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brewsterispunkk · 3 years ago

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la que amo.

part i.

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader.

warnings: PTSD, character death (tom), bad words (lol), angst to fluff (sorry) , idiots in love™, the boys dealing with the aftermath of Colombia, sad!frankie, my amatuer writing.

WC: 5k

A/N: this was so self-indulgent i’m not even sorry about it. the work this is named after is Pablo Neruda’s translation of Romeo and Juliet which you can find here . This is part one, the second part will be much lighter I promise .this is also my first time writing Frankie so pls lmk what u think or if you want tagged in later fics :) xx, L

summary: One time you take care of Frankie, and one time he takes care of you <3

There weren’t many things you kept from Frankie Morales.

In the better part of the decade that you’d known him, the secrets between you were few. On your end, at least. He knew everything about you; From the little things like how you took your coffee or what your guilty pleasure romcom was (My Big Fat Greek Wedding–he’d been forced to watch it with you too many times to forget) or where you kept your spare key, to the bigger, heavier things like the knee injury that got you discharged and still gives you grief when it rains, or your fucked up relationship with your family, or your tells when the flashbacks were particularly horrible.

You knew his shit, too. This wasn’t some one-way street; If you were the face of a coin, Frankie was the other side. You’d been there through his messy break-up with Caroline, his relapse and license fiasco, the aftermath of Colombia. Grieving Tom.

Pope hadn’t been there for that. Where the rest of the boys returned home and found their own ways of coping with Colombia (Benny with his fighting, Will with writing and speaking, Frankie with regular therapy), Santi had run off to come to terms with it. Left them all in the dust. He was Lord knows where, doing Lord knows what, and rarely checking in to let them know he was still breathing. Will and Benny could get by fine like that; They knew Pope’s nature. They loved him, of course, like a brother, but they still had each other. Their own blood, a bond that even distance and time couldn’t break. There had been a time when Frankie thought that about himself and Santiago Garcia, too, but after Colombia, everything he thought he knew about himself seemed to be thrown to the wind.

The nightmares returned. It had been the first night he was back, and he’d told you to come over for dinner with him and the Miller boys, something you’d done a million times before. Only this time, it was nothing like usual.

You’d gotten the call as you sat with your mom and sister at your parents’ kitchen table for your usual Saturday evening coffee-date. You’d scoffed, rolling your eyes as you thought it was your boss calling you in to see if you could pick up a shift. When you turned your phone over, your heart stopped.

Incoming Call from: Catfish Morales…

You audibly gasped and stood from the worn wooden chair, causing your mother and sister to cease their chatter.

“Who the hell is ‘Catfish–’” your sister began.

You answered the call.

“Frankie?”

If you hadn’t been so worried, so hopeful, you’d have been embarrassed at how desperate your voice sounded. How wrecked. You’d done a good job at hiding how on edge you’d been as you sat with your mom and sister, trying to ignore the intrusive thoughts of the last few days. Your mind was running wild with thoughts that had dominated it these past few days since he’d been supposed to be back. Is he okay? Is he alive? Has someone found his phone and is calling me to return it to him?

“Hey, cariño,” The familiar deep rasp hit your ears like a bucket of cold water, and you sighed. Your eyes fell shut in both relief and frustration.

He was alive. He was here, on the other end of the phone, talking to you.

“Frankie.”

“Hi, baby.” He sounded tired, worn out. His voice rough and unused like he’d just woken up from a nightmare. You wondered if he had.

The nickname didn’t miss you though.

“Baby,” he’d called you. Frankie only called you that endearment for two reasons. One, whether he was trying to annoy the ever-loving hell out of you, or two, when he was trying to get something out of you or convince you of something. Oh. He knew you would be mad. He was trying to soften the blow of whatever he was about to tell you.

“Don’t ‘Baby,’ me Francisco Morales, where the hell have you been? Where are you now? What happened?”

You could practically see his wince in your head at your tone of voice. He hated when you were angry, when you fought. He’d said so on multiple occasions throughout the course of your friendship. But—his sweet words and puppy eyes weren’t going to get him out of this one. You deserved answers.

“Look, honey, I–We’re at my place now. Just got in. I would’ve called sooner, but my phone died three days in and I just got a chance to charge it, I,”

He stopped himself and you waited. You held your breath, and still nothing. You could tell that this was different than anything you’d experienced with him before. This wasn’t a nightmare or a war flashback. You’d never heard him like this. Finally he spoke, voice smaller than you’d ever heard it.

“Can you come over?”

“I’m already on my way,” you said matter-of-factly, hands already grabbing your purse and keys. It was still warm where you were in Florida, so you didn’t need a coat. The thick flannel you had stolen from either Will or Frankie (you couldn’t remember which) a few years ago insulated you enough from the chilly breeze outside. Your mom and sister looked at you in understanding as you made your way to the door.

“Who’s with you,” you asked him as you unlocked your beat-up SUV, balancing your phone between your shoulder and cheek. You fumbled with your keys, trying to find the right one and not being able to do it fast enough. The only thing on repeat in your mind was Frankie, Frankie, Frankie.

“Uh, Benny and Will are here with me. Santi’s gone rogue.” You sighed and cursed under your breath. Of course he had. That bastard.

You loved Santi. You did. He was just as much a brother to you as the Miller boys, and had accepted you into the group with open arms when Frankie introduced you, his new “girl best friend and retired army medic,” to the group. However, just like the rest of you, Santi’s time serving had royally fucked him over. It had fucked up his head, and fucked up his way of dealing with things, of coping. Where Frankie would close in on himself, Santi would explode. He’d run off—whether it be to California, Canada, or, most recently, Colombia—and go months without writing or calling. He’d become a ghost, and in doing so, he’d leave the rest of you in the dust behind him.

The three of you had learned to deal with it. It had been easy for you; You’d joined late in the game, and had never actually served with them. You’d never learned to depend on Santi the way the others had. You had Frankie for that. The Millers always had each other, and though Benny had taken it hard the first few times, he learned to live with it. Frankie though, Frankie was another story. He never learned to cope with his best friend’s leaving. And if this mission ended nearly as badly as you thought it did, you knew that this time would be no different.

“Okay. And Redfly?” You asked, trying to get a gauge of the situation. Santi, you could see running off. Tom? Not a chance. He took his family too seriously for that.

You heard what sounded like a deep exhale from the other end of the line, before a warbly voice replaced it.

“Uhm,” He choked, voice on the verge of breaking. “Yeah he didn’t, uhm, he didn’t make it.”

Shit. You thought of Molly, you thought of his girls. Their faces flashed in your mind. Your mind wandered to the last time you’d seen him, at one of those stupid barbeques Benny insisted on throwing every other weekend in the summer. How real he looked then, in your mind. How alive. You saw how he held Valentina for the first time when Frankie first brought her around, before he and Caroline had decided to take a break after his bust. You thought of Frankie’s eyes looking at him. His friend. His brother in arms. You thought of him cold, still. You thought of how it could’ve been Frankie.

Frankie. Frankie is here. Frankie is alive. Focus on that.

“Oh my god, Frank. Oh my god, I’m so sor—”

“I just really need you here right now, ok?” He sounded broken, more so than you’d ever heard him. “I just need my best friend right now, and–”

“I’m five minutes away. Do you need me to bring you anything? Do Benny or Will–”

“No, no, we’re good.” He spoke, clearing his throat. In your mind’s eye, you could see his face, brows furrowed the way they always do when he’s trying to blink away tears. “Will’s ordering Chinese right now. Benny’s in the shower.”

He sighed, and you reached a red light. You didn’t know what to say.

“I’ll see you in a few.” He said, before ending the call.

The rest of the way, you sped like you had the devil at your heels. Stop signs be damned. Your keys were barely out of the ignition before you were throwing open your car door and racing up the gravel to Frankie’s front door, purse long forgotten in the passenger seat. From the big window facing the driveway, you could see Benny’s silhouette, pacing with his arms crossed. Will and Frankie were nowhere to be seen.

You didn’t bother knocking as you reached the door—you were well past that, and even if you weren’t you didn’t care enough for politeness when three hours ago you thought your best friend was dead, and now here he was, on the other side of the door.

When you opened the door, it was Benny who was on you first. He wrapped you in a bear hug, no words uttered. His long, sinewy arms wrapped around your back and shoulders familiarly. You sighed into his chest and inhaled, his damp hair hitting your neck.

He smelled like Frankie’s body-wash. It was a familiar scent. Frankie had used the same one in all the years you’d known him. You’d grown to acquaint that deep, earthy pine smell with him. With Frankie. Your Frankie. Smelling it on Benny, something was different. Missing. The scent of the body wash was still there, familiar enough, but it wasn’t him. There was something more to Frankie’s scent, something distinctly him that gave you the comfort it provided.

“Hi Ben,” you whispered. He half-sighed, half-whimpered into your shoulder and it nearly broke your heart. You felt his chin digging into the meat of your shoulder.

Never in a million years had you heard Benny be so quiet, so solemn. He was the heart of the group, the humor. He always greeted you with a cheesy pick-up line or half-assed flirting, and in all the years you’d known him, you’d never seen him cry.

He pulled back from the hug, eyes red-rimmed and glassy. His bottom lip wobbled only a little before his lips pursed.

“It’s good to see you,” he mustered before sniffling and shaking his head. “I-uh,” he cleared his throat before continuing.

“Fish, uh, he’s in the bathroom. You should go see him. I ain’t never seen him like this before. If Pope,” he cut himself off, but you knew what he was going to say.

If Pope were here, he’d know what to do. You nodded.

But Pope wasn’t here. He never fucking was. Not when the going got tough. That’s where you stepped in. You gave Benny a smile and reached up to slide a piece of hair away from his forehead.

“Thanks, Ben.” You thanked him. Benny had always been a faithful friend to you, always thinking of others before himself. Pure, go-lucky Benjamin Miller. Sunshine in human form. And you were positive that he was the only one in the group who could see right through you when it came to Frankie. The only one who knew how you truly felt about your best friend. Once upon a time you’d thought that it’d been Will who was the most observant of the group, with his sharp eyes and pointed looks. With time though, you’d found it to be Benny. He was always the first one to notice when something was off. People wrote him off; he was Benny Miller, ladies man or Benny Miller, life of the party. You knew better though, while he was all those things, he was more. He was caring and cunning and observant. He always knew what you were thinking before you even did. He’d get this knowing look in his eyes, and it felt like he could see right through you. You felt like that now.

“I’m gonna go sit with Will. Uhm, listen for the food, okay?” He tried to give his usual crooked grin but failed.

“Sure thing, Ben.” You turned down the hall and toward the bathroom.

Frankie was standing hunched over the sink, leaning his two hands on either side, head hung between his shoulders. You could hear his rhythmic breaths.

In, hold five seconds, out. Repeat.

It was an exercise you’d learned at the veteran’s center, it was supposed to help with symptoms of PTSD. He hadn’t changed out of his clothes, it seemed. His gray t-shirt and jeans, though clean, were rumpled. When your hand touched his shoulder, he jumped. Deep brown eyes turned to you, wide like a scared animal.

You froze, and for a moment neither of you said a thing.

You’d give him a moment to react; To realize it was you, that he was safe before letting him make the next move. The eye contact felt electrically charged, you were unable to break away. The pain in his brown eyes was more than you could bear, more than you’d ever seen before. They were glassy in a way that you’d only seen when Val was born, or when he and Caroline decided to end things for good.

Then he snapped out of it.

Frankie Morales let out a whimper, a whimper that tore through your chest like a bullet, before you were pulled into his arms like you had never belonged anywhere else. One hand came under your arm across your back to hold your shoulder, while his other grasped for your waist like you’d disappear if he didn’t hold you tight enough. His head fell to the crook of your neck and he exhaled, breathing you in.

Frankie was here. He was alive and pulsing and breathing and a little beaten up, but he was here.

Your mind held onto that before you allowed it to spiral into all of the “what-ifs.” Frankie was here, he was breathing, and he was holding you, and that was all that mattered. He half-sobbed, half-spoke your name into your neck as you held him under the fluorescent light of his bathroom. You felt the damp of his tears on your neck. Your hand reached up to thread through his hair and you felt him relax into you, chest against yours.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok. You’re ok. It’s ok, Frank. It’s ok.” you hushed him, one hand in his hair and the other skating across his back as he clutched onto you. His hands fisted your shirt.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking dumb,” his words were muffled by your shoulder as he choked them out, still overcome with tears.

“You fucking told me not to take this job. You told me it was a bad idea, that it’d be dangerous but I didn’t listen to you, and—”

“Hey, hey. No. No, don’t apologize–”

“But I–”

“Frankie, you have nothing to apologize for, honey, nothing. Just stop. It’s ok. We’re ok.”

“But I worried you,” he said, finally pulling back and wiping his eyes. You scoffed a bit at that.

“You worry me whenever you five get together,” you quipped, before freezing. Frankie’s eyes lit up a bit at what you were referring to; The ridiculous shenanigans that would ensue when the five former Delta Force soldiers would get together. It was something you’d joke about with him often. It stung now. His face fell.

Four. It would only be the four of them now.

You both spoke at the same time.

“Frankie, I–”

“Tom–”

You let him continue. “Tom, he. He uh—” his voice warbled before he cut himself off with a sob. You’d never seen him cry like this. Not after a nightmare, not after Caroline left, never. This time it was you who pulled him into your arms.

You wanted to make him feel secure, controlled, safe. You wanted to give this man who had been through hell and back something soft and something kind, something not soaked in bloodshed and violence and pain. You wanted to chase his demons away and quell the storm that had risen within him. It killed you that you couldn’t do that for him.

You resorted to hold him instead.

You didn’t know how long you held him there in that small hallway bathroom, the time began to blend together after a while. You remember feeling content, as fucked up as that sounds. You remember holding him, running a hand through his hair, the soft strands running through your fingers. You felt like you could breathe again; he was finally here, tangible and in front of you after all those nights of no sleep, of checking your phone constantly for a message, of wondering if he was dead in some pit half a world away. The thought that that could have happened, that it could have been him in that body bag instead of Tom made you hold him tighter.

Eventually, the food arrived, and the four of you sat down to eat, silently this time, unlike the countless nights you’d spent over beer and dinner before at Frankie’s dining table. It was a heavy silence, but not an awkward one. It was a silence that bore the weight that none of you would be the same; That things would be different from now on. Now that there would be an empty seat at the table.

Eventually, Will left, and Benny asked if he could crash on the couch; he’d had too many beers to drive. Of course Frankie had said yes, no matter how annoyingly touchy Benny got when he drank. He didn’t want him to be alone tonight anyway. Will could handle it—he always had the most sense of the group. He knew how to de-compartmentalize, when he needed to be alone, when to go to therapy. Benny dealt with emotions differently. You were glad he stayed.

With Benny sprawled contentedly on the couch, snoring softly, you looked at Frankie in the dim, low light of the living room. You were standing near the start of the hallway, the forced conversation having fizzled out awkwardly.

He looked beautiful like this.

The low, gold light made his deep brown eyes appear almost black, their depth endless as he looked at you.

His gaze was unbridled—different from his usual amused or flighty glances. Oftentimes, when Frankie looked at you, you couldn’t decipher why. His looks weren’t unguarded and open like Benny’s, or endlessly kind like Will’s; When Frankie looked at you, he never let what was going on in his head slip through. Something he’d learned while overseas, you guessed. You’d picked up similar habits during your time serving.

Now though, you could see the pain in them, and an almost longing as he looked at his feet.

His hair had grown out, longer than he usually let it, now curling over his ears in ashy brown tufts that looked golden in the light. He looked older, you thought, right now. The lines on his face were more pronounced, the set of his mouth solemn. You missed his smile, or that stupid giggle he’d make when you or Benny would make a “that’s what she said” joke. In that moment, you swore you’d bring him the sun if he wanted it; If it would bring his smile back. He had a cut on his cheek, freshly scabbed over, from the mission.

Without thinking, your hand reached for it. You ran your fingers down the coarse ridge of it before you jerked it away, realizing where your hand had drifted. When he felt your fingers leave, his own hand flew up, his warm palm pressing your own to his cheek.

“I’m sorry–” he began, dropping his hand. Yours stayed put.

“No.” you said obstinately. “It’s fine.”

You ran your finger over the curve of his golden cheek, content at the closeness.

“Looks like it hurt like a bitch.” You traced his scab.

“Yeah, you should see the other guy.” He huffed, looking up at you, a small smile on his lips.

There it is. You thought. You hummed, before sighing.

“Yeah well, lucky for you, it doesn’t look like it’ll scar.”

“Thanks doc,” he replied, before his eyes turned solemn again, looking directly into your own. He opened his mouth to continue before a buzz from your back pocket cut him off.

“Sorry,” you said, before pulling out your phone. It was from your sister.

Where R U? It read. You sighed, before typing out a reply. Your phone clock read: 2:15 am.

“Shit, Frankie.” You said. “It’s already 2am, you must be exhausted. God, I’m sorry to keep you up this late. And you’re jet-lagged and everything, I–”

“Cariño, it’s fine. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you smiled at him, and stared, unable to help yourself. This man was so pretty. You were struck dumb.

You finally snapped out of it, clearing your throat.

“Well, I should probably let you sleep–”

“No wait!” His voice was desperate now as he grabbed you by your elbow, turning you back to face him.

“Frankie,” you reached up to tuck a stray curl behind his ear, your other hand finding his shoulder. “It’s late and you need to sleep. I don’t want to keep you awake–”

“Stay.” he said, not skipping a beat. His left hand came up to hold yours resting on his shoulder. “I just–I don’t wanna be alone.”

Of course. There it was. Of course he didn’t want to be alone. You kicked yourself for missing it. For assuming he wanted you out of his hair. Looking at him, you didn’t know why you’d thought any different.

He was sheepish now, looking down. His bashfulness made you want to laugh. It was as if the two of you hadn’t been best friends for the better part of a decade, the way he was squirming. He looked younger hare, almost like a kid, caught in a lie trying to explain themselves. He doubled back, noticing your silence for too long.

“It’s okay,” he cleared his throat. “You’ve done so much for me already, I don’t wanna–”

“Of course I’ll stay.” It wasn’t a question; wherever he needed you, you would be.

He breathed out a sigh that sounded more like a gasp to you. His anxious face melted into one of tired relief, and you pulled him to you. He sighed into your shoulder as you ran your hands over his shoulders and up to his hair. You relished in having him this close, no matter how selfish it was. He was here. Just hours ago you’d thought him dead or worse, and now Frankie—your Frankie—was here in your arms, breathing and trembling and alive.

“Thought you were gonna leave me,” he mumbled into the curve of your neck. Your brow furrowed.

“What are you–”

“Thought that this was gonna be it,” his arms found their way around your waist loosely. “Thought that after all the drugs and all the panic attacks and all the shit, that this was gonna be it. That you were finally gonna be done.”

“Jesus, Frank,” you ran a hand through his hair, before tugging lightly on a handful, needing what you were gonna say to sink in. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You can’t get rid of me just like I can’t get rid of you and your dumb truck or your shitty taste in music, or that fucking hat that doesn’t go with anything.”

There was a beat of silence, and you thought that you’d finally given yourself away. That he’d realized how fucking pathetic and lovesick you were and he’d ask you to leave right then. You cleared your throat.

“Like you can’t get rid of any of us; Will or Santi or Benny fucking Miller’s god awful snoring.” You continued with a half-hearted chuckle, hoping you were in the clear.

The only sound besides his deep breathing was Benny’s snores from the couch ten feet away. You pulled Frankie’s head from your shoulder, hands on either of his cheeks. You were surprised to find them damp and warm. Flushed. He’d been crying. You gave him a little smile forcing him to meet your eyes.

“It’s gonna be okay, and we’re no one’s going anywhere. Not me, you, or anyone else.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes glassy. He frowned, lips trembling. He breathed out a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry.” he huffed. You cut him off with a shake of your head.

“No, Frank–”

He breathed out your name.

You don’t know what it was—you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. You were scared what you’d find. If it was pity there, you’d rather not look.

“Let’s get you to bed.” You said, before turning to his room. You could feel his presence behind you as you entered the space that was purely Frankie.

A bit later, after you’d changed into a spare t-shirt and some sweats of Frankie’s, you left his bathroom. He was sitting at the foot of his bed; the green comforter contrasting with his blue sweatpants. His elbows were on his knees and he was looking at the carpet like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

For a moment you just watched him, unsure of how much longer you’d have him like this. You were scared; scared that he’d discovered how you felt, scared that after this he’d pull away again. You didn’t know if you could handle if he spiraled again. Relapsed. Your own pain you could handle, it was his that you couldn’t bear.

You cleared your throat.

“Do you want me to get a sleeping bag? I can sleep on the floor.” You said, wanting to respect his space. You knew how some people took trauma fromyour time volunteering at the VA, and while you had talked Frankie through countless panic attacks, you’d never been with him so soon after an event like this. If he needed his space, you’d respect that, always. You’d be at his bedside if he needed it.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “We can share the bed, hermosa. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

It was true. You’d once had to share a bed with Frankie for one hellish “double date” weekend that Pope had planned for he, Frankie, and their girlfriends at the time. However, Gia had broken up with Frankie the week before the trip and the Miller boys were out of town at the time, which left: you. Pope’s girlfriend spent the whole weekend complaining, when she wasn’t too busy making out with him before your very faces. You and Frankie hadn’t let Pope live that down, but you also had discovered that you were quite the compatible roommates.

“C’mon,” Frankie’s voice broke you out of your reverie, raspy and deep from too much use. “Get in.”

He was on his usual side of the bed, opening the covers for you to jump in. You slipped into the sheets, laying sideways facing him. The coolness of the pillowcase felt amazing against your warm cheeks. The bed smelled like him; Of course it did. On all sides of you was that deep, heady scent: The fresh linen of his laundry detergent mixed with the smells of his cologne and body wash mixed with something else that was masculine and uniquely Frankie. The smell calmed whatever nerves you were feeling at sharing a bed.

It’s just him, you remind yourself. It’s just Frankie.

It had felt like hours since the lamp turned off, and still, sleep had not found you. And it had everything to do with the man next to you. Frankie would not sit still.

Every few minutes, when you were sure he’d fallen asleep, he’d move again—tossing and turning and sighing in frustration. You could hear him thinking.

Beside you, he turned again. His back was facing you and his shoulders were rising and falling rapidly. He’d pulled the covers up to his chest, clasping them like a small child. You reached over, hand hesitant, before lightly touching his shoulder. He sighed.

A warm hand came up to clasp yours—much like earlier in the hallway—only, this time, his hand took yours and moved it down.

Your heart leapt.

You scooched closer to him on the bed, his hand guiding your arm closer to him. His palm was warm, and larger than yours as it moved. Your own palm skated over his shoulder, and down the expanse of his chest before he stopped, pressing your palm firmly to its destination; His heart.

That was it.

You moved impossibly closer, caution thrown to the wind in return for being this close to him.

Your body curved to his, your chest pressed to his back and your other arm curling to reach his shoulder. You pressed your face into his shoulder, breathing him in.

You pressed a kiss there, impossibly light, and he shivered.

“Querida, I—” He whispered, voice thick.

This man, you thought, brain addled and heavy with sleep and his closeness. This beautiful, gentle man needs to rest. The rest will be here in the morning.

So, you shushed him. You pressed your forehead into his shoulder and whispered.

“Sleep.”

#Frankie Morales #frankie 'catfish' morales x reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x y/n #frankie baby #idiots to lovers #friends to lovers #triple frontier imagine #Triple Frontier #triple frontier fanfic

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michwritesstuff · 3 years ago

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Late Nights (The Outer Banks: Rafe Cameron)

This song just gives giant Rafe Cameron enemies to lovers vibes! Also, Holy shit, this is my longest work ever! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much I enjoyed writing it!

This takes place season 1, before Rafe kills Peterkin. Let’s just pretend he’s not a psychopath. He’s still the resident bad boy of Figure 8, but not a killer…

summary: female reader (she/her) x Rafe Cameron When Y/N finds herself abandoned by her friends at a house party thrown by no other than Kook King, Topper Thornton, she finds odd company in the form of her classmates and neighbors that she has taken very little liking to. She is surprised to learn that her disinterest in all things “kook-related” has sparked the interest of a particular kook. tw: mention of alcohol/drug consumption, slight smut (18+) word count: 4.1k

Y/N might’ve been a kook, but if it wasn’t for her consistent attendance to Figure Eight events you wouldn’t have known. She hated all the superficial bullshit and quickly found herself befriending a certain group of pogues who she would often run into while working on the Cut. Everything in her life had been so easy for her, and although she was grateful, she couldn’t help but feel guilty about the privilege she received while her friends had spent their life fighting for a chance. Being able to find an ally in Kie was all that Y/N had to look forward to as she continued to find a place for herself among the fight between class divisions in her small hometown.

Summer was coming to an end, and with a few weeks left you couldn’t help but just enjoy the moments with your friends. Sitting on the small boat as the sun slowly set, passing the blunt around while you all tried to keep a serious conversation going before blurting out laughing at some stupid shit JJ had said. You had even found an unlikely friend in the form of kook princess, Sarah Cameron. You had known Sarah Cameron for as long as you could remember, always greeting each other’s families at events and having at least one class together every year. But this was different, you had known Sarah but never gave her a chance to hang out. When John B mentioned her a few weeks ago and started to bring her around you and the other pogues were stunned to say the least. You knew that she was dating Topper Thornton, I mean everyone knew that, but what she had with John B was different, at least from what you had seen. “This was great guys, but I promised Topper I would meet him at his party. Keep up appearances, you know?” Sarah said unsurely. Everyone looked around, nodding in understandment, except John B. “I don’t like him,” JJ spoke up, standing up for John B who continued sulking in silence. “Yeah, him and Rafe are always doing some shit,” Pope also spoke up. “You guys have no idea,” Kiara replied while rolling her eyes at the thought of the kook boys she had known so well. You also nodded in response. “Yeah, well I would invite you guys, but I can’t imagine that going over well.” Once again everyone nodded in agreement, except John B. “What if Y/N goes with you,” he suggested. “Thanks for throwing me under the bus!” you exclaimed back at him. Sarah turned to you with a shy smile, “It’s not such a bad idea. I mean you would know almost everyone.” “Yeah, so does Kie, you don’t see her being volunteered to go,” you exclaimed again. “That’s because they actually like you,” Kie replied, smirking when you rolled your eyes at her statement, she was right. “C’mon Y/N it’ll be fun. You’ll have me to hang out with and if you absolutely hate it, we’ll make up an excuse and leave. Besides, it’d be nice to have someone there that I don’t need to be fake with.” You thought for a moment before slowly nodding your head, cursing under your breath as your friends cheered around you. “There’s our little kookie,” JJ stated, jumping away in defense as you attempted to punch his arm.

The bass of the music pounded in your ears as you walked up the driveway. If even possible it got louder once you finally entered the front door, you swore your eardrums were about to rupture. Finding the kitchen, you reached out for two truly’s, your disappointment in the night continuing as feeling they were just room temperature. They weren’t your first choice of alcohol to get through a night like this and seeing as though they weren’t even cold made it worse. You instantly cracked it open, downing as much as you could on the first sip. You handed the other one to Sarah, bumping your open can to her’s in an attempt to say cheers. She laughed at you, “I’m gonna go find Topper. You’ll be okay if I leave you alone for a few minutes?” You took another sip before responding, “Figured this would happen at some point, yeah I’ll be good.” Watching her leave your eyes scanned the kitchen, deciding you needed to loosen up some more you pushed off the counter, “I need something stronger,” you whispered under your breath.

Making your way through the house you scanned the room for unattended bottles you could mooch off. To your surprise you were pulled by the arm, “Omg Y/N, what are you doing here?” a girly high-pitched voice screeched. You turned around, already ready to use your preppy voice, “Hey Claire,” you responded in a mock happy voice matching hers. Claire was sweet, n just not your cup of tea. The two of you had always been civil, sharing a few classes here and there. “Mind if I?” you asked, gesturing to the bottle of Tito’s vodka in her hand. “Oh sure, just be careful. I’ve gotten fucked up with this shit more times than I could remember,” she laughed while handing you the bottle. You lift the bottle up to your lips, the taste on the rim barely making an impact on your tastebuds. But as you thew your head back and lifted the bottle you took one big swig. The alcohol ran down your throat, a warmth following the path it took as it settled in your stomach. “Ugh, Claire, that shit is just straight rubbing alcohol. How the fuck do you drink that?” you exclaimed, handing her the bottle as you wiped the back of your mouth with your hand. She laughed at your reaction, “Believe me, in a little while you won’t even care how it tastes. Just know that you’ll feel it.” You nodded your head while once again scanning your eyes across the room. A few feet away was a coffee table surrounded by teens. Claire noticed your interest and dragged you over. Looking up from the table was Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s brother, who on more than one account you had gotten into a heated argument about your choice of friends. The two of you made eye contact as he wiped the leftover residue from the line of cocaine he had just done. Classy as ever Cameron, you thought as you broke eye contact and examined all the other teens waiting their turn. Rafe greeted Claire with a smirk and half-nod before returning his attention to you. “Awww Y/L/N, get tired of hanging around those boring old pogues, and decided to have some real fun?” he mocked while gesturing to the lines set up in front of him. You scoffed at his suggestion, “Keep dreaming,” you responded. Living in your teenage years and drinking was one thing, but if your parents caught you doing drugs there was a good chance you wouldn’t have much of a life to live. Making eye contact with you he slowly lowered himself closer to the table, quickly doing another line before looking up at you again. Is this kid trying to kill himself? you thought to yourself. You reached out for Claire’s bottle, taking another swig before motioning it up to Rafe. “Always a pleasure Cameron,” you stated before handing Claire her bottle.

Leaving the room, you realized that you hadn’t seen Sarah for a while. Wandering around the house in attempt to find her you bumped into Topper. “Hey Top, seen Sarah anywhere?” you asked. “Uhm a little while ago, she said she went to go find you,” he said quizzingly. “Yeah, right. Just kidding, she went to the bathroom. I’ll go find her,” you quickly spitted out. Nearly running you got away from Topper as fast as you could before finding an empty spot on the wall. Leaning back against the wall, you pulled your phone from your pocket and found a few texts from Sarah and one from John B. “Hey Y/N, John B showed up.” “We just left, please distract Topper.” “I owe you one.” You responded back, “ughh ok, I’m on it.” Clicking on John B’s name you read his message, “sorry kookie, had to steal her. thanks!” You rolled your eyes at the dumb nickname him and the others decided for you, their attempt to always tease you about your kook lifestyle. You sent him the middle finger emoji and a yellow heart before turning your phone off and looking around for Topper. Spotting him talking to Kelce you kept your place on the wall. As long as you could see him and he couldn’t see you, there was no reason to suspect anything about Sarah. Besides, after about half an hour you could probably make a break for the exit, and no one would notice.

As you continued to scroll on your phone you were slightly startled by the presence of another human standing near you. Your eyes looked up to a boy standing in front of you. He was tall, but you couldn’t ignore how young and immature he looked. “Don’t even think about it freshman,” you said before he had the chance. He laughed while nodding his head. “Hey, I had to try. Should’ve known a girl as smart as you wouldn’t give me a chance,” he responded. You gave him a quizzical look as you quickly glanced him up and down. He wasn’t too dumb if he knew to compliment your intelligence over any physical feature. He reached his hand out to shake yours, “I’m Nathan.” You glanced at his hand for a second before reluctantly shaking it “I’m Y/N,” you replied. “I know,” he said a little too quickly making the both of you chuckle. “Mrs. Nichol said you were the captain of the mock trial team. She talked to you the other day about me joining,” he rambled on. You laughed at his apparent nervousness. “Oh yeah, well I guess it’s nice to meet you, Nathan. Not exactly the type of place to bring up extracurriculars,” you laughed while motioning to the number of teens, drugs, and alcohol around you. As you did you could feel the stare from a certain kook, no doubt watching your exchange with the boy in front of you. “Probably not, but it did get you talking to me,” he quirked back. Nodding your head in amusement at his reply you responded, “Touché.” As the volume of the music had apparently increased within the last few seconds of your exchange, Nathan leaned forward slightly so he could hear you better. “Can I get you something to drink?” He asked while leaning down. “I can take it from here,” you heard Rafe speak from behind you as he slid his hand around to the small of your back. Confused by the situation unraveling in front of you, you were quick to speak. “Uhm, actually Cameron, Nathan and I were having a lovely conversation about something you couldn’t possibly be interested in,” you stated attempting to distance yourself away from Rafe and closer to Nathan. “Yeah, I—” Nathan attempted to speak before being interrupted, “Seriously, Miller, beat it or practice on Monday will be hell.” You confusingly looked at Nathan and Rafe before finally understanding. Just like you would be Nathan’s captain, so was Rafe. “Water polo?” you questioned. “Yeah, you’ll catch a game?” he asked in return. “Yeah!” you said sweetly before a mocking scoff turned your attention to Rafe, to which your surprise still had his hand on the small of your back, it almost felt natural that you hadn’t noticed it was still there. Looking at him expectantly he pulled his hands away holding them up in an ‘ok I get it’ way. “Can I help you?” you asked expectantly. “Care to go for a swim?” he asked. You looked at him confused, you weren’t sure if it was your light buzz from your shots of vodka talking but he seemed just as surprised as you were as you answered, “yes!”

As he grabbed your hand, you quietly followed as he led you through the house. “I’m gonna need more alcohol before we do this,” you exclaimed as loud as you could, hoping he would hear you over the volume of the music. He turned to look at you for a moment before turning back and nodding, showing that he had in fact heard your request. Walking through the kitchen he left you at the counter while reaching into one of the cabinets, pulling down a full bottle of Tito’s. He motioned you from your spot and you continued to follow. “My parents got this as a gift for the Thornton’s but it’s not really their style.” You nodded understandingly, Topper’s parents didn’t really seem like the type to be chugging back vodka shots, they were more sophisticated. Following him through the house you were confused as you walked past the sliding glass door that led to the pool and the dozens of other teens who had the same idea you two had, or so you thought. “Where are we going?” you asked. Rafe stayed silent as you continued following him. Opening another set of glass doors, he let you exit first before quickly following. On the side of the house was a hot tub that apparently no one knew about, seeing as though you and Rafe were the only ones out here. “What the hell is this, Cameron?” you asked. He looked at you, confusion evident on his face. “You said we were going swimming. We can’t do that in a hot tub.” He laughed before handing you the now open bottle of Tito’s, watching you take a sip he replied, “What, did you plan on working on your breaststroke or something?” He said jokingly. “No, I actually planned on playing mermaids. Maybe it’s you who needs to work on breaststroke,” you responded wittily. He feigned shock and hurt, taking the bottle from your hand. “My breaststroke is amazing, just ask your friend Claire,” he winked as you scoffed in amusement and disgust. After taking another sip he handed the bottle back to you, removing his clothes he stripped down until he was in his boxers. That left little to the imagination as you could see the outline of his dick printed. Feeling your eyes, he gave you a smirk to which you sheepishly took another sip of vodka, shaking as you felt the liquid burn down your throat. Entering the hot tub, he sat with arms spread out to both his sides, resting on the edge. “Aren’t you going to join me?” he asked. You nodded, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You handed him the bottle, starting to undress as you felt his eyes drawn to your exposed skin where you had begun to lift your shirt. “Hey! Turn around Cameron,” you exclaimed. He put his hands up in defense, turning his head so his attention was drawn to the bubbles and pressure coming from the jets. Folding your shirt and jeans on to the table nearby you turned back around to Rafe examining your exposed body adorning a basic black sports bra and lace thong. You immediately turned red, not knowing how to react under his intense stare. As you entered the hot tub you slipped when placing your foot on the bench to step in, landing you a little closer to Rafe then you planned. He held your arm as you attempted to steady yourself. “You alright?” he asked. You were able to manage out a “mhmm” as you reached for another sip from the bottle. He gladly handed you the bottle, a lazy smile on his face.

You weren’t sure how you always ended up like this but something about being drunk and outside led to you staring at the moon and stars. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Rafe asked, breaking the silence. You tried to remain calm with his choice of words, not wanting him to know the effect he was having on you. “Just thinking,” you responded quietly. “About what,” you scanned his face for a second, genuine interest radiating off him. “As niche as it sounds, life…I mean doesn’t this all seem so pathetic,” you stated as you continued to stare off into the sky. “Life?” he asked, laughing to mask his confusion. You chuckled along with him, “No, this…pogues vs. kooks. It’s all so fucking dumb. There are so many more problems out there, so many people who need help and we can’t even come together to help people in our own community.” He just hummed as you continued to ramble on, listening to what you had to say. “I can’t help but just feel guilty. I mean what did I do to deserve this type of life. I mean my parents work hard but they’ve had so many opportunities because of their parents and their parents, and it just keeps going. This sort of generational wealth and success…” you quietly trailed off as you realized who you were talking to. “But I mean you probably don’t care,” you said while looking at him. He shook his head with a smirk. “Now I know why Sarah never shuts up about how smart you are.” You looked at him more intently, “what?” you exclaimed. He nodded his head, before turning his attention to the sky like you had before. “I mean, I guess I just never thought of it that way. Kind of blind to the privilege that I have.” “Must be all the coke,” you mumbled to yourself under your breath. He shot you a warning look before chuckling, “might be the coke,” he responded. You laughed along with him before a serious tone washed over him. “I mean it Y/N, you’re just so attuned to the needs of others,” He exclaimed. “Well, you can be like that too,” you reassured him. “Yeah right, there’s not a lot of hope left for me,” he replied sarcastically. “That’s not true. I mean sure you have your flaws, but from what I’ve seen you’re a good friend, loyal and family is important to you. Those are good qualities, and I mean of course you’re not half bad looking.” He laughed at the last part. “Well, Y/L/N, you’re extremely caring, intelligent, and hot as fuck! So, you have that going for you.” It was your turn to laugh and turn red at his comment. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol dulling your senses, but as you looked into Rafe’s eyes you felt yourself being drawn closer. You both leaned in, lips barely brushing each other as your breaths slowed. “Can I kiss you,” he asked. You could barely hear him over the sound of your own heart beating in your chest. “Please,” you nearly whined. Your tone making Rafe swoon as he gently pushed his lips onto yours.

As happy as you were with his gentleness, the alcohol you had consumed throughout the night had made you far hornier than you liked to admit. Leaning deeper into the kiss you gently placed your hands onto his chest before lightly pushing him back to so you could straddle his lap. As you did so, Rafe took a large sip from the bottle, as you looked at him expectantly. He gave you a smirk before bringing the bottle close to your lips, tilting your head back, you let him pour some of the alcohol down your throat. Before you could process the liquid once again burning the back your throat you pressed a heated kiss on to his lips. As your hands moved up from their place on his chest to the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair, his hands move from where he was setting the bottle down to trailing around your waist and landing on your ass, holding you in place. As your tongues continued to fight for dominance, he pulled away slightly. Kissing down your jaw and starting to suck on your neck you slightly grinded down on to him while continuing to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. His hands left your waist, guiding your hips back and forth as you continued to grind on him. As he continued to work on your neck you moaned as he found your sweet spot, “Fuck Rafe,” you exclaimed. You could feel him smirk as he continued. Giving him a break, you leaned forward slightly, changing the angle to which you were grinding down on him and leaving marks over his neck and chest. “Fuck babe,” he stated. “Being so good to me,” he continued as he leaned in for another kiss. “Yes, sir,” you said, testing the waters. You could clearly tell that you were starting to drive Rafe crazy as he moaned into your mouth at your response. Roughly grabbing your hip, he speeded the pace of your grinding. As you continued to litter marks along his chest, he reached a hand up to pull your sports bra down far enough so that your boobs were spilling over the top. The pressure of the band along with the added sensation of Rafe’s mouth on your nipple was almost too much. Along with this you could feel how hard he had gotten under you. I mean, you knew he was big, but this was godly. Your makeout session was quickly abrupted as you both snapped your heads to the sound of the glass doors sliding open. Quickly removing yourself from Rafe’s lap and adjusting your bra, you sat silently, reaching for the bottle again. “What’s up Top?” Rafe asked nonchalantly. Topper looked at you both slyly, clearly knowing what he half-witnessed between the two of you. “Not much, I can’t find Sarah anywhere Y/N. And she’s not answering her fucking calls.” “Yeah, she wasn’t feeling well. Said she headed home; her phone probably died. Don’t worry Top,” you said as convincingly as the alcohol would let you. Topper seemed to accept your answer and reentered the house. Rafe looked at you unconvincingly. “She just left you?” he asks. Avoiding his gaze, you let your hands play with the water. Slowly nodding your head, you responded, “guess so…” “That doesn’t sound like Sarah,” he continued. “Well that’s what happened,” you snapped. Thinking about the conversation you would have to have with Sarah about how you failed to keep Topper distracted and the alcohol finally making its presence in your system known was too much to handle. “Ughh back to reality, I guess,” you groaned out. Rafe pulled you into his side so that his arm was around your shoulder and your head resting on his. “What are you up to now?” he asked. “Figuring how to make it home alive,” you chuckled dryly. He hummed in thought next to you. After a second, he spoke, surprising you in the process, “Stay with me.” “Rafe…” you dragged out unsurely. “Seriously Y/N, that way you don’t have to worry about going home right now.” You looked at him for a second before slowly nodding. Getting out of the hot tub he disappeared for a second before returning with a set of towels. As you both dried yourselves off and gathered your clothes you headed to Topper’s guestroom.

Stumbling around in your drunken state, Rafe grabbed the clothes from your hand. Setting them on a nearby table he turned so that you were facing each other. Reaching down slightly he grabbed your legs from under your thighs so that he was now carrying you. Feeling the warmth of his chest you pressed closer, wrapping your legs around his hips in the process. With each step you slightly bounced against him. The sexual tension from earlier quickly returning. Finally reaching the room Rafe laid down so that you were now on your back while he hovered over you. With your legs around his waist and arms around his neck you gently pulled him in, pecking a sweet kiss on your lips. “I need to shower,” you said shyly. He nodded his head, pulling away slightly so he was standing, and you stayed sprawled out on the bed. “I’ll go get us some water,” he stated as he slowly walked out the room. Leaving the door cracked enough so he wouldn’t bother anyone with the sound of it opening and closing you sat up, finally taking in your surroundings. Getting up and heading to the bathroom you folded your towel, pulling off your bra and underwear as you let the water run until it was hot enough. As you let the water run over your body you stood for a minute, just thinking about everything that had happened that night, you rub your hands down your face, muttering “fuck.” You weren’t sure what was happening, but it was a problem future you would just have to deal with later.

a/n: If you like my work please support by liking/reblogging. Also, feel free to message me about ideas. I haven’t written in a while because I don’t have a lot of time, but when inspiration hits i’ll sit down for hours :)

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lavendertales · 4 years ago

Text

Just died in your arms tonight: part 1

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

summary: you’ve been doing everything possible to keep that damn secret for two years, but one game night, everything gets exposed and things escalate between you and Frankie.

word count: 9.2k (sorry not sorry)

WARNINGS: cunnilingus, cowgirl, needy, unprotected piv.

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!

A/N: Reader is dating Benny in the beginning (he’s the injured party here I’m SO SORRY BABY), Frankie is a dominant and insatiable son of a bitch. Hints of infidelity but not really. I may have finished writing this slightly drunk so don’t come at me pls.

series masterlist | AO3

This is a bad idea. I should’ve just said no. I should not have come here tonight.

That was the endless discourse going on your mind from the moment Pope told you he was going to pick you up and drive you to Will and Ben’s house until you were in his car, staring off in the long distance. It was the monthly game night, which meant that indiscretion, alcohol and everyone in the group being present were prerequisites to a chaotic and memorable evening. And it was always an amazing time. There was always laughter, borderline indecent stories and new memories made.

But this game night was organized on dangerous territory and it made you feel very much uneasy, to put it lightly.

The usual company was expected: Will and Ben, of course, since they were the hosts this time, Pope and his lady, Catherine, and Frankie. You adored each and every one of them, and especially Ben. You’ve been together for roughly a year and a half, and by all accounts, it was a wonderful relationship. Everything was great, and Ben was an amazing guy. You never missed any of his fights, always in the front row with his brother and two best friends, offering him your endless support and love, and Ben was treating you like a princess. You were happy. Cloud nine happy.

Or that’s how you should have felt, had it not been for that pestering, soul-crushing secret.

You had been hanging onto that secret for the past two years, painfully, desperately and as if your life depended on it. Which, whenever you thought about it, it might have been.

Frankie. Frankie was at fault.

His last name might have been Morales, but there was nothing moral whatsoever about that secret you’ve kept so expertly and ardently. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place, but it did. He clearly wanted it, and so did you, and you had been chasing that same rush ever since.

In the two years that you’ve had to keep that moment to yourself, nothing and no one that followed it provided you with that same emotion or that same ecstasy. Nothing and no one felt like that, regardless of how hard you tried to shift your focus elsewhere. You implored your mind to no reminisce about that night whenever you were alone and touch-deprived.

To no avail.

Your own touch going in between your legs seemed possessed by the memory of Frankie’s, each sound felt like it belonged to him. You were the only possessor of that knowledge and things had to remain that way, for everyone’s sake, but especially for Ben. You cared about him too much to let that information slip and crush him. What he didn’t knew couldn’t hurt him.

But every single time you so much as looked at Frankie, every single time he hugged you or kissed your cheek in an absurdly polite and friendly manner, the memory returned and devoured you, swallowed you in an ocean of guilty pleasure.

It had been the absolute best thing you had ever experienced. You were even ashamed to think so, strictly to yourself, but it was true. And Ben sure was a giving and amazing partner in bed, but whenever you dared to think back on that night that you shared with Frankie, you died a little on the inside knowing that Frankie was by far the best sex you’ve ever had. You sometimes went as far as to wonder why that was. You’ve always found yourself gravitating around Frankie ever since you’ve met a few years ago and you always considered him very attractive, by all means, but the timing never seemed right. Either he was unavailable or you were, and eventually, despite the tension you could’ve sworn lingered in between the two of you, you gave up.

But fucking hell, everything about that night had been intoxicating, and to this day it was stuck inside your mind like a blueprint, like it was the original sin. Frankie’s scent, the taste of his skin, his husky grunts and moans, his curses, the selfish yet wildly pleasurable way he pounded into you throughout the night, the way he pushed you past the edges of sanity and tested your buttons, even in his drunken haze, how he pleasured every part of you, his lips crashing against yours over and over and over—

It had been the longest, most intense and sexiest night of your life which now, two years later, you were forced to bury at the back of your mind, for you were the only one who knew about it. As blindly drunk as Frankie had been back then, he could never remember who the woman he slept with was. He had tried to identify her, but no luck. Part of you was eased, of course, it made it easier for you to keep things on the down low, but there was a larger part of you that wanted that again. You wanted that same high, that same pleasure, but nothing had been like that, and you knew that nothing ever will be. You were cursed to live with that knowledge and with whatever unresolved feelings you had for Frankie and shove them down. It was selfish and ignorant and many other terrible things, when Ben was right there, being all amazing and wonderful, but you couldn’t force those thoughts and feelings to just evaporate.

Deep down, your close friendship with Frankie was killing you slowly. It was the worst possible torture: he was everything you wanted, regardless of how hard you denied it or pretended like it never happened or in spite of the love you had for Ben. Your Benny. Adorable, hilarious, sassy and incredible Benny. You loved him. You knew you did.

But he was not the one you were in love with.

It was too late for confessions now, anyway. Too much time had passed and once you met Ben, introduced you to his friends, including Frankie, and you realized how badly things were tangled, you decided there was no way in hell you would allow that secret to come to the surface.

So you agreed to go to another game night, remaining quiet in the backseat of the car as Pope and Catherine laughed in the front, clearly excited for the evening to commence.

“Hey, everything good back there?” Pope asked you out of the blue.

“Yeah. Sure thing.”

“You’re being awfully quiet, sweetie,” Catherine added, turning around to check on you. “You didn’t even sing along with us.”

You avoided her gaze and stared out the window. “It’s just been a long day today. That’s all. Don’t worry.”

“Good thing we get to blow off some steam tonight, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

You faked a smile which seemed to soothe Pope and Catherine and listened to the radio silently, despite the fact that your mind was a warzone. There had been plenty other instances when you’ve been in the same room with both Frankie and Ben and you pulled it off splendidly, managing to create a more than believable façade, but something about tonight gave you butterflies in your stomach, and not the good kind. Nonetheless, you forced yourself to relax and keep the same aura around everyone and enjoy yourself.

It was game night after all, at your boyfriend and his brother’s house. You definitely should have enjoyed yourself.

But not too much, you thought. No over-drinking tonight.

When you were finally at the door, your heart began to pound so loud in your chest you feared Pope and Catherine might be able to hear it too. You gulped when Will opened the door and welcomed the three of you in, thanking you for the bottles of wine and appetizers.

You entered the living room cautiously and you smiled widely when you laid your eyes on Ben, but your heart sunk completely the second you noticed he was immersed into a passionate conversation with Frankie. It seemed Frankie was having one of his good nights; he was wearing a black t-shirt, fitting to his strong arms and chest, a pair of blue jeans and his hair was kinda messy, but just enough to think he actually might have styled it.

Both men smiled at you and greeted you with a loud cheer, but Ben stood up first and rushed to you to hug you tightly and kiss you intimately as he always did.

“How do you get prettier with each every day?” he asked, watching you in awe.

“Oh, you know, a little makeup, a little healthy living—“

“God, you’re the sexiest woman alive, look at you!”

He spun you around and you couldn’t help but let out a flustered giggle. Those were the moments when you realized how much you loved him, how much he tried—and succeeded—to be a great boyfriend to you.

“You do look gorgeous tonight,” Frankie finally greeted you with a hug and a light kiss on your cheek.

You fought many impulses all at once, forcing a friendly smile at him, feeling your skin burn in the place where his lips so chastely touched you.

“Easy there, Catfish, that’s my girl,” Ben pretended to wrestle him.

“Come on, it’s not like that!”

The boys kept joking and playing around, so you took the opportunity to go to the kitchen and place the wine on the counter, smiling at Will. There was some sort of culpability in the way you fought hard to be civil and decent, and one thing that was surefire about Will was the fact that he could tell what his friends were up to in almost no time.

“So, what are we playing tonight?” you approached him.

He raised both brows at you, smirking. “I’ll give you a hint, it’s got nothing to do with Monopoly, honey.”

“The usual then.”

“You know it.”

The usual games included, but were not limited to, “Never have I ever”, “Spin the bottle” and “Truth or Dare”. They happened regardless of the level of drunkenness of the parties present, but they were guaranteed to be much more exposing and fun once everyone had a few drinks in them. And judging by how colorful and diverse the counter was in terms of alcoholic beverages, you were in for quite the evening.

“Poison of choice?” Will asked you.

“Oh, uh—maybe a little wine. I don’t really wanna get super wasted tonight.”

“Benny and I spent the afternoon arranging the rooms for everyone to safely crash here. We bought enough bottles to drink all of our body weight in. We got you. We’re a family here.”

He put one arm around you and laughed. Family, you thought, a pit forming in your stomach. How could you be part of something so wonderful when you were secretly hurting his brother so much, and without him even knowing or realizing how deeply things ran?

Without asking a second time, Will poured you a shot of tequila, which was indeed your so-called poison of choice, and invited you to join the rest of the gang in the living room. Everyone was already in a circle, drinks in their hands. Ben scooched over in order to sit next to you, nuzzling on your shoulder.

“What should we start with?” Will asked.

“You and Benny are the hosts, you choose,” Pope said.

“Alright, how about Truth or Dare?”

Affirmative sounds were heard from everyone, and the game began. You found comfort in Ben’s presence right next to you, doing your absolute best in ignoring Frankie and – oh, for fuck’s sake, did he start working out again or something? He looks too fucking good in that t-shirt, I—

You shook your head, snapping yourself back to reality.

“Cat. Truth or dare?”

“I’m on my first vodka cranberry only but I am feeling bold, so… dare.”

“I dare you to tell us the… most outrageous place you and Pope did it in.”

“Dude!”

“Like you didn’t know questions of this kind will pop up!”

You giggled witnessing the protest going on between Will and Pope, and gasped loudly when Catherine confessed, without much trouble, “photo booth at a carnival last summer”. You fleetingly turned to Ben and noticed he looked a bit anxious, which triggered you in the slightest.

“Are you okay?” you checked on him. “You seem a bit… nervous.”

“Don’t worry about me, baby. I’m more than fine.”

“Okay, if you say so. I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong. Everything is as perfect as it could be.”

He kissed your hand unpredictably, and it made you swoon. Once again he reminded you of the many reasons your relationship was so strong and wonderful that it needn’t have room for arguments or worries. Just as he lowered your hand back into your lap, you caught Frankie’s eyes, and you felt your throat close up. There was something undecipherable in his eyes, something you hadn’t picked up before, nor have you noticed prior. His mouth might be stretched into a dashing smile, but his caramel, warm eyes send an entirely dissimilar message.

The game continued, and the drinks kept being consumed. Catherine and Pope were the first ones who started revealing symptoms of drunkenness, but that doesn’t stop the questions from coming. And finally, after a while, Frankie became the target.

“Frankie, tell us,” Pope giggles, “truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Okay. What is… the best sex… you’ve ever had?”

“Ohh, that’s a good one!”

“I’m talkin’—mind-blowing, steamy, dirty, all you can think of. Absolute best sex.”

Frankie falls deep in thought, pondering over his memories. For a brief moment, so short that you could even deny its existence in the first place, you feel fear. For what exactly, you weren’t sure. It wasn’t as if he would remember everything right then and there. And even if he did by some mystical force or miracle, there was no way he would rat you or the both of you out. All things aside, Frankie was a gentleman, a true friend first and foremost.

“You guys remember I told you about that super drunken night we all had at the club, about two years ago? I think it was Pope’s birthday.”

“Ah yeah, it was on my birthday!”

“When you hooked up with that chick?”

Frankie nods. “To this day, I have no idea who she was, but it sure was the most mind-blowing sex ever.”

You froze. Your fear is suddenly justified and this time, you stare blankly at Frankie, almost pleading him to act it out as a joke or anything of the sort.

But he does no such thing.

“Really?” you ask after a while, gaining everyone’s attention. “That was—that was the best sex you’ve ever had? In your entire life?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what it was, but I’ll tell you one thing—“

“The hell you don’t know. You were fuckin’ loaded,” Pope laughed. “You were so drunk you bumped into the wall and apologized to it.”

“Fine, I was super wasted, but still—“

“You guys should’ve been there. I’ve never seen him that drunk. He would’ve done anything. Which I guess he did.”

The boys all smirked and chuckled, and you felt the incisive need to look away.

“What did you do?” Ben asked.

You turned your head to him, ready to beg for him not to ask questions, but it was too late. And it was not something that Frankie could’ve easily shared, either.

“It’s still a blur, but… lots of things. There was something super familiar about this girl. She was just… comfortable and… homey. Which made the sex all the more sweaty and crazy. And after that, it didn’t feel the same with anyone else. No one felt as good as that.”

You bit the inside of your mouth to refrain yourself from saying or even acting any other way than intrigued.

He was right. Of course he was right, but he had the luxury of not knowing. Meanwhile, everything he might have wanted to know about the apparent best sex of his life was right in front of him. Every position, every whisper, every moan, the whole fountain of truth was contained inside of you, and you fought harder than never to keep it to yourself.

Even if Frankie did just confess that he had been doing the very same thing as you have for the past two years: chasing that same high, and failing to find it. He wanted to feel all of those sensations again, and he had been searching high and low for them, with them nowhere to be found. You could’ve contemplated coming forward with the truth, but what was the point in it? You would’ve hurt Ben, Will, even Frankie and yourself in the process.

It was not worth it.

It had been a drunken mistake. It was buried in the past. You had to let it go.

“Truth or dare?” Frankie asked you.

And there it was. The beginning of the end if you didn’t choose right.

“Truth.”

“Boring. But okay. What’s a kink you have that you haven’t shared with anyone before?”

Instinctively, all heads turned to you and you felt the alcohol burn your insides, already twisted in an unnatural and excruciating way. You gulped, staring directly at Frankie, having that outrageous memory return into your mind, offering you endless flashbacks of the way he pushed himself inside of you, the way he whispered sweet nothings in your ear in Spanish as he made you cum over and over again, the regal way he praised your body with his hands, his mouth and his cock—

Your whole face turned red, and Ben leaned over to you with a smirk on his face to whisper, “Is it the one time we were in the parking lot—“

“No, no, that’s not—no,” you shyly cut him off immediately.

“Parking lot?! What—“

“Are you really in the position to judge parking lot stories right now, Cat?”

Laughter was shared among the six of you while everyone anticipated your answer.

“Well?” Pope demanded. “What is it?”

“I don’t really have secret kinks,” you tried to explain sincerely. “Benny knows them and that’s—what matters.”

Suddenly, Will’s gaze intercepted yours, stuck on Frankie for who knows how long, and he studied you intently, as if waiting for some major breakthrough to happen.

“Not one shameful kink?” Catherine pushed.

“No.”

You were now five shots of tequila in, and you began to crave something else. You stood up to go to the kitchen, and thank God you did because you just heard Catherine dare Ben to share some indecent story about which position he liked the most, and you rolled your eyes in amusement. You knew the answer, too, but you thought he should have the spotlight for that moment.

“Drink?”

The voice shook you awake from your road to tipsiness, which you did not appreciate, but you recognized it nonetheless. You smiled at Frankie and nodded, noticing he was fixing you a gin and tonic.

“About before,” you began, unable to contain yourself. “The… best sex thing…”

Frankie huffed softly, making you ache. “It wasn’t a discrete story, but I’m guessing none of us would be here tonight if that were the case.”

You managed to giggle yourself.

“No, we wouldn’t. But… come on. Between us, friends—“

“What are those guys, the enemy?”

“Let’s not start that conversation.”

Frankie laughed wholeheartedly, much to your pleasure, and you couldn’t help but follow his mimics and gestures exactly.

“But come on, seriously now. That cannot be the best sex in your life.”

“Why not?”

“I—I’m just saying, I mean—you probably get laid a lot, so…”

“I wouldn’t say ‘a lot’… I’m in a drought, actually. For a few months now. But it’s fine.”

“O-kay, uh… that’s… beside the point. Was that night… really the best? Out of everything you’ve ever had?”

You were genuinely curious. You didn’t have it in you to fight off the questions at least, if nothing else. You had to know. And Frankie nodded, instantly making you feel worse.

“Even though it was a drunken one night stand, it was… wild. It was so passionate and tender at the same time.”

“You still don’t remember anything from it?”

“Nope, not a thing. I know she had long, dark hair, and… that we had a lot of fun. I have these flashbacks of us, like… on top of each other, eating her out—“

“Yeah, okay, okay, got it.”

“Sorry for the TMI.”

You took the drink he casually offered to you, and you sighed deeply, admiring without your will the way that damned t-shirt fitted him. Ben wore t-shirts like that one often, and he was better built than Frankie, taller too, but something about Frankie was just… impossible to shake.

But you had to keep trying.

“I mean, you probably know what happened during the best sex of your life,” Frankie laughed it off.

You eyed him up and down without him noticing, luckily, and smiled nervously. “I do,” was all you said.

You returned to the group, taking a big sip of the gin and tonic and resuming your seat next to Ben, who smiled at you and wrapped one arm around your neck, territorial and proud as usual. You could’ve sworn that time you saw Frankie’s glare in your direction, peppered again with that unfamiliar expression, but you cast it aside.

Apparently you had moved onto “Never have I ever,” and Pope’s sentence made everyone squirm.

“It’s a thing!” he defended himself.

“It takes balls to do that,” Will laughed hysterically. “I will admit that is not me.”

“It takes another dick to do that, bro,” Ben joined in on the laughter.

“What are you guys laughing at?”

“Pegging.”

You laughed as well, allowing yourself to get lost into the fun time and chugging the remnant of your drink, immediately pouring yourself a glass of wine. So much for not over-drinking, you thought. But you needed it. The tension and the pressure were insanely high that night, and alcohol calmed you down.

Or it could’ve had the opposite effect and stir up some crazy emotions inside of you that you had been suppressing for two years.

Either way, you had to keep yourself in one piece somehow.

“Moving on from this weirdo,” Will announced, “Benny, you’re up.”

Ben rubbed his palms together, slightly breaking apart from you and excitedly staring at the whole group. The smile on his face was radiant, like a child entering a massive toy store for the first time.

“Alright, here I go. Never have I ever… proposed to anyone.”

There were frowns from everyone present, including yourself.

“No one here did,” Catherine pondered.

“Yeah, I didn’t—“

“Benny, what’s—“

Any smile you planned on flashing disappeared when you noticed Ben on his knee next to you. He revealed a beautiful ring in his hand, and he could not stop smiling at you. His eyes sparkled with the kind of excitement that he had whenever he won a fight, but stronger.

You were speechless and more so in absolute pain. Everything seemed to be falling all around you. You heard not Catherine’s “aww” or her excited squeal, not Pope’s fazed exclamations or Will’s approval. All you heard were your breaths, unsteady, and your heart racing crazily in your chest. Your eyes got teary, and you wished it was for the right reason.

“I thought I’d skip the cliché dinner at the restaurant and do this in a cozy environment,” Ben told you, his blue eyes glued onto your shocked figure. “You bring so much happiness in my life, baby, and I want that happiness for the rest of my life. I want this for as long as I’ve got on this good earth. Being in love with you is the best thing that could’ve happened to me.”

Being in love with you is the best thing that could’ve happened to me, he told you, all the while your eyes went to Frankie, who remained expressionless, to your confusion.

You were running low on air. Soon, you began to shake and feel like you were in purgatory rather than hell. Hell would’ve been a kinder sentence.

“Will you marry me?” he finished.

You opened your mouth, eyes completely teary, and no sound escaped. Your throat closed, your body went numb and your limbs cold. It should’ve been the most wonderful thing that could’ve happened, and you wished Ben a lifetime of happiness.

But it was in that moment that you realized you could not possibly hide that secret for the rest of your life. Things would only get worse—if possible.

“I—I really wish you hadn’t done this with everyone else here,” you muttered, visibly flustered and surprised.

“We won’t peer pressure you, we promise!” Catherine said. “Just… you know, say yes!”

The waiting went on forever, and all you could think about was poor Benny and how terrible he must’ve felt.

Or how terrible he was about to feel.

“Benny, I… oh my God,” you all but cried. “I can’t do this. I—I can’t.”

If it was any quieter, you could’ve effortlessly heard everyone’s thoughts. You knew for a fact there were wide eyes staring at you in disbelief, disappointed and even shocked looks, but you temporarily shifted your attention strictly onto Ben. You cupped his cheeks and pulled him in, wishing it was just the two of you in that moment so you could explain everything and—hopefully—make him understand.

“It’s not fair to you,” you whispered to him, remarking his frown in an instant. “I can’t hurt you like this.”

“How—how would this hurt me? What are you talking about, baby?”

“I love you so much. And I’m so, so sorry.”

“Baby—“

“But I’m not… in love… with you.”

Ben brought his forehead to meet yours, closing his eyes as if processing everything. You did the same, thus bidding an awfully painful goodbye to him, and stood up, apologized to the rest of the group, and walked out of the house.

“Baby, come on! Wait!”

You barely heard Ben anymore; the air was constricting, and finally, years due, you let out a good cry. You hid your face in your hands, screaming into them, with no one else to hear. Your mind wandered off to the pain that you just brought to Benny, the shock and confusion left to be rummaged by the others, and—

Frankie.

The night started with doubts and fears cradled inside your chest, and now everything was going down under. You might as well went back in there and shout the real reason for the shameless way you broke your boyfriend’s heart.

Will’s sudden voice behind you spooked you; you sat again in a straight position, not even wiping off the tears from your cheeks as you found bits and pieces of dignity to look straight at him.

“What the hell happened back there?”

You knew damn well Will would choose to defend his little brother because let’s be frank, who wouldn’t? You were the monster in that scenario, the heartless one who broke his brother’s heart.

“I’m sorry, Will,” you shouted, hoping he wouldn’t come near you.

But he did. He wasn’t as angry as you thought he would be, but rather investigative. He wanted to hear the truth from your mouth, and you began to fear that he already suspected something in regards to the motive behind your gesture.

“I’m really sorry,” you cried out to him. “I love Benny, I swear I do! That’s why I can’t marry him.”

“Because you do love him? What the fuck are you talking about?”

You took a deep breath and cried some more against your best attempts to not break down more. Will hugged you immediately, stroking your head as you let it out. It was surprising that a man of his size and skills could be so devoted and sensitive towards both his family and friends.

“Who are you in love with then?”

That question, which you dreaded for years, had finally surfaced and it did so biting, stinging harshly. You raised your head from his chest and looked at him upsettingly, your eyes begging him not to pursue the matter any further. But again, Will’s intuition was infallible, and of course he had picked up on your subtle signals.

“Will, please, don’t…”

“I just wanna know. Cause I look at you and Benny and… I see you guys happy and in love and… we all thought this was it. This was it for you two, and now…”

He paused, huffing and examining your face again. “You said you weren’t in love with him. It’s someone else.”

Your lips felt sawn together as you kept staring at Will, unable and unwilling to provide a response. Why cause any further heartbreak?

But you were in so much deep shit already, you might as well just confess the whole thing.

“I don’t wanna say it,” you said. “I really don’t wanna say it. If I do… the second it comes out… it’s gonna be real and… agonizing, more so than it is already.”

“Listen to me—“

“What good is it gonna do, Will? The damage has been done.”

“I love you almost as much as I love Benny. And I think he just deserves a proper explanation for all of this. That’s all.”

When you again didn’t say anything, Will took it upon himself to draw the conclusions.

“I’m guessing it’s not Pope. Or Catherine,” he began, watching your reactions closely. “Otherwise Catherine would’ve acted a lot more territorial around you and she’s super chill whenever you’re around. Which leaves me and Frankie.”

Your eyes met his, filled with guilt and shame, and you held your breath, for once hoping that single action would cut the air out of your lungs and you’d be put out of your misery.

“And it’s… not me. Is it?”

You shook your head so quickly and vaguely noticeable that he could’ve missed it. But he didn’t. When realization hit, Will huffed, staring at you in a way which sent pity vibes. This time around, you actually wanted to speak up, and that’s when Frankie came out, frantically searching for Will.

“Pope and Cat are in there with Benny but you should probably—“

“Yeah.”

Will left, leaving you and Frankie alone on the sidewalk. He saw your cried out face, the way your hands were shaking slightly and the pure devastation on your face.

That secret was eating you alive, and it had just gotten to your core.

“What the hell was all that about?” he asked you.

“Don’t start too, please.”

“You love Ben, and he loves you. Why—“

“Because! There are other reasons, other things which influence a big decision like this one! Not everything is as simple as loving someone and being loved back!”

Frankie frowned, coming closer to you as he softly spoke your name.

“I don’t get it.”

“No, of course you don’t. You have the immense luxury of lacking the vital piece of information that I have, and trust me, you are much better off this way. You are much luckier than I am. Although… at the moment, it would seem I am below rock bottom.”

“What information are you talking about? Just—just tell me what it is, why you said you can’t marry Benny—“

“Frankie… don’t.”

“You’re a super reasonable person, I’m sure you have a solid reason for it.”

“For the love of—“

“Come on. Between us, friends.”

His words made you lose any fraction of reality you might have been a part of, tearing you apart. You came closer to him, biting your lower lip and feeling your eyes swell up with tears again.

“What if I told you… that I know who the girl from that night is? The girl you… said you had the best night of your life with?”

He frowned, not understanding a thing of what was going on. “Come on, don’t change the subject—“

“Just—answer me.”

“How would you even know who she is?”

Mouth agape, the words got stuck inside your throat, unwilling to come out. The way he was looking at you, with so much curiosity, pleading for you to simply open up to him, was much more devastating than you would’ve expected.

“Because you’re looking at her.”

Breathless, you watched his facial expression darken by the second, his mind clearly running at high speed in the attempt to verify the validity of your words. After a while, denial took over him, and he flashed a flustered smile at you, stepping further away from you.

“No. No way, no. No fucking way,” he laughed.

You shook your head and let tears run down your face again, which was nothing but a serious hint to Frankie that you were dead serious.

“No, no, no, no,” he began to panic. “No, no fucking way!”

“Frankie—“

“Why would you say something like that?! Why the fuck would you make up such a bullshit story?!”

“Bullshit story?!”

“You’re Benny’s girl, you’re—he loves you!”

“I know that!”

“Then why are you lying to me?!”

“I am not lying, you moron!”

Frankie ran his hands through his hair, nearly ripping it apart, and he began to pace on the sidewalk, the amount of fear and anxiety running through him feeling like a killer on the loose.

“Why would I lie about that?” you chased after him. “Who in their right mind would come up with such a thing?!”

“I don’t fucking know! You’re – you’re afraid of moving too fast with Benny and you’ve decided to use the one thing I don’t know about myself against me—“

“I am not afraid of anything like that and I am not using this against you, so shut the fuck up!”

The idea that struck you was perhaps terrible, downright ridiculous and even more hurtful, but now that it was all out in the open, you had to convince Frankie of the truth.

“Kiss me.”

He stopped pacing, looking at you as if you just blurted out the most inappropriate suggestion ever known to mankind.

Which, in retrospect, it might have been.

“What?” he paced to you gradually, like stalking a prey.

“You said you only remember how warm she felt, how homey and comfortable she felt, so… kiss me.”

“I—no, I don’t wanna kiss you. You’re—you’re Benny’s—“

“I just turned down his proposal and told him that I am not in love with him, Frankie. Do you honestly believe there is a tomorrow for me and him?”

He remained silent, knowing it to be true.

“Kiss me,” you begged a third time.

You did not expect him to actually do it, frankly; you expected him to stand his ground and refuse you over and over, but he rushed to you and smashed his lips to yours, all the while having his hands on your back, steadily going upwards.

Just as you feared, the kiss brought back every single moment from that night you shared: the passion, the scorching hot tension, everything was still there, and you felt whole like you haven’t in a long time.

Frankie initiated the kiss, and he was the one who broke it, catching his breath and looking at you with disbelief. He couldn’t deny it anymore. You did tell the truth. And just like that, the foggy memory became clearer: the wonderful curls he tugged on were yours; your warmth and your taste were yours, and the remembrance of that feeling every time he was alone he now knew they all belonged to you.

And he belonged to you, too.

“It was you,” he muttered, somehow still unable to believe. “All this time, two years of my life trying to find the girl… and it was you.”

He got closer to you, biting his lower lip as he stared you down.

“For the past two years, I have been dating and fucking and trying to find that same feeling, same emotion, and I wasn’t able to find it. I thought it was a once in a lifetime thing and I should let it go. And I did. After like eight months, I gave up. I gave up on finding that girl that fucked me up in the most incredible way and made me fall madly in love with her. Do you have any idea how it feels now to know that it was you? That for two whole years, I craved and yearned and jacked off, unknowingly, to the thought of my best friend’s girlfriend?”

Everything he was saying was sprayed with an understandable anger, and every single word hung on to you as if glued. But it wasn’t about him and him alone.

“Don’t play the victim here, Frankie,” you muttered, anger nesting inside of you too. “You’re not the victim.”

“How the fuck not?”

“Neither one of us is. There’s only one victim here, and that’s Benny. This is all my fault and I acknowledge that, but you lived these two years carefree. I am the one who had to live with this. No one else. Me.”

“Why didn’t you say something after it happened? It would’ve been the easiest fucking thing.”

“It would, wouldn’t it? Except the fact that whenever I wanted to bring it up, you were busy with your many bimbos and then… I met Benny and Will, we started going out and… it was too late for a confession.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Yes, it was. How the fuck was I supposed to tell him that I slept with one of his best friends? Even if it was before I knew him. How was I supposed to do that?”

Frankie offered no reply. He knew, deep down, that you were not entirely wrong, but he still felt like crap. All he wanted in that moment was to regain those lost couple of years and spend them with you, selfishly and unapologetically but again, he knew you were right.

“So much for game night,” he murmured, discernably still shaken.

“I’m pretty sure I just lost a boyfriend and some friends tonight.”

“I’m still here.”

“For how long, I wonder?”

“For… however long you want me to.”

You stared at him, fighting the urge to kiss him again until you ran out of breath. He was saying everything you hoped and dreamed he would in all of that agonizing time, and yet your mind had to be the bigger organ and take over the rationality part of yourself.

“We can’t kiss again,” you said, although your voice exposed that burning desire.

Frankie lingered, debating over his options. “I know,” was what he chose to respond with.

“I should… go home. I ruined the evening enough.”

“Tell me one thing.”

“What?”

“Was it just physical? Since you could remember every single detail… was it just that? A one night stand?”

“Why would you feel the need to ask me such a ridiculous question, Frankie?”

“I—“

“I ruined game night, and… I broke your best friend’s heart because of something that happened two fucking years ago. Two years you’ve been living in my head, Frankie. Two whole years during which I tried like hell to not think about that night, about you and me and… everything that we did… and I felt like the worst piece of shit ruining Benny like that.”

“What did we do?”

The question was much more intricate than you would’ve ever let yourself believe. It was not sheer curiosity, nor innocent by any means. Your tipsiness was long gone by the time that question was dropped on you and you seriously contemplated whether you should answer or not. But then again, after everything that went down in the past hour, what point was there anymore to hide… anything, really?

As much as you felt like the trashiest human being on the face of the earth, looking at Frankie right then and there, feeling your heart skip several beats and your stomach filled with butterflies as you involuntarily reminisced that kiss from mere moments ago, you had to acknowledge the truth, regardless of how harsh it might have been.

You were madly in love with Frankie, and there was no one who could make you feel the way he did.

“It was… a long night,” you said, unsure if you should continue.

“That much I can tell. But I want to know exactly what we did.”

“Why? What good is it gonna do?”

He loomed you again, a dark expression in his eyes. “It might be useful someday.”

You gulped, quite amazed at the boldness of his statement, deciding for once that you had spent far too long trapped inside your own mind, a prisoner of your own needs and wishes and a slave to the fake way you were “supposed” to feel. You had forged almost everything for the sake of everyone else, not listening to yourself and your own wishes. You had done so since you were a kid, always putting others first and not acknowledging the fact that you were just as human as the rest of them and that you too deserved your own happy ending.

You had not been selfish.

You had been a damn fool.

“Even as incredibly drunk as you were, you managed to make me feel incredible,” you said, responding to his touch by running your hands down his torso. “You first went down on me, literally burying your face down there for… I don’t know how long. It could’ve been minutes, it could’ve been hours. You made me cum twice on your face, and then… I offered to blow you, but you refused. You said it was about me, not you. Which was something I have never heard from a man before, and it only made me want you more. Then it was all… an entanglement of… missionary, cowgirl, fingering, 69… it was a long night.”

Speechless, Frankie’s mouth remained ajar, feeling his blood boil in his veins at the mere thought of those scenes. If anything, he had been living in a lie just as much as you had.

He had been very happy for you and Ben ever since you had your first date, but at the same time, he always felt like there was some sort of unresolved pressure in between you two, sitting there ready to explode, much like he was. He too loved Ben and Will like his own brothers, but…

…for fuck’s sake.

Didn’t he deserve his happiness as well?

And if the story was really about you and him in the first place, what harm was really there to be done?

“Anyway,” you resumed, feeling your face and entire body flushed from the confession, “I should call a cab to get home.”

“I’ll walk you home.”

You stared at him, refraining a chuckle. “You should probably head back to your friend in there, whose world just came crashing down.”

“You’re my friend, too.”

This time you frowned. “A friend you’ve been unknowingly jacking off to for months.”

Frankie’s eyes widened at the sudden and outrageous commentary.

“I’ve done the same,” you shamelessly confessed, shocking him even more.

“You—what?”

You chuckled, lowering your head temporarily. “When you’re alone, your mind wanders. And mine wandered to the best night of my life.”

Frankie grabbed your hand and brought you to his chest, his warm breath on your neck, tickling your skin and your senses, seemingly awakening some very poor decision making skills.

“That was the best sex you have ever had?” he questioned you.

You nodded, words failing to leave your lips. Frankie’s body burned him alive, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

He pulled you further in and kissed you deeply, cupping your cheeks as his tongue slid into your mouth, touching all the right spots. One of his hands traveled down your back, ever so carefully resting above your ass, enough to drive you crazy. As a result, you put your arms around his neck, tugging at his hair every once in a while and thus making Frankie moan into the kiss. The moment in itself was unbearably vexing, and as a result, an erection appeared, the premature result of a two years-long wait. He was pushing against you without his will or realization, and you fleetingly wished you weren’t in the middle of the sidewalk, outside your now ex-boyfriend’s house.

The kiss progressed within seconds, disclosing a raging desire and emanating an insane amount of lust and love alike; Frankie’s hands were eagerly traveling up from your waist down to your thighs, teasing them. The gentle tugging you applied to his hair drove him wild, and he only broke the kiss to search desperately for a cab.

“Frankie—“

“If we don’t find a cab now to get you home, I might just explode.”

You could easily read eagerness and excitement alike on his face. You did your fair share of waiting, and so did he, and swiftly, as easy as that, nothing else seemed to matter. Everything either one of you had done over the past couple of years had led you to that specific moment, and it was about damn time you both took what you wanted.

If humans were selfish by nature, then so be it.

It was not just physical, for neither one of you.

You had no real recollection of the drive back to your place. Time seemed to be moving too fast for you to keep up with it.

In a heartbeat, you removed all of your clothes, and so did Frankie. You were writhing and beneath him, allowing him to take full control. His hunger was insatiable, his desires naughty and nearly reckless; he took his sweet time to admire you in all of your glory, pressing fugitive kisses all over your skin, from your knees to your neck, cheeks and mouth, smiling whenever a moan bolted your lips. You cupped both his cheeks, kissing him as madly as you knew how to, to which Frankie could only respond with a very low grunt and sigh of relief simultaneously. His good and kind side were yelling at him relentlessly to consider what he was about to do with his best friend’s girl—former?—and how he must’ve been still at his house, disappointed and broken while he was going to town with you.

But even with that knowledge in mind, he knew he was yours and you were his as much as he knew that 2+2 = 4. Frankie smirked into the kiss, dropping his weight onto you, sliding over to your side to trap your arm under him. He slithered his hand under your neck, grabbing your other and intertwined your fingers with his. All the while, his lips hadn’t left yours for one moment, his mouth taking its precious time to swallow every breath, absorb every sound and movement that you made. This time he was sober and fully aware of his surrounding and desires, and if you thought that your one night stand was the best you’ve ever had, you were in for a treat.

Frankie kissed your neck all the way down to your collarbones, nibbling at your delicate skin. Your back arched naturally, his tongue moving in tantalizing motions against your pulse. Your hand fought his for dominance, but his hold was fierce and unbinding.

You quickly remarked the dark glow of his eyes, how consumed by desire they were, and you fully realized, for the first time since you knew him, that this was where you were supposed to be: with him, fully his and yours, respectively. Frankie held down your shaking leg as he dipped his mouth onto your pussy, keeping your legs spread for him. His fingers made circling, secure motions around your clit, as did his tongue. Your hips were throbbing already, moving against his face and hand, needy and desperate, shameless. The heat in your stomach was building with each licking motion of his tongue, sinful and great, just as you remembered, and your heartbeat pounded in your chest and ears alike. Frankie’s index and middle finger worked against your clit harder, moving faster, needing you to reach your high just as he commanded.

“F-Fuck—Frankie—F-Frankie, I’m—“

“I know, baby.”

He sucked you dry, and the moan you let out was simply lurid. The orgasm was blinding, gut-wrenching and oh, how you missed that feeling. It felt like you haven’t even had intercourse with anyone ever before until he came along—in all the ways. Your body crashed and shivered under his touch, and you pushed your hips forward to meet his face more, smearing him with your juices. When his tongue ceased its motions against your wet folds, he peppered kisses inside your thighs, soft and small. He pushed his hands up your body, fingertips toying with your breasts in the meantime, earning more moans from you. Your hands rushed to grab his wrists and your lungs felt air deprived in all of that teasing.

But Frankie didn’t surrender to anything. Too long he had been starving, wondering and feeling lost. It was a side of him that you hadn’t really thought existed. He was commanding and determined, dark and greedy.

And fucking hell if you didn’t love it.

Frankie reached over and took your thigh into his tight grip, pulling you over him so that you were straddling his lap, your forearms perched anxiously on his shoulders. Frankie’s hold over your hips was firm and secure. There was no escape. Not that you wished for one.

“Ready to take me in?” he cooed.

You nodded, finding that words fled out of your mind completely. You exhaled with a shudder, and Frankie pulled you down onto his cock, painfully hard, throbbing for what felt like an eternity. He pushed you down fully onto him, and all of your overstimulated nerves fired up rapidly.

Frankie let out a tortured moan, but his grip remained firm and certain. He rolled your hips so that you rubbed against him in the most exquisite way. You felt every single thing: the wait, the lingering tension, the pain and desire, the heartbreak, all of it. You felt how controlling he was forcing himself to be, and you also felt your weakness as he made you grind against him.

“F-Frankie—come on, please—“

Body shaking just from him entering you, you let his hands push you down onto his erection so hard that you carved your nails into his neck and back for support.

“F-Fuck—“was all you could let out.

“I got you baby, I got you.”

He bit your earlobe teasingly, but the reality was that he was truly close to bursting. He continued to place kisses on your collarbones and breasts, nuzzling in between them as his hands continuously drove your hips up and down, riding his cock mercilessly.

Your face contorted in pleasure, aching it and needing it as your body began to feel on edge again. Faster than before though, and under his expert and merciless touch, you bounced at his free will, granting his—and your—filthy wish, no questions asked. Your core tightened and the muscles in your belly burned with an ecstasy you haven’t felt since—well, him. You were moaning uncontrollably, fingers digging into his shoulders in a demonic plea for him to let you finish.

“Please F-Frankie—oh m-my fucking G-God—“

Crying out for your sweet release, your body was busy taking in Frankie as he pushed himself onto you, his cock twitching against your spot, burying himself inside of you. You felt his muscles tense under your touch and you figured he wouldn’t last long either. Your eyes shot into Frankie’s loving and consuming stare, his breath slow and measured in spite of his contradictory moves. His embrace soothed you, brought you home right where you wanted and needed to be. Rough and passionate alike, Frankie wanted you to know that you drove him just as mad as he did you, and that nothing that had transpired in those two years matter anymore. His lips wanted you to understand that you were everything he had desperately looked for, and as you convulsed beneath him, Frankie wanted you to have it all.

Pulling his lips away from your jaw, he searched for your eyes again, begging for you to listen to him and feel him through your neediness.

“If you want it s-so bad—“he muttered, “take it.”

His hips stuttered almost as you clenched around him, your climax rushing up on you at last.

“I’m yours,” he said. “It’s all yours—I’m—yours.”

You rocked your head back, the position making Frankie completely bottom out inside you. You shuddered, hovering in the slightest, and clenched around his cock so hard that you got Frankie grunting out loud. You kept bouncing up and down, hunting that almost forgotten euphoria and your nails scratching down his biceps as you climaxed on him. Waves of pleasure were washing over you just as they did over him, your body beginning to shake with each hip movement. You held onto his shoulders for support, digging into his flesh just as harshly, and you could feel him tightening around you too. You both chased the high: you needed it like you needed air for survival, it seemed, screaming for the orgasm you were both denied since that fucking one night stand. He thrust deep into you, breaking you apart, and you rode him through your and his high, making sure you both were left satisfied physically if nothing else. His hold over your hips tightened, and his face contorted with ecstasy as he came into you, spilling his seed through you and all over your entrance, without any shame or any other thought residing in his mind.

Frankie’s body arched off of the bed, his head tipping back as he shouted out his release, loud and proud. Lurching forward, he wrapped his arms around your, holding you close to him as he quivered under the immense pressure of his climax and your touch. You held him against your breasts and tried to calm him down the second you reckoned he was down from his orgasm. Frankie was shaking beneath you, feeling your walls clench around his cock, and you giggled when he whimpered. He sunk his mouth onto your breasts in retaliation.

The treatment didn’t last long; Frankie rolled over and dragged you along with him, pressing light kisses all over your forehead, nose, cheeks and mouth, in the sweetest manner possible, as if he wasn’t humping you desperately less than a minute ago.

“You’re truly a wonder,” you jokingly said.

“You thought I was done?”

You shot him a twisted look, but gained only a smirk in return. “The night is still young, baby.”

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evening-starlight · 3 years ago

Text

Warm Beers

Taglist is OPEN! DM or comment to be added.

Posting Schedule: Monday, Wednesday, Friday

This is set before season 1

All Works Master List

Warm Beers Master List

Word Count: 1496

Victor watches as Kenzie slumps down the stairs, wiping sleep from her eyes. "Good morning, sleeping beauty," He jokes. Kenzie groans in response and shuffles her way into the kitchen. "Why are you up so early?" Victor asks, looking at the clock on the microwave reading three in the morning.

"John B. wanted to go fishing, and now I'm suddenly regretting that decision," Kenzie mumbles, laying her head on the side of the fridge as she glances inside. "Why do I do the things I do for my friends?" Victor laughs and pours her two thermoses of coffee.

"Does John B. like cream or sugar?" He asks while he makes Kenzie's the way she likes it. Kenzie groans again with a shrug, grabbing the food she packed last night. Her father laughs at her with a shake of his head. "When did you get to sleep last night?"

"Like eight or nine," She says, piling her food and drinks on the counter. "Is my rod in the garage still?" He dad nods at her question, and she goes out looking for that and her tackle box. She finds them propped up on the wall near her dad's squad car.

"Is John B. picking you up?" Victor asks as she gets back into the kitchen. Kenzie nods again and goes over her mental checklist of fishing gear. She's got her fishing rod, the tackle and bait, and the food for their morning. "Be safe out there, okay?"

"I know, Dad. I'll make sure John B. behaves," She says. The father and daughter hear the Twinkie pull up, and soon after, Kenzie's phone starts to vibrate in her pocket. "John B. is here. I'll see you after work." Kenzie states and hugs her dad goodbye. John B. meets her at the door and helps her carry her gear to the van, greeting Mr. Shoupe on the way.

Kenzie leans her head against the door frame, closing her eyes once John B. starts the van. "Tired there, Shoupe Jr?" Kenzie whines in confirmation, trying to get a few more minutes of shut-eye before they go fishing. John B. lets Kenzie rest until they get back to his house.

They load the boat up and are soon off to their favorite fishing spot in the marsh. The friends sit in silence while they wait for the fish to latch on. "So, what's going on with you and JJ?" John B asks after what feels like an eternity of silence. Kenzie chokes on her coffee, not expecting such an outright question.

"We're friends like everyone is," Kenzie says. John B. rolls his eyes and looks at Kenzie, unamused. "Don't give me that look. He's just my best friend and nothing more. What's going on with you and Kie?"

"Don't flip this on me, Shoupe. This is about that stupid tension you and JJ have." McKenzie rolls her eyes and ignores John B. as he presses again. "Come on, Kenz. We can all see it. You're always touching and flirting with each other."

"Flirting?" Kenzie laughs. "If you consider hitting and yelling flirting, sure."

"The way you two do it, yes. It is," John B. fires back, smirking at the annoyed look Kenzie wears. Kenzie waves off her stupid friend and goes back to fishing in the tranquil silence of the early morning.

After nearly three hours of fishing, John B. and Kenzie walk up the dock, back towards the chateau. "I need a fucking nap," Kenzie complains, dropping herself on the couch in his living room. John B. hums in response and walks into his room, closing the door behind him.

Kenzie is rudely awoken from her nap when the front door slams shut. "Jesus Christ, what do I have to do to get some fucking sleep?" She mumbles into the cushion, opening a single eye to look at the intruder. Pope stands over her, smiling brightly down at her with three books clutched to his chest. "What is it? Book club?" She asks, closing her eye again.

"No, but it could be," Pope says excitedly. He moves her legs so he can sit under them. "I remembered these books I had, and I thought you'd like them."

"I'll only listen if you get me coffee," Kenzie says as she sits up. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes as Pope dashes into the kitchen to get her a cup of coffee. Kenzie thanks Pope when he returns with her caffeine.

Pope's shoulder sags when Kenzie lays her head on his shoulder, ready to listen to the books Pope brought over. He talks about the plots, his favorite characters, and twists. Kenzie listens intently, excited for the new books Pope will share with her when he's done rambling.

John B. comes out of his room, shirtless, and sees the friends raving about their favorite book series. "Jesus, I didn't know I walked in on a book club," John B. teases.

"You'd probably enjoy it if you weren't illiterate," Pope shoots back. McKenzie laughs and takes the books from Pope's lap. John B. flips his friend off as he enters the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of cereal. "How was fishing?"

"Fine. I'm still tired as shit because somebody needed to wake up at three in the fucking morning," Kenzie groans. John B. smirks when she gives him a dark, pointed stare. "How was your morning, Pope?"

"I cleaned out my room and then figured I'd stop by because I have no other life or friends," Pope sighs.

"Sounds like a loser," John B. comments through a mouthful of cereal. Kenzie stifles a laugh and watches as Pope tosses a coaster towards their friend. "When are the other fuckers coming?"

"Kiara should be here soonish. She worked an early morning at the Wreck. Ask JJ's girlfriend when he'll be here," Pope says, glancing at Kenzie. She groans and throws her hands up in agony.

"I'm not his stupid girlfriend," She whines, punching Pope's thigh. "Why does everyone think that?"

"He looks at you the way John B. looks at playboy magazines and the way Kiara looks at new shoes. JJ never lets anyone touch him, let alone cuddle him," Pope starts, making Kenzie roll her eyes.

"JJ looks at you the same way he looks at food, and Pope looks at books," John B. intervenes with a smirk. Kenzie throws her head back and groans loudly. Kiara walks in, arms full of take-out containers, and sees the boys smirking and Kenzie in anguish.

"Woah, what'd you idiots do to Kenz?" She asks, putting the food in the fridge for later.

"Telling Shoupe that JJ loves her," John B. answers quickly. Kiara giggles and joins in.

"Have we told her that he looks at her the same way John B. looks at his porno mags?" She asks, making Kenzie groan again.

"I will murder all of you and get away with it," She huffs with a roll of her eyes again.

"JJ looks at Kenzie the way Eugene looks at Rapunzel," Pope adds, making the group laugh. "Oh! Or the way Rafe Cameron looks at coke." Kenzie can't help but laugh at that one. Nothing could come between Rafe and his cocaine.

Kenzie continues to sit through their annoying remarks until they're all laughing up a storm at their friend's expense. Pope leans a head-on Kenzie's shoulder as his laughter dies down. "You know we love you, McKenzie."

"Shut up, Heyward," Kenzie shrugs Pope off her shoulder and moves to turn on the TV. Kiara parks herself next to Kenzie as she hears the intro to her favorite guilty pleasure, The Real Housewives of New Jersey.

It started when both girls were bored out of their minds one afternoon when the boys weren't around. They sat in Kiara's living room, channel surfing for something to watch together. They ended up on reality TV and fell in love with criticizing the women who had it all and yelled for more.

Kenzie is nearly asleep on Kiara's shoulder when JJ bursts through the front door, holding a game case in his hands. "Kenzie, get your ass up. I got the new Call Of Duty." Kenzie sits up quickly, not feeling tired anymore.

"Put it in. Put it in," Kenzie chants as she grabs the gaming controllers from the coffee table. JJ rushes to change over the TV to the gaming system and practically shoves the DVD in. "Be careful, J. It's a baby," Kenzie whines.

"Shut up," JJ mumbles back when it finally slides in. He jumps over the coffee table and squeezes between Kenzie and Pope.

"You know there's a whole other couch, right, JJ?" Pope huffs, shifting uncomfortably against the arm of the couch.

"Yeah, so why don't you go sit over there?" JJ bites back as Kenzie scrolls through the opening menu. Kenzie elbows him slightly, a warning to play nice, and starts a game with the two of them.

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overly-b · 4 years ago

Text

What She’s Been Missing - Pope Hayward

In which Pope learns to go down on his girl. A continuation of What You’ve Been Missing

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: swearing, sexual content, oral sex(female receiving)

Authors Note: I won’t even lie I loved writing this. Sexual content under the cut!

After you had exposed Pope to the intimate world of oral sex, he had been in heaven. Every chance you had, you would go down on him, and he loved it, however he couldn’t help but feel guilty at the fact that he never returned the favor.

Getting head was one thing, but giving it was a whole other idea what Pope was ever more terrified of. He tried to bring it up whenever the two of you were intimate together, but he always found some way to talk himself down from it.

It wouldn’t be good anyway, she wouldn’t even want you down there, she would be disgusted.

You never minded going down on him, in fact you loved being able to give Pope the love and pleasure that he deserved. You couldn’t deny the fact that you were having to get yourself off more often due to the more sexual nature of your relationship, but you would never tell Pope that. If he was nervous to receive head, you couldn’t imagine what would happen if you asked him to go down on you. The last thing you wanted to do was push him into something that he was uncomfortable with.

So both if you elected to say nothing of the matter.

It had been another amazingly intimate night for the both of you when Pope finally snapped and felt so horrible. You had crawled back into his lap after getting him off, and while he felt relieved as ever, his face told you a different story.

“What’s on your mind Popey?” You ask, running your fingertips along his jaw.

“You know I don’t just use you as a way to get off right?” He says bluntly.

“Um, yeah Pope, I know that?” You state, but it sounds like more of a question. “What makes you say that?”

“I just, I want you to know that I’m aware that the sexual part of our relationship has been extremely one sided. And I don’t want you to think that I’m just using you or something.”

You couldn’t help but giggle.

“Baby, I know you’re not just using me, our relationship spans much further, it's not just sexual. You show me love in so many other ways Pope-”

“But not in a sexual way.” Pope sighs.

“No, no not in a sexual way, but baby that's okay! It’s still very new for us.”

“I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t trying to ignore the fact that you have needs too. You make me feel so fucking good and I want to make you feel good too, but once again I have nothing to go off of and I don’t want to be horrible.”

“Pope I know that baby, hey” You force him to look into your eyes, “Stop over thinking this so much okay? I’ve told you that nothing is ever gonna be bad with you and me.”

“And I understand the sentiment but-”

“But nothing Pope. It’s something that we have to learn together. As long as it's me and you and we’re on the same page, everything's gonna be amazing” You kiss his forehead.

“Then why have you never mentioned it before? Like, why have you never asked me to go down on you? Do you not want me to?” Pope questions you. You realize then that you not asking him to return the favor maybe has done more harm than good, you have made him doubt himself.

“Pope, of course I want you to, I would love that. But I haven’t asked because I don't want you to feel like you have to. I didn’t want to ask if you weren't ready.”

“That makes sense. But I would rather you bring it up honestly. I felt like you didn’t want me down there.” He admits.

“Pope, I would love nothing more than your head between my legs, but what I need is for you to be ready and confident in yourself, okay?” You finish your sentence with a loving kiss on his lips. “I have to head home baby.”

“Okay, I’ll walk you out.”

After you had left Popes, and had texted him that you had gotten home safely, Pope was left with his head spinning. He wanted nothing more than to show you the same love and pleasure that you had been showing him for the past few weeks, but he had a feeling he would simply show you a mediocre attempt.

He fell asleep that night knowing what he had to do.

A few days later, you, Pope, and all of the Pogues were out surfing for the day. After a few hours, Pope grew tired and sat in the sand, observing you still catching waves like a pro.

“You alright bro?” JJ came to shore, dropping his board and sitting next to Pope.

“Yeah, I actually was hoping to talk to you about something.”

JJ recognized the serious tone in Pope’s voice.

“Anything man.”

“So,” He had no idea where to start. He wasn’t sure how you felt about him telling people about your sexual relationship, and he would hate to betray your trust. “Y/N and I have been, uh, trying some new stuff,” He paused. “Sexually.”

“You guys had sex!?” JJ bursts, suddenly growing proud of his once innocent friend.

“JJ shut up please,” Pope hushes the blond, wanting to keep this private. “No we didn’t. But we’ve been trying other stuff.”

“Okay okay okay, no sex, but Pope, seriously! Like finally you’re getting somewhere dude!”

“Yeah, I know it took long enough.” Pope grins slightly, feeling like he finally was on the same level as his sexually experienced friends.

“When did this happen? And what even happened?”

“A few weeks ago-”

“A few weeks!?”

“JJ!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. So what did you want to talk about?” JJ asks Pope, confused.

“Well, she's more experienced than I am, and she's been, um, let’s just say I have yet to return the favor.”

“What?” JJ furrows his brow, clearly not understanding what Pope was hinting.

“She’s been, you know, and haven’t, you know, for her.” Pope tries to explain, blushing profusely.

“You haven’t gotten her off?!” JJ explodes as he realizes what Pope is trying to say.

“JJ!” Pope shushes JJ again.

“Sorry,” JJ mumbles. “So you mean to tell me that she’s been doing it for you for weeks, and you’ve never gotten her there?”

“Yeah. I have no idea what to do.”

“So you haven’t even tried?”

“No, I don’t want it to be bad.” Pope refuses to meet JJ’s gaze.

“Well, you came to the right man,” JJ jokes slightly, trying to make his uncomfortable and clearly embarrassed friend feel more at ease. “The only piece of advice that’s worth anything is that you just have to listen to her. You can watch all the videos you want, they can be helpful, but every girl is different. You just have to start slow, maybe ask her for a little help, and just see what she responds to and go from there.”

Pope absorbs JJ’s advice.

“I just, I don’t want her to hate it and then never get the chance again you know?”

“Pope, that girl loves you so much, I know for facts that even if you do horribly, it’s not like she’ll never let you near it again. You just have to be confident and forward.”

“I know.” Pope huffs. “I just want her to feel as good as she makes me feel.”

“So she’s good at giving top huh?” JJ teases.

“I’m not discussing this with you JJ.” Pope stands.

“Oh come on just tell me!” JJ exclaims jokingly, knowing that Pope was just trying to keep his sex life private, something that JJ never felt obligated to do.

“Not a chance!” Pope calls, walking towards the water and away from JJ. Pope leaves JJ in the sand as he goes to meet you as you are coming into shore.

“Hey Popey!” He meets you at ankle deep water, walking with you the rest of the way to shore. You both sit down, and you grin as you check your phone. “My house is empty tonight, wanna stay over?” You smile deviously.

“Absolutely.” Pope kisses you. He was gonna do this, and he was gonna do this tonight.

That night, you and Pope were making out heavily, as usual. You were both nearly naked when you progressed towards his hard length. Rather than allowing you to take his underwear off, Pope takes your wrist in his hand, stopping you. You pull away from his kiss, confused.

“I wanna go down on you.” Pope states bluntly. To this, you smile widely and kiss him again.

“Well I’m not gonna say no to that.”

“You just, kinda have to teach me a little. I just want to make sure you enjoy it.”

“Okay Popey, that’s okay. Take all the time you need.”

He was already on top of you, so he kissed you once again, and began kissing down your neck. He loves it when you slowly kiss down his figure, so he tried to repeat the same thing for you. He spends some extra time at your breasts, nipping at them gently. He then works his way down your tummy, placing his lips along a straight line from the valley of your breasts to your belly button, then to the lace of your underwear.

He kisses down your underwear, feeling your wetness through the thin material. He kisses your clothed slit, hoping to tease you a bit, it seems to work as you squirm slightly when he does so. He looks up at you, silently asking for permission. You give him the go ahead, and he lets out a nervous breath before slipping your thong down your legs and to your ankles.

You grow a little anxious as well, being that this was the first time you had ever been completely exposed in front of your boyfriend.

Go slow, listen to her, see what she responds to, be confident.

Be confident. Easier said than done.

Pope kisses your ankle as he takes your underwear completely off of them. He then kisses up your calf, to your inner thigh. He then skips over your heat, leaving small hickeys along your other thigh.

“You teasing me Popey?” You let out a breath, slightly frustrated at the lack of touch where you needed it, but you enjoyed the journey. You also hoped that your joking nature would ease him slightly.

He hums against the soft skin of your legs, telling you that yes indeed he was teasing you. The vibrations so close to your core made your breath hitch. He seemed confident in his actions, making you smile. Pope took this as a sign that he had played with you enough. Wrapping his arms under your thighs, he settles in.

He licks a stripe from your slit to your clit, relieving some of the ache that was there. Once he reached your clit, his nerves took over and he began quickly and feverishly flicking the bud with his tongue.

“Whoa, slow down there Popey.” You instruct him.

“Sorry,” He pulls his lips away from you.

“It’s okay baby, just remember, you’re still working up to fast, start gently, and get faster and harder as I get closer. I can tell you when, if you want okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” He agrees. He goes back, this time kitten licking you softly. You breathe out in pleasure, reaching a hand to his hair.

“That’s better baby, that feels so good.”

He moves from an up and down motion to circles around your clit, then back again to up and down, loving your responses to his soft touches. Figure eight motions seemed to get a similar response.

“You can use your fingers if you want Popey, if you feel okay with that.” You tell him. “You’re doing so good.” Pope moves his right arm, not taking his mouth off of you. “Oo, Pope, Pope you have to make sure your finger is wet first.” You jump slightly, the new feeling a little uncomfortable.

“Shit, I’m sorry. Did that hurt?” He pulled back, worried that you were in pain.

“No it didn't, it was just a little uncomfortable. It’s okay, come back.”

“I’m sorry,” He tells you, kissing your inner thighs. This time, he licks your throbbing slit, wetting your entrance even more, then he awkwardly wets his finger by putting it into his own mouth. You smile at him, knowing that next time you would suck on his fingers yourself.

He uses his finger to collect some wetness at your entrance, before slowly plunging his index finger into your heat. You hum out in a moan as he does so. Remembering to listen to how your body responds, he slowly pulls his finger half way out, and re enters you again.

Pope recalls something that he had seen in a plethora of videos, and decided to try it. Curling his finger, he repeats come here motions within you. You gasp as he hits your spot, not just a few tries in.

“Oh fuck, keep doing that.” You encourage him. He fingers you, enjoying watching you as you moan, but after a few moments, his lips find your clit, sucking at it while he moves his finger.

This really gets you going.

“Oh my god Pope,” You praise him. He takes this as his queue to pick up the pace, you seemed to be getting closer. He licks your clit a little faster, watching as your body tenses. Both of your hands were on his head now, pulling at his hair. “Fuck you’re doing so good baby don’t stop.”

He flattens his tongue against you, feeling you pulse beneath this touch. Pope gets into a rhythm, and within a few minutes, he knew it was working. Your body was tense, you were squirming and moaning softly, and he wanted to make sure you got off, so he knew he wouldn’t stop until you did. He grew a little worried that he was doing the same motions too much, but you cut off his doubts with those special few words.

“Fuck Pope, I’m so close.”

He smiled against you, and began fingering you faster, flicking your clit with his tongue at the same time. With his other arm, he held you steady as you began shaking.

“Right there, right there, just like that baby, don’t stop.” You encouraged him, and he had no intention of stopping. “Fuck Pope I’m cumming.” You told him with a moan. With that, you came on his tongue and hand, strings of profanity and calls of his name leaving your lips. His motions slowed after you came, working you down softly. Once he decided that you were completely finished, he kissed your inner thighs as he did before, then kissed up your pelvic bone, then to your chest and neck.

You were still breathing heavy as he reached your lips, eyes tightly shut. He gives you a moment to recover, pressing his lips to your jaw and neck lovingly as he holds himself over you.

“Fuck that was so good.” You exasperate. To this, Pope can only smile down at you.

“I’m glad.” He kisses your lips. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and let out a hum at the contact. “Now, we do this every time too.” He tells you. The serious sexual energy was dissipated from the room as he joked.

“I will never say no to that!” You grin.

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nyxirrationalstories · 3 years ago

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Yandere Ixión (OC)

Capricorn Ixión Apus (Y/N) looked horrified at the sight of the Capricorn saint who arrived wounded at the sanctuary, almost dying. Ixion had successfully completed his mission, that was all that mattered to Athena (or at least this reincarnation, Sofia), but it was evident that it had cost him. It was well known that Capricorn saints were loyal to their goddess... but the saint doubted, doubted his goddess and as the days went by, this feeling grew more.

Specters, Marines, Satellites, Amazons, Anunnakis, Berserkers, Dryades, Blue Warriors, Crown Saints, Gigas, God Warriors, Martians, Jaguars, Jewels, Taoinias, Pallasites and Druideanna.

Those were the armies that the Saints had knowledge of around the world, but this mission had witnessed some techniques that he had not seen in the passages and not even the New Round Table had knowledge of these warriors.

The only one he recognized among the three warriors he fought was Ovid, the former saint of Virgo... his old friend before his expulsion from the Sanctuary. Ixion was only in Tregaron because the New table had detected a cosmos from an unidentified golden saint, the young man only expected to meet a retired saint or deserter... but great was his surprise to see Ovid along with two other warriors, Zarif and Sionna from what he could hear. At first he could only sense Ovid's cosmos, but when Zarif detected him and they went on the defensive, the cosmoses of the other two became present.

How could they hide their cosmoses? Which god did they belong to?

Were it not for Ovid, perhaps out of appreciation or pity, Ixion's soul would be inside the armor watching them replace him. His goddess was cruel, or maybe it was Sofia who was cruel, and looked at her saints more as pawns than as people loyal to her.

When he arrived at the Sanctuary, the first thing he did was to report to the great patriarch. Chiron looked at her with regret, telling her to go and get well first, but Sophia was stern and wanted the report immediately.

When he mentioned Ovid and the warriors, the Capricorn saint could have sworn that Athena (not Sofia, but Athena herself) lit up with hope, only for seconds later Sofia's disgust and anger to kick in.

(Y/N) helped him bandage his wounds, the most serious being the one on his left arm. The brown-haired waiter watched as the saint bandaged him with affection, with concern. When he was with her, Ixion felt appreciated... something very difficult to achieve in the Sanctuary. For a time it was forbidden to show any sign of affection other than to the goddess, just as the saints, female saints and santias were quite divided. Santias could only interact with the golden saints, female saints, the great patriarch (great Pope*) and Athena, while saints and santas could only marry outsiders or give up armor to be replaced.

--- Isn't Athena supposed to care about her army? --- the Apus saint's question shattered the memories flashing through the Capricorn saint's mind. Amethyst eyes rested upon her, full of adoration and love for her --- Those damned Virgo Ovid and Ophiuchus Ajatar, by those traitors we....

--- Sofia and Ovid were a couple before it was revealed that she was Athena --- Ixion blurted out, that comment shocked (Y/N) who looked at him with surprise and curiosity --- they loved each other like Eros loves Psyche, by that time Ovid was already a golden saint and Chiron was not yet the patriarch, but when it was revealed that Sofia was Athena, whom the sanctuary had long sought, he had to give her up --- Ixion grabbed a ribbon and tied up his long hair while (Y/N) leaned closer to him to listen --- you know? It's funny that everyone talks about Odysseus and Athena as if the latter was their favorite, but nothing could be further from the truth, since Diomedes was Athena's favorite warrior --- Ixion kept silent for a few seconds, should he consult this with Vulpecula Danann? After all, the saints of Vulpecula know all the secrets of the Sanctuary. But for now, he wanted to spend the moment with his beloved (Y/N) --- Ovid was Athena's Diomedes, possibly still is, but Sofia was shattered. His position, his role, had taken away someone she loved... being so close, yet so far away ---The brown-skinned young man grabbed his beloved's hand, pulling her closer to his heart --- We humans tend to overestimate and underestimate love, sometimes denying how powerful it is and sometimes hoping in its power. Sofia hoped that somehow Ovid could be with her and Athena was confident that her new reincarnation would do the same as the others: abandon her past, her origin, and start behaving as she was.

--- And so that's where Ajatar comes in, is it? --- the young woman asked, looking at him with those beautiful eyes to which he had sworn a devotion greater than the one he has for his goddess --- Ajatar fell in love with Ovid and he with her, Sofia didn't like it and... it happened, what happened --- the Mexican only nodded, letting her (Y/N) process the information.

---Every day more, I doubt about my loyalty to this Athena--- the young man's words made a shiver run down his beloved's back ---Forced to give everything for her, returning us miserable crumbs at best, forced to love her ---Ixion pulled (Y/N) into his lap, giving her a hug from behind and resting his head on top of hers --- When love is an order, hate can become a pleasure --- the young man said as he felt (Y/N) settle --- My love for her every day transforms into that guilty pleasure, my love.... has gone to you --- Ixion confessed as (Y/N) turned to look at him --- I would die and kill for you, even if you didn't reciprocate, I want you to be happy... as you make me happy. Be mine, and I will be completely yours.

* In Latam dub, Grant Pope was change to Grant Patriarch

#yandere saint seiya x reader #yandere caballeros del zodiaco #yandere knights of the zodiac #yandere lost canvas #yandere cdz #yandere scorpion zaphiri #yandere saint seiya #saint seiya x reader

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thistreasurehunter · 4 years ago

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After the Rain

Summary: In the wake of a storm, The Pogues pass the time playing truth or dare and, slowly, secret feelings are revealed.

A/N: I’ve never written anything like this before, so I would love feedback.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the Outer Banks characters or settings.

*****************************************

The tail end of a storm was blowing over the Outer Banks. Dirty cotton wool clouds hung low in the sky and the angry gunfire of rain had finally begun to ease into a soothing staccato patter again the windowpanes. The muggy heat of the last month, that had previously pressed against the skin like wet clothes, had broken at last.

Inside The Chateau, The Pogues lounged, languid in the quiet calm the change in the weather had brought: John B and Sarah curled in a chair, Pope reading by the light from the window, Kie on the floor with a deck of cards playing solitaire and JJ on the sofa with a pile of balled up foil and candy wrappers, lazily aiming at a coffee mug abandoned on the floor earlier.

“Looks like it’s easing up out there,” Pope commented.

“Umm,” John B agreed. “Hopefully there won’t be too much property damage this time.”

“Still, the power will probably stay off for a while yet,” noted Kie.

“It will on The Cut, at least” huffed JJ, lobbing a balled-up foil wrapper across the room where it hit the rim of the mug and bounced off.

“We could play a game,” suggested Sarah. “My sister and I play one like Truth or Dare, but it’s just Truth. We could try that?”

“You know what would be better that Truth or Truth, Sarah?” said Kie smiling, “Truth or Dare.”

“Okay,” Sarah laughed, “I guess we can be more adventurous than Wheezie and I can in the backseat of our dad’s car on long journeys!”

“Okay sweetie, as it’s your idea, do you want to go first?” John B said, gently stroking Sarah’s hair.

“Okay, truth.”

The others paused for a moment, thinking.

“What’s your… guilty pleasure?” Kie asked finally.

“Oh, that’s a good one. Um, let me think. I’d probably have to say, daytime tv murder mysteries – Murder She Wrote, Diagnosis Murder, those yellow writing made-for-TV films. So cheesy, I know, but there’s something so comforting about them. I like to watch them curled up on the sofa with hot tea and some chocolate. Sometimes Wheezie and Rafe watch them with me. Rafe teases me about them all the time, but he still comes and watches with me. We’re not as close as we used to be, but in those moments, he just feels like my big brother again.”

“That’s so lovely Sarah,” Kie smiled.

John B pressed a kiss to the top of Sarah’s head.

“Right” Sarah replied, “my turn to choose. Kie, Truth or Dare?”

“Truth”

“Okay, same question – what’s your guilty pleasure?”

“Long showers” Kie replied straight away. “Taking my time to wash all the salt water from my hair, using my favourite coconut body wash, just standing and feeling the spray on my skin and all the way to my scalp, letting my muscles all unwind under the press of the hot water. Washing the day away. Then getting out and wrapping up in a big fluffy towel. Bliss.”

“We’re really going for quite touching answers today,” JJ smirked, “I thought truth or dare was code for ‘tell us who you secretly fancy and what you’ve done in bed’.”

“It’s what you make it,” John B laughed.

“Okay JJ,” said Kie, “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to run down to the dock and back again, fast as you can.”

JJ sighed, “Fine, kind of boring, but fine. I mean it’s still raining pretty hard and I’ll get soaked. But whatever, I’ll get to pick next.”

The blond boy unfolded himself from his position on the sofa, casually running his fingers through his hair. As ever, it loosely settled in an almost gravity defying sweep, that JJ hoped looked carefree and haphazard, but which he actually secretly practiced in front of the mirror. He tramped across the room, playfully tweaking the rim of Pope’s snapback on his way to the screen door. Pope swatted at him, then watched him go, catching a quick glimpse of his toned abs through his muscle-tee as he turned at the door flashing a quick grin at them all before wrenching the door open and lurching off. He sprinted down the scrubby back yard, past the firepit and down towards the dock. The others watched from the doorway as he hurtled down the dock, smacked the wood of the mooring post, then spinning and making his way back up the incline towards the house. A couple of times his boots skidded on the sodden ground and he nearly overbalanced, but he just managed to right himself. The others laughed from inside.

“Graceful” laughed John B.

“Shut up,” JJ barked as he crashed back through the screen door in a shower of water droplets. The others jumped back quickly.

The pounding rain from earlier had eased considerably, but it was still falling in steady sheets. JJ was soaked though, water running from his hair in rivulets and the fabric of his tee sticking to the toned muscle beneath. Pope caught himself staring at the water droplets running from the sharp jut of his jawline down the column of his neck and flicked his eyes away guiltily.

Laughing, JJ pushed the wet hair from his face, then proceeded to shake as much water off as he could.

“Hey dude!” John B laughed with him, “stop trying to shake yourself dry like a dog and just get a towel like a normal person!”

JJ grinned again, but before setting off across the room in the direction of the bathroom, he carefully toed one boot off, then the other, then reached down and in one fluid motion, pealed the tee off his body and over his head. As he did, Pope’s eyes travelled up the expanse of glistening, rain-slickened golden skin and taut muscle, his mouth suddenly going dry.

JJ wrung out the tee as best he could through the screen door, then hung it on the back of a chair to dry off. He then padded down the hall in search of a towel. The others drifted back to their previous positions. Pope went and poured himself a glass of water in the kitchen, then set himself down on the sofa. JJ came back into the room, rubbing a towel briskly over his head, then plonked himself down on the sofa next to Pope.

“Right,” he smirked. “My turn. And rather than picking one person, I’ve got a dare I want to challenge you all to take part in. Everyone game? And just to let you know, anyone that chickens out is just asking for payback – JJ style!”

They all eyed each other warily.

“That’s no joke actually,” John B shuddered. “After the last time I backed out of a dare he kept leaving his worn socks and boxers in my bed for a week. Sometimes while I was in it! Whatever he has planned will be a hundred times better than waking up with his underwear draped on your face, trust me!”

“Gross!” Sarah squealed. JJ grinned, bending his head and flourishing his arm in a mock bow.

“Okay then,” JJ carried on, “I take it everyone’s on board?” The others nodded reluctantly.

“Then I dare everyone in this room to play three rounds of spin the bottle – round one, quick kiss; round two, proper kiss with tongue; and round three, full on seven-minutes-in-heaven-style make out sesh. No backing out, no skipping, no passing your turn. No matter how awkward, you just have to lock lips with whoever you get paired with.”

Pope felt the atmosphere in the room thicken. He could see his friends shooting looks at each other.

Sarah swallowed, looking up at her boyfriend, “what do you think?”

“I’m okay with it if you are, baby,” he smiled, squeezing her shoulder. Then he whispered something into her ear that only she could hear. Sarah blushed suddenly, biting her lip and squirming against him, ducking her head slightly to try to hide her pink cheeks behind her hair, but not before the others had seen.

JJ looked over to Pope, catching his eye and grinning, raising his eyebrow suggestively. Pope rolled his eyes back at him, but inside his heart was hammering against his chest.

“Okay, we’re in” Sarah giggled, “Kie? Pope?”

“Fine,” Kie sighed.

“Y-yeah,” Pope stuttered finally.

Sweeping the cards from the forgotten game of solitaire into a pile, Kie uncurled from the floor and went to get an empty beer bottle from the recycling.

John B trailed his fingers up and down Sarah’s arm absently. Pope watched their lazy movement, aware of the pulse of blood he could suddenly hear thrumming in his ears and trying to ignore the warm weight of his best friend on the sofa next to him and the single, tiny point of contact where JJ’s knee brushed his own leg.

Kie returned and set the bottle on the floor.

“Okay, so I assume we spin twice for each round then,” she looked up at the others. At their nods, Kie twisted her fingers, setting the bottle to revolve on the floor before it slowed to point at John B. Sarah’s eyes sparkled and John B hid his smile by pressing his nose into the back of her hair.

Kie leaned forwards and spun again and this time the bottle landed on JJ.

Pope’s heart sank slightly. Sarah let out a sharp intake of breath, then huffed it out quickly in a laugh. JJ smacked a hand against his forehead lightly, groaning and shaking his head. Kie joined Sarah laughing, “Come on JJ, what did you say? No backing out wasn’t it?” Pope laughed weekly along with them.

JJ pulled himself to his feet and John B followed. JJ opened his arms wide and jokingly said in a high falsetto “Come ‘ere loverboy”. He leaned forwards and planted a kiss on John B’s mouth with an over-exaggerated smacking sound. He then pulled back and grimaced, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. John B laughed and sat back down, “yeah, you’re not really my type either mate”.

“Well that’s round one ‘quick kiss’ done,” Sarah said. “Next we’ve got ‘proper kiss with tongue’.”

Kie lined up the bottle again and spun. When it finally stopped, it was pointing directly at her. She reached forward and quickly spun it again. Pope saw Kie’s eyes fixed on the bottle and perhaps he was imaging it, but with the fierce expression on Kie’s face it looked as though she was willing the bottle to land on a particular person. Please, just once, her lips seemed to mouth. When the bottle stopped, it was pointing at Sarah. A flash of relief seemed to pass over Kie’s face, quickly followed by guilt. Pope looked to see if anyone else had noticed, but nobody was looking: Sarah and John B were eyeing each other suggestively and when Pope turned, JJ’s eyes were on his own face. Pope opened his mouth to say something and JJ’s eyes quickly flicked up to his eyes. Pope closed his mouth and turned back to the room, lost for a moment.

Across the room, Sarah had eased herself down onto the floor and crawled over to where Kie sat nervously. She reached her hand out and trailed her fingers down the side of Kie’s face, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. John B leaned forwards, elbows on knees, eyes glued to the girls on the floor. Kie swallowed and licked her lips. Sarah leaned forwards and gently pressed her lips against Kie’s. After a heartbeat, Kie pressed forwards, her lips moving against Sarah’s and her hand going up to card slowly through Sarah’s silky hair. Sarah cupped Kie’s cheek, her thumb gently stroking along the cheekbone. Pope saw Kie’s lips part and a flash of tongue before the girls’ mouths slotted together again. When they finally pulled apart, they kept their heads close, foreheads touching, breathing each other’s air for a final moment. Kie brought her hand forwards and ever so gently traced her thumb over Sarah’s bottom lip, then, as though suddenly catching herself, pulled it away suddenly, breaking the spell of the moment.

“That,” John B declared, “was hot.”

Kie hummed absently in response, a strange expression of mixed longing and sadness on her face.

Oblivious, John B grinned widely, opening his arms for Sarah, but as she moved back over to him, Pope saw the dazed expression on her face and the slight frown around her eyes. She sat back in John B’s lap, staring at her hands and let him pepper kisses over her neck and shoulder, but Pope saw her furtive glance in Kie’s direction.

“Well,” Kie exclaimed, “last round.”

“The last pair are really going to have to up their game to top the last performance,” John B joked.

Sarah cleared her throat, “everyone’s had a go now, right?”

“No, Pope hasn’t,” JJ said quickly. “Maybe we should nominate him and then just spin for his partner?”

“That’s hardly fair,” John B replied.

Pope looked over at JJ, catching his eye and shrugging, trying not to lose himself in the piercing blue gaze.

“I’m spinning twice,” Kie decided.

Pope watched the bottle spin, vaguely aware the thudding of his pulse in his ears had returned. And finally, he swallowed hard when he realised the bottle had come to a rest pointing directly at him.

“Guess we didn’t need to cheat after all,” Sarah noted.

Kie lent over and spun the bottle again.

Time slowed for Pope, his eyes following the mesmerising twist of the bottle on the floor, vaguely aware of the sound of his friends making drumroll and crescendo noises, hearing the thud of his pulse in his ears, feeling the pounding of his heart against his ribs and, above all, the warm point of contact on his leg from JJ’s knee. When the bottle finally slowed, the thump in his ears grew to a deafening roaring and he slowly looked up to stare into the face of his best friend, who, catching his breath, suddenly looked just as wide-eyed.

“Haha, poor JJ,” John B teased lightly. “Hope you didn’t set this dare just for a guilt-free chance to mack on our girls! Looks like you pulled the short straw.”

“Something like that,” JJ croaked.

“Remember,” John B cut in. “You’ve got to make this seven-minutes-in-heaven level steamy!”

JJ ignored him and shuffled closer to Pope on the sofa.

“You sure this is okay?” He asked quietly.

Pope swallowed and nodded.

JJ brought their bodies even closer, then glanced down nervously, suddenly overly aware of his naked chest. He was so close, Pope could see the fan of JJ’s lashes against his cheeks, smell his slightly minty shampoo, the clean freshness of his skin and also something deeper. Something that reminded him of freshly cut grass after the rain. Even from here, Pope imagined he could taste the salt of the ocean on JJ’s skin. Pope leaned forward slightly and breathed it in. And that was when JJ looked up, their eyes met and the rest of the world faded away, and for the first time, Pope saw his own secret longing reflected back at him in JJ’s eyes. Eyes that looked more nervous and hopeful that he had ever seen them. And just like that, Pope let his walls come crashing down like a house of cards and he leaned forwards until he met JJ’s lips with his own.

JJ’s eyes fluttered shut as he melted against Pope, mouth parting and hand coming up to rest on Pope’s neck, lost in the slow push and slide of their lips and tongues.

Pope leaned into the hand on his neck; the feeling of the fingertips on the sensitive skin setting off sparks of fire along his veins. This, he though, yes, this. He brought a hand up to bury in JJ’s wild blond locks, feeling JJ quietly hitch in a breath when he gently tugged. JJ’s mouth caught Pope’s bottom lip and Pope almost groaned as he felt the soft scrape of JJ’s teeth as he slowly traced them over the over-stimulated skin. Pope felt the smallest tweak as the corner of JJ’s mouth twisted upwards in the tiniest ghost of a grin. Pope pulled his lips away to pepper a trail of feather light kisses along JJ’s neck and jawline, ending just below his ear. His chest rising and falling heavily, JJ tilted his head to give Pope more access and, encouraged, Pope tentatively took the lobe of JJ’s ear into his mouth and sucked. JJ’s breathing faltered and suddenly Pope could feel the sweet bite of blunt nails raking down the back of his neck. JJ brought their lips back together and this time, Pope could feel the build and the urgency behind JJ’s movements.

Someone cleared their throat.

The moment broke and JJ and Pope pulled back slightly, still only inches apart. Their eyes met and the look they shared was somehow so familiar, but also so new, so foreign. Pope thought he saw joy, excitement and anticipation written on JJ’s face, but also a hint of fear. JJ’s shoulders heaved as he tried to steady his breathing. Quickly, his eyes flashed down to Pope’s lips and then back up again. Pope raised an eyebrow at him and JJ replied with a small shrug of the shoulders and a sheepish, almost apologetic little half smile. It was then that Pope’s face cracked into the wide smile of sheer, unbridled happiness and a second later JJ was grinning too, and winking at him, and taking Pope’s hand in his own and squeezing. Pope squeezed back. Then JJ and Pope turned, hand in hand, to greet the surprised reaction of their friends.

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country-club · 5 years ago

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Games #3

#1 / #2

*gif not mine* Warnings: mentions of puke and embarassment Wordcount: 1.959

> Remember Rafe owing you a tour?

Yesterday you hung out with Sarah and her friends. It was fun, though you were left with a headache. Thanks to JJ. The day went by rather quickly and around 8pm you called your friends to play a game of skribbl, an online drawing game. They updated you on what’s going on at home and your ‘ex’. Were you technically dating? You can’t say for sure. But it felt like you did. He quit talking to you a week before you left. In return, you told your friends about your newly made friends and Rafe. Do you like him? It’s too early to say. Is he cute? Yes. Picture? Haven’t got one. How old is he? He looks 18/19. Does he have any cute friends? Well, there’s Topper.

“Oooh, I can be his bottom!” One of your friends cheered.

“I’ll let him know, hon.” You replied.

“Yall I’m beating your asses. Do you want to play or talk about y/n’s boyhunt?” One of the guys asks. You finished the game and continued talking. One of your friends sent you a link over chat.

“Is this him, y/n?” She asks. You clicked it and found Rafe’s Instagram page. It only had a few pictures, the latest being one of him, Topper and another boy, tagged as Kelce.

“Yep, that’s him.” You scrolled through his pictures. Sarah had commented on one of his pictures. You tapped her name and looked through her feed as well. Not much here either. What about the other Pogues? Kiara was the only one you could find. The boys probably didn’t care much about social media. Kiara had some photos of baby turtles on the beach, a few of her looking stunning in every outfit she wore and 2 pictures with the boys. You sent the pictures to your friends.

“Ok, so Kiara is the girl, the boy on her left is John B, the one behind her is Pope and the blonde one is JJ.”

“Y/n, you have been blessed, you know that?”

“Are all the boys in Outer Banks this attractive?” Your friends asked. You nodded.

“Most of them are.”

“So, will you leave any for us?”

“I think John B and Sarah are dating, and Pope looked like he has a thing for Kiara. But I’ll introduce you for sure.”

“What’s JJ short for?”

“Yeah, and why is it John B? How many John’s can there be on an island?” You weren’t sure. You discussed possible names and theories. It was about 11pm when you said goodbye and hung up.

You walked downstairs to stretch your legs, debating whether or not you should go for a walk. Hmm, yes. You grabbed a hoodie, put on some sneakers and out you went. Putting on some music and shuffling through your playlist. The sky was clear, and you could see the moon and stars above you. Your guilty pleasure started playing and you almost bumped into a lamppost, trying not to make dance moves whilst walking. You walked past Sarah’s house and got caught in the headlights of a car on their driveway. You almost had a heart attack. Taking out the earpiece your shyly waved at whoever was inside. They turned the lights off. You saw a tall figure getting out of the car. Rafe.

“Hey, y/n. What are you doing out?”

“Hey, Rafe. What are you doing alone inside your car, on the driveway, at 11:30 at night?”

“I asked you first.” He said playfully.

“Just taking a walk.”

“I was about to head over to Kelce.” Kelce was the guy from his Instagram picture.

“Was?” Rafe laughed. You walked closer to him, so you could actually see his face and stop talking loudly outside.

“Didn’t think I would run into you.” What did he mean by that? Is he not going to go to Kelce because of you or does he-. Your thoughts were interrupted by Rafe’s voice. He must have noticed your confusion. “I believe I promised you a tour.” It took you a second to realize what he was talking about. You had asked him to show you around Outer Banks yesterday.

“Right, you owed me one.” Rafe nodded to his car and opened the door for you. You got in and pulled the door close. Rafe got in behind the wheel. He looked extremely good tonight. His hair wasn’t as slicked back as usual. It made him look softer. It wasn’t hot at all outside, yet he was still wearing shorts. What is it with boys and shorts even though it’s cold?

The two of you drove around Figure 8 for a while and continued on The Cut. Rafe didn’t talk much, so it was up to you. “Do you want to play 20 questions?” Rafe looked over to you.

“Only if we can take turns.” He said. Alright now you just had to think of a question. You still wanted to know what happened two nights ago. Who he had fought and why. It’s too forward.

“What was your favorite dinosaur as a child?” Rafe didn’t have to think about it.

“Triceratops.” He said.

“Still is, am I right?” You didn’t really ask. They are simply the best. Rafe took his time to come up with a question.

“Alright, if you could find out how you were going to die, would you want to know?” Well goodbye dinosaur talk.

“I don’t think I would. No matter how much I hate surprises, I’d rather not be scared of cars or bathrooms for the rest of my life, you know?”

“Why would you be scared of bathrooms?”

“I don’t know I once read that a ton of people have died in bathrooms. It’s where a lot of accidents happen you know.” He looked at you, a bit confused, amused and impressed.

“If you could go back in time to change something, what would it be?” Rafe sighed.

“Not using my dad’s money to buy a bike.” You wanted to ask more questions, but he wouldn’t let you. “I don’t want to talk about that.” Rafe added. He stopped the car. “Can I show the around the boneyard?” This is starting to sound like The Lion King. Elephant graveyard? You opened the car door and got outside, as did Rafe. Rafe locked the car and led you to the beach. There were tree trucks and branches around the beach. It does kind of look like a boneyard.

“What do you think is the ugliest animal in the world?” Rafe asked. Right 20 questions. Truth or dare, without the dare part. You had to think for a minute. What is the ugliest animal?

“Those birds from the Jungle Book. They scream so loud.”

“Vultures?” Yep those, you nodded. You were walking on the boneyard and couldn’t see much. You tried to be careful enough to not trip and make yourself look like a fool. The stars were still very pretty. You could see the Little Bear, it kind of looks like a saucepan. And there you go. Your foot got stuck on a tree branch. However, before you could hit the ground you could feel two arms holding you up. You stood up straight again.

“You alright?” He asked. To which you nodded.

“Yeah, just got distracted for a second. Can we sit down for a minute?” You asked. Rafe dusted away some sand off a trunk and sat down. You sat down next to him. “What is something you wish you were better at?”

Rafe looked up at the night sky. “Making my dad proud.” Why wouldn’t Ward be proud of him? “I just feel like sometimes I can’t do anything right, you know?” You nodded. Was this his soft spot, his dad? You didn’t ask any further questions, seeing as you barely knew him and the subject sounds personal. You looked up again as well. Seeing his face turning your way in the corner of your eye. You could feel his eyes on you. The moonlight was bright enough for him to see your features.

“Is there any memory you would like to erase from your mind?” You couldn’t help but laugh nervously and feel embarrassed already. “What’s so funny?” You looked at him and your eyes met. His blonde hair was getting slightly pushed around by the wind.

“What I’m about to tell you. Promise to keep it between us?” He promised. “Okay, so before moving to Outer Banks I had a boyfriend situation going on. And we were at my place after a party, where he had maybe a drink or two too many.” You sighed, feeling the redness on your face appear. “And we were about to..you know. But he couldn’t, because of the alcohol and then he threw up in my bed.” Rafe tried his best not to burst out in laughter, instead he put an arm around you. “He left after that. So, there I was, cleaning my barf-covered bed and desperately spraying deodorant through my room. We haven’t talked since and I’m not counting on it anymore either.” Rafe started rubbing your back.

“That really sucks man, I’m sorry that happened.” Did he just call you ‘man’? “It wasn’t supposed to be your first time, right?” You must look like a tomato right now.

“I believe it is my turn.” You switched the conversation. “What was your first crush like?” When the word left your mouth you felt like a 12 year old again. Rafe blew out some air.

“I think it was the babysitter we had as kids. She was really sweet and artsy, and stuff. Also really pretty, like you.” You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I invited her into my pillow fort to eat Cheez-its with me.”

“And?”

“She friendly declined my offer.” You burst out in laughing. “Hey, I didn’t laugh at your story.” He angrily joked, punching your arm.

“Mine was worse.”

“True.”

You softly punched him back. “Hey!” Rafe fake moaned, pretending you had hurt him.

“Aw, I’m sorry. Kiss to make it better?” Rafe pouted and nodded to you. As you were debating whether or not to kiss his arm, your phone started vibrating. It was your stepdad. “Shit.” It was already 12:30. He must’ve realized you weren’t home and you didn’t leave a note.

“What’s up?”

“It’s my stepdad, I really have to go home like right now.” You mumbled as you got up and started heading to the car.

“You gonna get into trouble?” He sounded the tiniest bit worried. Maybe you would. You had been staying out late the past three days and didn’t pick up the phone when your stepdad called. As Rafe pulled up a couple of houses before yours, you thanked him and got out. “I should walk with you, so your dad knows you weren’t out alone.” That somehow makes sense. He got out of the car as well and you speed walked to the front door. You unlocked it and walked inside. As if shot for a horror movie, your stepdad put on the living room lights.

“Y/n? Where have you been and why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“Steve, I’m sorry if I made you worry. I was taking a walk and bumped into Rafe, Ward Cameron’s son-“

“I remember who Rafe is. So, he just left you to walk home on your own? Do you know what time-”

This time it was Rafe who cut your stepfather short. He had waited outside and stepped in. “I would never let y/n walk alone, sir.” Your stepdad nodded.

“Bedtime, y/n. Goodnight Rafe.”

“Goodnight.” You gave Rafe a hug, to which he wrapped his arms around your middle.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

You walked up the stairs and called it a day.

~Taglist~

@emmalvei-blog

#rafe cameron #drew starkey #obx #outerbanks #imagine

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