodation when we need it, and food, medication. We get this kid there unharmed, and we have a deal. Agreed?”

“Yes!” Marlene snapped, rolling off her leaning stance against the wall. “Can we go before we’re hanged?”

“What?!” You shrieked. Even now, you remember the way Tess had looked at you: like you were one of the decaying infected out behind the walls. “I’m not going with them! Marlene—!” These people were strangers, and clearly thugs—trading you for guns.

Her eyes pleaded with you, weak, and walking backward to the exit. “I’ll meet you on the other side, alright? Now go!” Cops began yelling outside. “Take her! Get her there, Joel!”

Tess snatched your elbow with a strong grip, fingers digging in hard. She pulled you along, through a gap in the wall you hadn’t seen. “Get down the ladder. Move.”

“Fuckin’ Marlene,” Joel grumbled above you, climbing down after you, marshmallowed between the two adults. “ ‘S exactly what we need. Where now?”

“Back to the apartment,” Tess demands. “We’ll figure it out there.” Tess is strong of tone and sure of herself, and it’s intimidating. Joel is harsh-toned and refuses to look at you, which might be worse. Either way, you’re feeling pretty intimidated by these adults.

Town is crawling with cops, even more than usual. They’re raiding the building and the ones around it forcing people out into the thunderstorm raging overhead, even the kids. The sky is dark, plummets of rain forcing down on everyone’s heads. Tess and Joel crouch by the staircase of which you’ve emerged by, looking left and right before Joel runs across, straight into an alley opposite. He holds against the wall and peers out, before gesturing for Tess to follow. She snatches your wrist and gets to her feet, looking around as you run. Her longer strides yank you along at an impossible speed, and if she wasn’t holding on tight, you would have tripped from the get-go.

They seem to know their way easily. Up the rusty steps of a fire escape stairwell, through that door at the top and round a block of apartments, down, down, down until you’re back on the ground floor. Then it’s across another street, through barbed-wire topped alleyways, until they’re slowing, ducking into an apartment block. The hallways are covered in wilting wallpaper, and dirty hardwood. Some people are home, voices floating through their apartment doors. Tess has long since let you go, so you opt for trailing after them up the stairs to the third floor, all the way to the end of the hallway, to a door on the right. Tess unlocks the beaten door with a set of jingling keys, pushing it open.

“Get in,” she orders, so you trudge between the adults into the apartment, where the door swings shut behind you. Instantly you’re on guard.

“Hey!” You try the handle, giving the door a strong pull, to no avail—someone’s holding it on the other side. You drop your hand and press your ear to the door, trying to listen to them. All you get is muffled words—voices low.

You take the time to look around. It’s small. The wallpaper is floral and faded—not something you’d have imagined people like Tess and Joel to have in their home. A slouchy sofa sits by the window, a side table beside it and a coffee table opposite. In the adjoining kitchen are the typical, worn cupboards in nearly every facility in the Zone, a table and chairs set neatly in the middle. Curtains, a painted butterfly in the window, and a couple of pictures standing on the window ledge: Tess and a little boy. Joel and another man. None of Tess and Joel together, which you think is relatively strange.

The door open jolts you back into the living room. It’s Joel, only Joel, rubbing his forehead like he has a headache.

You hesitate before you speak. “Where’s Tess?”

Joel ignores you, sitting down on the sofa and leaning his head back.

“When are we leaving?”

“I don’t know.” Hm. Progress.

“What are we doing now?”

“Waiting.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“Figure it out.”

You huff, turning in a circle for something to do. Joel appears to fall asleep, and you wave a hand in front of his face daringly, testing a response. He doesn’t budge.

The shelf holding papers and books looks interesting. You take a slim one from the end, American Woman. At first it’s good enough—new books are always good at first. But it soon proves boring, and you dump it back where you found it. It’s still drizzling outside, and the sky is darkening with nightfall instead of thunderclouds, by the time Joel wakes and Tess returns.

“You got a coat in that pack?” She asks you, and you nod your head. “Good. It’s time to go.”

She and Joel spends a few minutes throwing things into their backpacks, things from the kitchen—rations, bottles of water, the pictures and things from the bedroom and bathroom. You can’t fit your whole life into bags, so when they’re not looking, you take some memorabilia from here, too, to remember your pit stop: the butterfly in the kitchen window, a book. Your own belongings—the small amount of things you own—are in there, too, stolen from your dormitory after Marlene’s group caught you. Your hairbrush, the water bottle from the night, your necessities. There are a couple of tees and leggings, too, and a book of your own, and finally your precious Walkman. The only things you own. Ironically, a Firefly also shoved in your grey hooded jacket, lettered in gold: FEDRA TRAINEE. Because that’s what you are. You don’t doubt they didn’t take it for what you’re training to become, though, and more for warmth. In a few weeks the temperatures will fall even further.

Tess is fumbling around in the bathroom while Joel sits waiting on the sofa, elbows on his knees, silent. He hasn’t looked at you still, and it’s grinding on your anxious nerves. You’re going beyond the walls of the Zone. This won’t be like exploring with Rudy, where your biggest threats are gangs and older men. No, out there, your biggest threat is also the source of all your confusion.

“We’re gonna be okay out there, right?” Your words cut through the silence like a knife. Joel opens his eyes, blinking at the wall next to your head. “I mean, you’ve done this before, haven’t you? So we’re gonna be okay.”

Finally, those empty eyes land on your own. He doesn’t speak for a second, just searching your face. Then he sighs through his nose slowly and nods his head. “Yeah.”

That one word is enough of a prompt to get you to your feet, abandoning the arm of the chair. Thunder cracks and rumbles in the distance; you turn your head to watch at the window.

“Alright,” Tess strolls in. “Time to go.”

You’ve shrugged on your FEDRA trainee jacket and pulled up the hood, laying on the thin black coat Marlene dug up from somewhere for you. There wasn’t much need for proper coats at the school: you never left the walls of the building unless on a guided walk by the guards, and even that was rare. The times you slipped out around the Zone were only because Rudy had the guts to go and drag you with him. In the winter, Rudy’s inquisitive nature was a curse.

Tess leads the way down the apartment block with Joel calling out questions to her, that have no real meaning to you: exit round the back or the slow way? should we drop by the South end first?

FEDRA presence is still very, very strong. They’re storming the streets, even in this awful rainstorm, their radioes blaring directions and muffled tones from the headquarters. Tess stops by the front door and turns her head this way and that before she sets off with a hand to the hood of her jacket. For a second, you watch as the rain bounces off of it like pelts, until Joel shoves you firmly in the back with a strong hand, almost winding you. You trail after Tess with a hammering heart, wishing somebody were here to save you. What would they do, really, if you approached a FEDRA officer and explained you were being smuggled across the country by two random strangers? But then, you would have to explain why you were being smuggled by two random strangers, and it wouldn’t end well.

“Keep your head down,” he mutters, jogging after you. “Follow Tess.”

It’s easier to do as he says, though everything in you is screaming to yell back. Tess is almost a blur of khaki as she zips through streets and people, until you reach a barren area full of wilting, soggy boxes. You don’t ask where you are, and don’t have much chance to, before Tess is crouching and yanking on a drain cover. She looks up to Joel, eyes falling to you, and back again.

“I’ll head down first,” she breathes, ditching the dirty cover. “Get a look at the other end. If I come back, we’re all clear, if I don’t…”

Joel nods his head, expression unclear. Is that the only look he has? He guides you to the wall and you’re pliant, while he stands at the end of the street keeping watch. You’re tempted to follow Tess anyway and avoid being stuck here with Joel any longer, but before you know it, she’s back, lifting herself out of the drain. Joel turns.

“Alright,” she nods. “Let’s go.”

It’s so dark, even with Tess’s flashlight. Joel digs around for one too, in his pack, and you travel between them in the cramped drain. It’s barely big enough to crouch for you, never mind Tess and Joel. But they manage. It smells of shit and drains and dirty water, but it’s surprisingly empty, besides the odd sprinkling of moss and weeds growing. You stop and listen every few yards, before Tess waves you onward. The irrational fear of the drain being filled with water starts to become overwhelming just as you approach the decline and the raising ceiling. It leads out to a small running river, where Joel rises to his feet and stretches his strong arms above his head. His back pops and echoes. You scrunch your nose.

Tess has moss in her tied-up hair by the time she and Joel walk off down the embankment, and you wait a second to see what happens. They don’t turn back around, talking only in hushed voices with a lot of hand movement. You blink, feeling slightly dejected. FEDRA won’t have you back, Marlene passed you off like a broken clock, and now the two people who promised to get you to wherever the Fireflies are, are just walking off without you. Maybe they think you’ll just run after them. After all, it’s dark and you’re without a flashlight in a place you’ve never been before.

And if they thought that, they’d be right.

You sprint after them, slowing by the stream, and begin to panic as their lights disappear, turning the corner. You’re blindly stepping up an incline, beginning to get nervous.

“Tess?” You try, voice echoing. You guess you’re under some sort of tunnel, or bridge. With no answer, your heart speeds up. “Tess?!”

A flashlight appears around the corner, a tall figure looking very pissed off. An annoyed Joel, waiting on you. Although Joel’s presence doesn’t exactly calm your nerves, it calms a section of them, and you scurry to him like a scared kid. Which is definitely not what you are.

“Move it,” he hisses, waving his flashlight on the path. Something twangs in your chest, and you walk with your head down past the man. When you catch up, Tess is kneeling, pulling weeds and brambles away from another tunnel. She grimaces, looking down at her hands. The tunnel looks eery and grim, and you really don’t want to go down there.

“Alright,” she sighs, turning her head to meet your slightly-anxious gaze. “It’s just through here. When we go through here, don’t make a sound. Got it? There’s a lot of FEDRA on the other side tonight. If they catch us, we’re all dead. Understand?”

You nod frantically, mutely. Better to be quiet now. She hums, and holds your gaze for a second before the pair of light eyes move away.

This tunnel is arguably better, but it’s still a tunnel. By the time you’re out, you’re breathless and breathing deep, and your back is aching. You get to your feet and brush off your knees. You’re finally outside of the Zone.

“No fuckin’ way!” You laugh. Tess shushes you, but doesn’t look angry. The three of you walk in silence, sneaking around the debris scattered here, until you turn the corner. There’s a bit of light coming from the wall by the Zone’s entrance and a car engine rumbles, but so far, there are no guards this far out.

Until Tess slams to a stop, holding her arm out to stop you, too. Joel steps back, tilting his head slightly. They share a look, some form of silent communication, and then Joel nods his head, stepping out quietly. You and Tess follow him.

“Hey—hey! Stop! Fucking stop where you are!”

You freeze on the spot, gaze falling to the guard who’s fumbling for his gun laying against the wall. Tess sighs heavily.

“Hey, come on, man, just forget we were here!”

“Forget it?” He laughs. By now he has his gun in one hand, and has brought out the scanner used to detect Cordyceps in the other. “Hands up. Get on your knees. I said get on your fucking knees!”

You shift on your feet, looking to Tess for guidance. She’s visibly angry and nervous. Her eyes meet yours, looking to Joel. “Just get on your knees. Just get down.”

The three of you kneel with your hands behind your head in a line, while the guard goes to Tess first. The scanner bleeds green light, and Tess scoffs, whipping her head around to glare at him. “Seriously, man?!”

“Yeah, seriously. We’re doing this by the book. Unauthorised exit out of a Quarantine Zone—they’ll hang you for that.”

“Look, you let us go, we’ll give you half off on the next run,” Joel bribes.

“Half off? All off. For the rest of the fucking year.”

It beeps green at Joel’s neck, and he approaches you.

“Look, you let us do this, and let’s just forget about it all.”

The scanner beeps, and you already know what the colour will be. Determined not to let Joel and Tess kill you, you turn abruptly and knock the scanner from the guard’s hand, he yells, and reach for your knife from your pocket, digging it right in his thigh. Tess shouts something furious at you, while the guard screams in painc dropping the scanner. He dives for his gun as you get to your feet, aiming for your head, retreating in sudden fear.

Joel moves in front of you. “Stop! We can talk this out!”

He’s relentless. “Move.” The light from the gun is blinding, bright and unmoving. “I said, move.” The gun clicks, and Joel doesn’t hesitate. He throws himself at the guard, the two practically wrestling. Joel gets a hit in, hard, and the guard goes down, trying to get his hands around Joel’s throat. You can hear your pulse in your ears, watching Joel’s fist go down over and over against the guard’s head, until he relents, heaving for breath with a bloody, shaking fist. The man on the ground doesn’t move.

You’re transfixed, barely able to believe what Joel has done. It’s horrifying and gross, but Joel saved your life in doing so. He’s staring at the man, catching his breath.

Movement on the ground behind you prompts you to step aside, heart plummeting to your stomach. Tess has picked up the scanner, and looks between the scarlet colour illuminating her face, to your own, an unfathomable look. She looks away, at Joel.

“Joel!” She calls, and you try to snatch it from her; she leans away, holding it out of your reach, showing Joel. He doesn’t move, doesn’t look away from the scanner showing red, a look you can’t describe.

“No,” you try. “I’m not sick! I’m not infected!”

“Joel!” She barks, kicking the man into action.

“Oh yeah?” He exclaims, taking the scanner from Tess’s outstretched hand. “Then explain this.”

“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I’m not sick. Believe me!” You try, flaying your hands. Tess raises to her feet, and clutches her gun, raising it level with you. “I swear! Please just believe me—”

“Why should we?”

That’s when the sound of vehicles get closer, the familiar hum of FEDRA cars. Searchlights grow brighter. Tess and Joel share a look of desperation. The man reaches down and swipes you up by the strap of your backpack, pulling you along almost quicker than your feet can catch up. Tess sprints alongside, shutting off her flashlight. You’re running practically blind, with only Joel’s guiding hand on your back to lead you in the right direction.

Somewhere in the distance, an Infected screams, and behind you, FEDRA grow closer; you have no choice but to keep going, trusting Tess and Joel with your life.

[edbloves]

Small Drabble set in the All My Hope Universe

1.8k words; at this point, they've had Grace for a while. She's comfortable with them, thinks of both of them as her parents, and is experiencing her first thunderstorm. Inspired by this post.

Hammered this out in the hour before my soccer game. Enjoy!!

Rain slams in harsh sheets against the house, rattling their single-pane windows. It echoes through their hallways into the darkness of each room, and this far out from the city the storm feels big enough to shake the house. Gale and John are lying in bed, legs tangled together and facing each other. Lightning blazes across the sky in harsh bright flashes, followed closely by enormous booms of thunder seemingly hovering overhead. 

“It sounds like…” John whispers nervously into the dark, but trails off, unable to finish the sentence out loud. He doesn’t need to.

“Yeah.”

And he’s right, it sounds like the vast mine fields of flak they used to risk their lives navigating through. If he closed his eyes, it wouldn’t take much for John to be back there, sky high and gripping the yoke in a fight against his failing fort. It’s all too familiar the way the booming thunder mirrors the way flak bursts and explodes, the way lightning crackles and burns like fiery graves. He knows it's the same way for Gale.

“It’s not, though.” John murmurs, grounding himself in their reality, convincing himself as much as he is Gale.

“No, it’s not.” Gale nods along, his face pinched and tense as he flinches at another round of thunder and lightning. 

The moments feel heavy between them, anxious with anticipation as they wait for each wave of the storm and flinch when it comes. John presses the side of his head harder into his pillow, tries to muffle the noise further. He feels Gale’s hand clasp tightly around his own, thumbs interlocking and grip almost bruising if it weren’t for how comforting it feels. The memories of sheet metal, shredded through by bullets and screaming-hot flak, of men – the living dead, really – flying through gruesome, airborne graveyards never feel closer to him than they do now. 

It's a doozy of a storm, too. The weatherman on the radio had been warning of its progression all week, and Gale and John had been dreading it more and more with every morning update, but they’d dutifully boarded up the stables and bedded down the horses, taking more precautions than they thought would be necessary. Gale had come home with a paper bag stuffed with extra candles, and John with extra cans of gasoline for their truck, fearsome of being caught unprepared. While John had spent half the afternoon chopping wood for their fireplace, Gale and Grace stocked up on groceries, all the while dreading the storm’s arrival. 

It would be Grace’s first thunderstorm with them, and though she claimed not to be wary of it, both men had their doubts. New York city storms weren’t comparable to the winds that whipped up over the Great Lakes and the storm clouds that rolled in pouring torrents of rain over Wisconsin. They’d done their best to keep their somber mood away from her, tried to infuse a light and unbothered tone into their words and faces, but it had been difficult to say the least.

They’d put her to bed that night just as the winds were truly starting to pick up, rustling through the trees and whistling eerily through the woods around them. John silently prayed to himself all through her bedtime routine that she’d drift off to sleep before the storm seriously hit them, though he knew it was likely a fool’s belief to think she’d make it through the night without waking.

Neither of them had slept a wink, too keyed up and wary of Grace waking up scared. They’d both gotten up numerous times to peek in on her, anxiety driving them from bed, but so far she’d remained asleep and curled up with Meatball.

They make it another twenty-five minutes buried beneath the safety of their duvet, before John catches the telltale snick of her bedroom door opening, and the pitter-patter of her little feet on the hardwood floor above the racket of the storm. He’s out of bed in seconds to meet her at the door, Gale sitting up sharply in bed behind him. Flinging the door open, he finds her clad in her butter-yellow pyjamas clutching Bunny with thick tears welling in her eyes, Meatball hot on her trail.

“Daddy!” She cries, and John has her picked up and cradled in his arms before she can even reach her arms out for him.

“Oh, baby.” John shushes. “Come here. You’re okay, Gracie, you’re alright.”

She tucks her head into his shoulder and cries into the soft cotton of his t-shirt as he rakes a gentle hand through her blonde curls. Gale looks at him holding her from his place in their bed and his face is painted with a pained sadness that John’s own feelings match.

“Were you scared of the storm, baby?”

He gets a muted nod that he feels against his chest rather than sees as he settles them down onto the bed. Meatball pushes his luck and hops up onto the bed too.

“That’s alright, Gracie.” Gale murmurs and reaches out to slide a hand along her back. “It’s a scary storm. Real big.”

As her cries settle into hiccuping breaths now that she’s in the safety of John and Gale’s presence, John extracts himself from her grip and settles her in his lap instead so that she can see Gale too.

“You wanna stay here with us, tonight?” He whispers into the darkness as another crash of thunder hits so loud that he hears the windows rattle, and sends Grace diving for the safety of John’s arms once more.

When a tiny, timid “Yes, please.” echoes from the crook of his elbow, he breathes a sigh of relief. He and Gale weren’t sleeping anyways, and this way they can keep an eye on her.

Gale pulls back the duvet between them and John deftly slots her between it in the momentary break between rounds of thunder and lightning. He follows suit immediately, settling in next her to her and bracketing her small frame between his and Gale’s.

“It’s just a storm, Gracie.” John whispers from his place lying next to her. “Just a bit of thunder and lightning and rain. It’ll pass.”

She burrows herself further into the bed linens with each passing crack of lightning and boom of thunder, and visibly unable to stand her fear, Gale had taken both her hands between his and let her squeeze them tightly enough that the force of her grip blanched his skin. When a sharply loud one echoes close enough that it seemingly feels right on top of them and draws a whimper from Grace, John caves and gathers her up to his chest, arms locked around her with her hands still linked with Gale’s.

“Why does is it sound so mean?” She cries.

“It’s not mean, honey.” Gale whispers, and slides in close to Grace and John, petting a hand along the crown of Grace’s head and down to cup her cheek. “It’s just very loud and scary, but you’re safe here.”

“You promise?" She asks, eyes wide and rounded out with fear. In this moment, John knows they'd both promise her anything in order to wipe that look off of her face.

"Promise." Gale assures.

The storm is taking its sweet time passing over them, and it's eerie that it doesn't seem to move on, hovering and crackling above them. Buried beneath their pile of blankets, the three of them taking shelter in their bed eases something twisted up and gnawing in John and he feels a little more grounded in reality than he did earlier. But Gale, for all his assurances to Grace, seems to be teetering dangerously close to their old reality, twenty-five thousand feet high and four thousand miles away.

He jostles Grace a little as he drags his palm up Gale's arm and roughly squeezes the junction between his shoulder and neck. Gale's eyes snap to his at the brusque grip and John gives him a firm look. You with us? He tries to ask with his gaze, but Gale doesn't seem to be hearing it. Instead, his whole body jerks sharply in tandem with a deep, rolling boom of thunder. It's hard enough to catch the attention of Grace, who frowns soft and concerned.

"Daddy scared too?" She asks, referring to Gale with worried curiosity dripping from her voice as she watches him.

John watches as he clearly hears her, and evidently tries to answer but no words come out. Instead, he flinches again in synchronization with the storm. John answers for him; goes to lie but thinks of Gale's dedication to honesty with Grace - or at least mostly-truths.

"The sounds remind Daddy of bad memories, is all, baby. It's very difficult to forget them during times like this." He answers, as vaguely honest as he can muster.

She turns in John's hold to tilt her head up and look at him, worriedly clarifying, "Daddy is hurting?"

He goes to dissuade of this notion - he's not hurting, not in the literal meaning of the word, but stops. He knows from experience, being back there in your head, witnessing the horrors on an endless loop, it's a harrowing, terrifying experience and though the pain isn't physical, it's feels real and true inside his mind. "Yeah, Gracie."

"Maybe I can help him feel better?" She whispers, and squirms out of John's embrace to crawl closer to Gale. John keeps a hovering hand nearby as she gets into his space, wary of her startling Gale and ready to snatch Grace back quickly.

He sees recognition bloom in Gale's eyes and he breaths a gentle sigh of relief. She shimmies into the space between Gale's arms and peers up at him. "It's okay, Daddy. You're safe here." She murmurs, parroting his own words back to him.

The corners of Gale's lips tilt up and he closes his eyes, embracing Grace close to him. In turn, Grace tilts her face up so that she can see his face, and cups his face between her hands, palms tiny against his stubbled jawline and cheeks. "I love you, Daddy." She says, and leans in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

John, watching this, feels his throat close up around a thick lump, struck by how sweet his daughter is. She continues pressing small, childish kisses around his face - both cheeks, his eyelids, the tip of his nose again, his forehead - and whispering that she loves him, and that John also loves him, and Meatball, too.

When she sits up, satisfied with her work and now entirely oblivious to the lightning flashing ominously outside, she looks at John with a nod and informs him, "I think Daddy will feel better now."

As she makes to crawl back into John's arms, he catches Gale's gaze - eyes now open and fully with them - and get's a soft smile and a wink in response. Then he's reaching out and snatching Grace away from him, receiving a shrieking giggle from her in response. He tucks her into his side, and as John is laughing alongside them, he catches Gale's murmured, "I love you too, Gracie."

[awkward-walking-potato]

the way I wanted to squeal when I saw you wanting Gambit requests because I was just about to send one in lol <33 (Of course, feel free to ignore tho! I hope you have a lovely day. ♡ ) On that spooky prompt list: “That kind of scared me.” / “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” - what about walking home from a mission of sorts and reader, who usually isn't spooked by much, shows they're scared of thunder storms?

Through the storm

The mission had gone smoothly, but the walk back was anything but. Dark clouds had rolled in quickly, and before long, the sky rumbled with the deep growl of thunder. You usually weren’t one to be scared by much—being a part of the X-Men had hardened you to a lot of things—but there was something about storms that always unsettled you. It wasn’t something you talked about often, because it felt silly. Of all the things to be scared of, a little thunder and lightning shouldn’t be one of them.

But now, walking beside Remy, you felt that familiar knot of anxiety tighten in your chest as the storm loomed overhead. Your hands clenched and unclenched at your sides, trying to seem calm, but another crash of thunder roared across the sky, louder this time, and you jumped, heart hammering in your chest.

Remy noticed immediately. His red-on-black eyes darted toward you, brow furrowing in concern.

“Chérie,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the rumble of the storm. “You alright?”

You hesitated, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, it’s just... I didn’t expect the storm to hit so hard.”

But as if on cue, another bolt of lightning cracked the sky, followed by an ear-splitting clap of thunder that echoed around you. Your breath caught, and before you could stop yourself, you whispered, “That kind of scared me.”

You hated admitting it. You never wanted to seem weak, not in front of him. But the storm made you feel small, vulnerable, and exposed.

Remy slowed his pace, turning fully to face you. His expression softened instantly, and without hesitation, he stepped closer, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. “Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. “Everyone’s scared of somethin’, non?”

You didn’t respond, just nodded, trying to steady your breathing. The thunder rumbled again in the distance, and you tensed, instinctively moving closer to him.

“Don’t worry,” Remy said, his arm slipping around your shoulders, pulling you in against his side. “I’ll protect you.”

His words were simple, but they carried weight. His warmth seeped into you, and despite the storm raging around you, you felt a little safer. Remy had always had that effect on you—he made the world feel just a little less dangerous, a little less overwhelming.

“C’mon,” he said softly, starting to lead you forward again, but this time he kept you close, his arm never leaving your shoulders. “We’ll get out of this storm soon enough.”

As you walked, he kept talking, his voice low and soothing. He told you stories—funny ones, little anecdotes from his time in New Orleans, things that made you laugh despite the tension in your chest. He didn’t rush you or make you feel silly for being afraid. He just stayed by your side, steady and unshakable.

Every time the thunder rolled, his arm would tighten around you, as if to remind you that he was there, that you weren’t alone. And even though the storm was still loud, still unnerving, it didn’t feel quite as scary with Remy beside you.

When you finally reached the mansion, soaked from the rain but safe inside, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. You glanced up at him, feeling a mix of gratitude and something deeper.

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “For... you know. Being there.”

Remy grinned, brushing a wet strand of hair from your face. “Ain’t gotta thank me for that, chérie. Told you, I’ll protect you, always. Thunderstorm or not.”

You smiled, feeling a little lighter, a little braver. Because no matter how scary the storm outside was, with Remy at your side, you knew you could face it.

[fandom-go-round]

Sea Salt Like Glitter: Part One

Summary: You’re a forest ranger. Trees and mammals are your specialty. Mermaids in the ocean? Way outside your area of expertise. Good News: They like you. Bad News: They like you a lot

Mer! Sun x  Plus Sized! Reader x Mer! Moon

Part One (Here!), Part Two ,Part Three

Enjoy the first of the wedding month stories! I’m guessing this is going to be around 3-4 parts. I’m a sucker for Sun and Moon and couldn’t leave the Mer AU alone. I hope everyone enjoys!

Warnings: Trapped in Rocks, Blood, Dehydration, Different Species, Threats of Bodily Harm

           The best time to go to your beach is around twilight. It’s not technically your beach but your house is the closest one to the water for miles. And technically it’s a ranger station, not a house, but it feels like home after a year of working. You enjoy the calmness of the ocean, gulls screaming and diving overhead. The air smells like salt but you appreciate the burn now. Part of the job is that you have to patrol the waterfront at least once a week and you do that at twilight.

           Fredrick Fitzgerald Beach and Forest. One of the most treasured pieces of nature in the country. Nicknamed ‘Pizza Beach’ after the restaurant chain started under the same family, the protected land is looked over by a special kind of warden. A cross between forest ranger, ocean rescue and PR personality, they have the job of living on site full time and making sure people leave the animals alone. And right now, that’s you.

           There are other people of course, tour guides and rangers that help at the nature center. You wave at the groups on the hiking trails and listen to the animal facts that you’ve heard 100 times. What you do is different, more secluded. You’re on the other side of the ‘Do Not Cross’ sign and you take your job seriously.

           The last few days have been quiet and you’re hoping that the weekend stays that way. Thunderstorms are going to start later in the evening and you’re hoping to be done by then. You had chased some kids off earlier, teenagers looking for ‘a cool place to hang’ and the weather would hopefully deter anyone else from sneaking in.

           The water is starting to darken, deep blue going navy. You take a deep breathe, scanning the sand for any trash or people. There isn’t anything as far as the eye can see and you relax, smiling to yourself. Some people think that it’s lonely, being out here for weeks and sometimes months at a time. You enjoy it; you’d rather be with nature than people any day.

            You start to hum, watching as the sun finally slips below the horizon. Now your favorite part of the night starts. There are a few moments of darkness before lights begin to flicker under the water. The underwater bioluminescence becomes visible to the naked eye; even after all this time it’s hard to believe that it’s real. The water is much, much deeper than it looks and there’s something in the water that promotes the creatures to glow. Scientists come to study sometimes and you stay out of their way, you’re more of a forest person.

           Everything in the water looks normal and you watch the fish dart around, smiling as you stroll part of the beach. You jump as thunder rolls overhead and speed up, calves burning with trying to move quickly through sand. You don’t want to get poured on, walking up the path towards your cabin. The climb is steep and you’re panting by the end of it. The cliffs gives a great view of the water, large rocks creating an outcropping off shore. They jut high out of the water, the largest shaped like an arch. Lazy glowing turns into streaks, fish scattering; must be something bigger under there.

           Another clap of thunder bellows and you take off, rain falling in waves. You swear to yourself; your boots had finally just dried out. It’s a struggle to get the cabin door open and you’re glad you know your way around; it’s hard to see anything with the rain and wind. You watch the trees sway for a bit before going to get changed. There’s nothing to do now but wait out the storm.

♥

           It’s a couple days before you head back to the beach. Lightening hit one of the larger trees and you’ve spent the last couple days making sure none of the forest caught fire. It’s not ideal but the job can change quickly. After making sure the nature center was alright, you finally head down to the beach. It’s mid-day, much earlier than you would normally go but you’re tired and want to head back early.

           The beach is a mess. Seaweed and branches still cover the sand, the waves calm as if nothing had happened. These are some dead smaller fish but nothing too large and you’re thankful for that. Without thinking you begin to clean things up, gathering the sticks closest to you. You half watch a diving gull, seeing it swoop low and then fly off towards the large rock outcrop.

           The air leaves your lungs as a gasp, wood falling to the ground at your feet. You can feel your heart starting to pound faster, brain trying to catch up to your eyes. It’s hard to see from the beach but there’s something in the rocks. You curse at yourself for not having your binoculars on you and turn to the stairs, taking a deep breath. It’ll be easier to see up from the cliffs and you’ll be able to tell what it is. Hopefully.

           You curse the stairs once you’re at the top, knees aching. You love your job but it’s not made for fat people, even if you’re damn good at it. The sun is hot on your skin and you place your hand over your eyes, squinting at the rocks. It’s a better angle but farther away and you think you see something in the rock arch. It looks like another rock? Or maybe a log? It’s gray and part of you wonders if it’s some kind of ship that’s gotten stuck. The thought quickly leaves as something dark rises out of the water and slams hard against the surface. The gulls scatter with loud screaming and you feel like your eyes are going to pop out of your head.

           Some sort of animal is stuck. Maybe a sea lion? A baby whale? Or a dolphin? You go over the possibilities as you rush back to the cabin. There’s a small boat you take out sometimes, mostly to chase fishing boats off. It’s nothing huge but the engine works and it should get you to the rocks.

           At least you hope so. Being on the water makes you nervous; you can swim just fine but the boat rocking makes you sick. You don’t think about any of this as you take it to the water, putting it into the back of your truck. There isn’t a direct ride down to the beach but it’s better than nothing.

           It takes an hour before you’re in the water heading to the rocks. You made sure to bring as many tools as you could, along with a camera, an emergency phone and gloves. You have no idea what kind of animal that you’re dealing with but if this creature has been stuck since the storm, it’s going to be in rough shape.

           The rocks loom high overhead, casting dark shadows on the water. The sun is just starting to sink, even if it’ll take a few more hours. You have a water bottle and resist the urge to drink; you want to see what you’re dealing with first. You turn the boat off about 20 feet away and try to come to terms with what you’re seeing.

           The hole in the rocks is about as big as a basketball hoop backboard, the edges not completely smooth but close enough. It’s about two feet above water and something is stuck. Scales so navy they look black are scrapped against the stone, bits of blood smeared as well. It doesn’t move as you get closer, swinging yourself around to get a better look.

           You think that you’re looking at its back half. This side of the rocks is shaded by higher formations and it’s a bit difficult to see clearly under the water. Something that you guess must be a tail is slumped into the water but you can’t make out the shape. You grab an oar and paddle closer, letting the waves move you mostly.

           Something hits the bottom of the boat and you jump; it was a brush more than anything and of course there are fish out here. The next hit is harder and the boat sways. You place your oar in the water to try to turn and something yanks. You yell as the oar is ripped from your hand and disappears into the water.

           A loud rumble fills the air and you watch, horrified and full of awe, as the creature in the rocks moves. The tail rises and you realize that it’s not a tail, it’s webbing. Tentacles shoot out, some grabbing onto the rocks and others into the water. You quickly grab the other oar and move backwards, barely missing the flailing tentacles. Gulls on the rocks take to the sky and the creature begins to shift again.

           It doesn’t take long to realize that it’s not doing well, whatever it is. It only struggles for a moment before sagging once more, the tentacles barely holding on. They push against the rocks but it’s weak and the longer you look, the worse it gets. The scales that are out of the water look dull and are starting to crack; it really has been stuck here since the storm.

           You know that this isn’t a normal fish. First off, it looks like either a squid or an octopus but both of those would be able to get out of a hole. Also, the hissing and growling coming from the other side of the rock is ominous. You’ve never heard anything like it. You want to head back but you can’t ignore the suffering in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you count to five before paddling to the other side. You ignore the way your hands shake and hope that whatever it is won’t kill you.

           Immediately the hissing turns into snarling and you meet blood red eyes. You flinch, holding the oar across your chest like it’ll help you defend yourself. Sharp teeth snap at your and you can feel the waves from the tentacles behind the rock. You’re not in the line of fire and you take a moment to understand what you’re looking at.

           A furious face is set on a head coverd in fins, gills fluttering around the neck. The strong torso is covered in navy scales and two arms are digging into the rockface. You look the creature over once and then twice, your eyes always going back up to its face. It looks pissed and like it wants to break you in half. Blood red eyes stare out from a gunmetal gray face and keeps you in it sights.

           “Holy shit.” Your voice makes the snarling quiet down, almost like it’s waiting for you to say something. “You’re a mermaid?” You phrase it as a question and the creature, honest to fuck, rolls its mother fucking eyes at you.

           At the same time you take it in, the creature looks you over. You’re not much to look at, between your sad little boat and ranger uniform. It eyes you for a little longer between settling back down and looking exhausted. It’s hands, covered in long claws, detangle from the rock and lay against the surface. That’s when you realize it’s pinned.

           There’s a log wedged between the rocks, washed up from the storm. The creature is half wrapped around it, the log pushing hard against it’s chest and forcing it’s torso out of the water. One of it’s arms can touch the water but the other is pinned too high up, it’s shoulders pushed far back. It looks painful and you wince in sympathy. You get a snarl for your look, the creature sending you a glare.

           It’s eyes close with what you guess is exhaustion, not deeming you a threat. You want to argue but don’t; no need to push your luck. It looks worse from the front, scales dull and patches missing. The rockface has be gauged deeply in the mers struggle to be free.

           It’s beautiful. Navy fins on its head and arms lay low, curled up and dull. It’s torso is lighter, the color of sand in moonlight. It’s clearly built for hunting; it might be lean but it’s covered in muscles. Darker scales cover the torso like stars and you know that you can’t leave it here, even if it wants to kill you.

           “Hey.” Your voice has the creature opening it’s eyes again but only halfway. It takes you a second to get that they’re squinting at you; the sun must be bothering them. You lick your lips, knowing that it’s crazy to be talking to something this big. “Do you uh, want me to help you?” You wince at how uncertain you sound and the creature looks even more unimpressed than before. You hear something hit the water and assume it’s a tentacle.

           You hold up a length of rope and then gesture ot the log. Eyes flicker between rope, your face and log. Some sort of spark comes into its face and it’s claws curl into the rocks slowly. You put the rope down and grab the oar, slowly moving closer.

           It’s hard to get a good judge of size because of how it’s stuck but you guess that it’s at least eight feet long, maybe closer to nine. It doesn’t move as you get closer, eyes locked on you. The log is wedged in two places, one part under the water and the other above. When you look down, the bottom half seems to be covered in rocks, probably from the struggling. The only real option is to loop the rope of the top and yank.

           “I’m going to go for the top.” You talk and gesture as you move closer, trying to be transparent in your movements. “The bottom half looks too stuck.” You would be concerned by the lack of response if it wasn’t for the red pinned on your face. It takes a little bit to get the boat maneuvered just right and the scrapping of its claws gets louder. You do your best to ignore the impatience; you don’t want to end up in the water today. Not now that you know things like this exist.

           There’s a splash in the other direction and you flinch hard, almost falling from where you’re standing. The creature snarls, sharp teeth flashing in the sun and you look over the water. Nothing breaches the surface again and you shake your arms, trying to get rid of the tension. As long as there isn’t another predator you should be alright.

           You have to throw the rope a few times before it’s looped just right and you can feel the waves of judgment coming out of the mermaid. Mer creature? You’re not stupid enough to pretend this isn’t some sort of intelligent creature; you’ve been pinching yourself too much for it to be a dream. That doesn’t mean that you want it commenting on your physical abilities and ignore how embarrassed you’re getting. Finally, you get the rope secured and you tug it to make sure. You can sense the growing impatience behind you and vow silently to go faster. It’s already in rough shape and you don’t want it to suffer.

           Sending one last silent plea inside your mind, you start the boat engine back up. The creature flinches inside the rock and the gentle rumblings turn more into a hiss. You glance over and it flashes it’s teeth with a ‘get on with it’ feeling. You don’t hesitate, afraid that you’re going to lose your nerve. You throw the engine into reserve and gun it back, the boat taking off as fast as it can.

           The rope is pulled taught quickly and you jerk, almost going into the water. Creaky rumbles come from the creature and you want to swear when you realize it’s laughing at you. You ease the boat back forward before going in reverse again, your eyes locked on the log. The first time it didn’t move but the second it seemed to slip. Gritting your teeth you repeat the actions, the log slowly becoming free.

           The creature must feel it moving because it begins to push, well as much as it can with it’s chest. It looks painful with the open wounds but it doesn’t care, eyes getting brighter as the log shifts. You give it one last tug and the log comes free, the creature letting out an ear-piercing shriek.

           A few things happen at once. Your boat, tugging with all it’s might, flies back once the resistance is gone and you scramble to not turn over. The creature slides backwards into the hole, sliding into the shadow covered water. Lastly, bright red fins crest the water in front of you, darting behind the rock.

           Your boat spins for an embarrassingly long time; your arms ache and it takes everything in you to prevent it from flipping. The bottom of the boat has a good couple inches of water but you’re upright. A miracle. The clicking and hissing sounds are all gone now and it’s just you and the gulls. You watch the water once your heart calms down, eyes darting around to see if you can spot the creature in the water.

           You wait for ten minutes before slapping your cheeks and turning the boat back towards shore. Your mission was officially done and you need to lay down, maybe have a drink, maybe get high. There was a lot you have to think about and you don’t want to do it in the open water. Two pairs of eyes, one red and one blue, watch as you make your way back to shore and share a silent look. The water barely ripples as they sink below the waves, determined to pay you back in some way.

[re-whump]

Augusnippets Day 3 - Thunderstorm

hey new character, they’re gonna stick around a bit, at least for this event! gotta get my size whump in

Contains: tiny whumpee (borrower), blunt force trauma, risk of hypothermia, loss of comfort belongings

At first, Mozzy assumed the heavy rumbling over their little shelter was a truck passing by on the highway overhead and didn’t bother to finish waking up. A truck would stay on the road, and was no particular threat, no matter how threatening it sounded. Mozzy sighed and tucked themself tighter into their hammock, listening instead to the gentle plink-plink-plink of the rain.

The storm refused to be ignored. All at once, the rumbling rolled into a bang loud enough to shake the ground, loud enough to make Mozzy flinch. The stones that made up the roof to their little shelter shifted and an icy stream dumped straight onto their head.

They sputtered and flailed, trying to shake themself free of the cold, and spilled out of the hammock into an ankle-deep pool that was just as frigid. A puddle outside had spilled through the entryway and flooded the small burrow. Mozzy gasped and dove for their journals, but it was much too late. The paper stacks were nothing but unreadable mush. They took stock of what was left and despaired. Half their food was soaked and m the slight current washing through their home had washed away most of their favorite trinkets. They whined to no one when they couldn’t find their prized Lego head.

Mozzy’s pant legs wicked up the water and they shivered. They had to leave. They hadn’t thought to waterproof a shelter made this late in the year and now it was thoroughly ruined. They’d just have to hope they had better luck in the nearby human building than they had in the last. They threw on their coat, gathered what they could from the wreckage, and abandoned the ruined shelter.

The world outside was even more dangerous. It wasn’t raining.

Mozzy had never seen hail before, not personally, and at first they didn’t recognize it. That was one of the downsides of only learning things secondhand by overhearing humans discuss them. This wasn’t falling frozen water, this was frozen hell. Chunks of ice the size of Mozzy’s fist swarmed the ground, first falling from the sky at debilitating speeds, then bouncing around off the stones Mozzy had just been hiding under.

The frozen pellets pelted the little smallfolk and, agile as Mozzy was, they barely made it a half a foot from the burrow before they made a retreat, cold and sore and bruised. They hugged their belongings close and backed into their flooded shelter, huddling in the driest corner for warmth. They wished there was someone else around to hold them and share their body heat, but they were alone.

The storm continued its deadly tantrum but eventually, the hail let up into rain and Mozzy sloshed back out to look for new shelter. The rain was relentless and kicked up a mist that made it impossible to see more than a few inches in front of them. They grit their teeth, rubbed at their bruises, and pushed forward. At least the mist wouldn’t kill them.

[autocrats-in-love]

Hiii I was wondering if you could do a little fluff snippet of hero who is afraid of thunderstorms and villain decided to comfort them. Maybe there is a thunderstorm so villain runs to hero’s house because they know they are afraid or maybe they are already together, fighting or smth and a thunderstorm starts to roll in, you decide!!

The Calm During the Storm

Be warned: astraphobia

The hero opened their door, about to scold whoever had been knocking so loudly. The villain stared back, eyes wide with fear. The hero stepped away from the door, and the villain ran into their house. 

“Okay, then,” the hero slowly closed the door and walked over to where the villain was sitting on their couch.

“Can you close the curtains?” the villain asked. 

The hero raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Sure, they had accidentally kissed the villain on Friday, but they were still enemies-

“No, no, I’m. . .I’m scared of thunderstorms.” the villain said, digging their nails into their arms. “I was in the neighbourhood, it started thundering, and I just ran.”

The hero looked out the window. Pitch-black clouds loomed overhead and blocked out sunlight. Thunder clapped overhead as the rain started pouring. The villain yelped. The hero turned around, and their head was buried in their sweater. The hero hastily pulled the curtains closed as lighting burst out and cast the room in bright light. The villain was sweating as the hero sat down beside them, tremors wracking their body.

“What usually helps you?” The hero asked.

They reached out and touched the villain’s hand. The villain took it without hesitation. They went for what they wanted. Always.

“Breathing exercises.” The villain said.

“So breathe.”

The villain took a deep breath in, and out. They shuddered in doing so, but it calmed them a bit.

“Keep going.” the hero urged.

The villain continued, squeezing the hero’s hand on every exhale. Thunder clapped outside and the villain squeaked, their body going stiff. Without thinking, the hero reached out and touched the villain’s cheek. The villain glanced at the hero, softening.

“Do you want to. . .” the hero gestured to their shoulder.

“Yeah, for sure.”

The hero leaned back into the couch, and the villain rested their head on the hero’s shoulder. The pair sat for a few minutes as rain pounded against the window. The villain breathed and the hero’s heart leapt every time the villain squeezed their hand

“So, how do you know where I live?” the hero asked.

A laugh bucked in the villain’s chest. “Uh, I kind of stalked you online a while back.”

“Because you hate me so much and were trying to plan my downfall?”

“Because I had a huge crush on you.”

The hero’s face got very hot. “Oh, really?”

The villain gently pulled the hero’s face down to look at them.

“I have a huge crush on you.” They said it like it mattered most of all in the world that the hero knew.

The hero’s stomach dropped to the floor. Wow. 

“Sorry, it was a creepy thing to do.” the villain said.

“Huh?” the hero’s brain had stopped functioning.

“Stalk you.”

“Oh. It’s fine.”

A bolt of lighting peeked through a gap in the curtains, flashing brilliant white. The villain shivered, breathing heavier. 

“So, you like me?” The hero asked loudly to snap the villain out of it.

“Yeah,” The villain said, voice still shaky. “That’s why I kissed you.”

“I was the one who kissed you, actually,” the hero said.

The villain smiled mischievously. “I was the one who took your hand.”

“We were arguing. Very bad timing.”

“I leaned in.”

“I leaned in too!” The hero said.

“I think it was my lean that actually brought us together. It was you who ran away.” 

The hero sighed. “Yeah. Not exactly brave of me.”

“We all get scared sometimes,” The villain said. “If it’s following your heart-”

“Or the weather.”

“Exactly- or the weather, we all have our fears to face.”

The hero bit their lip. Here was the villain, who said it like it was, and never backed down from someone else. The hero used to hate that about them, their lifelong nemesis. When along the way had all that disdain gotten replaced with admiration? With affection? With butterflies where bile should be?

Here was the villain, with deep eyes and smooth hands and parted lips. 

“Do you think you could help me face my fear?” the hero asked.

The villain’s face lit up. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The hero took the villain’s cheek once more, and gently pulled them into a kiss. The villain returned it eagerly, pushing the hero down onto the couch. Outside, thunder sounded. The villain didn’t even notice.