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kugokizs · 2 years ago

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DEVILISH | F. TOJI (m)

what was supposed to be a chill night alone turns into a fight for your life; Toji has been watching you, waiting for the best moment to strike, and he’s finally found the right time — but why are you so utterly enticing?

PAIRING: toji x fem! reader

WARNINGS: dub-con, serial killer!toji, predator and prey dynamics, mentions of murder/violence, breeding, mating press, degrading, mentions of stalking, morally grey character, dumbification, size kinkkkk, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, pussy eating, oh and they have sex outside… on the ground. lmk if i’m missing anything !!!

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

A/N: i honestly can’t remember if i based this off scream or scary movie but toji is a serial killer !! pls be advised, view at your own risk, pls my loves, keep yourself safe!! send me an ask or reblog if you enjoyed !! tysmm.

NOW PLAYING: all i need by lloyd, one night only by sonder, devilish by chase atlantic, & skin by rihanna.

Toji Fushiguro is a very sinister man.

He holds grudges, is very keen on practicing “eye for an eye”, and he holds dear his power over weak, vulnerable, young women. He prowls for the pleasure of it, for the thrill — to hear them beg for mercy, for one more chance. They beg on their knees as if he’s a God, the bringer of all evil, the grim reaper, the devil himself. And, Toji thinks, maybe he is. After all, who else could invoke such fear in people. Who else could cause someone to shiver just at the mention of his name? To run for the hills at any sign of danger. Who else could do what he does? No one, and that’s what makes him enjoy it even more.

Toji Fushiguro is a very sinister man, and right now he has his eyes on you. It’s been months, bumping into you at the grocery store, handing you things that you’ve dropped accidentally, holding the door open for you, dropping food on your doorstep — he’s seen it all. Late nights with friends, early morning at university, skipping lunch to study in the library… Toji has been there. Watching, waiting, prowling. Ever since the first time he saw you he’s wanted you, to add you to his ever growing collection, to keep you, to make you his. You’re his. And the only one between you both who didn’t know that yet, was you.

He has a foot buried in your grass, a cap hanging low on his head and a knife tucked inside his jacket. He makes sure to move with precision, watching out for the automated sprinklers and for any animals that might come looking. After all this time he knows the routine well. He knows when you’re staying home all night, what time you usually shower, when you eat, everything. He knows you’re a naturally anxious person, jumping at any sudden movements or noises, and he also knows you’re careless. Blasting music on flimsy headphones, falling asleep to the sound in your ear, oblivious to the world around you. Oblivious to the devil creeping on your doorstep.

He crouches down low, your blinds open just enough that he can see you plopped down on your couch with a bowl of ice cream in hand and a silly movie playing on the TV. Your legs are curled up, oversized pajama pants falling over the soles of your feet, and your attention solely on what’s playing in front of you. Toji’s been inside your house before, on the rare days where he wasn’t following you around he made his way through the place, memorizing the layout, seeing which rooms were the most lived-in, taking his time to appreciate your bedroom and all it had to offer. Drawers upon drawers of lingerie greeted him when he peaked inside — he didn’t think you had it in you. His fingerprints would’ve been all over the place if not for gloves, his face on every camera if he hadn’t known all the blindspots. And thank God you didn’t have cameras inside, because then it’d only make it harder for him, and if you wanted something a little less painful when your time was up, it was best you didn’t piss him off.

Though Toji thinks he might play with you a bit. You’re interesting, just anxious enough to get by yet careless and reckless enough to get caught in a stupid situation. You’re pretty — innocent in the sexiest way possible. You look like you’d go dumb for a taste of his cock and that’s exactly what he likes most about you, but he knows you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and he appreciates that, too.

The moon shines a ghastly glow over his features right as the end credits of the movie start to run, and that’s when he decides it’s time to play. He picks up a smooth, round, pebble — no bigger than a quarter, and throws it so that it hits the window pane. He crouches down just the smallest bit lower, eyes peeking over the blinds and he trusts the darkness to obscure him. He knows that you won’t ever get close enough to actually look through them, and he’s right. Always so easily frightened, like a little lamb. You freeze where you’re sitting, head whipping around to look at where the sound came from, and you pause for only a few moments, watching and waiting to see if it comes again. At least a minute passes before you turn back to the TV, curling in on yourself and tucking your lip between your teeth.

Toji can barely stifle the giggle that threatens to leave his lips, it feels like childish glee watching you get so scared from a measly little rock against your window, but he does it again, throwing it harder now, and the sound echoes so loudly that he can hear it bounce back from inside your living room. This time you stand up, looking back towards the window and stepping forward, head tilting downwards as you try to see through the blinds. You squint at the glare from your lights and otherwise stay silent. Toji is sure your heart is beating erratically, your hands starting to shake, and he thanks God that you have so many windows. You don’t sit back down, instead looking around the room and muting the TV. You stay like that for a long time, you’ve always been so overly paranoid, and it fills Toji with immense satisfaction to know that he’s the one doing this to you.

He walks away from the window, allowing you to rotate methodically on uneasy feet and a rapidly beating heart, creeping around to the back door and picking the locks. He’s already deactivated the back camera and dropped a cat by your front porch so it didn’t seem too suspicious that you weren’t getting alerts. He knows that’s it’s rare anything ever triggers the back camera, and you feel too secure with the gate locking it from the outside. He’s easily bypassed those barriers, and now he simply opens the door. He knows you have sensors to tell you when the door has been open and shut, and he didn’t bother shutting those off. He wants to see how scared you can really get.

He shuts the door and slips into the closet, covering his lone figure with various jackets and scarves that hang from the hooks. There’s boxes and bottles of cleaning supplies piled at the bottom, and they block his legs from view. He’s still, silent, and patient. He hears your footsteps rushing towards the door, your heavy breathing, your frantic whispers of “Oh God,” and his eyes all but roll back in undeniable pleasure. He’s going to ruin you.

Your footsteps get nearer before they stop, you’re most likely looking through the window of the now closed back door, hands trembling and knees weak in fear. You’re probably on the verge of tears, barely holding in a whimper. He doesn’t hear you step away, but he can see your shadow from under the door. Hmm. You’re trying to be cautious now, are you? Toji already knows this routine. You’ll run to grab your phone, call someone, try to get in your car and drive away. Maybe grab a large kitchen knife just in case, but what are the chances of you actually using it? Toji has practice, he’s skilled, he’s used to this. You, a lone studious girl who’s paranoid but way too careless for her own good, has never stabbed anyone in her life. Has never even imagined it, so what’s the chances of you dropping the knife before it can even plunge into him? Maybe trying to get away with a scratch in the arm or a stab to the leg, but Toji has enough scars for that to not even matter. He’ll keep coming and there’ll be nowhere for you to hide.

But he’s gonna let you try, let you think there’s a chance for you to run for the hills, maybe get to some help in time, he’ll let that relieved smile flit itself upon your face before he comes back to rip that hope from your body, just to do it all over again until the fight leaves you completely. Maybe he’ll let you reach someone in time, someone innocent, and then kill them right in front of you. Make sure you realize that this is your fault, you did this, you put this innocent person in danger. You murderer. You killed them. You.

Toji realizes he has a lot to think about.

Your chest pounds with the rapid beating of your heart. Your legs barely hold your weight and threaten to crumble with every movement, shaking every time you stop and wobbling uncontrollably when you run. You grab a knife from the kitchen counter and run back to the living room and grab your phone. It all started with the random sounds coming from the window. They came out of nowhere, pounding harder and harder until they stopped completely. You had thought you saw someone moving behind the blinds but chalked it up to paranoia. It’s been raining a lot more recently, so maybe it was just the rain pouring down onto the windows.

You tried to go back to your movie after that, you had clutched your phone tightly despite reassuring yourself multiple times that it was nothing. There was nothing there. You were almost able to relax. Almost, before your security system alerted you of the back door opening. At that moment it felt like your heart had lurched out of your chest, as if the shock and fear had paralyzed and crippled you completely. The silence was suddenly too thick — too loud, and it was all you could do to attempt to heave yourself up and off the couch to investigate. You already knew you should never venture deeper, never look for the source of the sound, but you needed to see.

When you got to the back door it was already shut. You’d ventured on tippy toes to look through the small window and there was nothing there. Yet you couldn’t stop the way your breath left you in heavy gasps, the acrid smell of fear and anxiousness seeping from you in waves. You didn’t forget the closet right in front of the door, but you knew you’d never be able to open the door without shaky limbs. If there was someone in there, you’d let them leave of their own accord. You were leaving immediately. You slowly stepped away, looking up to the ceiling and clutching your lip tightly between your teeth. Sweat formed at the top of your mouth and you felt like you were going to throw up. Your throat ached, your stomach was in knots, and you felt like you could collapse at any second.

You crossed the living room with amble speed, grabbing a jacket from the hook by your front door and running outside. Rain dropped down in an angered flurry, beating the pavement with troubled fists, and your shoes were soaked with water before you could fully cross your front lawn. You scrambled to get the car door open, throwing yourself inside ungracefully. The first thing you did was look in the backseat before locking the doors and wasted no time taking off out your driveway and into the streets. You wanted to play music, blast it even, it was what calmed you always and without it you were leaving yourself vulnerable to the fear you’d been trying to ignore. You’d be able to get away — far, far, away — and sometime in the future you’d forget this night ever happened. You’d contact the authorities, move somewhere tropical maybe, and pray they never came looking.

The fear was slowly starting to easen, there were no cars following you, no weird men in the road, nothing but the stars and the moon and the lone sound of rain. You were slowly starting to relax, allowing yourself to take a few deep breaths, before a hazard sign started blaring on your dashboard.

Flat tire.

Flat tire?

You kept driving, desperate for a few more miles between you and home, but your car didn’t appreciate that, and you came to a stop. A fear-mongering, bone-chilling, stop.

You couldn’t afford to waste time, you had to keep moving. You jumped out the car, a tight grip on your knife in one hand and your phone in the other. Your feet splashed in large puddles, the streets lined with thick trees that had never looked so imposing until now. A quick look around told you that you were alone, but you couldn’t be sure. You kept moving, rushing but not moving too fast where the sounds of your splashing would drown any other noises out. Your hand curled tightly on the knife as if it was a lifeline, and your phone was inside your pocket — kept safe from the rain. Streetlights shined down from above, blinding white lights that illuminated the entire area before you, and you were grateful for it but loathed it all at the same time. Bright lights mean you could see everything around you, but it also meant anything around could see you too.

Your breath was shaky, every exhale felt like it would be your last, but you didn’t stop moving. The brushing of trees or a snap of a branch would make you jump and squeal in fear just to see it was a product of the wind or your own feet pressing against wood. Ahead you could see the shadows of houses, loud and imposing in structure, and your legs carried you faster with a new found determination. Your vision was blurry with tears of relief and raindrops that sat on your eyelashes, just to be blocked by something — something warm and soft, something sturdy, something breathing.

You couldn’t help the shrill scream that left your lips, but it was drowned out by the storm anyway. You stomped hard on his boot and sliced, not sure if you hurt him but giving yourself a chance to run away. Your legs pumped with adrenaline, your eyes wide in fright. Your grip on the knife only got even tighter, your nails embedding themselves lightly in your palm, but you had to keep going. Any noises became muffled as you ran, the sounds of trees rustling in the wind, rain slapping against the pavement, your feet slamming against the ground. His own feet moving leisurely behind you. It all became nothing but background noise to the pounding of your heart.

“There you are, little lamb.”

The whimper that leaves your lips has Toji grinning in delight. He surges forward, trapping you between strong arms and a broad chest, pressing against you tightly and dragging you backwards. You claw at his arms, kick your feet, and use the knife to slash at any part of his body that you could. You didn’t make it easy, and you could hear him growl in frustration. He tipped the knife out of your hands and then gripped your arm with a frightening intensity, you bit your lip to stop the cry of pain from leaving your mouth.

“Stop fighting.”

“Ugh, get off me!” You cried, and you bit at the skin of his arm, hard, and he pushed you off, allowing you to fall flat on your back. You groaned, rolling over on your side before a dark shadow loomed over you. You winced, your eyes shutting in fear before strong fingers gripped your chin.

“Not so fiesty anymore? We were having lots of fun,” He cooed, a devilish grin forming on his — and you hate to say it — near perfect features. The only blemish on his face was the small scar over his lips, and even that made him look attractive. You lost your breath for a short moment, staring into unforgiving eyes and at pearly white teeth, before you came back to your senses and jerked your knee upwards into a firm abdomen. When the man didn’t even bother to pretend to be hurt you did it again, but this time you used your hands to push him backwards as well. He stumbled just a little, but it was enough for you to jump to your feet and start running back in the direction you came.

“You’ll stop if you know what’s good for you,” The man grumbled, but you didn’t stop moving. You wouldn’t. You didn’t bother screaming for help this time and ran straight through unforgiving trees and underbrush. You weren’t worried about getting lost anymore and could only focus on losing him and getting away.

Except he must’ve known, because gone was the leisurely pace he’d originally held. He ran through the trees with crippling speed, and it was all you could do not to yelp in fear and keep moving. But it didn’t seem like any speed you took was fast enough, for he kept getting closer and closer. It was just your luck that you’d trip over the roots of a large tree, falling flat on your face. You attempted to scramble backwards before he could reach you, but your limbs were growing tired, your brain was ready to shut off, and not even the adrenaline could keep the paralyzing fear from your veins. you whimpered as a large hand grabbed at your ankle, dragging you through the mud and leaves.

“Come on, little lamb, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

All you could do is bite your lip to stop the whimpers and cries from flooding out. You squeezed your eyes shut, stiffening when soft lips brushed against your skin. “We can have fun, can’t we?” He murmured, and your breath left you in a shudder. Calloused hands rubbed against the skin exposed by the lift of your shirt, and small puffs of breath knocked against the shell of your ear. “Do you wanna have fun?”

Your heart kicks up an irritating notch when he slides a warm hand up your shirt. You can feel the way his fingers ghost over your skin with an unnatural intensity, as if his touch is amplified tenfold.

“Look at me, pretty,” He growls, your eyes opening at his command against your better judgement. His pupils are dilated, staring down at you with desire. The way he looks at you is an awakening, and with a foreign feeling surging through you, you bury your fingers into the collar of his shirt, bringing him down for a kiss. It’s a little awkward with your apprehension, your fear, your desire to just give up — all teeth and clumsy movements until he takes the lead. He licks into your mouth, coaxing feelings out of you you've never felt before— kissing you into blissful dizziness.

"I wonder why you're so pretty, hm? Been torturing me for months, sweet thing," He hums, pressing your thighs apart, tongue pushing against yours, his lips cherry red. You want to kiss him again.

Your breath hitches when his hands move to your pants, slipping under the hem and unbuttoning the fabric. When he pulls your pants down slowly, so slowly it feels like time stands still, all that’s on your mind is him. His breathing, his touch, the cold feeling of his fingers. When your pink, lacy panties come into view the chuckle Toji lets out is so deep it feels like a heavy blanket over your mind, soothing you yet igniting something in you that you didn’t know existed. God, you’re in the demon's bed but you feel like you’ve gotten a taste of heaven, and when those soft, cherry red lips ghost over your skin, trailing over your pelvis, leaving light kisses along your skin, all you can do is jerk in his hold.

"Pretty little lambs deserve to know what it feels like to have me right here,” Toji starts, leaning down to press a trail of kisses to your inner thigh. He bites and marks along the fleshiest parts, chuckling at your quiet whimpers and yelps. He slides a hand up between your thighs and rubs between your folds, still covered by your lacy panties. “Aren’t you scared?” Toji murmurs, before splitting them to rub your clit through the fabric. You feel like falling as he circles between your thighs, a gasp hiccupping at the base of your throat before it gets stuck— you can’t make a sound.

You faintly hear the rustle of clothing and the absence of Toji’s touch, opening your eyes to see him pulling his shirt off, biceps flexing as he does. He’s so big, and fuck, his whole body could cover your own if he really wanted. He towers over you, caging you in and surrounding you from all sides. When his shirt is off and thrown somewhere to the floor, he looms over you, his hands pressing into the bedding at either side of your head, and all you can do is gasp— your eyes widening at his proximity.

You allow him to pull your underwear down until they’re hanging off your ankle, your arousal sticks to the fabric, but with a flick of his wrist they’re gone. They’re gone. Oh god. You’re really doing this. You take a deep breath, and when a warm hand comes to press against your cheek you yelp. It’s okay. You’re okay. Right?

Soft lips press against your skin, tainting the unmarked flesh with bites and bruises. He paints your neck purple and blue, fingers ghosting between your thighs, tracing and playing with the obvious wetness coating your arousal. His mouth travels upwards, pressing against your own as he claims your lips in a devouring kiss. Everything is on fire, hot and burning as lust begins to entirely consume you.

A small moan slips past your lips as he dips a finger into your slick, warm cunt, and you clench around the digit almost immediately as instinct. The cool air and your nerves make your thighs tremble, but it doesn’t seem to affect him— not at all— if the way he keeps eye contact with you while he fingers you slowly is any indicator. Painfully slow. You don’t know if this is to pleasure you or torture you, and you can’t help the way your thighs tense under his ministrations.

His eyes roam over the look on your face, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, bright eyes glazed over and hooded in a bliss that’s otherwise foreign to you, a particular ease directed towards him. Then he shamelessly lets his eyes drop down to your thighs that tremble even harsher under his gaze. The action only forces his mind to run wild. He can’t help but wonder how you do it— looking all innocent— being all innocent but acting like you’re not. Like you’re so sure. You’re confused, God, you don’t know what real pleasure is— and it’s Toji’s job to teach you. Fuck, did he want to be under you, gazing up at you through half lidded eyes, hungrily eating up the sight of you bouncing on his cock like the slut you could be.

He dipped his head down, and your hands automatically perched themselves on his shoulders, and he grins, moving the finger thrusting into your cunt harsher, faster.

“Oh, god,” You moaned, loud, your grip on his bare shoulders tightening ever so slight. His skin was warm under your fingers— soft and smooth and fuck if it didn’t feel good.

He groaned, cock stiffening more than it already had. At this rate he was probably going to cum in his pants untouched, but he held himself back. He moved his mouth from yours to slip lower, down lower and lower still until he came face to face with your arousal.

“Fuck. You’re driving me crazy.”

You tried to quiet your moans by clamping a hand over your mouth, but sitting up and watching the way he sucked and licked at your arousal made your head spin. He made the action so nasty. So filthy. He was wild yet careful. But what did you know? All you knew was that it was driving you insane and you didn’t know anything could feel this good.

One hand supported his weight on the ground by your head while the other was preoccupied, curled around his cock as he stared down at you— something akin to a beast in his gaze. Tip reddened and precum oozing from the slit while he groaned. The tingly feeling in your groin was coming back, similar to the fluttering you always felt whenever a boy you liked would come bother you. It intensifies when Toji wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you closer to him, your body dragging grass from under you.

He rubs the tip of his cock against your pussy, teasing actions feeling more like torture before he finally sinks in. Slowly, deliberately, but you still tense. It’s scary, having something stick itself inside of you. Having him stick himself inside you.

“Relax,” Toji murmurs, pressing his mouth to your cheek. “You’re having fun, right?”

Dark eyes are locked intensely on your cunt, Toji watching the slide of his cock as he thrusts inside. His hair is plastered along his forehead, and he sinks back into your inviting walls with another roll of his hips.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

You moan, high and light, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss while Toji’s chest expands with a satisfied breath. He rolls his hips into yours— sinking his cock into your cunt saying the filthiest words you’ve ever known, before his words break off into a moan, his tone lower and deeper.

“Oh, please don’t stop— be nice to me,” You babble, your hands grabbing at whatever you can— his shoulders, his back, his hair; and that’s all it takes before he suddenly takes up a pace that’s a little faster, rougher as your pussy squelches, wet and messy while your arousal smears along your thighs and the ground below you.

Your body jolts with each thrust, pussy clenching around him as Toji moans—every twitch and squeeze of your pussy leaving him breathless. “Come on, little lamb,” He groans, and you don’t know what to do. You’re too lost in the haze of pleasure that’s taken over you— you can’t hear past the slap of your skin and his groans in your ear. You know you’re moaning, but you can barely hear yourself. It’s all him. Him all over you, surrounding you, making you feel good.

He grunts as you clench down on him with another roll of his hips, sinking deeper into you with each thrust. “That’s it, pretty,” he grunts, “Taking me so well, fuck. So greedy for me.” And you tense up, your body convulsing and arching upwards as his thrusts grow more frantic— harsher and harsher as he groans gutturally in your ear with one last thrust long and deep, and when something shoots deep inside, you shiver one last time before your body sinks into the grass and debris and Toji’s weight cases you in.

You feel boneless, lethargic with your movement. You feel when the man gets off you, when he closes your legs after slipping your underwear back on. You hear it when he sighs, something deep and satisfied, and you barely manage to answer when he asks you how you feel. Yet, somehow, it all comes back to you in a flash. You sit up, head throbbing, and stare up at him. Wide-eyed and fearful.

“Please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel.”

He grins, “I think we can work something out.”

a/n: excuse the corny ending i couldn’t help myself

#toji x you #jujutsu toji #toji smut #toji x y/n #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji scenarios #toji x female reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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koorminii · 2 years ago

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WHAT LIES IN THE DARK — bang chan (m)

What was supposed to be a chill night alone turns into a fight for your life; Chan has been watching you, waiting for the best moment to strike, and he’s finally found the right time — but why are you so utterly enticing?

pairing: bang chan x f!reader

genre: enemies to lovers (?)

word count: 3.5k

warnings: CHAN IS A SERIAL KILLER, NO EXPLICIT MURDER SCENES, predator and prey dynamics, mentions of murder/violence, breeding, mating press, degrading, mentions of stalking, morally grey character, dumbification, size kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, pussy eating, oh and they have sex outside… on the ground. lmk if i’m missing anything !!!

authors note: I helped my friend sisi write this for her tumblr account, and she was nice enough to let me post my own partially edited version for chan!! so if you like jujutsu kaisen and wanna read this twice then go follow her at @kugokizs !! also holy shit i haven’t posted in almost two months 😭 the amount that i missed you all and missed writing is insane and the never-ending support even throughout my absence and inactivity means so much, i genuinely could never imagine anyone, let alone all of you, could like my writing as much as it seems you do, so thank you! i hope everyone is doing well 🫶

Bang Chan is a very sinister man.

He holds grudges, is very keen on practicing “eye for an eye”, and he holds dear his power over weak, vulnerable, young women. He prowls for the pleasure of it, for the thrill — to hear them beg for mercy, for one more chance. They beg on their knees as if he’s a God, the bringer of all evil, the grim reaper, the devil himself. And, Chan thinks, maybe he is. After all, who else could invoke such fear in people. Who else could cause someone to shiver just at the mention of his name? To run for the hills at any sign of danger. Who else could do what he does? No one, and that’s what makes him enjoy it even more.

Bang Chan is a very sinister man, and right now he has his eyes on you. It’s been months, bumping into you at the grocery store, handing you things that you’ve dropped accidentally, holding the door open for you, dropping food on your doorstep — he’s seen it all. Late nights with friends, early morning at university, skipping lunch to study in the library… Chan has been there. Watching, waiting, prowling. Ever since the first time he saw you he’s wanted you, to add you to his ever growing collection, to keep you, to make you his. You’re his. And the only one between you both who didn’t know that yet, was you.

Drawers upon drawers of lingerie greeted him when he peaked inside — he didn’t think you had it in you. His fingerprints would’ve been all over the place if not for gloves, his face on every camera if he hadn’t known all the blindspots, and thank God you didn’t have cameras inside, because then it’d only make it harder for him, and if you wanted something a little less painful when your time was up, it was best you didn’t piss him off.

Though Chan thinks he might play with you a bit. You’re interesting, just anxious enough to get by yet careless and reckless enough to get caught in a stupid situation. You’re pretty — innocent in the sexiest way possible. You look like you’d go dumb for a taste of his cock and that’s exactly what he likes most about you, but he knows you’ve got a good head on your shoulders and he appreciates that, too.

The moon shines a ghastly glow over his features right as the end credits of the movie start to run, and that’s when he decides it’s time to play. He picks up a smooth, round, pebble — no bigger than a quarter, and throws it so that it hits the window pane. He crouches down just the smallest bit lower, eyes peeking over the blinds, and he trusts the darkness to obscure him. He knows that you won’t ever get close enough to actually look through them, and he’s right. Always so easily frightened, like a little lamb. You freeze where you’re sitting, head whipping around to look at where the sound came from, and you pause for only a few moments, watching and waiting to see if it comes again. At least a minute passes before you turn back to the TV, curling in on yourself and tucking your lip between your teeth.

Chan can barely stifle the chuckle that threatens to leave his lips, it feels like childish glee watching you get so scared from a measly little rock against your window, but he does it again, throwing it harder now, and the sound echoes so loudly that he can hear it bounce back from inside your living room. This time you stand up, looking back towards the window and stepping forward, head tilting downwards as you try to see through the blinds. You squint at the glare from your lights and otherwise stay silent. Chan is sure your heart is beating erratically, your hands starting to shake, and he thanks God that you have so many windows. You don’t sit back down, instead looking around the room and muting the TV. You stay like that for a long time, you’ve always been so overly paranoid, and it fills Chan with immense satisfaction to know that he’s the one doing this to you.

Your footsteps get nearer before they stop, you’re most likely looking through the window of the now closed back door, hands trembling and knees weak in fear. You’re probably on the verge of tears, barely holding in a whimper. He doesn’t hear you step away, but he can see your shadow from under the door. Hmm. You’re trying to be cautious now, are you? Chan already knows this routine. You’ll run to grab your phone, call someone, try to get in your car and drive away. Maybe grab a large kitchen knife just in case, but what are the chances of you actually using it? Chan has practice, he’s skilled, he’s used to this. You, a lone studious girl who’s paranoid but way too careless for her own good, has never stabbed anyone in her life. Has never even imagined it, so what’s the chances of you dropping the knife before it can even plunge into him? Maybe trying to get away with a scratch in the arm or a stab to the leg, but Chan has enough scars for that to not even matter. He’ll keep coming and there’ll be nowhere for you to hide.

But he’s gonna let you try, let you think there’s a chance for you to run for the hills, that maybe you’ll get to some help in time. He’ll let that relieved smile flit itself upon your face before he comes back to rip that hope from your body, just to do it all over again until the fight leaves you completely. Maybe he’ll let you reach someone in time, someone innocent, and then kill them right in front of you. Make sure you realize that this is your fault, you did this, you put this innocent person in danger. You murderer. You killed them. You.

Chan realizes he has a lot to think about.

When you got to the back door it was already shut. You’d ventured on tippy toes to look through the small window and there was nothing there. Yet you couldn’t stop the way your breath left you in heavy gasps, the acrid smell of fear and anxiousness seeping from you in waves. You didn’t forget the closet right in front of the door, but you knew you’d never be able to open the door without shaky limbs. If there was someone in there, you’d let them leave of their own accord. You , however, were leaving immediately. You slowly stepped away, looking up to the ceiling and clutching your lip tightly between your teeth. Sweat formed at the top of your mouth and you felt like you were going to throw up. Your throat ached, your stomach was in knots, and you felt like you could collapse at any second.

Flat tire.

Flat tire !??

You kept driving, desperate for a few more miles between you and home, but your car didn’t appreciate that, and you came to a stop. A fear-mongering, bone-chilling, stop.

You couldn’t afford to waste time. You had to keep moving. You jumped out the car, a tight grip on your knife in one hand and your phone in the other. Your feet splashed in large puddles, the streets lined with thick trees that had never looked so imposing until now. A quick look around told you that you were alone, but you couldn’t be sure. You kept moving, rushing but not moving too fast where the sounds of your splashing would drown any other noises out. Your hand curled tightly on the knife as if it was a lifeline, and your phone was inside your pocket — kept safe from the rain. Streetlights shined down from above, blinding white lights that illuminated the entire area before you, and you were grateful for it but loathed it all at the same time. Bright lights mean you could see everything around you, but it also meant anything around could see you too.

You screamed at the top of your lungs but it was to no use. Every clap of thunder, every downpour against shut windows, every burst of lightning fought for the right to be heard and you were losing. Your legs never stopped moving, you never stopped screaming, but you were reaching a dead end. There was nowhere to go. If you stopped to knock on someone’s door there was no guarantee they’d come open it, and it would allow him to catch up to you way too quickly. You couldn’t hide in any abandoned homes or under any structures because he’d surely see you, and that’d only trap you. Briefly, you contemplated running into the forest, but it was so dark. You didn’t know where you were going, you’d probably get lost and lead yourself right into his arms.

“There you are, little lamb.”

The whimper that leaves your lips has Chan grinning in delight. He surges forward, trapping you between strong arms and a broad chest, pressing against you tightly and dragging you backwards. You claw at his arms, kick your feet, and use the knife to slash at any part of his body that you could. You didn’t make it easy, and you could hear him growl in frustration. He tipped the knife out of your hands and then gripped your arm with a frightening intensity, you bit your lip to stop the cry of pain from leaving your mouth.

“Stop fighting.”

Ugh, get off me!” You cried, and you bit at the skin of his arm, hard, and he pushed you off, allowing you to fall flat on your back. You groaned, rolling over on your side before a dark shadow loomed over you. You winced, your eyes shutting in fear before strong fingers gripped your chin.

“Not so fiesty anymore? We were having lots of fun,” He cooed, a devilish grin forming on his — and you hate to say it — near perfect features. The only blemish on his face was the long scar over his eye, and even that made him look attractive. You lost your breath for a short moment, staring into unforgiving eyes and at pearly white teeth, before you came back to your senses and jerked your knee upwards into a firm abdomen. When the man didn’t even bother to pretend to be hurt you did it again, but this time you used your arms to push him backwards as well. He stumbled just a little, but it was enough for you to jump to your feet and start running back in the direction you came.

“Come on, little lamb, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

Your heart kicks up a notch when he slides a warm hand up your shirt. You can feel the way his fingers ghost over your skin with an unnatural intensity, as if his touch is amplified tenfold.

“Look at me,” He growls, your eyes opening at his command against your better judgement. His pupils are dilated, staring down at you with desire. The way he looks at you is an awakening, and with a foreign feeling surging through you, you bury your fingers into the collar of his shirt, bringing him down for a kiss. It’s a little awkward with your apprehension, your fear, your desire to just give up — all teeth and clumsy movements until he takes the lead. He licks into your mouth, coaxing feelings out of you you've never felt before— kissing you into submission.

"I wonder why you're so pretty, hm? Been torturing me for months, sweet thing," He hums, pressing your thighs apart, tongue pushing against yours, his lips cherry red. You want to kiss him again.

Your breath hitches when his hands move to your pants, slipping under the hem and unbuttoning the fabric. When he pulls your pants down slowly, so slowly it feels like time stands still, all that’s on your mind is him. His breathing, his touch, the cold feeling of his fingers. When your pink, lacy panties come into view the chuckle Chan lets out is so deep it feels like a heavy blanket over your mind, soothing you yet igniting something in you that you didn’t know existed. God, you’re in the demon's bed but you feel like you’ve gotten a taste of heaven, and when those soft, cherry red lips ghost over your skin, trailing over your pelvis, leaving light kisses along your skin, all you can do is jerk in his hold.

"Pretty little lambs deserve to know what it feels like to have me right here,” Chan starts, leaning down to press a trail of kisses to your inner thigh. He bites and marks along the fleshiest parts, chuckling at your quiet whimpers and yelps. He slides a hand up between your thighs and rubs between your folds, still covered by your lacy panties. “Aren’t you scared?” Chan murmurs, before splitting them to rub your clit through the fabric. You feel like falling as he circles between your thighs, a gasp hiccupping at the base of your throat before it gets stuck— you can’t make a sound.

You faintly hear the rustle of clothing and the absence of Chan’s touch, opening your eyes to see him pulling his shirt off, biceps flexing as he does. He’s so big, and fuck, his whole body could cover your own if he really wanted. He towers over you, caging you in and surrounding you from all sides. When his shirt is off and thrown somewhere to the floor, he looms over you, his hands pressing into the ground at either side of your head, and all you can do is gasp— your eyes widening at his proximity.

Look at you. His eyes roam over the look on your face, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth, bright eyes glazed over and hooded in a bliss that’s otherwise foreign to you, a particular ease directed towards him. Then he shamelessly lets his eyes drop down to your thighs that tremble even harsher under his gaze. The action only forces his mind to run wild. He can’t help but wonder how you do it. God, you don’t know what real pleasure is— and it’s Chan’s job to teach you. Fuck, did he want to be under you, gazing up at you through half lidded eyes, hungrily eating up the sight of you bouncing on his cock like the slut you could be.

He dips his head down, and your hands automatically perch themselves on his shoulders. He grins, moving the finger thrusting into your cunt harsher, faster.

“Oh, god,” You moaned, loud, your grip on his bare shoulders tightening ever so slightly. His skin was warm under your fingers— soft and smooth and fuck if it didn’t feel good.

“Fuck. You’re driving me crazy.”

One hand supports his weight on the ground by your head while the other is preoccupied, curled around his cock as he stares down at you— something akin to a beast in his gaze. Tip reddened and precum oozing from the slit while he groans. The tingly feeling in your groin was coming back, similar to the fluttering you always felt whenever a boy you liked would come bother you. It intensifies when Chan wraps your legs around his waist and pulls you closer to him, your body dragging grass from under you.

“Relax,” Chan murmurs, pressing his mouth to your cheek. “You’re having fun, right?”

Dark eyes are locked intensely on your cunt, Chan watching the slide of his cock as he thrusts inside. His hair is plastered along his forehead, and he sinks back into your inviting walls with another roll of his hips.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

You moan, high and light, your eyes fluttering closed in bliss while Chan’s chest expands with a satisfied breath. He rolls his hips into yours— sinking his cock into your cunt saying the filthiest words you’ve ever known, before his words break off into a moan, his tone lower and deeper.

Your body jolts with each thrust, pussy clenching around him as Chan moans—every twitch and squeeze of your heat leaving him breathless. “Come on, little lamb,” He groans, and you don’t know what to do. You’re too lost in the haze of pleasure that’s taken over you— you can’t hear past the slap of your skin and his groans in your ear. You know you’re moaning, but you can barely hear yourself. It’s all him. Him all over you, surrounding you, making you feel good.

You feel boneless. You feel when the man gets off you, when he closes your legs after slipping your underwear back on. You hear it when he sighs, something deep and satisfied, and you barely manage to answer when he asks you how you feel. Yet, somehow, it all comes back to you in a flash. You sit up, head throbbing, and stare up at him. Wide-eyed and fearful.

“Please don’t kill me, Mr. Ghostface, I wanna be in the sequel.”

He grins, “I think we can work something out.”

#stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bangchan smut #bang chan x female reader #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #stray kids smut #skz smut

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starryeyedmunson · 3 years ago

Text

hotel sayre - e.m.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: it’s been two years since you had been home, since you had felt at peace. and it was all thanks to one night with a certain dark haired dark eyed boy.

warnings: alcohol mentions, mentions of weed, soft smut, swearing, angst, a little fluff if you try hard enough

author’s note: i had a lot of mixed emotions writing this, it’s loosely based on a memory that i have of my own, and the name “hotel sayre” comes from the song on the great gatsby sound track. i wrote based on how i felt the song flowed, so enjoy my little musical analysis. this also takes place as if there is no upside down, no scary monsters none of that. i worked extremely hard on this so any feedback or interaction is much appreciated, and enjoy!

word count: 9.1k

You took small, slow steps into the house you knew so well, yet it felt unfamiliar. The walls had been painted a new shade of a dusty yellow color, and the lights seemed to hit the walls in a different way than they had two years ago. The sound of your mom’s voice from the living room was almost a jump scare, and you felt even more out of place than you had the entire car ride with your dad back from the airport. You stepped into the living room of the open floor plan, seeing your mom with fresh eyes as she smiled up at you from the loveseat. She got up to hug you, and in that moment you finally felt a wave of relief wash over your body. You were home. You were safe. You were a teenager ready to see the world and finally leave your small town of Hawkins, Indiana. You were still a kid, never having experienced what it was like to lose someone.

Until you weren’t. Until you had met Eddie Munson. Until the childish, naive heart you so desperately wanted to keep safe had been shattered like a fallen vase.

Your mom pulled away from you, leaving you lost in your memories and unable to register her happiness to finally have you back from school. Her voice was muffled as you turned around, your feet having a mind of their own as they dragged you down the hall and up the stairs to the place you dreaded the most.

You opened up the door to your room, but you stood in the doorway as if something was barricading you from entering. A memory, a haunting image that had stayed with you for the time you were gone. You were frozen in place as the shouting that had cursed the pink walls in front of you came flooding back into your mind. Then came the whispers, the four words that had never left your mind no matter how hard you tried to forget. The four words you had washed down the drain with countless red solo cups and experimental nights with people you knew would never be able to take your mind off of the one person you needed them to.

Your feet felt heavy as you entered the room you grew up in, everything still in place just as you had left it. You looked towards your dresser, and choked at the sight of the broken, empty picture frame that was haphazardly thrown onto it. Dust had accumulated on the jagged glass, but as you reached out to touch it you felt as if you had bought it yesterday.

“Hold still!”

“Quit it, Munson, I look hideous,” you huffed, but he just rolled his eyes and held up the Polaroid, ignoring your incessant objections. You had put your hand up to reach for the camera, but you were too late as Eddie snapped the picture, the flash temporarily blinding your vision. He removed the printed picture from the bottom of the camera, waving it around to help the image come into focus. You took the opportunity to steal the camera from him, making quick work and taking a picture of your own. He smiled up at you, a smirk appearing on his face.

“Did you get my good side?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes as you took the fresh picture from its printer. You waited patiently for the picture to clear, a comfortable silence settling as you both sat in anticipation.

“Oh, this one’s a keeper,” you heard from across the bed. Eddie was holding the picture at you, like a child who had just won the grand prize at a carnival game. You squinted at the sight of yourself, smiling with your arm extended in a futile effort to steal the camera from him.

“Do not show that to people,” you said sternly, but the smile couldn’t help creeping onto your face.

“As long as no one looks through my wallet, you have nothing to worry about, darling,” he said with a wink. By then your own picture had developed, and you smiled at the flick of Eddie. He looked truly happy, a wide smile on his face as he looked at the developing photo of you. It was as if he was enamored with the small picture, a moment in time so candid and raw that he could always associate with happiness. With you.

You felt a warm tear fall down your face, but made sure to wipe it from your cheek as if to wipe away not only the tear, but the memory as well. You moved towards the suitcase that was still planted in the doorway, telling yourself that if you had unpacked you would be able to feel at home again in the space that held so many other memories than the ones of you and Eddie. Memories of you and Steve smoking a joint out of the window your junior year, but the wind blowing it right back in despite your efforts. Memories of playing truth or dare with Robin, ending in the two of you solidifying an unlikely friendship.

As you nestled the last shirt into its proper drawer, you found some comfort that wasn’t there before. You appreciated the small victory, even though you were hopelessly losing the war in your mind. The comfort wasn’t fleeting; it stayed with you as you got ready for bed and fell back into an old routine buried deep in your mind. You fell asleep to the sound of various insects outside, distracting you from the pang in your heart that had attacked you as soon as you walked into what used to be a safe space.

“Well, well, well, look who’s back in town!” Steve exclaimed. You shook your head and smiled, hearing the doors of the Family Video store shut behind you. Robin peeked from behind one of the shelved rows, and the grin on her face bled onto your own. She ran at you with full force, almost knocking you over with her bear hug.

“Holy shit, holy shit! You’re finally back!” she said, and you laughed at her giddy expression. “Thank god, it’s been absolute hell here with Harrington as my only source of entertainment. I swear, his life is like a tv show, but make that show about a single man who goes on countless dates and can’t seem to land an actual girlfriend.”

“Okay, that- that was just uncalled for, Miss I-can’t-tell-Vicki-I’m-in-love-with-her,” Steve replied, and both you and Robin shot him the same irritated look.

“This is Hawkins, not some progressive city like San Francisco,” Robin said before her eyes lit up and she turned back to you. “Speaking of, how’s California!”

“It’s been good, school’s getting rough but that’s college, I guess,” you said simply. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t called neither Steve nor Robin almost every day, checking in on both of them along with the kids the three of you involuntarily babysat. Steve had been fiddling with the phone line as he looked at you with big eyes, you always knew he couldn’t sit still for more than five minutes. Even that was a long time compared to Robin, who had been speaking with her hands and talking a mile a minute.

“What’d you say?” you said as her voice finally came back into focus.

“I said that we all missed you! It’s official, we’re going to Steve’s and throwing you a welcome back home party. Come on, it’ll be fun, we’ll invite all the kids and hang out like we used to!” You smile at the thought of seeing everyone, seeing the family you had missed even more than your real one.

“Maybe Munson can come too if he’s not busy with another random groupie he’s hooked on this week.”

The sentence was like a shot to the back of the head. You tensed up, not only at the mention of his name, but the words that had followed afterwards. The now-inherent reaction to any time he was brought up was threatening to show, but you cleared your throat before responding to the overly-excited Robin.

“Yeah, maybe,” you said quietly. Your mind was racing and it was the best response you could come up with. You hated how you sounded. So small and weak just by the sheer thought of Eddie. Of Eddie with someone else. You hated how after all this time he still had you in the palm of his hand, but to him you were a distant memory.

“Hey, hello?” you heard Steve say. You were re-associated with reality and were pulled back into conversation, drawing you away from the replaying image from that August night two years ago. “Does nine work?” You nodded your head but remained silent, and Robin and Steve looked at each other in confusion. You gave a short ‘I have to go’ before hurrying out of the store and getting into your car. You didn’t hear Robin ask Steve what your reaction was about, and you didn’t hear Steve respond with a simple name that still had an effect on you after all the time you had spent trying to forget it. You thought they were in the dark, that they had no idea what had happened between you and the person you had loved so dearly. But what you didn’t know was that late night in August hadn’t only ripped your heart into disrepair, but that the perpetrator’s had been irreplaceably damaged as well.

Steve’s house was a blur. You stared at the fire he had set up outside as everyone around you chattered like birds calling to each other early in the morning. You gave the occasional laugh, the fleeting smile, the temporary fixation on whatever the other person was talking about. But your mind was nowhere near where you were sitting. Instead, it was somewhere else. Anywhere else. Until two words brought your eyes up from the flames.

“What the hell are we doing at Lovers Lake, Munson?”

“Shut up, just follow me.”

You trudged down the unbeaten path behind the boy until you reached the small shore where there was a ragged old boat. Eddie turned around with a giant smile on his face, his arms motioned towards the boat like it was a holiday present. Your eyebrows raised in confusion, then fell flat again.

“What the hell is that?”

“A ferris wheel. The fuck does it look like?” he shot back. You didn’t try holding in your laughter at the sarcasm lacing his tone, and it seeped into your response.

“Eds, I love you to death, but there is no way I’m getting in that excuse for a buoyant object,” you managed through giggles. He sighed and walked back towards you, grabbing your hand despite your resistance. He dragged you down to the tiny rowboat, and tugged you into it after hopping on himself. He put his hands on your shoulders and pushed you down so you were sitting, and before you could get back up and leave your spot, Eddie had already pushed the boat from the shore.

“What was that?” he said. You smacked him upside the head, but it was only met with laughter that you ended up joining.

The night was beautiful, the pitch black sky littered with glowing white dots that formed patterns you and Eddie were hopelessly trying to connect. The moon was waxing, almost full but not quite there. You could hear the faint sound of crickets as you pulled away, but as you furthered yourselves the sounds died away. The water was like glass, the only ripples coming from the boat you and Eddie were sitting in. The two of you floating aimlessly in the night with the only company you thought you would ever need.

“You’re my best friend, darling,” he said quietly as the both of you stared up at the stars. You didn’t feel Eddie break his concentration on the sky to bring it down to you. There was a faint smile on his face as he watched you explore with your eyes, and he had never seen anything more innocently beautiful.

He had moved his gaze back up to its previous position, but you had looked down too late to catch his stare. You studied him, watching your best friend in his own world. He looked so enamored, just like he had as he stared at the picture of you from your room, so focused. But the worst of all, he looked so pretty.

You had never wanted to lose him, Eddie Munson. He had only entered your life at the beginning of the summer at the hands of Robin and Steve. But you couldn’t thank them enough for showing you the kindest, most selfless, most hopeful soul you had the fortune to encounter. He had dreams, as did you, and you two vowed to be there for each other when those dreams came true and still if they didn’t. The dreams you two had could not have been more different, but you knew them as your own because you knew they mattered to the other more than almost anything.

You tried your best to keep the feelings at bay, to keep them from bubbling up to the surface. You knew there was only a couple months left before you had to leave Hawkins behind and begin the homestretch to the finish line that was university. But looking at Eddie furrowing his brows at the sky, trying to find any sort of familiar constellation, you struggled to wash the thoughts away like you had been able to do so easily before. You couldn’t lose him. You couldn’t risk the fragile friendship that had formed so quickly but felt like it had been in place since you were small. But with each passing second, you toyed with the idea of shaking him and telling him I love you! But you settled with the safe response. The response that would keep him close to you, even if it played a sad melody with your heart strings.

“You’re mine too.”

You left Steve’s house with an apology for being so distant, the group watched you walk out the door to your car. As you pulled away and the door was closed, there was a mutual silence that hovered over their heads before Dustin, who still couldn’t keep his ego in check, broke the calmness.

“So what are we going to do about this, because I can’t have two people in my life go ghost on me if I can help it,” he stated. It earned a smack on the head from Robin, knocking his hat straight to the floor in front of him.

“We are not doing anything,” Steve said. “These two need to figure it out themselves.”

“And what is ‘it,’ exactly?” Mike asked, bringing forward the question that only you and Eddie knew the exact answer to. As if on cue, the door was almost broken down with the persistent banging that came from the other side, and Steve walked up to it slowly before turning the knob.

Before the group stood a wild-haired, red-faced, out-of-breath Eddie Munson, who looked as if he had just sprinted all the way from Forest Hills.

“Sorry, man. She just left,” Robin said with a small, almost pitying voice. “We said come earlier,” she said, but the words were already drowned out from Eddie’s registration. He didn’t say a single word as he entered Steve’s house, pushing everyone aside until he got to the backyard. There was about a gallon of gas sitting by the sliding doors, and he picked it up silently. Back around he turned, walking in the same path he had made before to leave the house. His van had run out of gas about a mile away; you knew he never filled up the tank all the way. Said something about “you live and you learn” every time you two were stranded on the side of the road. The memory was fond, so fresh in his mind as he walked down the empty road. He was cold, the metal from the tank not doing much work to warm him up. He was simply left alone to sit and shiver both from the cold and from the thoughts that you had no idea were plaguing his mind as well.

With time it grew easier. You felt more comfortable going outside, walking into Family Video without the nagging thought that Eddie might be there. The person you had found so much safety in now made you scared to even leave the house, terrified that you would break down and cry on the spot. But, like you said, with time it grew easier. The forced smile didn’t seem so forced anymore, and the invitations extended to you by your friends you began to accept without hesitation. It was nice, for that month and a half, to not feel like you were crumbling under one person’s touch without them even being near you.

Until that all came to an end. The dreamland you were in had its sky taken over with dark, thundering clouds that came with a leather jacket and a red flannel, metal rings littering its hands. Metal rings that had come off and laid on your bedside table one night that could never be erased from your mind. And the ending that you tried to ignore was ringing from the pink phone across your room.

Something in your body was tugging you towards the phone because that same thing was telling you it was him who was on the other line.

Eddie’s hands were shaking as he held the line up to his ear, his eyes flitting back and forth to try and calm himself down.

You approached the still-ringing phone and placed your hand on it, but something was stopping you from picking up the line.

His leg was bouncing out of control from anxiety, waiting for what seemed like forever to finally hear your voice after the past two years.

You took a deep breath, eyes closed as you gripped the phone tighter.

On the verge of tears, Eddie removed the phone from his ear and went to place it back down on the receiver.

“Hello?”

Eddie was frozen, unable to bring the phone back up when he heard your voice, distorted by the phone line. He heard nothing but silence as he found it within himself to pick the phone back up and bring it to the side of his head.

You sat there, nails completely bitten off, waiting for him to say something. You were playing through every scenario in your mind of what he might say, but a single word and the dam that had been holding you together was cracked.

“Darling,”

Everything came back. Every moment you had with him, every smile, every laugh, every inside joke. All the hot summer nights and the lazy summer mornings you shared. All the car rides filled with music battles and all the times you two filled in as the kids’ interim parents. Every happy memory was made like new in your head. Yet the tear that fell from your eyes wasn’t from happiness. There was a sadness laced within, a final product of the build up of wanting to hear that word for so long.

Eddie sat on the phone for what seemed like hours as he heard nothing, but he knew you weren’t consciously ignoring him but rather replaying every second of that summer, just as he was. The drives to the arcade that Dustin insisted you take him to. The fake concerts you two would throw in his room as you sang horribly into your hand mic. The countless times he had made you try Yoo-hoo to see if your opinion would change, and he could hear the responses of Give it up, Munson as if you were saying it to him now.

“Why are you calling?” you managed to say, trying not to let the crying show in your voice.

“I heard you were back in town,” he said, but you scoffed and cut him off.

“I’ve been back in town. And you knew that. So I’ll ask again, why did you call?” you seethed. The sadness was still there, but there was a hint of anger that was becoming more prominent by the second.

“I wanted to see if you’d meet me at-”

“No.” He tensed up, then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had expected this answer, but he hadn’t thought as far as how to respond.

“I have to expl-”

“Explain? Explain? You should’ve explained two years ago! When I left in the first place! There’s no time for explaining now, I’ve moved on. And by the way, Lovers Lake? Ironic, Munson, real nice work,” you spat. The anger was now blinding you along with the tears that were running down your face like a faucet. There was silence on the other line, and a part of you was nervous that he had left the phone out of frustration. But you heard the same sigh you had before, and a part of you was relieved he was still there.

“I know, darl-”

“And don’t fucking call me that. You don’t get the right to call me that anymore.”

“Okay,” you barely heard from the other end of the phone. In your blind rage you had almost belittled Eddie, and he felt powerless against your emotions that were driving everything you said to him over the line. Just how it did him two years ago.

“Don’t call again,” you said coldly, and you didn’t wait for a response as you slammed the phone down. You sank to your knees, the tears nowhere near stopping, and you felt yourself lay to the floor. You couldn’t take back the yelling at him that had just ensued, but he also couldn’t take back what happened in the very spot you were laying all that time before.

Eddie sat there, still holding the phone to his ear though the ending dial tone had been playing for the better part of a minute. His face was hard, eyes refusing to water because he thought that if they did, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from drowning in his own tears. He knew you were right, he knew what was going to happen as soon as he dialed your number. He hadn’t even hoped for a different response because even after the years that had passed, he still knew you better than you knew yourself.

“So, have you heard from Munson?”

“Robin“

“What! I’m done trying to play matchmaker, this is just depressing.”

“You didn’t have to just come out the gate and say it.”

“I’m just saying that-“

“You guys know I’m right here right?” you said, raising your eyebrows at the two of your best friends standing in front of you. Steve put his hands up in self defense, but you rolled your eyes and looked back down. The eye roll wasn’t even laced with a bit of playfulness; it had been blatantly annoyed.

“Look, we know what happ-“

“No, you don’t. You don’t know anything. And whatever that prick told you is not true at all, so drop it. Catch my drift?” you said icily. You had never spoken so lowly of him, calling him a prick. You could never bring yourself to do so even after everything. But ever since that phone call a week ago, your emotions ran high and seemed to speak for you, even saying things you knew deep down you didn’t mean.

“He didn’t tell us anything,” Steve said calmly. “There were no details, just that something had happened the night before you left for college. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And,” Robin started, your eyes darting over from Steve to her. “We know it wasn’t pretty. But he’s been a mess. For two years he’s been a total mess and I’m not saying it’s your fault-“

“It’s not.” you interrupted, a hint of self defense peeking through your hardened tone.

“I just said- whatever. All we know is that every time you hear Munson’s name you go into cardiac arrest, and every time someone mentions your name Eddie turns into a dead battery. So yeah, we know something’s up. But we know about the phone call and we know it went about as poorly as Steve’s last date and you two have got to do something about it before one of you combusts.” You sat there stunned at Robin’s monologue, wondering if she had practiced all of that before you showed up to the video store.

“Has anyone ever told you you talk too much?”

“Only when they don’t want to admit that I’m right.”

You sat in silence, staring at the floor. You could feel Robin’s eyes burning holes into the top of your head, but you couldn’t care less. You were too wrapped up in the recollection of the short phone call that solidified the tie between you two being snipped like a string by the Three Fates, and you finally acknowledge the sting of regret that you had so desperately been shoving back down in order to not feel it.

Eddie was the reason you hadn’t come back in two years. After your first year you couldn’t bear to face him, so you found refuge in your friend’s house for the summer. The California waves mixed with the unacknowledged beauty of the forests you had never imagined were there was the perfect cocktail to help you lose yourself. Lose your attachment to Hawkins. Lose your attachment to Eddie.

But you had to come back eventually. And after two years of playing hide and seek with your thoughts you finally thought you had won, but the weight of the simple pet name hit your shoulders like the weight of the sun. It laid you out, leaving you helpless and broken just as you were when you left.

Robin and Steve let you get lost in your mind, waiting for you to slowly make your way back to your dreaded reality. When you finally did, they allowed you time to find the words that you barely made audible.

“I’ll call him.”

Lovers Lake had become your special spot. It was ironic, given that you felt the exact emotion associated with the name. But you knew that to Eddie it was a symbol of an everlasting friendship. A platonic love.

The two of you sat in solemn silence as you looked at the stars you had done weeks ago, the lingering thought of what would happen tomorrow hanging above your heads. Your head was nestled into his lap, and he ran strokes through your hair.

“Please don’t go.”

The words were the perfect trigger to kickstart the tears that were threatening to fall from your face. You could feel a warm drop hit your face, and you saw the source still looking out at the glassy water.

“You know I would change it if I could.”

“No no, darling. This is going to be amazing for you. Life changing. I wouldn’t forgive myself if you stayed,” he said, a sad smile on his face as he looked down at you. He continued playing with your hair, and you were entranced in his soft, oh-so-pretty face. A part of you wanted to reach out and touch it, to pull him into you and show him how much you would miss him. But you refrained, scared of how it would change things forever.

But maybe, just maybe, since you wouldn’t see him for so long you could just go for it. Risk everything for a temporary feeling of satisfaction.

His voice brought you from your inner turmoil, calling your name as you slowly registered his face clearly.

“Huh?” you asked. The raking of your hair had ceased, only leaving Eddie’s other hand holding your own as your lifeline to him.

“I’m going to take you home, you have an early flight, darling,” the words left his mouth with a slight choke. You just sat up and allowed him to stand, his hand reaching for yours to help you get to your feet too. Your fingers remained intertwined as you reached the van you had spent most of the summer in, only parting as he opened the passenger door for you.

The ride home was silent. Not comfortable, like every other silence you had with him in that car. It was sad, there was a feeling of longing and Eddie’s words of ‘please don’t go’ infesting both of your minds.

You couldn’t bring yourself to pick up the phone that day, unlike Eddie had done the week before. You spent 3 weeks thinking about what to say to him, how you would tell him that all you wanted to know was why had thrown an entire summer out your bedroom window. Steve and Robin had stopped trying to talk you into it; they knew they weren’t getting anywhere. It was just up to you to take the step towards hopefully fixing whatever was left of your friendship with the person you cherished more than anything in the world.

It would take those entire three weeks, leaving you a week left at home, to finally pick up the phone you had been avoiding almost all summer. You lifted it from the receiver, shaking as you dialed the number you still knew by heart. The line rang a couple times before you put the phone back down. You knew it was a mistake, and the creeping feeling of regret was moving closer and closer to the front of your brain. Your thoughts were running laps in your mind, and they led you back to your bed on the other side of the room. The summer rain pattering on your window pane lulled you to sleep, finally giving you the deep rest you had craved since you had come back to what used to be your home.

As you awoke to the sound of your door being knocked on, you meandered out of the warm covers, leaving you cold and vulnerable. You opened the door hesitantly, and widened your eyes at the person on the other side.

Your mom was standing in the doorway, a long ball gown draping her body. She looked beautiful, and in moments like these you felt an immense guilt for spending the little time you had with her mentally somewhere else.

“Hey, honey. Your dad and I are going to the Hawkins High sponsors dinner tonight. It might be a while, so don’t wait up for us to get home,” she said with a smile. “There’s leftovers in the fridge, and we’ll be back by around 12.” You gave her a tight smile and wished her and your dad a fun night. It was only until they finally pulled out of the driveway that you let out the breath you had been subconsciously holding in. You could finally feel the emotions you had been suppressing without the fear that your parents might walk in and ask what was wrong. They’d poke and prod and finally ask you about the correct reason that you were upset, to which you’d shout for them to just leave you alone.

You walked back up the stairs, each step heavier than the last. You opened the door to your room that finally felt somewhat safe again.

Until you saw the person standing in the middle of it.

Your world stopped. Everything seemed frozen in place, and your breathing started slow but became more rapid with each one you took. In front of you stood the one person you would have risked your future for. The one person who you spent the better part of your senior year summer getting to know and knowing to love. The one person who only had the heart-stopping effect on you that you were now experiencing right in your own doorway.

You pulled up to your house, Eddie dragging out the end of the ride as he slowly made it to the top of your driveway. Your parents had been at some dinner and you knew they’d be home late. Not that it even mattered; Eddie coming over was a sight they had become all-too-used to. You two stayed in the car for what seemed like forever, as if you getting out would mean that it was goodbye for good.

“Do you wan-“

“Can I co-“

You both chuckled at the words you said in unison, before you finished what you had started.

“Would you like to come in, Eddie the Banished?”

He smiled his signature dopey grin, replying with “Of course m’lady.”

You two got out of the car, Eddie rushing over to open the door for you. It was little gestures like these that made you think there could be something more than friendship that twinkled in his eyes when you looked at you, but every time the feeling was deflated as he told you how much he loved you, his best friend. You made it inside the house, leading the way to your bedroom as if Eddie didn’t already know the way. The walk was the same as the car ride, the same as Lovers Lake. Silent. Only the sound of the creaking staircase as you walked up to your room.

You opened the door, your bed greeting you and Eddie like an old friend. The picture of him that was now framed on your dresser, a constant reminder that your bond was forever. There was no tension as you both sat down across from each other, the position was so familiar to the both of you that it would have raised confusion if you didn’t do so. Eddie took your hands in his and brought them to his lips, kissing your knuckles as he looked into your eyes. He was searching for the right thing to say, but you knew that time was running out for the both of you.

“Darling,” he said, but you had already pressed your lips to his. He sat there in shock for a moment as you let your lips linger on his unmoving. You pulled away, your eyes wide and chewing on your lower lip. You stared at the big, brown, confused eyes on your best friend as you waited for him to say something.

Suddenly his lips were back on yours as he lunged forward, hands gripping yours tightly. You released them from his grasp to move them to his arms, holding on for dear life and never wanting to let go. His hands were now cupping your face as your lips moved in tandem. The kisses were slow yet fervent, each one deeper than the last. Your fingers then carding through his hair sent a calm vibration through his body, and his hands moved down to your waist. He had already known your body from seeing you in various bathing suits and the occasional tight shirts you sometimes wore, but he felt like he had just met you as his hands grazed over every part of you. He explored further, moving one of his hands to your thigh where he applied the smallest amount of pressure.

He pulled away only for a moment, his eyes bore into yours silently asking permission, and you brought him in for another kiss to give him what he had nonverbally asked for. He laid you down slowly, taking his time and making sure your head didn’t hit your decorative headboard. The hand from your outer thigh moved to its inner counterpart, and your breath hitched as he moved closer to your uncharted waters.

His fingers danced along the edge of your pajama shorts. It could have been misconstrued as teasing, but you knew it was him becoming acquainted with you in a way he never had before; he didn’t want to go too far too fast. You moved one of your hands from his hair down to meet his, guiding it towards where you needed him the most. He took off his rings and placed them on the bedside table before he ran his finger up your folds, hitting your bundle of nerves and eliciting a small moan from your mouth.

He was trying his hardest not to stop right there and open his eyes to see you, raw and needy, foreign yet comfortable. He continued to slowly put more pressure, rubbing small circles into you. He pulled away and rested his forehead on yours but never looked at you, afraid he might see the look in your eyes and crumble to the ground.

You were writhing, begging for more, and he obliged. Quiet noises of pleasure were escaping your lips, and as he added two fingers into your slick entrance you were in ecstasy. The boy you loved seeing you the way you had always wanted him to was bringing you closer to your release, and you let out a small more before everything screeched to a halt.

The speed in which he pulled back was blinding, and you sat up, pulling your knees to your chest. He made no eye contact, running the same hand that had just been undoing you through his hair. You sat there facing him, but he was no longer in his rightful place across from you. He was standing, facing the opposite direction.

“Eddie?” you said nervously, hugging your knees even tighter to protect yourself from what he would say.

“That was a mistake.”

The four words that would never leave your head after they left Eddie’s mouth shattered you, and you felt the tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

“I’m sorry-”

“Yeah, you should be,” he said, still facing away from you. You felt so defeated, so embarrassed having let yourself show your true emotions to the person who you thought would never judge you.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t trying-” you stuttered, but him ignoring your gaze had you at a loss for words. “I couldn’t leave without at least trying to show you the truth.”

At this he slowly turned around, a hardness in his eyes that truly scared you. “The truth?” What am I supposed to do with this? You ruined everything. Where did- How did you even think that this was a good idea?” he spat, looking down at you and taking all of the power away from your usually shared dynamic.

“I don’t- I don’t know, I just maybe thought-”

“No, see that’s where you’re wrong. You didn’t think anything! You didn’t even wonder what the consequences of this was, how I would have reacted” he shouted coldly, the narrowing of his eyes driving the tears from yours to finally fall. “What, did you think this could be anything more?” he scoffed. “I knew you loved to live in a fairytale land where you weren’t leaving for college and were staying here forever, but, darling, I didn’t take you for utterly delusional.”

You stared at the blurry vision of Eddie towering over you as you sat curled up in a ball on the edge of your bed. You couldn’t even make out his face, just a figure with a menacing presence as he drilled into you just how stupid you had been. With just a few sentences he had belittled you into almost nothing, the pet name that had always been so loving now saturated and dripping with disdain. You heard the shuffling of his feet as put his shoes on, and he stormed out of the room, leaving you alone in your room. You could hear the slam of the front door, and you rocked back and forth as you heard his van start and the tires screech as he sped out of the driveway.

He left you there, broken and alone to sit with the dreaded hypothetical that had now set into reality. And he took every bit of your heart with him.

You stared at his hard features, sadness and regret having weathered away the once playful and carefree expression you had been so used to. Your eyes fixated on his brown ones, unable to make out the fact that he too had to suppress the tears that were too close to making their way down his face.

“Hi-”

“Don’t.” you said softly.

“You still haven’t learned to lock your window.” The ghost of a smile appeared on your face, and Eddie’s face mirrored yours. You saw the sparkle in his eyes, the same one you used to see every time you looked at him. But there was a sorrowness trickling in, and you wanted so badly to run up and engulf him with your arms.

“What are you doing here,” you said, the same coldness that his voice had two years ago now dripping from your lips.

“I needed to see you.”

“It’s too late for that,” you said, your voice growing louder. You were protecting yourself and your emotions bubbling to the surface with each decibel of your voice increasing.

“Darl-”

“I said don’t. Call. Me. That.” you said, now completely enraged. The look on his face was small; he knew that you were in control of the conversation. But all it took was for him to softly say your name for the front you had put up to fail. The waterworks began to spin, and you stormed over to him and slammed your hands into his chest, effectively pushing him backwards. He stumbled for a moment, but as you went for the second blow he caught your wrists in his hands. You struggled, screaming at him to leave and thrashing to no avail as you tried to release yourself from Eddie’s grip. The tears were streaming down your face with no signs of stopping, and Eddie held onto you for dear life. You finally gave up, letting yourself fall into the arms you had missed so much. He held you as you cried into his chest, stroking your hair just as he did at Lovers Lake the night everything changed. He slowly led you to your bed, holding you as he sat down to wait out the crying. You couldn’t see it, but a tear slid down his own face. He couldn’t see you like this, he couldn’t see you how he saw you that night.

You had stilled in his arms with the tears from your eyes having finally run out. The two of you sat there for a lifetime, simply holding each other in silence. It wasn’t until you pushed off of him to sit up on your own that he finally took a look at your face, eyes red and puffy and hair messed up from burying it into his chest moments before. Your eyes could barely open as you looked at him, trying desperately to tell him that no matter how long it had been that you had missed him more than anything. He registered your expression, silently saying back I’ve missed you too.

“Why did you do it?” you choked out, your voice hoarse. Your hands were connected just as they had been before you ruined the best thing that had ever happened to you.

“I was so scared,” he said, his voice small and unsure. “I was so scared, you have no idea.”

“You don’t think I was scared too?” you challenged, and his eyebrows softened as he squeezed your hands.

“I know you were, but we were scared for different reasons.”

“I loved you, Eddie,” you vocalized for the first time in your life.

“I know, darling,” he said. Your expression fell. A part of you hoped that he would validate you, say that he had loved you too. But your words were suspended in the air, the unspoken truth now laid out on the bed in front of you.

“Then why did you say the things you did?”

His head hung low, his eyes never looking up at your quizzical face. For two years you wanted to know the answer to that question, but for some reason the couple seconds you had waited for his response in that moment felt like double that time.

“I couldn’t love you.”

There were no tears left to cry, just a breath of a laugh leaving your mouth.

“I couldn’t love you because if I did, I would have lost everything.”

You stared at him, trying to make it make sense in your head. He finally lifted his head to reveal his now-red, tear filled eyes. “Everything, all my ups and all my downs, everything had been with you. You were there for it all. And I knew that I was falling for you, hell, I had already fallen. But I couldn’t admit it because if I had, I would have had to go through the pain of losing the one thing in my life that made it worth living.”

You sat there in silence as you watched tears fall down his cheeks. His lips weren’t quivering, he wasn’t even sniffling. The tears just fell on their own.

“You don’t know how hard it was to watch the days until you left quickly fade away. You don’t know how lonely it felt to know that you were starting a life somewhere else, somewhere new and far away from me that you were so excited about. It drove me crazy to think about all of the new people you’d meet, all the new memories you would make with me in the furthest corner of your mind. It tore me apart, darling, but I couldn’t let my own selfishness stand in the way of something you had worked so hard for,” he said shakily. You wrenched your hands out of his tight grip to lift them to his face. He looked at you with the same red eyes you looked at him with.

“You weren’t going to lose me, I was only a phone call away,” you said softly, and it was his turn to give a dejected smile.

“I know, darling, but it was never enough for me. I couldn’t tell you that I love you then watch you get on a plane and fly two thousand miles away just for you to forget about me. So I said those horrible, regretful things not only to you, but to myself. I thought that if I said them out loud it would make me believe them, but it only made it hurt more to see you so broken,” he said quietly.

“Couldn’t tell me that you love me?” you said, hoping that he wouldn’t change the tense of the words you had wanted to hear for so long.

“It’ll always be present tense. It’ll always be you for me, darling,” he said, the sad smile on his face ever-present. You let out the breath you had been holding, bringing his face closer and capturing his lips with yours. You could taste the salty tears mixed with a hint of the spearmint gum he always chewed, the smell of cigarettes and forest trees invading your senses. He tenderly reached for your waist, pulling you closer to him like he had done before, but this time he had no intention of letting go. Your lips molded together as if no time had passed, and you two melted into each other as your kisses became more passionate. Two years of pent up feelings and misjudged resentment towards each other made their way through as your fingers found their way into his hair and his arms wrapped around your back.

He pulled you under him, laying you down with the same tenderness he had that long time ago. Your hands moved to his waist, toying with the hem of his shirt and waiting for him to allow you to take it off. He rose from you, letting you push the shirt up his torso and arms. Before he leaned back down you had begun to take your own off, and he watched you with loving eyes as you laid back on the bed. He admired you from above, taking in every curve and every mark that he had thought about for as long as you were gone. He ran his hands along your sides, finally bringing them up to your face as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. You could feel him screaming I love you through the motion of his mouth against yours, and he could feel you insisting I love you too with the way your hands pushed him closer to you from the back of his head.

His hand found its way to your core, playing with the edge of the same pajama shorts you had worn that night, and he felt a familiarity as he slowly moved them to the side. His fingers were delicate yet firm as the rubbed circles on your hooded nerves, and you knew that this time he had no intention of stopping. His middle fingers found their way back inside you, slipping in so easily. You sighed into the kiss, having missed the feeling that you had foolishly tried to recreate with nameless guys from forgettable parties. You two parted and looked at each other, cheeks flushed with love and lust as you slowly reached for the waistband of your shorts. He followed your hand with his, and he slowly dragged them down your legs with your underwear in tow. He took a moment to undo his own pants, tugging them down his legs along with his briefs. You didn’t even look at his hard member as you were too enamored with his pretty face, and he crawled back on top of you to line himself up.

Nothing had felt more right as he slowly pushed into you, and your head was thrown back as he bottomed out inside of you. He fit perfectly, and as he started to move you instinctively wrapped your legs around his lower back to hold him close. There were little words shared between the two of you, just small moans and his occasional I missed you baby, so much. You felt the familiar feeling rise in your stomach once his pace had quickened, and you looked up at him to see that he was nearing his release too. One look in each others’ eyes was all you needed, the both of you climaxing with each other in perfect sync.

He pulled out after a while, getting up to get a washcloth to clean you up. Your breath had already been caught as you watched him run the cloth over your heat, careful as not to overstimulate you. He folded the tiny towel and placed it on your dresser, then crawled back into bed with you to tangle your body with his. The silence that had been so deafening before was now filled with love, your eyes saying all the words you both needed to convey. It was nice this way, and the two of you fell asleep, finally safe in each others’ arms.

Your suitcase was packed, and you walked down the stairs mindlessly. The sound of the suitcase hitting each step was the only sound that dragged you back to your reality, but when you reached the bottom of the stairs you felt yourself fall back into dissociation. You and Eddie had spent the last of your days there in each others’ arms, in each others’ beds. It was how it should have been before you left the first time, filled with open hearts and open conversations that only produced laughter and smiles from you both.

But as you walked out the door and saw your friends all waiting for you in the driveway, it set in that you had to leave everything behind all over again.

“Tell me you’re not going to spend another two years away and that you’re coming home for Thanksgiving and Christmas,” Dustin said, and you gave him a genuine laugh.

“I’m coming back, I promise,” you said, rubbing his curls.

“Good, because I swear it’s me and Robin babysitting him and not the other way around.”

“Yeah, I can’t handle these kids alone, and with Dingus over here thinking every girl is ‘the one’ and getting let down every other week I’m going to need some serious help,” Robin pointed out. You smiled and looked over at Steve, who was giving her a hard glare. You rolled your eyes and walked over to him, giving him a long hug before pulling away and giving everyone else their time to say goodbye. It wasn’t until you reached the end of the line that you let yourself feel the weight of you leaving. He had wet eyes, but you knew he would never let your friends see him truly cry.

You reached for him, and when he didn’t reach back you had to envelop him yourself, letting him rest his head on your shoulder as you held him. You could hear the sniffles coming from his nose, and you hid his face from your friends as he tried to regain his composure.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” you said reassuringly, but even you knew how long the couple months would feel without him.

“I know, baby,” he said. “Doesn’t mean it won’t suck while you’re gone.” You let out a breathy laugh and he smiled back at you, sadness shadowing both of your expressions. He let his forehead press against yours, breathing in your comforting scent of fresh laundry and peonies that he had come to know so well.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, darling.”

You pulled away from him, afraid that if you stayed any longer you’d miss your flight and stay with him forever. You felt the tap on your shoulder, and you took a deep breath and turned around, walking to the car door. You took one last look at the teenagers who you had loved so much as they waved goodbye, then rested your eyes on the smiling face of Eddie Munson. He gave you a small wave, and you copied him, closing your eyes and sucking in a short breath before finally getting in the car.

You sat in silence as you stared out the window, getting lost in your own thoughts and memories as you drove towards the airport. The feeling of Eddie’s kisses and his arms wrapped around you sent an involuntary smile to your lips, and you closed your eyes, finally feeling at peace. His words from the week before played over in your mind. It’ll always be you for me, darling.

And you knew that it would always be him for you, too.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #soft smut #eddie munson smut #fanfic #fanfiction #eddie munson fandom #eddie munson fan #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fan fiction #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie stranger thing #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic

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kenziejones16789 · 2 years ago

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Inferno

note: okay so this story did not turn out the way I hoped and I didn’t know how to end it because I really feel like azriels trama needed to be addressed better and after the fact and I was planning on making a bit more angst at the end but I’m not sure how I want to write it so I might post a better version later .

Azriel couldn’t stand fire, it may have been an irrational fear to anyone else but it always brought him back to the darkest days of his childhood, he would always be the one sitting farthest away from the fire out of range of the warmth and the danger, it was not a thing he ever thought he would come to terms with i fact up until a few years ago the small apartment he called home had never had a fire lit in it but then you came into the picture and he would do anything to make you happy including let you light a fire in the hearth so that you could curl up next to it with your book, there was still fear but you made it better you made everything better, my mate, my love, my saviour.

It was a cold day when it happened Azriel and you walked hand in hand through velaris enjoying the cold fresh air and the bustle of people rushing from the warmth of one shop to the next, azriel couldn’t help but admire the way your cheeks flushed red with the cold and he was beyond happy that it had you slowly inching closer and closer to him he couldn’t wipe the smug smile of his face because you where his and you wanted him and you here happy and everything was perfect.

And then the screaming started and it only took one glance between the two of you before you started running towards the horrific sounds, he smelled the problem before you even reached it the acrid smell of smoke pushed it’s way down his throat slowly suffocating him he hadn’t realized you had kept running he was frozen to his spot flashes of his past holding him down all his muscles where locked and then all of a sudden you where there your voice in his head telling him it was okay, when azriel snapped out of his trance he realized you weren’t beside him at all which could only have kept running and he bolted seeing the destruction the fire had cause was worse than he imagined there where two buildings caught in the inferno and no matter how hard he search he couldn’t find you in the crowd and then when it was too late he saw you run into the building.

Azriel couldn’t breathe he tried to follow you but his knees gave out, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he needed to help you but all he could do was hyperventilate and call your name over and over the panic was blinding he was living his nightmares he had to wake up he had to help you, you needed his help, he couldn’t breathe, he didn’t pay attention when someone put a hand on his back, he didn’t hear the words they told him, he couldn’t breathe and then the building collapsed.

Azriel was sobbing he still couldn’t breathe and he didn’t want to he wanted you he was still crying when someone knelt in front of him and took his face in there soft familiar hand stroking his cheeks “Az, hey it’s okay, look at me please darling you are okay” slowly he looked up and when he saw your beautiful y/e/c eyes he started crying again and pulled you into his arms holding you tighter then he ever had “you can’t do that” he sobbed “you could’ve died, I can’t loss you, I can’t.” You stroked his dark hair “someone needed my help Azriel, i had to help them” he was shaking when he nodded, he knew the sacrifices because he had made one similar all of our family had it was a side effect of being in the inner circle and he didn’t realize how much he hated the obligation until today until he nearly lost you.

#azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel acotar #reader x azriel

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tokrev-roses · 4 years ago

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Cool Cool Boy

although you are happy with your love, your ex-boyfriend wants to be a part of your life again. jealous boyfriends and phones involved + NSFW (original request)

🖋Genre: Smut (Mikey, Draken Chifuyu), Fluff (Baji)

⚠️Warnings: 18+ for everyone but Baji, description of the female body and sexual acts, bad writing/grammar/spelling

👥Characters: Mikey, Draken, Chifuyu, Baji

❧ Keisuke Baji

Fancy dates are not his thing

It was not only that he had a budget, being a middle schooler and everything, he also simply didn’t vibe with it

But it was your anniversary, so he saved up all his pocket money and tried to behave so mama Baji would let him out

Cue to him waiting in front of a popular restaurant for young couples, wearing his edgy street clothes

And to both of your surprise, everything went smoothly

He excused himself to the restroom for a sec, and while you were waiting at your table, daydreaming about the beauty of this evening, someone sat down on Keisuke’s chair

You turned towards the person, fully expecting to see your boyfriend, but were met with a less than pleasant view. Your ex-boyfriend greeted you with a satisfied smirk.

“Enjoying yourself, y/n? You know, I always thought you were one of those girls who loved fancy stuff, considering how much you loved our dates and my presents. That you’d settle for someone who is unable to offer you more than this…” He made a derogatory gesture towards the other tables.

This was no high-end restaurant with view over the Tokyo skyline, but it was Baji who put a lot of effort into this, and it meant more to you than anything else

As you were about to respond, a shadow towered over your ex

“What do you think you are doing her punk?”

“This is the trash you left me for, y/n?”

As he was about to laugh, Baji seized him by the collar, lifted him up, and threw him away like actual trash

Knowing Keisuke, you tried to stop the enraged berserker he was about to turn into. No need for a brawl in the middle of a restaurant

You managed to calm him, nonetheless the manager kindly asked all three of you to leave

Keisuke kept quiet on your way home. You knew why. He actually wanted everything to be perfect, to show you how much you meant to him and it was ruined by his temper and a slimy asshole

„♪Kei-Su-Ke♪“, you poked the dimples of your grumpy boyfriend. “I loved this evening. Minus that idiot, but that was none of your fault.”

“Hm.”

He kept walking.

Ok, you’d have to bring the big guns in

With two big steps you were behind him to give him the strongest back hug possible

“Ya, you punk. Wanna pick a fight?”, your effort to imitate his voice didn’t go unnoticed.

“As if a small fry like you could win against me.”

With that you knew the ice was broken. What you didn’t expect was him turning around fast as lightening, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

You tried to scream but it ended in heartful laughter

A perfect anniversary indeed.

❧ Manjiro Sano

(Future!Mikey, Dark-Haired)

King of jealousy and most possessive out of all the boys, so you can imagine his reaction as you told him your ex-boyfriend visited you at work

The mood instantly shifted

“Come on, Manjiro. He didn’t ask me to marry him or anything.”

This joke was not appreciated by him, and he stayed broody for the rest of the evening

You should have known that he was up to something as he suddenly became very touchy with you, but you pinned it on his neediness

Things got even stranger when he didn’t let you touch or pleasure him, but instead kept making you feel like wax between his fingers

It wasn’t just the way he abused your neck with longing kisses or how he caressed the sides of your body with featherlight touches as he made his way downwards. Not the way he fondled your breasts with the utmost care, kissing and sucking your nipples until you couldn’t keep your whimpers from spilling.

The satisfied smile he gave you as you made the first sound should have shown you that there was more to it, but you were so lost in pleasure, that you really didn’t care

Things got worse (or better) for you as he reached your most intimate spot

If he was skilled at pleasuring you before, he was a god at doing so today.

White pleasure blinded you as his velvet tongue explored every part of you. Every moan and whimper you gave him was met with a pleased hum that vibrated through your body.

When you couldn’t stop your own need from feeling every part of him on you, you used your hands in his dark hair to push him closer to you.

Instead of understanding your silent plea like he usually would, he just kept going and going until your vision got blurred by tears and your voice was hoarse.

Only then he let you go, mumbling something you were too tired to understand.

You slept well that night, with Mikey hugging you loke a koala

It was only when you looked at your phone the next morning, that you realized what he had done.

A chat with your ex-boyfriend, who must have written you last evening about going out for dinner, cough your eye. Your answer, which you definitely didn’t send, consisted of a 30 second audio.

Innocent you played it, of course, and it took you a second to realize what exactly you were hearing.

That was you. You, moaning in ecstasy. You were frozen in place an listened all the way through it

The audio ended with a raspy voice you knew all too well

“She is busy with me.”

❧ Ken Ryuguji

Your phone was broken.

It did not show you, who tried to call you and called people you never meant to call. That’s why instead of putting it in your pockets, it usually laid somewhere beside you. Like today as you were cooking dinner for your finance who was about to come home from his bike shop very soon

The last days had been a bit stressful, he had a lot to do, couldn’t spend any time with you and you went to meet your ex-boyfriend for coffee, as he himself was about to get married soon

Ken tried to be understanding, but the amount of your time this past fling consumed annoyed him

That’s why he wanted to make up for lost time this evening

He didn’t hesitate when he saw you standing in the kitchen, stirring something in a pan and looking so perfect

On swift move and the giant had placed you on the counter, standing between your spread legs, face buried in your neck

“Well, someone seems eager.”

He wasn’t willing to waste time with your teasing but begun to assault your lips

Heavy breathing filled the room as he cupped your chin with one hand and tried to get rid of your clothes with the other

Your bodies soon met with a pleasurable sensation, moving in synch.

You held on to him like your life depended on it, ankles hooked behind his back

He wasn’t one to moan, but his heavy breathing had something so unexplainable erotic to it, that it made up for the missing foreplay

One couldn’t be without the other and if it wouldn’t have been for the laws of nature, you would have said that your brains your hearts and your pleasure became one

Sweat made the counter slippery, and your voice became raspy as you finally reached your high together

“Well, hello there.” You could literally hear the smirk on his lips as he said this.

“…hello?”

You thought you were hallucination from your post-orgasmic bliss as you heard another voice talking to the both of you. But Ken’s shocked face as he looked towards your phone woke you up

It couldn’t be that your phone called your ex-boyfriend, right?

Right??

❧ Chifuyu Matsuno

It’s not like Chifuyu needs your attention all the time, but he kinda needs it when he wants it you know?

And today he really needed it

He had given the shop into the hands of his partner, Kazutora, to spend some time with you, as a surprise

The thing with surprises was, that they usually came at the worst times

His mood went downwards as he came home and instead of giving him a confused hug, asking him why he was home already, you were on the phone with god knows whom

He thought you’d end the call soon, so he gave you some space, but as you kept laughing 30 minutes after he arrived, he got annoyed, to say the least.

He didn’t mean to listen in on your conversation, but your constant laughter, bickering and smiling made him…curious

It seemed like your former high school sweetheart had called to “remember the good old times”, and although it wasn’t like him at all, he slowly but surely felt anger bubbling inside of him.

You had settled for the couch, and although the other party was on the phone, he felt the need to touch you, so he laid down between your legs, head resting on your stomach

You, of course, noticed the sour mood hanging in the air (not just because he followed you around like a lost puppy while you were phoning this old friend of yours)

So you petted his hair, knowing it would calm him

But the time for appeasement was over, at least for Chifuyu. He knew that you knew that he wanted you to hang up, yet you didn’t

It started as an innocent kiss on your stomach, which you answered with a silent chuckle, shaking your hand to signal him to stop

That he ignored it would be an understatement

Something you realised as he started caressing your intimate part through your clothes

As your friend on the other side was continuing to tell you about his life, your attention was captured by the innocent puppy-dog eyes your boyfriend gave you as he got rid of the annoying layers keeping him from feeling you

He began giving you kitten licks, that literally took your breath away. Good for you, the other man didn’t notice

Chifuyu, that devil, knew what he was doing, keeping eye contact with you while doing the most sinful things to you

It got worse as he took your pearl between his soft lips and started sucking

You had to press your fist on your mouth to keep any sound from spilling

He continued his assault with a steady pace, and you wanted him to stop as much as you wanted him to continue

“Y/n, are you still there?”

You hadn’t noticed that the excited voice on the phone had stopped

Faster than you could react, Chifuyu had snatched your phone away from you.

His breath tickled your now wet parts as he answered

“Something came up just now, and she needs to come. Try again, pal.”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers mikey #tokyo manji revengers #draken x reader #ken ryuguji x reader #mikey x reader #sano manjiro x reader #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #baji x reader #keisuke baji x reader #tokyo revengers baji #tokyo revengers draken #tokyo revengers chifuyu

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studiojeon · 3 years ago

Text

use me | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. i think you can read this by itself though :)

| summary | - Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you.

warnings: language (?), mentions of hook ups and situationships. mentions of emotional trauma.

contents: a compilation of moments that contributed to the growth of their relationship, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read and sus. oc is kinda whipped and scared af. chaeryeong knows who you are and where you live. jk and oc are scared to let each other in. friends to lovers, idol!jungkook x student!oc.

author’s note: i hate this, but i have to get it off my chest. (the narration is off af but if i keep it in my drafts for longer this will never see the light of the day). p.s. thank u so much for the support on the last drabble <3

playlist: rain by trey songz (feat. swae lee).

words: 4.75k

“JK?” as his broad back faces you, you call out his name timidly, not missing the way he swiftly turns around as soon as he hears his name come from your lips. Hair wet and darker than usual, a very big sweat stain at the center of his hoodie. He had just gotten out of practice, you assumed.

“___?” he replied with the initials of your name as well, one of his tired grins plastered on his face, he must have been exhausted. You had caught on to him just as he walked out of the practice room in front of the elevator on your way to your office, right when you needed him, but now you weren’t so sure if it was a good idea to pester him. Even so, you didn’t know anyone else you could ask for help, aside from Linh who was currently in her own office doing other tasks you had assigned to her.

“Are you busy right now?” your eyes stare at him shyly, in hopes that he was willing to help you out, because you wanted to be around him, so maybe he could share a bit of his positive energy with you, the past week had been hellish. “Could use some help returning all those heavy stacks of paper in my office”.

“Of course! Why didn’t you give me a call earlier though? It’s pretty late” he walked by your side and you enter the elevator, beginning your adventure around the company.

Jungkook was fun. Always bubbly and reciprocative, constantly trying his best to make you laugh and make the absolute best of your situation, even if he could be a bit stubborn at times. You liked the spontaneity he provided though, the way he would switch from one topic to another and how he would make silly faces at you whenever you locked eyes.

He didn’t know, but in pure ignorance, he had just made your day ten times better.

In the past week, you had received a lot of counterarguments, one by one, on how useless your management tactics were. Granted, you hadn’t expected for your ideas to be welcomed with open arms, but at least you had hoped they would take them into consideration. You had also been assigned a team, in charge of social media management, who worked monotonously and with little to no insertion in the actual target audience… your logic was: how can you advertise products to an audience you don’t even have the mere interest to know? You had designed a strategy, presented it, and no one paid any mind to you.

But for the most part, you felt lonely. Had no one to talk to, nor go to whenever you needed your spirits to be lifted up.

Chaeryeong was busy busy with group projects and work. To the extent where she would get up at seven in the morning and come back at 12 pm. It wasn’t always like that, so you didn’t worry too much, but the fear she would wear herself off like usual still crowded your mind.

You close your office door with a sigh. Tired from everything, but somehow, your heart a little fuller, knowing that maybe you could use Jungkook in the future to give you a lift. Both figuratively and literally because he had offered to drive you home, being the gentleman he was.

“Why do you look like a sad puppy?” he asked you once you were sitting by his side in his very expensive and luxurious mercedes. Tinted windows and jet black shiny paint covered the outside of his car, the smell of air refresher and pinecone filling the inside. Mans was getting hotter by the minute.

“It’s friday night after the longest week of work. How can I not?” you put on your seat belt and lean back against the leather cushions. He pouts in response to you, with a concerned look on his face.

For a second you wonder if he did this with most coworkers… being nice to them and offering them drives after having met them just a few times before. Kinda risky behviour, considering his position and squeaky clean reputation. You figure this would only last a bit before he realized he had more important things to be focusing on.

“Do you ever get chased home?” you ask randomly.

With one hand on the wheel and the other leaned against his door he meditated on his response. “It happened once… And then I moved out, got a new car and everything. Shit was wild” he chuckles and you think that was the first time you had heard him curse, like ever. Jungkook, friendly and everything, wasn’t too big of a talker, but with you he found himself spilling, without giving it much thought. It felt refreshing to hear his voice and listen to his stories and the way he expressed himself. He was more interesting than he seemed, apparently. “Aren’t you hungry, by the way? We can have something to eat before i drop you off”

Traffic was hellish in Seoul everyday at every hour, and choosing to drive through Itaewon on a friday night wasn’t the smartest decision on Jungkook’s behalf, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Considering the demands of his job, he probably didn’t know his way around the city that well. You conclude taking a detour wouldn’t hurt. “I’m starving actually.”

He ends up taking you to a restaurant near your neighborhood you had mentioned being good and not crowded at all, the latter catching his attention immediately. It was a modest but nice place owned by a very funny and loud ahjussi. The man had lost count of how many times you had come down from your apartment at 11 pm and asked him to make you vegetarian tteokguk, but they were enough so that he could memorize your five orders by heart and the amount of saewoo mandu you could down by yourself in five minutes. You were making him rich at that point so the least he could do was comply when you gently asked him to shut the place down for you. Jungkook hadn’t asked you, but you knew how things could get awkward and dangerous quickly if too many people found out about him being there. “Ahjussi, you don’t have to” the boy protested as he noticed that the man had shut the blinds for him.

“It’s okay, boy. _____ has been single handedly paying the remnants of my mortgage for over a year now, I don't mind doing this for her.” he joked in his usual nature. already writing down your order and patiently waiting for Jungkook in front of you to voice out what he wanted for a meal. “And well, you and your friends are making our country proud, it’s the least i can do to thank you”

“Ah, thank you.” Jungkook bows to the older man. Your heart softened in your chest, seeing how considerate he was towards other people. He must be great with parents, you think. “Do you really not get that many people around here?” he asked worriedly once he sat back down on the wooden chair.

“We do! But she’s the one who comes the most often” he nods toward you and Jungkook smiles once he found your gaze, a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

“Can you recommend me anything, miss?”

“Of course, sir. Yeol-ah, double up my order. Drinks are on me today.” You yell at the man’s son in the kitchen, who was still a bit older than you, but also close to enough to let you order him around shamelessly. You knew him quite well, actually. He was Chaeryeong’s boyfriend after all.

The tall boy pokes his head out of the kitchen door with a very confused expression plastered on his face. “Aren’t we supposed to close in like, an hour?” Chanyeol asks his dad in front of you.

“Just go cook, I'll explain later”.

The two men go back into the kitchen and Jungkook looks at you with an amused expression on his face. “What was that?” he laughs.

“I’m very popular, you know?” it probably wasn’t a good idea to go there, but you felt a little drunk on his voice that night, and you also knew your friend didn’t mind. “In fact, Chaereyong from ITZY is my best friend, who would have guessed?”

“Yeah and my son is her boyfriend, who cares?” Byung-ho yells back at you from the cashier, pulling a hiss from your lips.

Jungkook still continued to stare at the both of you with confusion and intrigue, you guess he thought you were both joking.

“Wait, really?” he utters after a few seconds with big doe eyes and a pout on his lips, a combination that appeared when he was either confused or lying, which wasn’t the case then.

“Yes, my guy.” you laugh. “That juicy legged shortie is indeed my wife”

Jungkook loved the food, to say the least. It was all vegetarian and korean as fuck, a combination he never throught was possible, but downed like thristy camel. He was a loud eater, which was fitting of him and his politeness, something else you had noticed that night. You were the opposite, and actually despised the sounds of other people eating, yet, looking at him enjoying his meal so much made you feel full yourself. He made you feel like a kid in some ways too, brought back the times when being around others wasn’t so hard, and you still could have a sense of security around you. Talking to him was rather easy, maybe because of his welcoming nature, or because in fact he actually was interested in whatever stupid shit you were saying, something most people around you didn’t do. He also, amongst other things, seemed very interested in your job and the likes, always asking questions and absorbing information like a five year old. You had explained to him the five key steps of process design and the psychological effects on marketing in society to which he always responded with wide gentle eyes and attentive nods, not once looking bored or… annoyed in any way.

Was he like that, with every girl? Because you weren’t anything special, there were many other girls who worked with him everyday and even if you hadn’t seen him in his work space, you could guess by the way most women in your company look at him whenever he passes by that either they were just as captivated as you by his beauty or that he had fucked them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was just trying to get into your pants either, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to you nonetheless.

“I can walk from here, JK” you mention once you found yourselves walking towards the parking lot. A bit sad about the expense you had just made on food, it was your fault for trying to seem cool and rich, neither of which you were.

“Oh no, I’m not letting you do that, girlie” he unlocks the door and gets in, not even letting you finish or allowing you to fight back.

“My apartment is literally a block away” you protest in the car anyways. You fear you had been too much of a bother, and deep down, didn’t want him to feel like you were seeking his presence unnecessarily.

“Well, good for you. But, you paid for the food, which was a lot, and i don’t want my sugar mommy walking by herself at 12 pm on a friday night” you first freeze, and then burst a very loud giggle.

“Whatever” you slap his bicep and roll your eyes. “ Next time you can pay if it bothers you so much.”

“So there will be a next time?” wide eyes stare back at you. “Count me in. I´ll pick where we will be going, just lemme know when so i can plan ahead” he rambles, a little too excited about your suggestion.

He drops you off with a smile on his face and hopefulness in his eyes, promising to see you around the company. You, on the other hand, feel a tad confused as you enter your apartment building. What was going on?

You had overthought things so much your entire life that it suddenly became too tiring to do. During the past few years you had to learn how to detach yourself and just ride the wave sometimes. Once you had turned eighteen, everything started moving at a very fast pace, the pressure of adulthood fell upon you like a brick and everything was so overwhelming that you started to simply let the course of your existence take you wherever it needed to.

That’s how you ended up going out with Jungkook at least once a week for dinner or a drive around the city for more than two months. Without even noticing, he became so engraved in your everyday life that whenever he’d cancel plans because of work, you’d find yourself with a void in your heart and a rush of boredom filling your senses. Even if you found yourself in your living room with the company of your best friend whom you had seen at most four times in the past two months, you were still wishing you could share that intimate space with him instead, willing to let him a bit more into your life, in hopes that maybe he would do the same. Sue you, you were curious over the most intricate details about his personality, how his personal sanctuary looked and if the smell of his room is just as good as his car’s. You could bet a thousand dollars (maybe a little less, considering the unconventionalism that characterizes him) that he also had a few plants that only remembered to water three out of seven days of the week.

Hopefully life would draw you closer to more people like him.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Chaeryeong asks you from the kitchen counter, sweet popcorn cooking in you popcorn-maker.

You sigh. "What boyfriend?"

She was a lot of things but oblivious, and you weren't either, just when you chose to be. "Cut the bullshit, you know who i'm talking about". The fake red head waits for your response as she pours the snack into a big bowl, and you on the other hand take this as an advange to search around the room for answers.

"He's just a friend" you say. "And he's fine, i guess… He doesn't really talk much about himself" you mention, matter of factly.

Chaeryeong nods beside you, understanding what you meant. Then, proceeds to tell a tale about her experience meeting the dark haired boy. "He's literally so quiet, but like, so incredibly kind. Once he tripped over and fucked up some of the decoration at an award show" she grabs a popcorn and continues her story. "He looked so panicked I thought his eyes were about to jump out their sockets — His eyes are huge, by the way."

"I know" you smile.

"My point is, he started to help the staff put everything back in order again. I think he's the only idol I've ever seen do something like that… i decided i liked him then" her beautiful features light up with mischief. "I bet he fucks great too."

You slap her leg. Hard.

"I'm only telling you this now so you don't get caught of guard when he actually manages to fuck you," her soft hands run through your messy hair, motherly touches easing the fluster in your body. "You know he's a big whore, right?" She adds after a while.

You didn't. According to Chaeryeong, who seemed to keep tabs on every single colleague of hers, Jungkook had quite the body count, not that you didn't have your suspicions before. Frankly, she only knew of two girls inside her company who had had some sort of situationship with him, but for the same reason, she also knew he had some history with other girls from different groups. "Yikes" you laugh nervously, in admiration of their ability to remain calm and collected without giving anything away to the public.

Thanks to your friend, you had heard lots of tea about other singers in the korean industry before, most of which were not as sweet or kind as they portrayed themselves to be, some even using their social status to get their way with girls. But for some reason, Jungkook had never made his way to your gossipping sessions, nor any other of his band mates (except for Jimin, who, if you remember correctly, used to have some sort of beef with one of Chaeryeong's company members). You guess it was because of his unproblematic nature that people chose to give him a pass for his sexual endeavors, not that they were of anyone's concern either.

A knock is heard against your office door. "Miss _____?" A girl with a brown bob cut pokes her head through it, the dim lights of your office shining upon her incredibly healthy locks. "Jungkook asked me to deliver this to you" sliding completely into the room, she places a box with a note on it on your desk.

"Thank you so much" you wave her off as she walks right out.

The package had a strawberry flavored canned tea and a bento box inside.

"I remember you telling me you'd never tried tofu pancakes before, so I made some for you last night. Hope you enjoy! - JK

P.S. Text me when you're done, maybe we can hang out tonight."

You felt like crying, in all honesty. The pancakes were heavenly, and he even added some slices of avocado and a few scoops of rice for you, despite not being the biggest fan of the fruit himself. With a warm heart and relief washing over your body because you wouldn't have to waste money on lunch that day, you had had half of your meal before said boy gave you a call.

"Did you like them?" He said almost immediately. "My assistant told me she already delivered them to you" he adds in a rush.

"Jesus boy, calm down." You giggle at his excitement. "Let me eat in peace".

"No, tell me right now." he demands with a fake angry voice. Cutie.

"They're alright".

"Figured… you have no sense of taste anyways" the hangs up. A giggle escapes your lips. Boy was something else.

Later that day, the weekend started it's course. Jungkook had offered to drive you to the Han River, careful to mention the fact he prepared a bunch of snacks for you two just about five times during your call. The place was almost empty, given that the rest of the city was doing something else more fun than staring at the night sky while sitting on itchy grass. Yet, you wouldn't change the setting for anything else. Usually, when you and Jungkook were out, he'd be in silent wary of your surroundings and the people who could be watching you. It broke your heart, knowing that most of the time he couldn't frequent places most regular people had the pleasure of enjoying, like the movies, for example, or a food stand in the middle of the street. Still, in that moment, the handsome man in front of you seemed as relaxed as ever, munching on grapes and strawberries as he sat in silence beside you.

"This blanket is so soft, isn't it?" he commented all of a sudden, caressing the fabric with his hand. The thing was made out of polar fleece, no shit. You just nodded and grabbed a piece of fruit from his container. "One of my friends gifted it to me on my birthday" he adds.

"I know. It was me".

"Well, maybe you do have a sense of taste after all" he complies as he lays down on the surface, eyes facing the night sky above you.

"Says the one who uses toe socks" you say back, poking his weak spot.

Instead of going back and forth with you as he usually would, he just winks and closes his eyes. He looked so peaceful and serene beneath you, features carefully carved on his face and slightly blushed cheeks from the cold wind. Jungkook was like that, randomly over confident and flirty with you, but just as quickly would refrain from even disagreeing with you in the first place, scared that you would snap at him. He hadn't told you this, but the way you saw thoughts hidden in his eyes whenever you made a statement let you know his true intentions, leaving you to wonder where that came from.

"Are you tired?" You ask after a few minutes. Still with his eyes closed, Jungkook denies.

"I just don't want to look at you right now," he turns to the side, back facing you as an offended expression finds its way to your face.

"Yah" you slap his back playfully, not letting him finish.

"Because you look too pretty." he mumbles the remnants of his statement.

Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver climbs its way down your spine. Why was he like that? He had no right tugging on your heart strings like that (if he was being serious in the first place because you never knew with him). You sigh, the blush his words provoked stinging your cheeks.

"You're supposed to say I'm pretty too" he turns around with a playful smile, expectant.

"You just go around giving compliments so you can get them back?" you hiss. "Why so insecure?"

"I'm not insecure, at all." He sits up again, ready to fight you and anyone who dares question the grandiosity of the confidence he had worked so hard for. "You can ask Linh about that".

To say you looked horrified was an understatement, hopeful that what you thought he meant was not it. "You fucked Linh?"

"Well, that's not for you to know".

What a gentleman, you think. And at the same time, ouch. He had just slammed a door on your face.

"That would explain the way she looks at you whenever you come by the office" you realize. Frankly, the girl looked a bit too panicked whenever Jungkook decided to barge into your space, usually bored out of his mind during his english lessons, laptop and notebook in hand, or struggling to get the questions right.

"Well good afternoon to you too" you ironically greeted once he sat in front of you, frustration written on his face. Linh, who stood by your side, suddenly fidgeting with the papers in her hand.

"Not the time, _____" he slammed both hands on your desk, startling you and your friend beside you. "Why the fuck did you make me enroll into this in the first place?"

"I did not make you do anything, dude. I just gave you an idea" you excused yourself, eyes back on your computer. You didn't miss the way Jungkook's eyes briefly followed Linh out the room, though.

His eyes looked back at you, leg bouncing impatiently on the floor as he leaned back with a pissed off expression on his face. You'd never seen him this way, so you took that as a cue to enter under paid therapist mode. "What's wrong?" You questioned gently.

"I feel incredibly incompetent right now." His hands roamed across his face with frustration. A sigh escaped his lips as he held tears back. "School's always been this way for me, always trying my best and constantly underachieving" he explained.

He was obsessed with winning, you’d even go as far to say more than he was with his job (which was a lot). It didn’t root from narcissistic behaviour though, but rather out of external pressure to constantly overachieve and exceed expectations. He was mostly good at doing that, but everyone had an achilles heel, yours was reading for example, his was studying and school.

"Jungkook, you passed most of your classes with more than 90%, what are you talking about?" a fact he had brought up to you randomly when you mentioned absolutely nearly failing most of your literature classes.

"Yeah, except for English." he shook his head in the way he would when he'd feel conflicted or insecure. "I don't know what i'm doing wrong".

"Did you fail something?" you tried to get some more insight into the situation, still unsure of where all his worries came from.

"No, there's just this sentence I can't properly put together" he turned his notebook towards you. "Ah, just look"

There were some words he had to conjugate and properly place in order to form a grammatically correct sentence, more than five attempts written in neat penmanship on the page evidenced the boy's battle with the assignment. He missed one very important aspect of it, though. "There's a fucking word that's missing, dude" you explain, grabbing the pen from his hand and showing him where the mistake was. "It's not your fault, it's the teacher's".

Jungkook's serious expression didn't go away though. "Well, damn".

You had some sort of emotional trauma with having people ask you for help, it made you think that they didn’t actually care for you as a person but rather just your skills. That was the way you’d grown up and what your position in society seemed to be as well, the one you could butter up and taste when you got bored. Heart had been broken many times too, whenever you’d realize what you thought to be a genuine connection was merely pure interest. Those thoughts clouded your head when Jungkook would randomly enter your office with a frustrated expression on his face, yet, that occurred less often than it didn’t.

Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you most of the time, hence your wish for him to let you in a bit more before you could allow yourself to free fall into whatever was going on between you both.

You reach for the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his sleeve with your fingers just because you really liked the color of it, and maybe because you wanted to feel closer to him. He doesn’t react to your touch, just looks at your hands briefly as they play with the edges of his clothing. “Where did you get this from?”

“An online store, I think.” he replies softly, reaching for your hand on his arm, caressing the surface of your nails. “It’s a unisex brand, i can send you their link afterwards.”

“Is it too expensive?” you inquire, not only to keep the moment afloat, but because you genuinely liked most of his pieces of clothing, especially his hoodies and shoes. Jungkook laughs at your question and looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t think i would know, ____. I’m rich.” he says, playfully. And he was right, what was expensive for you might just be cheap as fuck for him, you wonder if when a lot of money is in your hands you start to become very tuned out from what’s affordable or not anymore.

“True.”

“I can buy you one, though. I don’t mind.” he adds. Soft look in his eyes, a pure and genuine offer that you had to deny.

“I didn’t say i wanted one” you lie, only partially, because although you’d not mentioned it, you did actually want it. “I just think it’s pretty” you finally let go of him.

“Or do you think I look pretty in it?” he pushes, a sucker for compliments.

“Yeah, that might be it.” you admit, because there was no point in denying your irrefutable attraction to the man, as much as you hated to be vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“I think it would look prettier on you”.

Don´t copy or repost please. by studiojeon on tumblr.

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hopelesshawks · 3 years ago

Note

Can I request a Compress x Reader? Babytrapping + Breeding?

Ohhh interesting, of course you can! I rarely write for the villains so this will be fun. You didn’t specify but because baby trapping I did fem!reader. I also just realized you might’ve meant reader baby trapping Compress but I wrote Compress baby trapping reader so I hope that’s what you wanted 😅

The following request contains dark content. Check the warnings before reading

Warnings for vomiting, pregnancy, manipulation, non-violent sexual assault (baby trapping), breeding kink, unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), minor dumbification? (reader is very no thoughts, head empty during the smut), minor size kink, minor pain kink

Three years.

Three years together and yet you never would’ve guessed that your boyfriend is the notorious Mr. Compress of League of Villains infamy.

You first met Atsuhiro while working at a hole in the wall theater company. He came up to you after performing one night and had been so effortlessly charming that you’d instantly been put under his spell. He was more intelligent than all of your exes combined and could make you laugh like no one else could. It hadn’t taken long for you to fall totally and completely for the charming man you met that night.

But all of that came crashing down around you when he came home from a “business trip” with a prosthetic arm and no amount of half-assed excuses about an accident on stage could assuage your suspicions. He managed to dodge a confrontation with you for almost a week before you’d finally put the final pieces together and went to him to demand an explanation.

“You’re a terrorist Atsu!”

“That’s just what the heroes want you to think my love, don’t fall for their propaganda.”

“It’s not propaganda it’s just a fact! People have died because of your actions!”

“And how many more have suffered or died because of heroes and the society they created.”

“You’re deflecting. I have always indulged your rants about hero society but this is too far! The man I fell in love with would never stoop to this level!”

Atsuhiro crosses the room to you in two quick strides, cradling your face gently with his hand while you feel the cool metal of his other find your hip, fingers slipping under your shirt.

“I’m still the man you fell in love with (y/n), I can assure you of that,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours.

“How could that possibly be?”

“Let me show you.”

He pulls you into a gentle kiss, reassuring in its care. As his lips move against yours, gently coaxing them to open so he can deepen the kiss and slip his tongue inside, you struggle to maintain your earlier anger. It’s a distraction and you know it is but it’s hard to resist as he starts to move you both back towards your bedroom. He makes quick work of your clothes and by the time your back hits the plush of your mattress you’re both already naked. His mouth finally releases yours to travel down your body, leaving bruises in his wake as he marks you as his.

“Atsu, wait we should, ah-” you start but he quickly shushes you before licking a long stripe up your waiting sex.

“Just relax Angel, let me take care of you. Let your thoughts drift away,” he all but purrs.

You try to focus on the conversation you know the two of you need to have but it slips from your fingers like grains of sand as he brings one hand to your swollen clit and starts rubbing slow circles. Your hands tighten in the sheets as he draws a low, keening whine out of you. His hazel eyes dance with smug satisfaction as he watches you try and fail to form a coherent thought. He doesn’t let up the pressure on your clit for even a moment as he drops his mouth to your waiting cunt and plunges his tongue inside. Your hand flies down to his curly hair on impulse, tangling in the brown locks and gripping tight. Your nails scratch along his scalp and your tight grip tugs at the roots of his hair but he loves the pain of it, knows it’s a sign he’s doing well as he brings up his free hand to add two fingers inside you as well. After so long together he knows your body just as well as you do and it takes no time at all for him to find that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars. Your climax builds and builds until you finally crash through the peaks of your pleasure, walls fluttering around your lover’s tongue and fingers as he coaxes you through your orgasm.

You’ve barely had time to recover from your orgasm before you can feel his erection pressing at your entrance. “W-wait, Atsu, condom,” you pant, shifting in the bed to reach for the bedside drawer but Atsuhiro stops you. “We don’t need it baby, wanna feel closer to you,” he murmurs, pressing kisses along your face as he eases you back down to laying flat on the bed. “But what if-” “You’re on birth control right?” he cuts you off. “I mean yea but-” “Then it’ll be fine, you worry too much.”

Any further protests you might’ve had are immediately silenced as a snap of your boyfriend’s hips has the tip of his cock brushing your cervix. You gasp as your body attempts to adjust to his girth. “You’re taking me so well baby, isn’t this so much better? Feel how close we are. Nothing between us, just as it should be,” he coos and it does feel good, good enough that despite the voice in your head telling you you should be cautious, you only nod and beg for more. The grin Atsuhiro gives you is almost blinding right before he presses his lips to yours, kissing you greedily as he slowly withdraws his hard cock before pushing back inside you again. You whimper and whine into his mouth as he starts to pick up the pace, each thrust more brutal than the last. Eventually he leans back and away from you, shifting your hips so he can plunge himself in deeper, but with his lips no longer occupied with yours he’s free to let his thoughts spill out and into the room:

“Gonna fill you up so well, fuck, my beautiful Angel.”

“You and me forever baby, gonna look so good round with my kids.”

“Taking my cock so well, can’t wait until you’re full of my seed.”

The words wash over you but barely register. There’s no room in your brain left for anything else as Atsuhiro takes over every corner of it. Language becomes a foreign concept to you, barely able to articulate your own pleasure in more than the sinful sounds dripping from your lips, let alone trying to process your boyfriend’s ramblings. His thrusts start getting sloppier as he brings one hand between you both to stroke your clit and push you over the edge with him. “I’m so close angel, I’m so close. Cum with me. Want you to finish with me while I stuff you full of my cum,” he pants and all you can do is nod as the coil in your belly winds tighter and tighter. As you clench harder around him he goes toppling over the edge first, crying out your name as he spills his load inside you. You never would’ve anticipated enjoying it so much but it’s that feeling that sends you over the edge, falling apart around his cock as he finishes filling you with his cum.

He helps you come down from your high with sweet kisses and whispered words of encouragement, but as the haze of lust fades, you start to remember the fight you both were having before. As much as you would like for this to be the kind of thing you can just kiss and make up over, it’s not and you know it’s a conversation that needs to be finished. Looking at your boyfriend as he settles more comfortably on top of you though, you can’t bring yourself to ruin the moment. Sleep is weighing heavy on your eyelids anyway so you resolve yourself to bring it up the next day.

Except the next day ends the same way.

And the day after that.

And the day after that…

Every time you try to bring back up Atsuhiro’s secret double life as Mr. Compress he manages to distract you just long enough to get you back into bed. At first you tell yourself it’s not a big deal that the conversation’s been delayed a couple days, but then it turns into a week. A week of very hot sex, mind you, but if the existence of Atsuhiro’s double life was a red flag then certainly his insistence on avoiding discussing it is an even larger one. After two weeks you finally resolve yourself to talking to him the next morning over breakfast, no distractions and no avoiding the issue with sex. Cooking helps with your nerves, giving you something to do with your hands and a task to focus on to help you ignore your roiling stomach. You end up making almost an entire breakfast buffet by the time Atsuhiro emerges from your shared bedroom to join you in the kitchen.

He barely has time to tell you good morning before you’re rushing him to the table and setting plates full of food down. You know you have to tread carefully so you use the time you both spend eating to organize your thoughts. This time for sure you’ll talk to him. You finally open your mouth to confront Atsuhiro once and for all but as you feel bile start to crawl up your throat what comes out instead is “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

No sooner have you said the words are you shoving away from the table and rushing into the nearest bathroom. You get to the toilet just in time, fingers clutching the rim of the bowl as you violently eject the contents of your stomach into the water below. It burns your throat coming up and your eyes sting, but a warm, comforting presence is by your side in an instant, one hand coming up to rub your back gently as the other pulls your hair away from your face. Only once your stomach is thoroughly emptied does the heaving finally stop and you’re able to sit back and catch your breath. “Are you ok my love? What’s wrong?” Atsuhiro asks with gentle care as he pulls you close. You shake your head, unsure yourself of what had turned your stomach. Sure, you were nervous to talk to Atsuhiro but not that nervous. It can’t have been something you ate since all you’d had was the breakfast you made and you know everything was cooked properly. You rack your brain for an answer only to go rigid when you start to settle on one.

“Atsu what’s the date?”

“The 22nd baby, why?”

Your blood runs cold.

You’d been so preoccupied with figuring out things with Atsuhiro that you hadn’t even noticed how much time was slipping past but there’s no doubt about it. Your period is two weeks late.

“I think I need to go to the doctor,” you whisper. No way in hell you’ll leave this up to a drugstore test. There must be another explanation for your sudden nausea. Sure, you and Atsuhiro had pretty much abandoned condoms. Every time you started to reach for one, he’d remind you how good it felt not to use one the first time and convince you to forgo it again. But you’re on birth control! This isn’t supposed to be possible.

God bless him, Atsuhiro doesn’t press you any further on why exactly you want to go to the doctor instead of trying to find something at home to settle your stomach. He simply helps you off the floor and then grabs the keys to your car so he can drive you to the doctor himself. You’re incredibly grateful that he doesn’t seem to share your nerves. He’s a calming presence next to you as your anxiety kicks into overdrive.

You’d asked Atsuhiro to take a seat without you while you checked into the urgent care. You didn’t want him to hear you describe your symptoms to the nurse waiting there. The kind woman immediately suspects the same thing you do and leads you to the bathroom so you can pee in a cup. She’s sympathetic and reassuring as she tells you to return to the waiting room while the doctor runs the pregnancy test but it does little to soothe your frayed nerves. The air in the waiting room feels oppressive and when your name is finally called to go back and see the doctor, Atsuhiro’s hand in yours is probably the only thing that keeps you grounded. You take a seat on the examination table and instead of moving to sit down in one of the chairs in the room, Atsu stays by your side, whispering reassurances into your ear. “Whatever’s going on I’m here for you my love.”

The doctor strides into the room shortly afterwards, greeting you warmly even if somewhat absentmindedly as she moves to the computer to check for your details. She confirms your date of birth and then after scrolling for a bit her eyes finally land on the results of your test. She smiles and your heart sinks. “Well it looks like congratulations are in order, you’re pregnant!” she exclaims, beaming at you. A lump forms in your throat as tears threaten to fall, anxiety making your hands shake as the weight of the situation starts to crash down on you. The doctor misinterprets your reaction and as she leaves the room to get you pamphlets on what to expect and how best to take care of yourself during your pregnancy, her reassuring words that promise you’ll make a great mother are anything but.

As soon as the doctor leaves the room you break, tears cascading down your cheeks as your chest heaves. Atsuhiro pulls you into his embrace, letting you fall apart in his arms as you come to terms with the news. “I’m not ready to be a mom, I can’t do it on my own,” you cry, hands clenching onto his shirt. “I know my love, I know, but you’ll never be alone as long as you have me. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you,” he assures you, pulling you in even closer.

As you continue to cry into his chest, murmuring hiccuping thank you’s between heaving sobs, Atsuhiro can’t help but smile to himself.

He’ll have to remember to thank Dr. Garaki for the fake birth control pills later.

General Taglist: @ahtsuwu @oikawaandkuroostan @larkspyrr @oliviasslut @black-rose-29

#hopeless.thirst #hopeless.dark #mr compress #mr compress smut #bnha mr compress #mr compress x reader #atsuhiro sako #atsuhiro sako x fem!reader #mr compress x fem!reader #atsuhiro sako x reader #pregnancy tw #vomit tw #baby trapping tw #hhrequests

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s-brant · 4 years ago

Text

Angels Roll Their Eyes (2/2)

(gif: @toesure) (PART ONE)

Summary: Hurricane Agatha approaches Kildare Island during the aftermath of the eventful Fourth of July party. JJ and Y/N are determined to continue avoiding each other after what happened at the party, but John B has other plans for them.

Warnings: Smut, strong language, angst, implied physical abuse, depictions of anxiety/panic attacks, and sickeningly sweet fluff.

Word Count: 24k

A/N: Here we goooo! To celebrate the trailer dropping today, here’s part two to Devils Roll The Dice. If you haven’t read the first part, I suggest you read it and come back so this makes sense. This one has all the drama and spice, so buckle up! Thank you for the love and support on the first part. Let me know if you enjoyed this and have fun, cause I had a blast writing it.

Hurricane Agatha.

It was the first thing she heard about as soon as she woke up yesterday to the sound of her phone blaring with an obnoxious tone that reminds her of waking up too early in the morning for work or school.

Her sleepy eyes couldn't make out who was calling, so she pressed the button to answer and lifted the phone to hear her mom's voice squawking through the speaker at her about the hurricane projected to hit the island in the middle of the night tonight.

The problem is, her parents are out of town this week, leaving her all alone to prep the house and endure the storm alone. And for someone who flinches whenever she thinks she hears the sound of thunder in the sky, that is the worst it can get.

It's a fear her friends are conscious of. One time when they were out on the HMS Pogue, a quick summer storm started to drift overhead and it took all of her self control to not fall into a blind panic when thunder began to rumble above. John B was already steering them back in the direction of the Chateau but she knew it would do nothing to calm her nerves until she was back inside of the house.

The anxiety was starting to become too overwhelming when JJ sat down beside her and threw his arm over her shoulder. It was their first month of knowing one another, so the casual friendly gesture made her jump at first and turn her head to look at him, but he acted like everything was normal.

The next person to notice was John B. With JJ currently out of commission, the only person she thought to call to help her prep the house for the incoming storm was him. Since they never got hurricanes up where she used to live her whole life, she needed someone who's been through a couple to help her while her parents weren't home.

That's how she ended up here. Sweating bullets in the front yard of her house as she unloads the contents of the van with John B was not how she envisioned her Saturday night to go, but she's glad she has someone who's willing to help.

In the past five months of being with the Pogues, she's learned that it's lovely to have friends. She never used to have any before she moved, so in situations like this or when she got so drunk at the party, she never would've had anyone to be there for her. It's quiet moments of kindness and companionship like this that make her realize how much better life has been on the other side of uprooting everything to move here—self-inflicted boy drama and all.

The sandbag on her shoulder sends a growing ache through her back muscles with every step she takes to follow him up the length of unpaved dirt path up to her front door. As usual, he makes it look way easier than it is, and it almost makes her want to laugh at how different they are.

Most of her new friends are effortless, naturally picking up anything they decide to try at while she is inept by comparison. It's part of what attracted her to JJ in the first place. He may have his insecurities the same way every other individual does, but in her eyes, he has nothing to be insecure of. Even when he wipes out on a wave and appears out of the water with sand clumped in his salt-kissed strands of blonde hair, he manages to make it look cool.

"What are you smiling about?"

John B's laughter makes her look up from where she concentrated on the dirt path to see him looking back at her. He stands at the entrance to her house with the rest of the sandbags they carried up placed meticulously in front of the door to prevent water from entering the house. They did the same thing with the back door an hour ago.

Is she smiling? She hadn't even realized her expression changed from one of exhaustion and fear at the dark clouds closing in above to a grin, so her face instantly drops in guilt. After running out on JJ for the second time two days ago to go to work, any mention of him from their friends has left her drowning in shame.

She can't recall the bulk of her memories from the night of the Fourth of July party, but she fills in the gaps between those flashes of memory with what their friends told her about it.

Thanks to her overindulgence, there are holes poked in the fabric of her memory.

It jumps from her last fully sober moment of seeing JJ across the room with the kook girl to dancing clumsily with Kie to the floral scent of her makeup wipes that she can't attach a specific visual image to.

Then, she can remember waking up with a start in the middle of the night to throw up in a pot beside the bed while he held back her hair. Before John B explained it, she was quite confused after waking up about how she somehow got from being jealous over JJ flirting with another girl to waking up in the same bed as him.

She grunts as she plops the last sandbag down into place and decides to take a seat on the steps leading up to the door.

"It wasn't anything special," Y/N says and watches him come down to sit next to her, "I was just thinking about taking something so I can pass out and avoid having a panic attack over this stupid storm."

Unlike JJ, she isn't that skilled of a liar. It's obvious to anyone who knows her well when she does it based on the way her eye contact begins to drift away and her voice raises in pitch when she speaks. She's too honest with her friends to handle keeping secrets from them, which is why it's been so difficult for her with everything that has happened recently. Not only does she lie to the Pogues, she also avoids them by association in the process of trying to avoid JJ.

Regardless of how obvious her bluffing is, John B doesn't call her out on it. Instead, he focuses on a different part of what she said.

"Are you sure you're gonna be okay alone? I know your parents are out of town till next week..." he trails off into concerned silence.

The tip of her sneaker hangs off of the edge of the bottom step and absentmindedly digs a line into the dirt as she takes in his question.

Being alone when she's prone to panicking is a recipe for disaster. Anxiety and loneliness have a relationship similar to that of a weapon and ammunition. It takes very little for her to fall down the rabbit hole of obsessive thinking and break down into a hyperventilating, fearful mess, especially when no one else is there to tug her out of those dark thoughts.

Most of the time, the people who help her with that are her parents. If they're home during one of these episodes, she'll come stumbling downstairs to them from her room for help, and they'll do everything they can to bring her down from hysterics. Her friends, on the other hand, have yet to witness her have one of those moments.

"Having people with me helps, you know? But it is what it is, I'll just try to cope the best I can and hope for the best."

He nods, and though he's a portrait of understanding, she wonders if he finds it as juvenile and stupid as she does.

Logically, she knows that this anxiety is something many people experience. She understands that it's something that is mostly out of her control but can't help but tear herself apart over it.

She thinks to herself, What kind of weirdo can't sit inside during a thunderstorm or hurricane without losing their shit? Why am I not the one in control of my own mind when this happens?

Do her friends think similar things? Do they think it's as pathetic as she does, or is she just paranoid that they pick her flaws apart as much as she does? And, of course, she wonders what JJ would think if he saw her panic like that. He may have seen her start to become anxious on the HMS Pogue, but he hasn't seen her panic panic before, not in the way that her parents have, and she wonders if he'd think less of her for it.

Right when she's about to change the topic and steer him away from a chance to think of how ridiculous she's being about the approaching hurricane, he says something that makes her look back over at him.

"Then come spend the night at the Chateau. I can distract you. We can play board games and shit."

"Really?" she asks.

The idea of anyone wanting to waste an entire night playing board games and possibly signing themselves up for having to talk her down from a panic attack makes her heart melt.

"Yeah, why not? You need a friend tonight. You know any of us would do anything for you. You're like my little sister, dude, we'd all probably hack off a limb if we thought it'd help you. Especially JJ."

John B's last second name-drop is designed specifically for where he wants this conversation to go. Underneath the need to get his friends back to normal, he does feel a little guilty for having to do this. She thinks he's only offering to let her stay with him to help her—and he is, even if there weren't a rift between her and JJ, he'd still offer—but he has a different reason.

"Right," she says softly. "Speaking of which...is he gonna be there tonight?"

With how often he escapes his house to spend a night or two in temporary safety at the Chateau, it's not an unfounded assumption. He and John B spend more time together than any of them because of this, and when she goes over to hang out, she knows that he and JJ often come as a package deal.

He tries to play it cool and not give up anything that could make her suspicious of him, looking off at the van parked in the driveway as he takes a second to collect his thoughts. It's never easy for him to deceive people he cares about, even if it's for their own good. It wasn't easy when he invited JJ to spend the night a few hours ago with the knowledge that he'd soon invite Y/N too either, but he managed.

As always, Pope is the brains behind this operation. He was the one to suggest inviting them both over to wait out Agatha together when the three of them put their heads together to come up with a solution to their oblivious friends' drama. After JJ stormed out of the house the morning after the party, they knew they had to do something about it. This was what it came to.

"Nah. I offered but he said he's staying at home until this whole thing blows over."

He isn't sure why she buys into it.

She knows JJ well enough to know that he would literally rather eat glass than be trapped in a confined space with his dad for an entire day. Perhaps it's only because it's what she wants to believe. She wants to believe that she won't have to see him again tonight after everything that happened. How can she handle having to tell him why got so drunk that night and made an ass of herself? She can't bear to tell him all of that unnecessary drama started because she was jealous.

What right does she have to feel that way? He isn't hers. They aren't together, and she thinks it's quite obvious that he doesn't want a relationship out of whatever it is they have together. It was one night. She has no right to be mad at him for flirting with other girls because of it.

"Then I'll definitely be taking you up on that offer. Thank you," she says.

The old wooden stairs make a squealing sound when she stands to make her way inside to gather her things for the night, but the feeling of a warm hand gripping her forearm stops her mid-step. Her eyes follow down the length of her arm back to where he sits, glancing at her with this knowing look in his eyes that makes her want to turn and hide.

"When are you gonna talk things out with him, Y/N?" he asks. "He misses you."

Since the party, no one has had the courage to burst her bubble of pretending not to care until now, but now that someone has, all of her bottled up emotions stir inside of her at a simple concept she hadn't considered yet.

JJ misses her.

For the first time since they began this stupid game of cat and mouse, she is confronted with how desperately she misses him back. So consumed with the task of concealing everything that happened and trying to avoid him, she hadn't acknowledged that all she ever really wants is to be with him lately.

She misses his jokes and the way he looks at her when she giggles at them. She misses his smile when they play fight on the HMS Pogue. She even misses when he dangles her over the edge of the boat as a means to end the wrestling match, making her squirm in his strong hold as he threatens to toss her overboard.

But what she misses most of all is how he never lets her fall in. It's something about the way he looks at her as he pulls her back onboard, how time itself seems to stop in the moment between when he's still holding her and when she feels her feet touch the deck again.

Then, they'll suddenly want nothing to do with each other for the next half hour.

JJ will make himself busy forgetting the way her hands felt holding onto his shoulders for dear life, burning the memory of her palm prints into his skin for the next few hours. And she'll try her hardest to forget that charming smile and the feeling of his arms around her. But it won't work, not really, and when they're both laying down to sleep at night, they'll have one thing keeping them awake.

She takes a second to internalize what he said and avoid exposing the effect it has on her to hear it before asking, "Did he tell you that?"

The sky overhead grows darker and darker by the second, but she has yet to notice it due to the topic of their conversation. With JJ involved, her attention shrinks to a tunnel leading only to him. There's no room for anything else but the audacious idea planted in the back of her mind that he might miss her as much as she misses him.

"No, he didn't," John B admits, and right when she's about to say more in response, he cuts her off, "but hear me out. I've known him since we were kids, so I can tell when things aren't right with him, and ever since your relationship with him got complicated, I picked up on some weird vibes."

Y/N doesn't give anything away with how she reacts. He can't tell if she's about to bolt like JJ did or stay to talk and open up to him. All she does is cross her arms over her chest and lean back against the railing.

"Weird in what way?"

"Weird in a way that makes me think you two have to talk it out before you ruin your friendship. I've never seen him act this way over a girl."

That doesn't surprise her. He has a reputation for chasing after any girl available to him, something the Pogues have gently teased him about, and it factors into why she doesn't want to have this dreaded conversation with him. She doesn't want to sit there and listen to him tell her that she was just another one of those girls to him.

Going for broke and being honest about what he thinks of their situation is a better strategy for trying to get her to talk to JJ than the other way around. John B can look back on what happened the morning after the party and see where they went wrong in their approach of trying to get him to talk, but she's less unpredictable and turbulent than he is. The fact that she's hearing him out is enough proof of their differences.

She sighs.

"I know we need to talk sooner or later, but it's hard, you know? I'm so embarrassed of how everything went down at the party, even though I was too fucked up to remember most of it, and I just—" There's a brief second that lapses between when she stops and when she starts again where he can almost see her working through it in her head. "I don't wanna get hurt."

John B's face falls at the mention of the party and her feelings surrounding it.

"You have nothing to be embarrassed of. You drank too much but who cares? The only person who should be embarrassed about that night is the guy that tried to take advantage of you."

That part is the most fuzzy in her mind.

She can remember what led up to it and the moment she saw JJ pull him away from her, but she can't remember anything about the interaction itself. It wasn't as if he did anything to her—not yet—but the thought of it alone makes her skin crawl because she's seen that before. She's been the JJ in that situation, pulling a wasted Touron away from someone who thought nobody would be looking out for other people at the party, and she knows how quickly those situations can escalate past "harmless" flirting.

The sound of JJ shouting at Tyler echoes in her mind as she reaches for any remaining memories left from the party. He said it right after he punched him, when he was starting to rush forward to follow him onto the ground and pin him there.

"If I see you near my girl again, you're fucking dead! You got that?"

She doesn't remember realizing that he called her that at the moment. She was confused and upset and all she wanted to do was stop him from getting himself in trouble, so she pulled him away from hitting Tyler again without realizing what he said. And even now, she tries to avoid acknowledging it. She reasons with herself, telling herself that he was pissed off and didn't mean it, because if he did, why hasn't he told her how he feels yet?

Y/N looks up and sees how dark the converging clouds have gotten in the time since they began working on prepping the house for the hurricane, so her next words are shakier than usual.

"I guess you're right." She pushes off of her spot against the railing. "But can we not talk about JJ tonight? I kind of wanna hang out and forget about the rest of the stuff I've got going on right now."

This makes him feel a pang of guilt inside of him for the ulterior motive he's kept hidden from her for the duration of the conversation, but he knows it's for the best. Even if her and JJ's inevitable conversation goes in the wrong direction and they don't end up mending fences, it's better that they let it out sooner than later. If they wait any longer, it'll make it worse, and he knows that they're stubborn enough to keep this childish game going for another week or so.

So, he keeps her in the dark for now and offers a kind, "Sure, that's cool with me," despite knowing how messy the night will soon become.

A smile pokes at the edges of her mouth, making the sides of her eyes crinkle, and she extends a hand to help him up from where he sits.

"Now," she says as they make their way inside the house for her to pack a bag, "are you ready to get absolutely crushed in Monopoly?"

It started to rain before they left her house, and by the time they pull into the driveway of the Chateau, it's pouring down on them with violent winds whipping droplets at their faces hard enough to hurt.

The rapid pace of her pulse beats with such an intensity, she can feel it in her head. They shouldn't have taken so much time at her place before heading over here. While she was packing, they talked and dilly-dallied the whole time, and now they pay the price for it.

If she knew that it would start this soon into the night, she probably would've hurried things along sooner, but it's too late. She's already starting to feel that tightness in her chest and each breath of air feels less satisfying with every inhale. It's not so bad that she loses complete control of herself, but it's getting there, and she can't express how badly she doesn't want to lose her shit in front of John B.

The passenger side door is slammed shut by the force of the wind behind her, the noise becoming swallowed up in the rest of the budding storm, and she stifles a sound of surprise that escapes her in reaction to it. They're lucky they made it here in the first place. Any later in the night and they probably would've had to take refuge at her place until it blew over.

She decides to focus on how the edges of her white sneakers are swallowed up by the muddy earth on her way through the front yard to distract herself. It stains them a deep brown color and simultaneously washes them clean from the rain coming down from above, which she'd probably be annoyed about if she weren't such a nervous wreck. But, because she's too busy keeping her backpack raised over her head to shield herself from the rain on her way up to the front door, it's not high up on her list of priorities.

Since both the screen door and the door behind it are unlocked, she doesn't hesitate to come bursting into the house as she usually does.

Y/N lets out a deep breath, feeling that telltale tension in her chest and shoulders, and laughs at the sight of John B running in as she kicks off her shoes. His t-shirt is speckled with rainwater, and his hair is saturated enough with it to stick to the sides of his face after he crosses the threshold into the Chateau.

The sound of her laughter makes JJ's heart stop from where he stands in the kitchen.

"There was an umbrella right on the dashboard, why didn't you take—"

Her heart might as well have stopped just as abruptly as the sentence she was in the middle of saying when she turned and saw him standing there.

Maybe they're both a tad too dramatic, but it takes a full few seconds for them to stop staring at each other in surprise. He looks like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide with surprise like he was caught doing something he shouldn't even though all he was doing was grabbing a beer from the fridge.

It's been two days since they last saw each other. For him, the last glimpse he got of her was when he peeked through the blinds to see her pedaling away on her bike to go to work, but hers was somewhat different.

The last time she saw him, he was asleep. Their legs were tangled together underneath the sheets and his face was smushed against her chest, allowing her to feel the soft puffs of his exhales on her skin every few seconds. It's a wonder that she managed to slip away unnoticed once she remembered she had work that morning. He was holding her closely, so closely that she found it hard to discern where she ended and he began in the dazed, hungover headspace she woke up in.

It's when the conversation she had with John B on the front steps of her house comes back to the forefront of her mind that she puts together what's happening right now. Now that they're here, it's far too late to leave. With how aggressively the wind and rain batter the area surrounding the house, it's obvious that they're not going anywhere.

It seems to click with them at the same time, because JJ turns to look at him only a half second after she does.

Y/N says, completely serious, "If you did what I think you did, I'm gonna kill you."

Before either of them can think of doing anything, John B shoots out from the doorway and runs past her in the direction of the hallway where his bedroom is.

"Gotta catch me first!"

They both chase him, JJ hopping over the back of the couch to run after him, but they end up coming to a screeching halt at the shut door right when they hear the lock turn and click.

Neither of them knows what they were planning to do when they caught him, cause it isn't like they'd hurt him, but they bang on the door nonetheless. The sound is drowned out by the sound of the wind and rain pounding the outside walls of the house, picking up speed, and for a second she wants to kick the door open.

She shouts, "John B! Open this door!"

The last thing she wanted tonight was to be trapped in a house with the one person she didn't want to see. Doesn't John B realize how embarrassing it is for her to be around him when she knows that he's gonna reject her? He may have said something about JJ never acting so weird over a girl before, but he's wrong. There's no way JJ actually wants her...right?

"I can't hear you, this storm's kinda loud!" he yells back at them through the locked door. "Maybe try again later!"

Neither of them wants to acknowledge the other. In fact, they don't even want to look at each other right now, so all they can do to stop themselves from acknowledging the elephant in the room is continue trying to get answers out of John B. What does he think that locking them together in the Chateau for the night will accomplish other than make them ignore their own drama and team up to plot their revenge on him?

Though he's significantly less angry than she is, JJ pulls the doorknob enough to make the door whine on its hinges and pleads with their friend, "This isn't funny, John B. Open the door."

"Not until you guys stop being immature and talk to each other."

She furrows her brows at him even though he can't see her, saying, "It's none of your business. You can't just trap us here cause you think you know what's best for us."

The sound of thunder rumbling above the house makes her flinch, hand shooting out to latch onto JJ's arm on an instinct she couldn't consciously resist. Feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her palm and the fingers clutched around his wrist sends shocks of familiar electricity up her body. Touching him always makes her feel hyperaware of herself, leaving her to wonder if he can sense her pulse picking up or notice how her breathing pattern turns uneven.

With that being said, it's safe to say that the night they spent together took that sensation of electricity and hyperawareness to a height it hadn't reached before.

That time, it wasn't a brush of their hands or an arm over her shoulder, it was the epitome of physical closeness. She couldn't handle it. He was so sickeningly sweet with her, yet, at the same time, he knew all of the right times to be commanding and in control too. There were awkward moments at first, sure, but once they became comfortable with each other, it was game over.

And whenever they've touched since, she hasn't been able to get those memories off of her mind. It's less prevalent now, since she's only holding onto him out of fear, but it's still there underneath it all—the unfiltered desperation of the lust in his eyes, the low noises that escaped his parted lips, and the strong pair of hands that pinned her hips down on the mattress to give him the leverage to really give it to her at the intensity she begged for.

It's pathetically easy for her to be sucked right back into the vortex of emotions, memories, and fears that haunt her whenever they touch, but he brings her back out of it just as easily when he speaks.

"You okay?"

John B was as good as forgotten by him as soon as he felt her jolt next to him and grab onto his wrist like she was hanging from a ravine and he was the only thing preventing her from falling. It makes him feel like a fool, but even when they're ignoring each other, the urge to comfort and protect her from anything that displeases her never disappears. He'd literally fistfight Zeus if it meant there'd be less thunder to scare her.

If he weren't hiding behind a locked door to avoid their wrath, JB would probably be calling him a simp right about now.

The concern on his face is so pure and unaffected by any of the chaos that surrounds them, both physical and emotional, that it makes her stomach turn with a sick feeling. God, he really does care about her. Why does that scare her? Why doesn't she want to believe that he cares? Why is she so set on believing that he wanted nothing more than a quick fuck from her?

Her eyes turn down to see their connected hands, realizing all in one moment what she did and pulling her hand away as if she were burned.

"I—Yeah," she stops, looking up at him, then back to the closed bedroom door, "I'm fine. You know how it is, it's just the storm."

They're both left with no choice but to face the music after days of avoidance that had no good reason behind it other than the respective doubts and fears they have. Yet even now that they're standing here, unsure of what comes next, they're hesitant to say or do anything that might disrupt the illusion they've created in the week and a half since they first ruined their friendship for good.

It feels as though the tension that has been boiling between them is coming close to turning explosive and all it will take is one tremor of their self-control for it to spill over.

Every feeling they have feels so contradictory. They want to but they also don't. They almost do it, then hesitate and decide to ignore each other for days. At the party, this tug of war game was at its peak for JJ when she was telling him about her jealousy and cuddling up to him, but he couldn't do it then, not when she was drunk. And by the time he had a whole night to think it over and see her biking away, he didn't want to risk it.

She looks away from him, hoping that "out of sight, out of mind" may ring true for once, and says to John B through the door, "Whatever, have fun. I won't hold JJ back when you finally come out of there though."

He won't actually do anything to him, maybe just a non-serious fight that'll end with her walking in on them rolling around on the floor trying to wrestle each other, but she likes to fuck with him anyway. For the dick move he just pulled, she thinks he can withstand a little teasing.

Without anything else to say, Y/N turns and walks off to make herself useful elsewhere—anything to distract from the buzzing, anxious energy that surrounds her from both the hurricane and being forced to confront JJ. She tries to play it cool though she is anything but at the moment, allowing herself to grimace once her back is turned to the blonde boy still standing against the wall in the hallway.

Maybe if she keeps pushing this false sense of normalcy, it'll work. It worked when they both started pretending things never happened between them initially after they had sex, so who's to say it can't work now?

All they have to do is get through the next 12-24 hours without talking and all will be well. Right?

They tried.

They truly tried to get through the night without inciting chaos within the Chateau, but, for these two idiots, not inciting chaos is a task easier said than done. Not only was John B much more stubborn with staying in his room than either of them bargained for, he didn't even attempt to speak to them for the first five hours and they were left with nothing to do but find new ways to avoid talking to each other.

It was simple in the beginning.

She went off on her own and sat with her headphones in to drown out the sounds of the storm.

With her eyes fluttered shut to block out anything but the sound of The Cure blasting into her ears, there was no reason for her to have to worry about anything once her nerves began to settle. Since the songs drowned out any sound and all she could see was darkness behind her closed eyelids, she was able to drift away with the distraction of the music.

The thing is, after a while, she started to see pieces of him in every song she skipped to. She made it a full minute into Just Like Heaven before a supercut of her most treasured memories of him began appearing in her head. Fade Into You? Skipped as soon as the first dreamy lyric flooded in through the tangled cords of the headphones. Cloud 9? Forty seconds in. By the time Dirty Little Secret came on, she decided that her playlist was mocking her.

The headphones were out of her ears, hastily wrapped up, and stowed away in the small pocket of her overnight bag before the chorus of the song could hit. Thankfully for her, JJ wasn't looking when she ripped the headphones out and put them away in a huff, so by the time he turned to see her again, she was laying down on the couch to "nap"—meaning she laid awake for another hour and cursed John B for making her endure this.

While she was daydreaming of a John B voodoo doll, JJ was worried about her.

Yes, the topic of their relationship/friendship/situationship/whatever-the-fuck-it-is was bombarding him against his will every five seconds, but not without him coming back to his concern for her. A small sound of thunder on an otherwise perfect day was enough to make her zone out and start getting antsy that day on the boat, so he didn't want to know how bad it could get during a time like this.

He tried to play it cool, and, in all honesty, his remaining scraps of sanity lasted a lot longer than hers. Four and a half hours passed, then, as the storm began to do its worst on their town, the power flickered out and left them in complete darkness. At that point, John B was passed out in his bedroom, so he didn't care nor notice when they had to find a few candles and stumble through the dark.

Somewhere along the way, having to search through the dark house for candles to light and place around the living room led them here...he isn't quite sure how.

JJ can hardly open his eyes enough to see through the rain that pounds against him the second he runs after her through the back door. The wind is so aggressive and unrelenting, it almost sends him stumbling a few steps when he follows her blurry figure a few paces behind where she tries to flee the house in a panic.

"Get back inside!" he shouts as he picks up his speed to catch up, "Y/N!"

The part of him that isn't focused on the pure physicality of trying to see and move through the stormy weather is utterly overwhelmed with fear. Not for himself but for her. She's deathly afraid of mild storms, let alone hurricanes, and yet she ran through the back door when he tried comforting her through an anxiety attack. One would think that she wouldn't want to go directly into the thing she fears the most, but what sent her running for the hills wasn't the panic itself, it was him.

It's hard for her to think rationally in this state, but all she knows is that he was there, he was saying all the right things and holding her, and she couldn't do it. The fear began to blend to one centered around both him and the storm. The hours of useless distractions and ruminating in her thoughts built up to this point of contention, then it snapped.

Between the thunder, his voice, and the voice in the back of her head that was urging her to confess her feelings and do as John B advised them to, it became too much. Maybe it was the most idiotic split-second decision she made without any regard for logic or reason or her safety, but she bailed. For the third time, she couldn't handle the pressure and ran from him.

The only difference is that he couldn't let her leave this time.

He gasps for air against the streams of water flowing down his face, soaking his hair and making it hang in his eyes to obstruct his view more than the weather already has. It happened so fast, neither of them are wearing shoes. His feet sink into the muddy yard with every stride he takes in his frantic pursuit of her and it frustrates him no end because of how it slows him down.

There's endless dangerous possibilities with her being out here. She could be knocked over into the marsh by the wind, or stuck and hurt by a piece of debris—merely thinking about it makes him call out her name louder in the hopes that it'll wake her from her panicked trance.

After trudging through the mud all the way to the edge of the yard, he finally manages to get to her.

"What are you doing?" JJ shouts, turning her around and grabbing onto both of her arms as if one gust of wind would sweep her away if he didn't, "You're gonna get hurt!"

Stumbling backwards in the direction of the screened-in porch that surrounds the back door, he uses their difference in strength to tug her away in the direction she came out in. The rain makes it difficult to keep a firm grasp on her, and she almost slips away a couple of times when the wind picks up enough to make him too unsteady to hold on.

His arms slip around her waist for a better grasp on her the closer they come to reaching the house. The last thing he wants is to almost get her back inside and lose her at the last second. She isn't thinking rationally right now with the panic she feels taking full control of her responses. He knows firsthand how it feels to be thrown headfirst into a panic attack, he's been in her shoes before and knows better than anyone the lengths your irrational mind will go to if it means survival. And for whatever reason, her response is flight, not fight.

The door to the screen porch takes all of his effort to open against the power of the wind blowing it back against the house.

He grits his teeth as he forces it open, one arm secured around her midsection, and helps her in before he slips inside too. The second he lets go of the door, it's sent slamming back into place and rattling in the frame behind them, but he doesn't spend anymore time on it other than the few seconds it takes to lock it. As soon as it clicks with him that they're safe—most importantly, that she's safe—he whips around to face her with a cold rage flowing through his veins.

"What the fuck?"

She stands in front of him with water pouring off of her in rapid drops onto the rug, and there are no thoughts in her head outside of the ones telling her to leave. Her tears blend in with the droplets of rain so seamlessly that he wouldn't know she's crying if not for the sound of it.

In between her rapid breaths and sobs, she yells back at him, "I was scared, okay?"

"Why'd you run out into the storm if you—"

"I wasn't afraid of the storm, I was afraid of you!"

The silence that follows is louder than anything they've experienced. Nothing can rival it, not the thunder, the rain, or anything can drown it out while he stares at her in shock. His eyes are wide, lips slightly parted as he reaches for something, anything, he can say in response to that, but there's nothing. For once, he is absolutely speechless.

Things got awkward between them in the initial aftermath of last week, but not like this. There was never an instance where he felt like there was nothing left for him to say to her to fill the uncomfortable silence that always brought forth memories of them together until now. Until she said the last thing he wanted or expected to hear.

His anger subsides as he picks over what he did in his head for anything that could've made her feel unsafe.

Before it evolved into him chasing after her through the hurricane, he noticed how terrible it had gotten for her when he lit the first candle. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and her chest began to rise and fall faster with each second that passed. He could see it on her face that things were getting worse, but, now that he thinks of it, it got worse once he reached out to put his hand on her shoulder.

It felt like a dream sequence in his head, so hazy and faraway now that it's over, and he was so stunned by what she was doing, he didn't run after her until a few seconds later. There was a delay in which he stood there in surprise and tried to process what the hell just happened to no avail. Though it wasn't very long, he remembers it feeling like eternity tucked into the cramped space of four seconds.

JJ's voice is softer than she's ever heard it, asking into the void of the near-darkness that encloses them, "What'd I do?" And it breaks her heart in half to hear him sound so concerned, so terrified of the idea that he did something to hurt her when all he did was try to help. "I never meant to scare you, I swear. I know how bad it can get sometimes, and I know we haven't been talking but I'd never try to hurt you if that's what you thought..."

His thoughts run rampant with the possibilities of what she was thinking at the time, and he realizes that he can't stand the idea of her thinking anything badly of him. He never cares about what people think, but, fuck, he loathes the idea of her having any ill feelings toward him.

Y/N immediately starts shaking her head, her face scrunching with the emotion and incessant tears.

"I know you'd never hurt me. I was scared because..." she stops herself mid sentence, catching it right when she was about to admit the one thing she promised herself she wouldn't.

But the need to say it doesn't go away this time. Usually, once she catches herself she comes to her senses and realizes how foolish it would've been to confess, but this time is different. This time, the urge to speak her mind and tell him everything sticks around. The words left unsaid creep up her throat, thrashing and begging to let out after months of being pushed aside.

The look in her eyes is strangely reminiscent of the way she looked at him the night they hooked up, almost yearning in its nature, and he couldn't be more confused. She's scared of him, but she's looking at him like she did when she was two seconds away from jumping his bones. And if he didn't do anything wrong, why was she afraid enough to face her worst fear in order to avoid him?

"Because what?" he asks.

That frustration from when they first stepped into the porch hasn't vanished, it only took a backseat once she said she was afraid of him, not the storm, and he can feel it stirring up again. He's tired of not having answers. He's tired of mixed signals and loneliness and unrequited love. Most of all, he's tired of her running away all the time. At this point, he questions whether or not it's worth it to expose his feelings to her and suffer the consequences.

John B was right. This isn't healthy for them, nor is it healthy for them to put their friends through this along with them, and it might be better to not be friends than to stay this way forever. At least that way they wouldn't be wishing for answers that would never come for the rest of their time together.

She decides at this moment that this has to be said before it gets worse, before she runs away again like a scared, immature child and ruins everything.

"Because," she has to shout over the lightning that cracks down on the earth down the street, something she would be trembling in fear over if she weren't so focused on him, "I've been in love with you for a couple months and it scares me more than anything, even this stupid fucking storm! And I've tried so hard to ignore it because I know you don't feel the same way, but you touched me and I just"—a soft cry escapes her—"I couldn't do it anymore."

There it is.

After months of ruminating over it and hiding everything, he knows, and her immediate feeling after she says it isn't what she thought it would be. She expected trepidation and regret, but what she finds on the other side isn't either of those, it's relief. Her dad often tells her when she's nervous about something that the anticipation is worse than the thing itself, and that has never been as true her as it is now.

However, some of the nerves return with the time that passes after she spoke in complete silence. Much like the delayed reaction he had to her running out of the house, it isn't as long as it feels to her. It's a short span of time that it takes for her words to process with him, but it feels like an eternity that he stands there with his head facing the floor in quiet contemplation.

Her heart sinks.

This means he doesn't feel the same way, doesn't it? If he were the one telling her he loved her, she likely would've leaped into his arms and said it back, but he stays where he is.

Then, after what feels like forever, she thinks she sees him start to smile and feels like she's losing her mind. It's quite dark out here, so there's only a limited amount of light to allow her to see his features, but there's no doubting it when a flash of lightning floods the porch with a split-second of harsh light.

Oh God, why is he smiling? What does it mean?

Much to her frustration, the first thing he says after her confession isn't much help in making her understand his feelings either.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Why? The voice in the back of her mind asks incredulously. Is he seriously asking why? He ignored me too. He didn't want to talk about it either, so what else was I supposed to do?

Maybe she was undeniably worse when it came to the avoidance and lack of communication, but he could've reached out to her too. They both could've. Instead, they spent day after day waiting for the other to make the move and pushed the tension further and further until it finally broke. Now she's waiting for him to hurry up and reject her so she can move on with her life.

She shivers from the wind blowing at her wet skin through the screens separating them from the outside world, crossing her arms over her body to hug herself. His eyes follow her movements down to the breaths that are slowly evening out without her realizing it. It turns out that confessing your love for the guy you've been crushing on since the day you met him is a hell of a distraction.

"I thought you wouldn't wanna hear me being all emotional and shit over a one time thing. You've literally never had an actual relationship before. And that's fine," she rambles, "I'll be okay eventually, but that's not who you are and there isn't a problem with that. I just caught feelings when I shouldn't have."

In her defense, she isn't making baseless assumptions about him, he hasn't had a relationship before. His love life hasn't ever really revolved around love itself, it was mostly comprised of random chicks he'd meet at parties or at the beach during the summertime when tourists come to visit the island. Out of all of them, he's the last one the Pogues would expect to fall in love with someone and commit to a relationship, but then...

He looks over at her with a swell of emotion within him that he's never felt before. It wasn't like he hadn't known before now. He did. He even said it out loud to himself that morning after the party, but this is when it feels the most real. Now that she's said it to him, he doesn't feel so stupid for toying with the four letter word in the back of his mind for the entirety of the past week.

In all honesty, he was the last person he would've expected to fall in love with someone this quickly too. He thought he knew himself better than this. He thought he could keep himself hidden away and not let anyone close enough to see him—the real him, faults and feelings and vulnerability included—but she proved him wrong. In walked Y/N with her pretty smile, teeny bikini bottoms, and oddly strong opinions on Ratatouille, and he stood no chance.

This sudden crescendo of emotion only continues to grow when he watches her shiver, soaked to the skin, across from him and decides that he never wants to deny himself of her again. Those feelings of inadequacy that forced him to question his relationship with her may not have gone away, not by a long shot, but they can't stop him anymore. Nothing can.

Like a light flickering to life in this swirling, stormy darkness, she hears JJ's voice asking her, "What if it is who I am?"

It was said so softly, she nearly lost it beneath the rain and wind. But it was not said with a lack of certainty, which is why she questions if she heard him correctly. He sounded so sure of himself that it feels too good to be true. After his reaction, or lack thereof, to her telling him she loved him, she accepted what was coming and this was not it.

"What?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

"You heard me." There's a pause. "Maybe I needed to meet the right girl."

There is no way he's saying what she thinks he's saying because if he is...if he is then that means the tears and frustration have all been for nothing because he loves her back. But if he loves her, then what was with the kook girl? Was it to make her jealous, or is she misinterpreting him right now and he was flirting with that girl because he doesn't have real feelings for her?

"JJ..." she trails off, looking down and thinking to herself how thankful she is that it's too dark for him to fully see how nervous he made her, "don't do that."

Partly, he should feel offended that she'd think he'd toy with her feelings like that, but he isn't. He's too busy wondering what on earth made this poor girl so insecure to think that someone has to be joking to confess their love to her. It makes him wonder if anyone wronged her before she moved here, and he feels that switch of impulsive anger inside of him flip at the thought.

But that anger has nowhere to go, so it shifts into something different—a need to spend every waking moment of the rest of their time together proving to her that she doesn't have to be so afraid. Does it make him a hypocrite? Probably. It wasn't too long ago that he was telling the Pogues how much he didn't deserve to be with her, but he doesn't see himself the same way he sees her. In his head, he has reasons to believe he doesn't deserve her love, but how could she ever think that herself?

He steps closer to her, the movement something so natural and unconscious to him that he doesn't recognize he does it until he hears her breath hitch in the back of her throat. They were already close enough to reach out and touch each other if they wanted to, yet now it's the kind of closeness that wipes the slate of her mind clean with nothing else but the thought of him there to stay.

He starts to say, "I'm not fucking with you, dude, I'm being serious—"

"Then prove it."

Oh.

The sound of his unfinished sentence lingers on the tip of his tongue as he blinks away his surprise at what she said, though it was less of a statement and more of a challenge. What the challenge is, he isn't too sure, but he thinks there could be a couple of meanings there.

The fire in her eyes when she looked up at him is one he recognizes very well, it stars in one too many of his daydreams that center around their secret night together. She rose to the occasion without fail and matched his chaos every time, and that steely-eyed stare is reminiscent of it.

Yet, the sexual undertone isn't the only part of it to be discovered. There's a clear meaning there for him to actually prove it, to put his money where his mouth is, grow a pair, and tell her how he feels with no room for confusion. No more miscommunication, running away, or insecurity getting between them, just a clear cut confession like hers.

His hand runs through his hair to sweep it out of his eyes and keep the wet strands from dripping down his face. It helps him see her a little better too, grounding him to the moment and calming him at the dimmed sight of her expectant, wide eyed gaze.

There were a million versions of this whenever he let himself imagine admitting it. He only let himself picture it on the worst days, days like the one two days ago when he went home to his dad, ending the night by cleaning his own cuts and inspecting his own bruises in his locked bedroom. He did it to distract himself from wanting to storm out of the room and finally kill the son of a bitch after years of suffering in silence.

JJ closed his eyes, shaking with anger, and dreamed of how he'd tell her. There were versions with long speeches that were far too sappy to exist outside of the realm of his imagination. There were versions with him burying the words between friendly jokes to play down the extent of his feelings too, but he thought it worked best in its simplest form.

So he puts it as simply as it gets, lips fighting a soft smile as he crosses the space between them and rushes in to kiss her. It's charged with an accumulation of the pent up love, anger, and sexual desire that has been repressed until now, resulting in something utterly explosive.

He stops for a second to whisper, "I love you too," into her parted lips, and she finally lets herself go at the sound of those words.

Forget that they've only known each other for five months, when you know you know. This is the real deal. This is the kind of feeling that possesses every accessible inch of her heart and she'd never be open enough to admit that to anyone but him at the moment, but neither of them minds that. It's such a new, rapidly developing feeling that they want to protect it and keep it close to them for the time being.

His arms twine around her waist, tugging her the last bit forward and leaving no space between their bodies this time. The sudden movement draws a sharp gasp from the back of her throat and sends her hands out to brace themselves on his shoulders. The sound of the gasp that disappears into their connected mouths only fuels him on more. It makes him more eager with how he touches her with his hands drifting down the plane of her back, one of which playfully slipping beneath the hem of her soaked shirt in a way that makes her smile into the kiss.

He knows exactly what he does to her. He can sense it in the small reactions that would often go overlooked if it were someone less familiar with her.

It's easy to tell by the way she completely surrenders herself to him, letting out these soft little noises she doesn't even realize she's making when he takes control of the interaction and kisses her like he's starved for it. In a way, he is starving for affection and attention from her. He never knew it was something he needed so badly until he got it, and now he never wants to go without having her again.

That's why it doesn't surprise him when she starts getting antsy after a moment or two, especially after keeping away from him for days.

Her hands run down the length of his chest over the soaked t-shirt, taking a quiet victory in how his stomach flinches inward in response to her exploring touch, and she could swear his next exhale trembles as she continues lower. Never once does she break the kiss, which, by the way, has gone past the point of being passionate and straight to downright needy, but her concentration does falter. The perfectly paced rhythm of her mouth moving with his is interrupted when she touches him over the fabric of his shorts.

Those plushy soft lips go on an exploration of their own too. Leaving him with the first opportunity to catch his breath in minutes, she dips her head beneath the sharp edge of jaw in pursuit of the sweet spot she remembers reducing him to a grabby, moaning mess the last time they did this. It doesn't take her long, not if the tightening of his arms around her and the satisfied hum of a moan she feels vibrate beneath her mouth has anything to say for it.

He loses himself in it for a second or two...okay, fine, maybe ten.

The separate sensations combined spark a flame inside of him that burns so hopelessly for whatever she'll give him. His mind sends him images of them together, both real memories from their first time together and imagined fantasies he only let himself visit in his dreams, and he realizes how thinly spread his self control has become lately.

First, it's the thought of her from last week, thoughts of her gasping, writhing, and begging beneath him that makes his cock throb under the teasing contact of her hand through his shorts. But then he's brought elsewhere. Then, though he hasn't thought of it since the day after the party, he thinks of the mix of jealousy and anger he felt when he saw Tyler with her.

He remembers being sane one moment and charging across the room like a madman the next. He remembers how it felt to watch another person's hands slip under her dress, how it felt to see someone else try to kiss her the way he had, and this raw wound of a memory is all it takes to spur him into action.

It happens so quickly, she doesn't even notice what's happening until he has her scooped up in his arms with her legs around his waist. She doesn't even have the chance to voice her surprise or crack a joke at the expense of his neediness before he reconnects their paused kiss with enough force to make her teeth ache in the collision.

JJ's rings are colder than ice, digging into the flesh of her thighs as he holds them with a tight grip and blindly takes the few steps necessary to reach the back entrance of the house. His wet handprint smudges on one of the cracked-open glass doors and sends droplets of water dribbling down the surface. The teardrop of rain zig-zags at the swinging motion of the door on their way in, only changing course again when he nudges it shut behind him a little too loudly.

"Wh"—her question is cut off by him laying her down on the rug-covered floor in between the couch and coffee table—"What if John B wakes up?"

His first thought was to bring her into the spare bedroom, but then he realized that it shares a wall with John B. Then, he considered the pull out couch but realized that would be louder than the room adjacent to their friend's. His only conclusion was this.

It isn't nearly as romantic as either of them would've pictured, but they're not exactly picky either. They're so desperate for it, they'd likely do it on the porch in the middle of a hurricane if there weren't another option. And in their own weird way, they make it romantic.

There's no one else she'd rather risk rug burn for, and that is the peak of romance.

"John B sleeps like a fuckin' rock," JJ says, "and it's own his fault for trapping us here anyway."

He follows her down onto the floor without a second thought, not even looking up to see if they woke their friend with the sound of the door shutting behind them.

Hovered above her, he looks particularly captivating in the flickering candlelight. The fire burning in one of the three-wick candles they scoured the bathroom cabinets for brings out the warm hues in his blonde hair and highlights every edge of the angular face that looks down at her. The porch was far too dark for her to see him in all of his near-perfection, but this is enough for her to notice a multitude of things.

His slicked back, wet hair allows her to see his features better and the way he looks at her...it's enough to make anyone feel red in the face. How hadn't she see it before? She knows it was denial, but, somehow, she used to overlook the small hints along the way like how he looks at her like she's the only thing that makes sense to him. For the first time in a while, she allows herself to embrace the idea of being loved without looking for something to justify her fears surrounding it.

The sound of her voice brings him out of the mesmerized trance he fell under at the sight of her.

"I've missed you," she says softly, "like a lot."

The sweet admission slows him down for a second, making him stop to ignore the distracting desire that she sparked to life a moment ago and take the time to cherish this moment of rare serenity with her.

It's a wonder that she hasn't even acknowledged the storm raging on outside since they've come back in. It's all thanks to him, of course, since she's been too focused on everything happening between them, but it surprises him. It makes a sense of pride flare up in him on her behalf for being capable of forgetting something she fears so much.

But, on the other hand, it reminds him of how distraught she was right before their conversation/argument on the porch shifted from her panic to the topic of their relationship, and he can't help but hesitate a little.

"I missed you too." The hand he isn't using to support himself above her cups her face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. "Are you okay though? You were just crying and I don't wanna make you—"

"Yes."

It was so said so quickly, there was zero hesitation. It's not that it doesn't surprise him that she's as eager as he is after what started to happen out on the porch, but it does make his eyes widen a little. His mouth curls with a slight grin. It's the kind that never fails to make her stomach fluttering and light with butterflies.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm okay, and I promise I'll let you know if I'm not," Y/N clarifies.

"Okay."

There's a short moment where all they do is look at each other with a complete loss for words to convey what they feel right now. It isn't as awkward as it would've been prior to tonight. Before they confessed their feelings, they wouldn't have been able to look at one another for any longer than a few seconds without needing to walk away to break the tension. Now, things have changed. They don't feel the need to conceal how much they care anymore.

They're still the same bickering duo they've always been with the added fun of being head over heels. She never used to understand how some people could let their feelings for another person drive them crazy, but it's done more than make her crazy this past week. It made her jealous, obsessive, and somehow happy too, and no one has ever made her feel so many varying emotions in her life.

Her fingertips graze the stretch of skin between where his cargo shorts sit on his hips and his shirt rides up the side of his torso, and he swallows thickly at the feeling.

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks.

Her lilting, smooth voice is enough to soothe any nerves he could possibly have. It's as if hearing her ask that paired with the hand teasing the waistband of his shorts pulled him back to the place he'd been before when she was teasing him over his clothes.

He answers honestly, his head going fuzzy with the crushing desire that courses through him, "Not as nervous as I make you," and closes the space between them again.

The cheeky comment doesn't go unnoticed by her, not one bit. It makes her face heat up in embarrassment that is purely instinct after having to hide her feelings from her for so long. Maybe after they've been together for longer, it won't make her blush every time he acknowledges the effect he has on her out loud, but that day isn't today. Today, she goes hot in the face from a sole second of his attention, let alone this.

JJ lets his hand climb up the length of her torso as they kiss as if they have all the time in the world, as if their best friend isn't sleeping less than twenty feet away from them, until it flattens at the base of her neck. It doesn't curl around her neck and squeeze, nor does it do anything but remind her how much she loves the feeling of him touching her, the large palm of his hand simply stays draped over her throat to flaunt his ability to sway her nerves.

She's pretty sure if it were anyone else, it wouldn't work, but he's JJ for fuck's sake, and the quiet display of dominance sends an exhilarating little thrill rumbling through her. It isn't anything over the top or exaggerated like some people would do in an attempt to stake a claim over the person they love, just a simple gesture that they both know the meaning of.

She's his. After five months of friendship, two months of silent pining, and a week of sexually confused hell, she's his, and he'll never let her forget it.

The wind rattles the windows over the couch with its force and she notices that his hips grind into hers at the sudden sound. Even in the midst of such a heated moment, it's downright cute how he still makes an effort to distract her from what she fears. And, boy, does it work.

Their panting breaths in the brief seconds they allow themselves to break away from each other are the only sounds audible in the small living room. The storm drowns it all out for now, including the noises that start to leave them from the steadily building pleasure of their bodies moving together.

She can feel how hard he is through the layers that separate them with every absentminded thrust that brushes the fabric of her panties up against her clit each time. It leaves her breathless and wondering, despite already knowing, what it'll feel like when he finally slips inside of her again.

They both fantasized about it in the time they spent apart. Neither of them would dare deny it, least of all JJ. It actually became frustrating after a while because she started to become the only scenario he could conjure to get himself off when he had a rare moment of privacy. His fantasies, all stemming from the night that was so perfect, he began to question the reality of it, linger in his head.

The best part of his fantasies were the parts of them based in truth, and if he knows anything about her when she's in this state, it's that she's needy. Her tongue swipes along his bottom lip in a silent urging to let her deepen the kiss, and he complies without a second to spare, willing to entertain her every whim so long as she keeps being so good for him.

He revels in her muffled squeak of a moan when he presses down on the sides of her throat at the precise moment his hips grind down to meet hers. She can't keep herself still for any longer than a half-second, always meeting his movements halfway and unknowingly doing another thing that will be the death of him.

She leads his shirt up his body without having to second guess herself, knowing that he's always on the same wavelength as her no matter what. This was how it was the last time too. Anything she did, he was already one step ahead, and tonight isn't much different. By the time her hands ball up the dripping cotton fabric, JJ is lifting the hand off of her neck to reach for the neckline of the shirt and help tug it off.

There's a sense of urgency in everything they do. Charged up with frustration and jealousy that brewed within the days they spent apart, there's nothing to stop them from reducing themselves to a pair of panting, impatient lovers too consumed in each other to care about the outside world.

The sopping wet fabric is thrown beyond her line of sight and lands on the hardwood floor with a 'thwack' that accompanies their cacophony of moans and gasps, and she whimpers at the sight of him. It may have to do with the fact that he's guiding their bodies together at a cadence and pressure perfect enough to make her legs tremble, but seeing him like this does nothing but aid the sensation.

Golden skin glistening under the candlelight, tendrils of half-dry blonde hair falling into his face with the lazy effort of his movements, and a stray raindrop that squeezed from the wet shirt dripping down his chest...she's not gonna make it out of tonight alive, is she? In her memory, she knew he was a sight to see in the midst of a heated moment, but, fuck, memories do not hold up beside the real experience of it.

Y/N is so caught up in his seemingly endless beauty, she doesn't notice him peeling her damp denim shorts off of her hips until they're halfway down her legs, and the only reason she does notice is because he must shift his position to do it. Suddenly, the budding feeling that stirred from their needy antics is plucked away and left to ache for more in the absence of him between her thighs.

Her middle and index fingers hook around the front of his necklace to pull him back down to her, but he doesn't budge at first. He's too busy trying to rid her of her shirt to care.

It was too much of a distraction while they kissed for him to resist slipping it off of her when he got the chance to. Much to his frustration when he first realized they were trapped with each other, she's braless underneath, and it's only worse now that the t-shirt is soaked to her skin and clinging to every delicate curve.

Once the clothing gives way to the canvas of her bare skin, he submits to her urgency and follows her down by the fingers hooked around his necklace without any qualms.

As soon as they resume, it's as if they never stopped to begin with, and they start to realize how seamlessly they fit together as the seconds elapse. Neither of them are actively thinking about it while he dips his hand into the front of her panties, but it is in their subconscious.

It's a revelation of sorts, an ah-ha moment where it hits them both in a sweeping realization that it was obvious from the day they met. They should've known sooner, they should've dropped their pride and admitted it as soon as the first inklings of desire began to pop up, but they didn't. Instead, it washes over them now and they let the current take them away together.

Her mouth falls open against his cheek at the feeling of his fingers swiping through the arousal that pools in her underwear for him, dragging the wetness over his fingertips and spreading it up to brush fleetingly against her clit. It's a split-second of a touch that it makes her hips lift up off the floor on their own accord to seek out more. It makes her dig her nails into the skin stretching over his taut shoulder muscles in a wordless plea for more that he doesn't indulge her in at first.

He makes her earn it from him without having to say a single word. He touches her, but he doesn't touch where she wants or ease his fingers into her to satisfy the need she feels yet. It's a blessing and a curse that he manages to turn her on to such an extent. He does it for her like nothing else can, so much so that she's noticed a distinct difference in how it feels when she's alone versus when they're together. When she's alone, it can tend to feel like active effort, but when she's with him, it's as natural as the urge to breathe.

His smirk is felt against her skin the entire time she begs for it through the revealing actions of her body—her hips jerking up toward him, her chest pressing tightly to his, and the sound of her murmuring, "Please," in a breathy tone that could stop his heart.

"Tell me what you want," JJ says, every word constrained and tight in a way that tells her he's a lot less composed than he lets on, and "accidentally" swipes his thumb over her clit again. "Talk to me, baby."

She almost forgot in their time apart how much of an effect he has on her, but this is the best reminder of that she could possibly imagine. If she could, she would find a way to bottle the feeling he gives her and keep it with her forever so that, no matter what happens between them, she'll never have the misfortune of forgetting him.

What he said simultaneously melts her heart and frustrates her to no end because he knows! He knows damn well what she wants from him and won't give it to her unless she asks for it, and she hates herself for loving it. She hates herself for enjoying the flushed-face embarrassment it brings to her cheeks to be so open with him about what she needs.

She swallows the lump in her throat and tries to focus through the clouded landscape of her head to speak to him. It's hard to concentrate when he's above her like this, touching her, calling her pet names, and looking at her like that.

With his lips worshiping the sensitive skin along her neck, she finds it hard to choke out the words, "I want you," into the humid air that has infiltrated the house.

It's not a lie. Anything regarding her wanting him or any related feeling is no longer something she can hide anymore, but they both know it isn't exactly what he wanted. No matter how it took his breath away to hear her say it, he was seeking something more specific. He was aiming to make her ask, maybe even beg, for it. They're both too impatient to wait and based on how wet his fingertips are from barely dipping into her, he can tell she's as eager as he is.

It's been thirteen days too long since the last time they allowed themselves to meet this way, and neither of them wants to let it happen again.

She was nearly trembling with the urge to go to him whenever they were together in the company of their friends, unable to think about anything except for how badly she wanted him. All the while, he appeared so unbothered, especially on the night of the party when he flirted with someone else, that she didn't even believe he felt the same way back. Thankfully for her, she couldn't have been more wrong.

He clicks his tongue and says, still teasing her with light touches that never linger in one place for too long, "That wasn't very specific."

Part of her should know that he's about to do something based on how he withdraws his head from its cherished place in the crook of her neck, but she's too caught up in the anticipation and seeing his face for the first time in a minute to think about it. How dare he look so good? She could cry in frustration, although she might actually already be tearing up a little with the rush of neediness hitting her in its full force.

Never has she felt so turned on by so little physical contact before. It usually takes longer for her to get to this point, whether it be alone or in the past with previous partners, yet all it took was being kissed, touched, and being given his undivided attention and now...She realizes she's in trouble. He has her in an emotional and sexual chokehold at this point, and she fears that no one can compare.

"I want—" her voice is snuffed out in an instant when he eases two fingers into her, "Oh!"

So that's why he pulled away from her neck to look at her.

It was worth abandoning the mark forming on her neck just to see the expression on her face shift. She gets this cute look when anything overwhelming starts to happen where her brows scrunch a little to create a soft wrinkle between them as her mouth drops open in a moan. And after ten steady minutes of doing nothing but some over the clothes action and painstaking teasing, this is as overwhelming as it gets without it crossing the line to being too much.

It never occurred to her how much larger his fingers are compared to hers until now. This type of pleasure is like an itch only someone else can scratch to her, she feels virtually nothing when she does it to herself, but when he does it, it's like an explosive being set off inside of her. Especially with the thumb that sneaks up to circle her clit without stopping to tease her again, she is putty in his hands at this point.

Every smooth stroke of his fingers into her reaches a spot she can never quite find on her own, and she can feel the cold bite of rings when they're buried into her to the knuckle.

It's a surprise every time, even when she knows to expect it. Like a delightful chill running up through her body and down her spine exactly how it's intended to. It strikes an idea in her head for when he eventually pulls them out of her, conjuring the image of her sucking them clean for him just for the sake of imagining what it'll do to him.

With that idea tucked away in the back of her mind, he's the center of her world right now. All she breathes, thinks, and feels is him. Whether it be the sight of him, or the feelings he's giving her, or even the taste of his kiss that still lingers on her tongue, it connects to one common thread.

"What were you saying?" JJ asks, and she wants to wipe that smirk right off his face.

It's virtually impossible for her to piece together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence detailing every filthy idea she has for him, but she tries. It takes another moment or two of her succumbing to the rapid incline of pleasure that he gives her, watching her in wonder through any greedy buck of her hips or gasping inhale that makes her head loll back onto the floor.

At first, what she wanted to say was that she wanted him to touch her, to do anything more than the fleeting touches he gave before. Now, she wants more than that. Now that she's drawn in closer to the eventual high that's to come, she doesn't want it to happen like this. She wants to feel closer to him than this, wants to feel him throb inside of her and fuck her with all of the urgency and desperation that has accumulated in their time apart.

That's why her hands start to grab at the belt loops of his shorts to tug him closer by them, meeting his gaze through the hazy bliss of his fingers pumping into her. It's not enough.

"Please"—she keeps pulling him closer to her, so close that there's hardly any space left to cross, and he revels in her desperation—"just fuck me already..."

Internally, JJ is losing his shit.

Though this was what he wanted, what he coaxed out of her with the teasing and the pretend sense of a nonchalant attitude on his part, it hits him harder than he expected it to to hear her say it. It's not necessarily the act of begging itself either, it's the fact that she's the one doing it. She may have been jealous of the girl at the party, but she had nothing to worry about. Not in the slightest.

Before her, he never thought he'd fall for someone this way. It's not like he had a hatred for love or anything, he understood the appeal, it simply wasn't his thing.

He was perfectly content with his only form of companionship being his friends. Then, she came along and changed it. So to hear her say something like that isn't just breathtaking, it's the kind of thing that makes his heart ache for her. It hits him precisely where she wanted it to, and he has never felt as consumed with love the way he does now.

JJ can do nothing to stop himself from pouncing on her at this point, like some animalistic form of himself has worn down the restraint he used to keep himself at bay.

The loss she feels when his fingers slip away from her is an emptiness she mourns at first before she realizes what's happening. He pulls away slightly to reach down between them for the front of his shorts, and their hands clash as they both frantically try to undo them together. The rings adorning his fingers glisten when they catch the light and remind her of the thought that popped into her head when she first felt their coldness against her skin.

That idea paired with the promise of what they're trying to accomplish in their uncoordinated attempt to get the rest of their clothes off makes her want to press her thighs together. Her hands abandon the task of undoing his shorts for the sake of ridding herself of the last layer that separates her from him.

Her most embarrassing old pair of brightly colored panties, courtesy of past Y/N's questionable decision to trust her mom to buy some on her behalf, are hardly a sight to behold. They're the kind that come in a value pack from Walmart, vibrant blue with the word, "Tuesday," printed on the front of them, and she could hide her face into the rug in shame if she weren't so determined to get them off. Of all the days to wear the day of the week undies her mom accidentally got her, of course she chose today.

By the time she reaches for the waistband, he has pushed his shorts and underwear down his thighs and comes back to her with just as much excitement as he left with, but when he helps her tug her panties down her legs, he laughs. Apparently, he had also been too eager to touch her to notice what was written on them before.

"Cute," he breathes out through a laugh, then adds as the cotton fabric slips over her knees, "Pretty sure it's not Tuesday though."

"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll—"

He cuts her off, "Whatever you wanna threaten me with won't work, chances are I'm gonna be into it."

Her eyes are alight with a certain fire he's had yet to fully lure out of her. Even her voice is slightly more airy and seductive as a result of it.

"Promise?"

JJ grins down at her as he finally tosses her panties aside with the rest of their clothes, "Cross my heart, pretty girl."

His hands grip her thighs and tug her down the rug to him with a quick jolt that snaps them out of the playful nature of their back and forth teasing. No matter how lighthearted of an interruption it was, the mini-conversation might as well have never existed for how easily they fall back into it again.

She watches with her forehead pressed against his as he strokes himself a few times, then drags his tip, messy with precome, through her wet heat. And though she watches it happen, her body still arches into his when he lines up with her and sinks his hips forward.

She anticipated it, but she still gasps and digs her nails into his biceps at the sensation of him pushing into her. Neither of them bothers to worry about the obvious lack of a condom—it was discussed the first time around when he offered and she told him it was okay. He's often the one to silence the alarm on her phone warning her in its title to, "Take your birth control or else, bitch," while she searches her bag for it anyway, so he trusts her.

Both of them prefer it this way enough to risk the minuscule failure rate of the pill anyway. It's more intimate, closer, and they can both feel the warmth of each other in a way that would've been somewhat muted with an added layer between them. It makes the feeling of him entering her all the more gratifying as she tenses up around him in reaction, drawing a groan from where his parted lips brush against hers.

She lifts her head off of the floor as much as she can to capture his mouth with her own and stifle the sonorous sound despite the storm doing a better job of it.

It seems that every blast of wind and roll of thunder is in their favor tonight, so much so that he isn't even worried about getting walked in on. It's not a thought in his head at this point, the only thought he's capable of having is this. Forgive him for being shortsighted, but he doesn't give a shit if John B notices or hears what's happening when he's buried inside of her so deeply.

His hips are flush with the backs of her thighs in a matter of seconds, and right when he pauses to give her a breather, he feels her shake her head ever so slightly against where their faces are pressed together.

The touch of her hands on his hips is not timid by any means, it's commanding. Her palm prints singe an indelible claim into the surface of his skin as she guides him to start moving without a second spared to dwindle the discomfort of him filling her up. It's less like a pain and more of a pressure blooming from the insistent presence of him, not so overwhelming that it's painful, but it's an effort to breathe evenly and the only thing that'll ease this transitional moment is to continue.

At first, their bodies start to rock together lazily as though on autopilot. They'd hardly be conscious of the fact that they're doing anything if not for the initial sensations of heady ecstasy that flash like the sparks of a lighter in response to their movements. As soon as he felt her hands coax him into action, he sighed happily and surrendered himself to the instinct of wanting to move.

The merging of their bodies is less of the aggressive rutting motions they'll surely succumb to once their current pace is no longer satisfying, but that doesn't make it any less intense. She's partly sure that this is one of the most vulnerable moments either of them has ever had when it comes to sex, and it wouldn't work if it weren't them together. No other person could consume her the way he does, taking up every unoccupied space of her soul until there's nothing left but the silent begging of her heart for him.

Their kiss is messy when it breaks to allow them the chance to suck down a couple breaths of air, saliva shining on his lips in between the seconds it takes them to come crashing back together.

It's loving enough to rot her teeth with its sweetness, a slow but impossibly deep grinding of their hips together that continually presses the tip of him into that sweet spot inside of her, but it takes a turn.

Not only do her hands shift from his hips up to the sides of his waist to get a firmer hold on him, the kiss starts to become vigorous, almost hungry, in search of something more. The dreamlike sequence of the first moment or so they spent slowly fucking under the warm hues of candlelight starts to unravel to reveal the baser instincts that guide them forward.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispers the praise into her mouth.

As soon as the words are said, he can feel the effect it has on her. The hands braced on his waist pull his body closer to her at the same moment that she involuntarily squeezes down around him, making the smooth drag of his cock against the velvet-soft heat of her walls even tighter than he thought possible.

The sudden feeling of it makes his first returning thrust much harder than the last. He jerks forward into her with none of the restraint he's retained for the past few moments, and her reaction is nothing short of perfection, at least from his perspective. He watches her throw her head back in a moan, hips bucking to him in pursuit of more, and feels the tips of her fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks into the unmarred skin along his waist.

"JJ!" she gasps in surprise, and if her initial reaction weren't enough to spur him on in a frenzied state of desire, this is.

He almost forgot how intense it had been the first time. Their confessions of love preceding this made them both somewhat softer and sweeter in their approach when they started, but he knows how she likes it.

Nobody would expect it from her. He's another story entirely, especially considering how much John B and Pope know about him, but her? He didn't have any in depth conversations about it with either of them, so none of their friends know how dirty she is.

But when you start to tease it out of her, she's got a side to her that makes his blood run hot. Considering how polite she is, he sure as hell didn't see it coming. For fuck's sake, she's the kind of person who'll apologize to a chair if she bumps into it. With that in mind he never thought she'd be the type to demand such things of him.

Just like that, with one moan of his name, it's like she flipped a switch in him that they forgot was there in the first place. It'll never stop surprising him how little it takes to get him going when he's with her, and he doesn't see that changing no matter how long they spend together in the future. Just a touch from her is all it takes, so it's needless to say that the sound of her calling out his name was more than enough.

Those slow, deep movements he made to sink into her again and again have turned rapid and rough, but still controlled enough to have a semblance of precision to them, hitting in all the right places.

"I bet," JJ speaks lowly, "that you want John B to walk out and see us right now."

She doesn't want to admit how much of an instantaneous effect those words have on her, but the feeling of her clenching around him as she bites back a moan completely betrays her. Partly, she worries that he'll take that the wrong way and think it has something to do with John B when it has nothing to do with him at all, but he doesn't. For the spare second of thought she's allowed to have before her mind goes hazy again, she notes how much more eager he is on the upstroke of the next thrust.

Noticing how right he was in his assumption about her liking the risk of getting caught jumpstarts his heart and makes everything he does rougher. She can sense that he's starting to lose control over himself and is acting on instinct alone.

It makes her much more sensitive to everything he does, and all she can do is cling to him and enjoy it as she takes in everything he says and does. It's hard to pick one thing to focus on between the switch up in pace and what he said.

"You want John B to know you like getting fucked like a slut, don't you?"

She could get off on the sound of his voice alone. Hearing him say stuff like that kills her, it makes the swirling bliss that builds in the pit of her abdomen with every thrust he gives her triple in its extremity.

Her legs are tightly wound around his hips to keep him as near to her as possible, her hands sliding up around his waist to keep a steady grasp on him while he pounds into her. The rug scratches at her back enough to make it sting alongside the immense pleasure building in her, but she doesn't care. When blended with the good sensations, the pain underscores the addictive feeling of him inside of her, fucking her exactly how she asked him too.

Looking up at him when he's like this is simply unreal. There's no other way of describing it in her eyes except for that. He's so stunning, she's inclined to believe that he isn't even real as a means of explaining it. This shouldn't be real. It should be one of her daydreams while she steals covert stares at him as they hang out with the Pogues, but it isn't. She can't wrap her head around it.

Those strands of hair that were damp from the rain are mostly dry as they fall into his eyes with the force of his movements. The sight of him alone, set aside from the rest of it, is enough to make her writhe beneath him and claw at his back in tandem with another thrust that sends her jolting against the rug.

He takes one of his hands up from where they both held her hips for leverage to weave his fingers into the roots of her hair.

He demands between the panting breaths and moans that flood the limited space between them, tugging on her hair, "Answer me."

She instantly blurts out the words, "I want him to see us." The feeling of him tilting her head back by the fistful of hair he has wrapped up in his hand is her persistent reminder to concentrate enough to continue, and she bites down on her lip to contain a moan before speaking again, "I want him to know..."

Her cheeks burn with the mere thought of it, let alone saying it out loud. He's the only person she'd ever let in on this intimate side of her, the side that makes her crazy when she hears him say stuff like this. The reason she feels so comfortable doing this with him is that she knows he understands her. It's as if he can read her mind without even having to try, knowing exactly what to say and when to say it.

It wouldn't matter if the topic of their exhibitionism were any other Pogue or a stranger, it isn't about who it is, it's about the thrill attached to the concept of almost getting seen during such a heated moment. In all actuality, John B is probably snoring face down into his pillow right now with no care for what's happening out here, but he knows what it does to her when they push the boundaries of decency this way. It's the same rush he gets from stealing random, useless things every so often, it's the thrill of getting away with something.

The hand tangled up in the roots of her hair sneaks down between their colliding bodies to rub her clit, and her mouth drops open to take in a shaky breath.

The sight of her beneath him is undoing in and of itself. Head tilted enough to expose her neck to him, chest rising and falling rapidly with her breaths, and breasts bouncing gently with the momentum of their actions—seeing her this way makes his thrusts ramp up into more of a frenzied, uncontainable pace rather than one with the same control and cadence as before. But it's mostly the eye contact that kills him. She doesn't dare to shut her eyes the entire time, as if she can sense that he'll tell her to look at him again the second she does.

"You want him to know what?" he asks, and she knows he won't let her get away with not saying it.

She whines, utterly helpless to the climax starting to build inside of her, "Please."

What she's pleading for, she isn't quite sure, but he can tell by how she's acting that she's starting to get closer, and he wants nothing more than to tease her with the impending chance of her orgasm.

"If you wanna come, you're gonna have to do a lot better than that."

Just like that, he withdraws his hand from between them and leaves her desperate, blindly grasping for the peak she was so close to reaching, she could almost feel it already.

With JJ rocking into her at a relaxed, slower rhythm, the pleasure hasn't disappeared completely. It's there, but she can sense the feeling of her orgasm receding as quickly as it had creeped up on her as soon as he slips his hand out from between them.

It's instantly clear to him how desperate she is as all of her previous shyness surrounding having to admit this to him out loud withers away in seconds. She isn't beneath begging again at this point. He could tell her to crawl across the floor to him and she'd happily do it for the chance of touching him. It's pathetic but true. As much as she has him wrapped around her finger, he has done the same to her and she isn't afraid to admit it anymore.

Her hips jerk toward him in search of the familiar frenzy they were in before that sent her to the brink of climax, but he is impressively stubborn. Despite the fact that it physically pains him to dial it back again, he tries to keep the signs of his own frustration at bay. She knew what she had to say to get what she wants, so he'll only cave when she does.

This time around, she doesn't give a fuck about how badly she blushes or the voice in the back of her mind telling her she should keep this side of her to herself. This time, the one thing she needs to do to prompt her to open her mouth and speak the dirty words he asked her less than a moment ago is look at him. One second of staring up at him and here she is, driven mad enough to say or do anything to get him to pick up where they left off.

She says between the soft noises and breaths coming from them both, clinging to him through every slow but deep thrust that sends sparks ricocheting through her body, "I want John B to know I like getting fucked like slut." Her voice is breathless, and he hangs off of each word as she pauses, looking up at him with a challenging attitude swirling in those pretty eyes. "So stop being a tease and fuck me like one."

His jaw clenches at the bratty statement, one he's too far gone to resist at this point, and right when he's about to respond to her, she speaks again.

"Either that," she says, and a deceptively sweet smile crosses her kiss-swollen lips, "or I can go ask him to—"

She doesn't even get the chance to voice the rest of that thought before he's set into motion.

The hands on her hips flip her over with such casual strength, all she can do is yelp in surprise at the sudden movement that blurs the living room in her peripheral version until she lands with her hands and knees pressing into the rug. He was so swift in pulling out of her and tossing her onto her front like she was nothing more than a rag doll, she hardly had the time to take a breath before she ended up here.

There's hardly any time between when he pulled out to flip her over and when he returns to her again, but it feels like an eternity for them. The few second transition might as well be a few years as she feels his hands guiding her body where he wants it, pushing down on her back until it arches just so, and falls down onto her arms. But as soon as she gets situated, she feels a pair of hands yanking her arms away from where they were braced against the floor and put them behind her back.

It's only then, when he has an unflinching grasp on where he keeps her wrists behind her back with one of his hands, that she is met with the relief of him sinking into her again.

Y/N's jaw goes slack, and she cries out into the rug that her cheek is pressed into as he gives her no chance to adjust or catch her breath before resuming the brutal pace they kept a moment ago. Mentioning anyone else but him doing this to her was the quickest way to get him to snap, so it's safe to say that she's getting what she wanted. After all, she did what he asked, it's fair that she gets rewarded for it.

Amidst the sounds of the storm waging war on the landscape outside of the house, the one thing she can hear over the buzzing pleasure that drowns out her senses is the sinful blend of sounds they create together. It's the sound of their bodies merging, his name falling from her lips, and the curses he makes under his breath that never fail to drive her a little wild.

The hand that isn't holding her arms behind her slides down the length of her curved back until it wraps around her throat to pin her down, and her reaction is everything he could ask for. Seeing her rock back against him to meet him halfway makes his grip on her wrists tighten enough to turn his knuckles white.

Her hair is spread in endless directions in a fan around her head, and he can only see one side of her face from where he kneels behind her, but that glimpse is more than enough. Brows scrunched in pleasure, mouth dropped open in a gape as soft 'uh's and 'ah's escape her on the upstroke of each thrust—she's a mess right now. A beautiful, perfect mess.

"Oh God, JJ," she moans between her rapid breaths and the strong hand constricting her neck, "I'm so close. Please, just let me come."

It took virtually nothing for her to be pushed right back to the edge of the peak she was at less than a minute ago. It took a mere half-minute of this and she's once again reduced to incoherent pleas for more and shaking with no control over herself. Her legs tremble with the effort to keep herself up in this position, and she isn't even the one doing most of the work. In all fairness, this change in position has made the intensity triple. It's deeper this way, and with how harshly he slams into her, it's as though she can feel it in the base of her abdomen.

It's the enjoyable type of pain, however, not the bad type. It'll surely end up with her being sore tomorrow, but she can't hide how much she loves the painful pleasure of how rough it's getting. Being denied an orgasm when she was so, so close to it was initially disappointing too, but it was worth it. If the build up to what would've been her climax before was a spark, this is a flourishing fire spreading through her with no chance of smothering the flames.

He lets go of her throat and taps the side of her jaw in a silent request that she picks up immediately, letting her lips fall open to suck his fingers into her mouth without a second of hesitation.

The taste of her arousal on them is faint, but still there, and it occurs to her that she thought about this earlier before things evolved into chaos. Her tongue swirls around the tips of his fingers as he starts to pull them away in what feels like the blink of an eye to her, leaving him to remember what it felt like when her lips were once wrapped around a more sensitive part of him a week and a half ago.

The one other time he let himself remember it was when they were on the boat with the Pogues, yet that wasn't really of his own volition. It was hot out, so Kiara bought ice pops for them and his mind wandered far from where it should've stayed.

Shining with her saliva, his fingers are pulled from her lips with a soft 'pop' in pursuit of that sensitive collection of nerves at the apex of her thighs. She just needs is a little push to go over the edge, and when he slips his hand down her body to rub tight circles onto her clit, she loses whatever remnants of control over herself she had left.

The steady rhythm of her hips moving back against him falters as she is overwhelmed with the separate sensations culminating into one and giving her the push she needs to come. Her entire body tenses up in anticipation, and since she's pinned to the floor with her hands behind her back, she can only lay there and savor the feeling as it hits her.

After what felt like ages of having it build and build within her, then having it taken away to start the process over again, finally being given a release is a relief beyond any she's felt before.

It's so consuming, it takes away her ability to think of anything outside of how it feels to dissolve into the shockwaves of euphoria rushing through her. Every pulsing wave is prolonged by him, not even through the peak of it does he let up on his precise touches and unforgiving thrusts into her that turn a typical orgasm into the most intense thing she's ever felt.

She's melting in his arms through it all, and as if the change in position didn't make it worse, her involuntary spasms leave him hanging on by a thread.

JJ collapses onto her, barely having the chance to keep himself propped up on his arms as he lets go of her wrists and falls forward onto her sweat-slick back.

The heat of his panting exhales raises goosebumps in its wake where his face is buried into the curve of her neck, and he whines at the impossibly tight feeling of her squeezing around his cock through the end of her climax. Those sounds he doesn't realize he's making have her writhing through the aftershocks, answering with a sound of her own that almost makes him come instantly.

For that reason, he makes the decision to pull out and flip her onto her back.

At this point, she's so dazed and fucked out that she doesn't register any of it until she notices the hollow absence of him inside of her, but it doesn't matter when his face appears through the partial darkness above her.

Despite how sensitive she is right now, the sight of him makes her hands reach out blindly to pull him closer again. They're frantic in their need to get back to one another, grasping and clawing until he finds his way back to her in less than a second, hiking her legs up around his waist with a touch that is somehow demanding and tender at the same time.

It's only when he's inside of her again that it occurs to her why he rolled her onto her back again, and it makes her want to kiss him until her lips turn numb. It may be undeniably hotter to pin someone down and fuck them hoarse, but, no, that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be able to look at her, to see her face, and the thought of that has her biting back a sudden confession of love. She isn't sure why she doesn't say it right away, since it isn't like they haven't already done it, but she keeps it to herself for a second first.

It's different now. It's not less passionate or frenetic. It isn't as if he isn't being as rough with her as he was before, but they can both sense a shift in the energy between them as soon as he reenters her. It's less about the pursuit of pleasure and more about the feelings they've kept hidden away for so long. It's a simultaneous realization that hits them a little late after they initially confessed their feelings for each other: this is reality. It's real, and when she touches him this time, he isn't going to disappear if she opens her eyes.

The realization of what happened tonight had yet to hit them until right this second, but now that it has, they move forward with a sense of sentimentality that remained partly dormant before.

If there's anything JJ dislikes, it's being vulnerable. The idea of letting someone in to see every part of him, including the parts he doesn't want to see of himself, has always terrified him after years of being made to believe he's undeserving, yet he isn't uncomfortable right now. Somehow, he feels safe with her. Sex has never been something so emotional for him until now, until her, and he doesn't want it differently.

Their bodies are drawn in close, her arms thrown around his neck, and he's so close, he can feel the muscles leading down past his lower abdomen contract with the inevitable approach of his orgasm. She can sense it too in how he acts.

When he gets close, he becomes clingier and lets his feelings get the better of him. His hands squeeze at her hips, sliding up her sides and back down to hike one of her legs up high around his waist to press deeper into her. He can't bear to allow his touch to stay in one place for too long before exploring another part of her, wanting to memorize the delicate intricacies of her body in its entirety.

It's as if she can read his mind too, cause even when she's sensitive enough to gasp when he pushes her thigh to her chest and throws his remaining energy into fucking her at a satisfying pace, she understands what he needs. She knows to reach up and run her fingers through his hair, to tug on it gently until the light strands are taut from his scalp. She knows to lift her head off of the floor enough to trail tender kisses along his face, his jaw, his neck—anywhere she can access.

"Come for me," she says into a kiss placed on the edge of his cheekbone, reeling in overstimulation as she jolts with his quickening thrusts, "I want to watch you..."

Hearing those words, paired with the kisses and fingers pulling on his hair, does it for him. It doesn't take more for his hips to falter and jerk forward into her a final few times before he comes.

Their foreheads press together as they cling to one another for stability, though it's mostly JJ clinging to her while she watches in adoration, and she has to bite her lip to contain a moan at how it feels. The aftershocks of her orgasm have yet to fade as the feeling of pulsing warmth inside of her makes them stronger, reigniting the fire she felt a moment ago if only for a second.

There's a closeness to this situation that they hadn't felt the last time, and they know it has everything to do with what was said before this happened. The sex itself feels like a dream sequence in her mind now that she's coming down from it with him, moving together slowly and gently beneath the candlelight until they ride out the ends of their highs. It was like they were put under a trance by each other, and now that it's over, the first thoughts that come to mind are of what comes next.

It's not the sole topic on their minds though. They're more focused on catching their breath from where they lay, tangled up together, on the living room floor. As soon as the very last of his orgasm faded from him, he fell onto her without a single ounce of energy left to spare. He's careful not to crush her, but, for the most part, he relaxes on top of her and lets his head rest on her heaving chest.

Strong arms slip down to loop around her waist, and she sure that she couldn't get him to release her if she wanted to, which she doesn't.

But they can't stay like this, not for any longer than a few moments anyway, since they don't know how if John B might wake up and come out of the safety of his bedroom after hours of leaving them to their own devices. JJ was right. He's out cold, but for as much as it turned them on in the heat of the moment, neither of them finds getting caught by him as hot with the clarity of their rational minds coming back to them.

He's the one to break the silence.

"As much as I wanna stay like this, we should probably move in case John B wakes up."

The sound of his voice settles in her with the effects of a sedative. It calms her more than anything else could, especially with the added comfort of him cuddling her so closely. One of her hands strokes through his hair and pushes the damp tendrils of sunshine away from his face as he cranes his neck to look up at her. And, for fuck's sake, what else is she to do except admire him?

His cheeks are dusted pink in a way they often are when he spends too much time outside without one of his hats shielding his face, and she thinks he's never looked better.

Ever since they became friends, she's had this theory about him. In the unrealistic landscape of her overactive imagination, JJ didn't come to this world the way the rest of them did. To her, it seems impossible that someone so good, even in his worst moments, could've come from someone like his dad.

So, in idle moments where she would watch him on a day out with the Pogues or daydream about him, she decided that he's the sun.

She imagines he was created in those breathtaking but brief moments where the sun meets the horizon atop the ocean and washes the sky with a vast array of colors. She likes to think he's the incarnation of it. Golden, warm, and bright for everyone but himself, he keeps the world light for her and their friends without intending to.

Some days are warmer than others too. Some days, the light is dimmed by another bruise beneath his clothes or a bad run-in with some kooks, but today is not like that. This moment is eighty-five and sunny with a balmy breeze. Looking at him right now feels like basking in the sun, and she'd burn here forever if he let her.

Without realizing she zoned out, she jolts when he pinches her arm to rouse her from her ridiculous thoughts. He has this dopey half-smile on his face that nearly draws her back into them again.

"You know what they say," he says, "if you take a picture..."

Her soft laughter invades the room, filling his heart with this light, fluttery feeling that always finds him when she's near. His smile grows as she playfully shoves him and reaches above their heads for her wet shirt to cover up with just in case. Odds are, their friend isn't waking up at the exact moment before they seclude themselves to the spare room and get dressed, but she doesn't wanna take that chance.

"I wasn't staring."

She was totally staring. But who could blame her? When someone looks at a person the way he looks at her, how could they ever stay away?

"Whatever you say."

JJ keeps smiling to himself while he pulls his underwear and shorts up his legs and waits for her to be decent enough to sneak past John B's bedroom to the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

The clothes are soaked through with rainwater, so they feel quite uncomfortable to slip back on, but they merely redress enough to be covered. She stole his shirt to avoid putting her shorts back on, the hem of the grey tee hanging right at the tops of her thighs when she walks. As soon as she slips her panties back on and picks up the rest of their cold, wet clothes, that's the cue he needs to scoop her up and take her away.

Y/N curses under her breath in surprise at feeling her feet being plucked off the ground, but she relaxes again once she's settled in his arms, realizing that it was just him who snuck up behind her and lifted her into his arms.

She doesn't say anything on the way to the bathroom. Instead, she lays her head on his shoulder in exhaustion and finds herself staring at the mark she left behind on his neck.

It's a deep, purplish red against the backdrop of his tan skin...the Pogues will surely notice the next time they see him. And while it will make her blush, it won't make her scared as it once would've. There may be a lingering sense of doubt and insecurity within her, but she wants this with him. Even if it means being teased by their friends or dealing with the jealousy of watching kook girls and tourons at parties hit on him, she wants this.

By the time the shower is spraying the rainwater from her hair and washing her clean of sweat sticking to her skin, she realizes that he isn't saying anything either, but she doesn't think it's out of any awkwardness or miscommunication. There's truly nothing to say, at least for now.

Though they didn't have the chance to talk in depth about everything yet, neither of them thinks of that right now. All they know is that they're together, whether it be officially or not, and it feels good. For once, something in his life feels right, and he lets himself enjoy it in silence.

The shower is a cramped space when shared between them and the wet clothes they have draped over the back edge of the tub, but they make it work. It's not like they mind anyway.

They bump into one another whenever they do so much as breathe, and the white walls echo the sounds of her giggling when he tries to tickle her. She leans her head back against his chest and lets out a laugh with shampoo dripping down the front of her face, and he'll be damned if he ever heard a sound as intoxicating as that.

It's a little weird. He's never been as soft and loving with a person before, and he has already felt overwhelmed in the lulls of quiet between them when he's given the chance to think about it.

When she washes his hair for him, insisting that she must return the favor after he so kindly washed hers, he was struck with the same mixture of wanting to simultaneously lean into and pull away from her that he felt the night of the party.

The warmth of the water loosens his sore muscles, washing suds of the green apple scented shampoo over his shoulders and down, down, down until it circles the drain beside his feet. All the while, her fingertips are delicately tracing over a healing bruise on his torso. Those pretty lips of hers are painted in a suppressed frown that she can't hide from him.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

His instant reaction is to fake a smile, to brush it off and distract her as he usually does, yet he doesn't. He forces himself to remain neutral and not push her away.

"Happens all the time," he murmurs, shrugging and averting his eyes to reach for the soap off on the ledge.

The hands holding either side of his waist tighten as he tries to turn, pulling him back to her with more strength than he knew to anticipate from her. Their chests gently collide back together beneath the stream of water, and she can feel his breathing catch for a second or so in response.

The fact that their relationship has changed doesn't change how she handles this aspect of his life. Their new confessions don't have an impact on the part of his life he never wants to let anyone see, so she isn't going to force him to talk about it because they're trying out this whole relationship thing now. He has hard boundaries that she knows not to push sometimes. That's the way it is, and it might change as they grow closer but she knows to accept it for the moment.

As soon as he hears what she has to say next, he could crumble in relief at the realization that their new dynamic doesn't change anything.

"I didn't necessarily mean...that...I meant generally, you know? It's just that—" she sighs, "you shrink away a little when I hold you, and I wondered if I was making you uncomfortable."

Before she could finish the sentence, JJ was already thinking of what to say to prove her wrong, because that's not it. That's not what it is, and if she thinks she's done anything wrong, he'll do anything to convince her otherwise because it isn't her. It's him.

It's his dad lingering in the darker trenches of his mind, commanding his fear and attention so that even when he isn't physically present, he's still here. Part of why he denied wanting her was because he knew these types of things would arise in the beginning, that there would be difficult adjustments to make and conversations to be had, and he didn't want her to leave him as soon as she was faced with one of these things.

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything."

The feeing of her chest rising and falling with his begins to steady him after a moment of allowing the initial hesitation to dissolve. His internal reaction to her touch is the mental incarnation of a flinch. It's him waiting for the other shoe to drop and expecting her to do something, to hurt him, before his mind catches up with his heart. But once he realizes everything's okay, he loves it.

"It's kinda embarrassing, but I guess when you touch me, I'm expecting something else," he says softly, scared that if he speaks too loudly, everyone in the world will know how weak he feels.

She should've figured, but hearing him say it is different than wondering what the reasoning behind it is. Hearing him admit it after months of strict avoidance on the topic is a sucker punch to the gut.

Both times they had sex, he was too distracted and thoughtless to get caught up in that part of himself, but it's when the bliss of the afterglow disappears that it creeps back in. That's why he could always handle touch when it came in that context. It was his way of obtaining what he wanted without having to face this side of it—a temporary fix to a greater web of issues.

But there's nothing temporary about her. He doesn't want her to leave him, not without him resisting the urge to beg her on his knees to stay and at least remain his friend, so there's no choice but to face these momentary challenges head on.

She pauses for a second, thinking, then says, "You don't have to be embarrassed about it, I get it. We'll just have to take it day by day then. We can take it slow, and you'll let me know if it gets to be too much, okay?"

It's hard not to be shocked by how well she's taking it. A lot of people probably wouldn't feel too great after someone they love tells them they expect to be hit whenever they touch them, yet she's taking it in stride.

Things are back to normal as soon as she sees the grin on his face.

"So, you're saying you're gonna be trying not to throw yourself at me all the time?" JJ asks, then clicks his tongue as though in thought. "I give you a week. Tops."

Her eyes go wide as she looks at him. She holds her hand over her heart as she pretends to be scandalized by such an accusation, but they know it's true. They both can't keep their hands off of one another, which is why it confuses him. How can he want to reject and enjoy her touch at the same time? Sure, the discomfort disappears after the first split-second, but the fact that it happens in the first place annoys him to no end.

She rolls her eyes and tries to hide the fact that she's giggling as she reaches for the soap.

"You're a little shit, you know that?"

He doesn't miss a beat, saying back, "Yeah but I'm your little shit, so I feel like that says more about you than it does me."

While he's too busy rinsing the rest of the shampoo out of his hair, she smiles to herself at what he said.

Hers.

Nobody has ever been hers before, or proclaimed themselves as belonging to her as proudly and casually as he just did, and her heart melts over the sweet sentiment he didn't think twice about.

Less than a day ago, she was agonizing over her relationship with him and trying to ignore how powerful those feelings for him were, and now they're here. She no longer has to steal glances when he looks away or hide how jealous she feels when other girls flirt with him. To finally let the tension disappear is an immense weight off of her shoulders.

The rest of the shower is as quiet as the start of it was, and that comfortable silence continues through from when they're drying off and redressing to when they hit the mattress in the spare bedroom with tired sighs.

After the day they had, the mere suggestion of sleep is enough to make them start yawning, so being able to slip beneath the sheets and rest their heads almost sings her to sleep instantly.

Their bodies are laying in the exact outlines of where they laid the night of the party, the only difference this time being their mindsets. This time around, they aren't holding themselves back from anything, and it's most evident in the little things. Like how she doesn't turn around to shield her face from him, instead laying with her head propped on the other end of his favorite pillow.

They're so close, their noses brush if they make any slight movements, and this would be enough for him to submit to the urge to drift into sleep if not for the fact that he feels her jolt when thunder rumbles loudly outside of the window.

Much like his own fears being pushed to the side amidst their desire for each other, her anxiety about the storm wasn't on her mind until they laid down to sleep.

She was so wrapped up in him and everything that happened between them that she didn't have the time to think again until now, until she hears the violent patter of rain against the roof and feels her stomach drop at the sound of the thunder. Suddenly, she's not the one reassuring him about his fearful reactions, it's the other way around.

His warm hand takes hers, snatching it up as though he's worried it'll disappear if he doesn't take it quickly enough, and she lets him. Her eyes flutter shut with the release of a slow, deep breath, and she lets the presence of his hand in hers bring her back to earth.

JJ asks into the darkness, "Can I take you out on a real date?" After a beat of silence, the comforting sound of his voice returns to her. "Not that this isn't fun, but I think you deserve a little more effort than John B's living room floor."

A short-lived chuckle escapes her—a win as far as he's concerned. It's difficult to lure her head from the clouds when she gets this way, and it isn't like he has much experience with calming her during these moments either, but that sounded good to him. It sounded like she wasn't thinking about the increased pace of her heart or the howling wind outside.

He was planning on asking anyway. However fitting of a first night together this was, he wants to take her out for real sometime soon. He doesn't have much money for it, like at all, but they can come up with something special together, even if it's similar to the same shit they usually do together. As long as it's time alone together, they don't necessarily care if it's a perfectly traditional first date.

The tip of his thumb rubs comforting circles onto the back of her hand in the brief time it takes her to respond, stroking the soft skin as if to tell her that everything's okay. It seems to say, I'm right here. Nothing can hurt you. And it might make her crazy, but she believes him. JJ could take her back out into the eye of the hurricane at this very moment and she'd still believe his unspoken promise of not letting her into harm's way.

"Of course," she says, then pauses, and the sound of her sleepy voice hardly reaches his ears when she speaks again, "...I'm sorry I avoided you for the past few days. I was scared to tell you how I felt but I shouldn't have left that morning."

The memory of waking up in his arms is fresh in the forefront of her mind, so much so that she can remember the way his breath felt where it exhaled in warm puffs onto her skin.

In the first few moments of consciousness, it was peaceful.

She laid awake for a minute or two to count his breaths and soak in the comfort of being cuddled up next to him, wishing she could stay there for hours. It wasn't until another moment passed that it clicked with her where she was and what was going on between them recently, and that was what prompted her to slip away from the bed to get ready for her day at work.

It was the second time in a row that she left him in that bed with nothing to wake up to but the cold absence of her body between the sheets he slept under, and he can't deny that it's part of why he holds onto her hand so tightly tonight. Even though she's promised him otherwise, he can't help but think she'll be gone by the time he wakes up. At this point, he's struggling to stay conscious. She can see those pretty eyes drooping more and more by the second, yet the hand holding hers doesn't loosen its grip.

He takes a deep breath and scoots closer to her, keeping his one hand in hers while the other arm drapes itself over her waist, and he can feel her relax into the touch.

"It's okay," he says.

It's easier for him to adjust to so much physical contact when he's the one initiating. He knows that's why she only reached out to hold his hand. If she had it her way, she would've already been cuddling with him as soon as they laid down, but he likes that she gives him the space to initiate it. In the ways it counts the most, she cares about him more than anyone else has.

The touch in itself is his way of accepting her apology. However, truth be told, he already forgave her for it before knowing his love was reciprocated could be a possibility.

Right when she's about to fall asleep, the screen door slamming open and shut with the wind on the back porch makes her whip her head around to look over her shoulder in the direction of the sound. It seems like every time he successfully distracts her from it, the storm finds new ways of reminding her of what's happening outside of the safety of the Chateau.

There's the sound of a barely audible, sharp inhale, then her whispering into the dark room as she looks at the closed door, "I can't believe I went out into that. What the fuck was I thinking?"

It's beginning to close in on her again; the sounds of the storm, the sense of being trapped no matter how safe they truly are, and the rising tidal wave of anxiety that picks up speed the more she tries to will it to stop. This is the part where she tries to relieve it in some way, usually by smoking weed to sleep or going to one of her parents so they can help her through it, but she can't help herself right now.

Debris was being picked and tossed around in the wind like it weighed nothing when she was out there, she could've been knocked into the marsh or struck by a piece of debris.

How could she be so stupid?

Not only could she have hurt herself, she could've hurt JJ knowing that he'd likely follow her out into the storm to bring her back inside, and the thought of him being hurt makes the tension in her chest heavier. Her breathing picks up speed, the anxiety starting to snowball out of control when—

"Hey, look at me," JJ says, reaching up to turn her head to face him, and she damn near crumbles in relief at feeling his hand cup her cheek. It doesn't make it all disappear, but it provides a momentary comfort that she doesn't take for granted. "You're safe here. You know damn well I'll do anything to protect you. I mean, shit, dude, if I have to go out there and tell that rain to fuck off, I will."

This draws out a laugh from her, chest stuttering with the happy sound through the tears glistening in her eyes, and he never wants to stop hearing it. His thumb swipes away the first teardrop that falls before it can slip over the apples of her cheeks. I'm Her quiet cries and shaky breaths continue for a while after the laughter disappears. For a second or two, he watches with his thumb still wiping her tears away and hopes that it'll be enough to comfort her, but it can't do it completely.

He pulls away from her to get up from the bed with an idea popping into his mind, but upon hearing her whine at the loss of contact with him, he pauses to say, "I'll be back quick, don't worry."

The remaining humorous side of her left wonders if he's actually gonna go tell the rain to fuck off, but he's just opening the bedroom door to trot out into the living room.

A candle burning on the coffee table illuminates the space for him, guiding him straight to the forgotten backpack she left slumped against the arm of the couch hours before their relationship was changed for the better. It takes him an instant to get there and back with the bag in hand, and he's digging through it for a second before climbing back into bed with her.

If anyone else rifled through her bag, sifted through her personal belongings, and dug her phone out of it, she'd probably be annoyed, but she never is with him. She's inherently protective of her things, but JJ can do whatever he wants and it has always been that way. It should've been the first warning of what was to come.

He pulls the sheet back over his body and scoots up close to her, trying to resist the urge to retreat at first when he maneuvers her to lay with her head on his shoulder. It should trigger the flight or fight response that often alarms in his head, but he's able to push it away.

She's so vulnerable right now, so gentle and in need of the warmth of another person that he isn't as intimidated. It's not that she couldn't hurt him if she wanted to right now, she could, but he knows her. He knows that the last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt him, so he has to remind himself of that and give himself the permission to enjoy the physical intimacy of her touch. The part of him that questions if he even deserves it can't reach him now, not when he's so focused on her.

"Thumb?" he asks with the phone held out expectantly.

The screen is less than two inches from her face, so she has to push it back slightly, but she flattens her thumb to the button without further hesitation.

When he unwraps the pair of headphones from around the palm of his hand and plugs them into the charging port, she realizes why he left in the first place.

When she was facing away from him, eyes shut and headphones in to distract herself with music earlier, he was stealing glances at her every so often. He tried to keep away from her for the most part. It was difficult though, especially knowing what she said about being jealous the night of the party and knowing how scared she was of the hurricane. He couldn't help but keep an eye on her, for both his own selfish needs and his worry for her.

He keeps an arm tucked around her, pressing her body into his while he pops one of the headphones into her ear and the other into his. The thing is, her eyes aren't trained on the screen like his are once he starts looking through her vast collection of not-so-legally acquired music for a song that suits both of their tastes, they're trained on him.

Their taste in music tends to diverge in certain ways and overlap in others, so there's always a fifty/fifty shot of him liking what she plays when she's the one picking the music. That is why he smiles to himself and halts the endless scrolling in its tracks to hover his thumb over one song.

He obviously heard it before she played it that one time, but it's different for him now. They were riding together in the backseat of the Twinkie on the way to the beach with John B, Kie, and Pope when they let her take her turn to play a song.

That's how it is with them, the driver goes first, then it goes to the front seat passenger, and so on and so on until they make their way back to the beginning of the rotation. It was her turn when she picked this song, and it could've been the song, or the sunset shining through the window, but he felt as though his heart exploded when he looked at her in the middle of it.

He remembers feeling confused, confused as to why he couldn't catch his breath and why he suddenly adored the song he only heard casually a couple of times.

It was her. It was everything about her. The soft hum of her voice murmuring the lyrics, too shy to actually sing them in the presence of anyone else, was too delicate for the others to appreciate over the sounds of the van. He heard it though. He clung to it and admired her, so unashamed in his staring that he didn't realize he was doing it. It wasn't until she noticed that he stopped.

"Do I still have ice cream on my face or something?"

Her fingers came up to wipe at the corner over her mouth, and the action sent him turning his attention away quicker than he knew he could move, pulling the lighter out of his pocket to fiddle with as he mumbled, "Yeah, but you got it off now."

The cheery melody of Just Like Heaven bursts out of each headphone into their ears.

How did he know? How is he constantly reading her mind without realizing it?

This was her first song on the couch that she couldn't stand to sit through without thinking, naturally, of him when confronted with the topic of love. Somehow, it's like he knew that, and instead of feeling exposed and scared he'll know her feelings like before, she feels loved.

She is never skipping this song again.

"Go to sleep," he murmurs, clicking the screen off and resting it on his stomach.

It takes him a short thirty seconds to fall into an easy, calm pattern of breathing that tells her he isn't asleep, but soon will be. But she's fighting her sleepiness to continue looking at him. His eyes are fluttered shut, hair messy on the pillow, and she'd want to reach up to kiss him if he weren't trying to fall asleep.

Instead, she settles for matching her quickened breaths to the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand and shuts her eyes along with him.

By the time the song reaches its end, she thinks he's asleep, but she still whispers, "Thank you," and feels his arm squeeze around her body in response.

The next songs fade into white noise at this point for her, drowning out the storm to the point where she begins to forget it's happening out there.

Maybe they can be each other's safe place when things get rough. After all, he handled this wonderfully considering his lack of experience with her anxiety and she never pushes him on his plethora of unsorted issues, even when she wants so badly to be the one to initiate the touch.

She never makes him think she pities him, or wants to "fix" him like so many partners with savior complexes who will never try to understand how it feels often do in these situations. With each other, maybe it doesn't have to be so complicated anymore, even when they have those inevitable arguments here or there.

The last thing he does before allowing himself to be dragged under is brush his lips on her forehead in a tender kiss. And when he eventually wakes to the rising sun shining through the windows in the aftermath of the violent hurricane, she's still there.

Tag List: @jjjmaybank, @its-simply-fanfiction, @naughtydild0swaggins.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx s2 #obx #fanfiction

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