#it’s the thunder claps in the background for me

[dewey-ing-it]

Me whenever someone asks about my interests.

[beansprean]

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And they lived happily ever after? LOL

Izzyguana AU part 5! (part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Aerial shot of the hill where Izzy's grave is marked, a hill sweeping steeply downward behind it toward a small bay where the ocean laps hungrily at the shore. It is dark and raining hard in thin diagonal strikes. 1b. Close up of Izzy's grave marker from below as it is pelted by rain. Behind, thick clouds roll past, rumbling with distant thunder. 1c. Repeat. A loud clap of thunder hits just as a flash of lightning cracks across the sky, illuminating a gloved hand that suddenly punches, palm up, out of the dirt.

2a. series of POV panels on a dark background, showing the ramshackle porch of Stede and Ed's home. The wooden slat door is closed, but there is a gap in the wood above the doorknob where golden light is shining through, juxtaposing the cold blues and purples of the storm outside. There is a shuffling sound of uneven footsteps. 2b. Repeat, closer to the door now, the panel tilted as if the POV is tipping back and forth as it climbs the stairs. The footsteps are louder. 2c. Repeat, closer, now past the stairs, footsteps louder still. 2d. Repeat. Closer. A final thump. The shadow of a head and shoulders falls across the door. 2e. Repeat. The door creaks open, letting out a burst of warm light. 2f. Repeat. The door opens fully, blinding the panel with light.

3a. Inside the house, lit up in warm candlelight, there is a ramshackle wooden table holding a pair of oranges, a bottle of rum, and a pair of silver coins on the close end. On the far end, a lumpy, unfrosted cake on a plate with a single lit candle in the center. At the head of the table in front of the cake sits the iguana in a handmade high chair, a party hat of wrapped palm leaves strapped to its head. Stede and Ed are standing at the table on either side of it with matching party hats. All three look towards the viewer as the door is opened. Ed, wearing a purple tee and green lavalava, has a cup in his right hand and his left hand is frozen mid-cheer. He stares at the newcomer with his jaw dropped and eyes wide with shock. Stede, wearing his teal blouse and brown leather pants, is similarly frozen, leaning into the table on his left hand and holding up a cup in his right as he stares toward the door. A handmade banner stretched behind them reads 'Happy Rebirthday Izzy'. 3b. Reverse shot, chest up of the real human Izzy standing at the door, arm extended to hold it open. He is covered in mud and soaked by the rain, hair falling down into his eyes, and is wearing the cream shirt he died in, now made loose and transparent by the rain but still bearing a faint bloodstain on the chest. Izzy stares forward at the scene in abject horror and confusion, lip curled back from his teeth. 3c. Repeat of 3a, this time with human Izzy and the head of the table. Another candle has been added to the cake, the banner has been changed to read 'Happy Rebirthday Izzys', and a third orange has appeared on the table. The iguana side-eyes Izzy, hissing suspiciously. Stede has resumed his cheer, raising his cup with his right hand and reaching around the iguana's chair to place his left on human Izzy's shoulder. Ed is laughing happily, leaning his forehead into human Izzy's temple and cupping his head with his left hand. Izzy sits frozen and frowning in shock and bewilderment, eye twitching, Ed's party hat now on his head. Izzy thinks to himself, "...Is it too late to crawl back into my grave?" /end ID

[himegureisu]

The Yule Ball [PTII]

Summary: The Yule Ball is about to commence and you arrive in the nick of time.

<< PREV

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On Christmas Eve, in the sparkling silver frost of the Great Hall, students’ conversations come to a hush at the sight of their Potions Professor.

His usually greasy hair was clean and silky smooth. On the other hand, an open black double-breasted tailcoat, black vest, black high-collared dress shirt, black pants, and shiny black shoes replaced his daily robes.

It was different. Conservative but also very appealing.

Especially for the female students. Their grumpy Professor so pleasing in the ladies’ eyes has the boys reminding them why they didn’t like him in the first place. Their giggles and murmurs didn’t stop though, and one thought it would be the best if the scowl on his face disappeared, but alas, they could not make miracles happen.

“Would you look at that?”

“Is that truly Professor Snape?”

“Bloody hell,” Ron mutters under his breath, “Even the old dungeon bat looks better than I do,”

In a procession, the champions walk through the oak doors accompanied by their chosen partners, disrupting the comments,, and enter the Great Hall. Their thunderous claps and ever-so-curious gazes shift at the sight of Hermione Granger on Victor Krum’s arm allowing a moment of vulnerability for you.

In their distraction, from a tunnel behind the pine trees, you emerge behind the Headmaster, Severus none the wiser at your arrival, as he speaks.

“I will keep this short because you all might be sick of hearing from me,” the headmaster quips, and the Hogwarts students laugh, “This evening, I hope that every one of us creates meaningful connections and enjoys the feast. However, before we start, I would also like to welcome a special guest.”

Their students were truly the worst gossips as whispers started once again speculating who the special guest could be, making the stories known to their Durmstrang and Beauxbatons friends.

“I’m glad that you’re here and I am very much eager to indulge in your future antics,” Dumbledore smiles, saying nothing further, and turns, “If you’d please, Filius,”

Their students are curious and confused, a rather deadly combination, at the lack of information from their wily Professor as the orchestra starts the song. The sound of string instruments soon echoes throughout the space as the waltz begins.

On the floor, champions lead their partners through the beginnings of the waltz. Their audience is divided between finding the mystery guest and watching their friends glide seamlessly across the room.

In minutes, the headmaster nudges their Transfiguration Professor, who happily accepts the offer and joins the throng of dancing students, on the floor. His absence allows you to stand beside your husband whose gaze remains afront.

“Don’t you look dashing?” you say, breaking the silence among the staff, “I hope you saved me a dance?”

His gaze shifts at the sound of your voice. His eyes quickly take a once over of you. In your sage green dress that highlighted the very best of your features. Your hair in a braided half updo and holly pin presented simple but elegant.

“They’re only for you,” he answers, raising his hand for you to take, “Shall we?”

“On your lead,”

Onto the fray together, the students not so quietly observe. His hands, on your waist and outstretched hand, lead you to the floor. However, closer than appropriate for students, he whispers in your ear.

“You’re determined to do this?”

“I’d like for them to see what I see in you,” you cup his cheek, your gaze on his as the scowl slowly melts away, “Even just for a bit,”

He sighed in defeat.

Your gazes lock on each other, his steps slow but confident guide you through the symphony. In his embrace, the world blends to the background. To the awe of the crowd, a soft smile settles on his lips, his grip, however, tightened and your merry bubble pops at the sight of his restrained ire at the students who admired you from afar.

“You are the only one I desire,” you breathed, cheeks flushed and eyes only on him, as the veins on the side of his head vanished, “No one else can ever compare,”

His eyes softened at your words, breaking through his facade for the night. By the end of the dance, he places a protective hand on your back and gently leads you through. His form towers over you, briefly leaning on your ear to whisper.

“Being with you feels like a dream,” his voice barely audible as you weave through the people, “That I don’t want to end,”

“It will not end,” you declare, as you finally see his colleagues, and some others you don’t know, “We’ll see through it,”

The Headmaster smiles, at the sight of your hands entwined together, as you approach the faculty and guests. Minerva steps up much faster than the rest and says.

“I’m glad you could make it, dear,” she also smiles, as Severus stands behind you, “You two were lovely out there,”

“Were we?” you coyly ask, glancing at Severus, who resisted the urge to roll his eyes, “I didn’t notice. I’m glad I didn’t trip,”

“I would’ve caught you if you did,” Severus declared, as the others approached, and from there Madam Maxime interjected, “Severus! Who is the lovely lady?”

“Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, this is my wife, Madame Snape,” he introduces you, as you shake friendly hands, “At the moment, she works for the Ministry of Magic,”

“Oh!” the tall lady exclaimed, as Minerva cut the conversation, “I hate to break up this introduction, however, we must be seated for dinner,”

“Of course, Minerva, lead the way,”

In a flash, she transformed into her role as Deputy Headmistress, and seats you beside Severus and her, but also near the Headmaster and the new staff that hasn’t met you. Your friendly smile was a stark difference from the unimpressed line that formed on your husband’s lips.

“Will you be staying the night?” Minerva asks, as you observe Albus who spoke of what he wanted for dinner and it appeared, and answered, “Yes, the headmaster was kind to allow me to stay in the castle for Christmas break,”

“Did he?” Severus said as he looked at you, “Headmaster?”

“Merry Christmas, Severus,” Dumbledore grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously at the light, as Severus exhaled, “Thank you, headmaster,”

“Do enjoy the feast,” Albus said, “There is more to come,”

On his words, you and Severus briefly give each other a look before shrugging it off, oblivious to the utter madness that would transpire once you left the Great Hall for much more amorous and festive pursuits.

There would be time to get to know the students during the break. However, a part of you admits that you were partial to your husband's little snakes.

But they didn't know that.

[wolvietxt]

𝓢HELTER !

pairing: bucky barnes x reader warnings: storm comfort, hurt / comfort, fluff :) wc: 1.2k

the storm raged on outside, relentless in its fury. the wind howled, sending sheets of rain against the window in torrents, each clap of thunder echoing through the room like it was trying to reach right into your chest. you’d pulled the blanket up, curling into yourself, doing everything possible to tune it out - but there was no escaping the way every crackling flash of lightning seemed to shiver through the entire room. it was impossible to ignore, no matter how many layers you wrapped around yourself or how hard you tried to focus on literally anything else.

beside you, bucky seemed completely unbothered. he’d been scrolling idly on his phone, occasionally glancing your way with that keen look he sometimes got, like he was gauging something without you even realizing it. you tried to play it off, to pretend that the storm wasn’t getting to you, but the way your whole body tensed up every time the thunder cracked made that pretty impossible.

he sighed, a low, almost affectionate sound, and set his phone aside. before you even knew what was happening, he was tugging you closer, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you against his side. it was so casual, so natural, like he’d done it a thousand times and thought nothing of it.

“c’mere,” he muttered, his voice a rough murmur in the dim light. there was a calmness to him, something so steady that it almost made you feel silly for being this tense.

you let out a breath, letting yourself relax just a little against him, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. “i’m fine,” you insisted, though you were sure he could hear the slight tremor in your voice. “just… y’know, loud.”

“loud,” he echoed with a smirk, his hand coming up to gently rub your arm. “doll, i think the whole building knows you’re jumpin’ outta your skin every time that thunder rolls.”

you rolled your eyes, but the teasing helped. somehow, it made the storm feel less intrusive, less like it was pressing in on you from all sides. with bucky’s arm around you, the chaotic noise outside felt like something that couldn’t touch you, like it was just background noise instead of an all-encompassing force.

another loud clap echoed through the room, and despite yourself, you jumped. bucky’s arm tightened instantly, his hand shifting to the back of your neck, fingers brushing gently against your skin. “easy,” he said, voice barely more than a whisper, but firm enough that it settled something deep inside you. “it’s just a storm.”

“easy for you to say,” you grumbled, burrowing a little closer to him, feeling the heat of his chest against your cheek. “you’re not the one getting startled every five seconds.”

he chuckled, low and soft, his breath ruffling your hair. “yeah, maybe not. but i got you, alright?” his fingers stroked down your back, a slow, steady rhythm that was as calming as his presence beside you. “you’re safe here with me. ain’t nothin’ out there that’s gonna mess with you.”

you felt your heart do a little flip at his words, so simple but carrying a weight you hadn’t expected. it was rare for bucky to be so openly reassuring - he was usually more the silent, steady type, letting his actions speak louder than any words. but tonight, with the storm raging and your nerves wound tight, he seemed to sense that you needed a little extra.

the storm crackled on, another flash illuminating the room in stark white for a split second. you squeezed your eyes shut, instinctively pressing closer to bucky, who didn’t hesitate to hold you tighter, almost like he was trying to shield you from the whole thing. his hand continued its soothing path along your back, up to your shoulder, and back down again, each pass leaving a little more of your tension melting away.

“doesn’t bother you at all, huh?” you muttered, voice muffled against his chest. it was more of an observation than a question, but you couldn’t help wondering how he managed to stay so calm, so unaffected by the storm.

“been through worse,” he replied, his tone light but laced with an undertone you didn’t miss. he didn’t elaborate, and you didn’t push—some things with bucky didn’t need to be spelled out. instead, he tilted his head, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “besides, i got a job to do keepin’ you in one piece, don’t i?”

the words brought a smile to your lips despite yourself. “is that what this is? just you doing your job?” you teased, looking up at him with a raised brow.

he smirked, his blue eyes glinting with something warm and soft. “maybe i’m goin’ above and beyond for this one.” he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering there, thumb brushing your cheek in a way that made your heart stutter. “gotta keep my girl safe.”

your cheeks warmed at the words, and you ducked your head, hiding the small smile that crept across your lips. the storm outside seemed a little quieter now, a little less intense, though you weren’t sure if it had actually calmed or if bucky’s presence was just drowning it out.

for a while, neither of you spoke. he just held you, his touch gentle and grounding as the minutes ticked by. you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink into the steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid warmth of him against you. the storm was still there, but it felt distant, like something happening outside a bubble you and bucky had created just for the two of you.

at some point, he shifted, pulling the blanket more securely around you both, tucking it up under your chin. you barely noticed, feeling drowsy, lulled by the comforting weight of his arm around you and the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. his fingers kept up their gentle path, tracing little circles on your shoulder, each pass lulling you further into a peaceful haze.

“feelin’ better?” he murmured, his voice a rumble that vibrated through his chest and into your ear. it was so gentle, so filled with a kind of tenderness that he rarely showed to anyone else, and it made you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

“mhm,” you mumbled, already halfway to sleep, your hand absently curling into his shirt as you snuggled closer. “thanks, bucky.”

he let out a soft chuckle, and you felt the vibration against your cheek. “anytime, doll,” he said, pressing another kiss to your hair. “anytime.”

the storm continued outside, the thunder still rumbling and the rain still pounding against the window, but in bucky’s arms, it all faded into the background. you were safe, secure, wrapped up in the warmth of his presence, and nothing else mattered. with each steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, the tension melted away, leaving only a gentle peace in its place.

and as you drifted off to sleep, you knew that no matter how fierce the storm, as long as bucky was by your side, you’d always find calm in the midst of it.

bucky barnes : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

taglist form linked in pinned post!

[yangfleurs]

skz reaction: you getting scared during a thunderstorm

masterlist

chan

you shot up out of bed as a loud crack of thunder vibrated through your bedroom. you groaned, dizzy from the sudden noise. another loud clap tore through your home, making your heart thump rapidly against your chest. it was 3 am and you turned to look for chan next to you even though you knew he wouldn’t be there, not with a deadline creeping up on him in a matter of days. again, thunder filled your ears, this time making you yelp. you got under the covers in a hurry, covering your head with your blanket as you nervously anticipated another lightning strike.

but before that, you heard the soft and quick pattering of feet coming to your door. the door opened slowly, and as you peek out from underneath the covers, you see chan shuffling over to you, abandoning his slippers halfway as he quickly rolled under the covers. you immediately inched closer to him and wrapped your arms and legs around him. he did the same, tucking your head into his chest and swiftly covering your ears as the thunder rumbled even louder. as it passed, he looked down at you.

"you alright, baby? must've been so scared." he mumbled, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

even if being pushed up right against him was suffocating you a little, you didn't mind it. not at all, actually---you were so thankful for chan in that moment as his palm laid flat against your ear every time lightning struck turned those strikes of lightning into muffled background noise. you sighed in relief, your body loosening up against chan's.

"thank you, I know you're busy." you mumbled, looking up at him with an apologetic glance.

he shook his head, pushing a few stray hairs away from your face, "you come first. I'll just work a little harder tomorrow." he smiled warmly.

you craned your neck upwards, leaning into him to press a kiss onto his lips. he giggled as you moved away from his lips and peppered his entire face with light pecks.

"what did I do to deserve you?" you sighed, looking at him with a dazed look in your eyes.

"I could ask the same for you." he replied, kissing the top of your head. always a sweetheart, that he was.

just as the sweet moment ended, the lights began to flicker. you both gasped, and you fell back into your initial position, pressed firmly against chan's chest with your head under the covers. the flickering soon turned into a darkness that consumed you and your surroundings.

"I think this is our sign to call it a night," chan laughed breathlessly, "hey, at least the thunder's passed."

"mhmmm." you mumbled, letting out a loud yawn.

"come on, let's sleep." he lowered your pillow to where your head was and played with your hair to help you sleep easier.

"mmm love you, night." you managed to mutter out, hearing chan's "love you, too baby, goodnight." before sleep finally overtook you.

lee know

you were in the kitchen, stirring the food atop your stove and humming along to the song playing on the stereo when a loud strike of lightning followed by immediate darkness filled your apartment. you shrieked at the sudden pitch black surrounding you as you blindly felt around in an attempt to find your phone. you failed to find it, realizing you'd left it in the bedroom in a rush to start working on dinner before your boyfriend came home. you took a deep breath as you adjusted to the darkness before finally managing to turn off the stove.

another bolt of thunder ripped through your home, making it feel like the ground beneath your feet was shaking. you yelped again, falling to your knees as it unsteadied you. you covered your ears as you heard the next lightning strike brewing when you heard the beeping of the front door's passcode being typed in followed by a panicked lee know bursting through the door. he slammed the door shut and threw his shoes off.

"y/n? where are you? tell me, I'll find you!" he yelled.

"kitchen! hurry!" you squeaked, hoping your voice was loud enough to hear over the thunderstorm.

you hear him walking through the apartment quickly, arriving to the kitchen and finding you sitting on the ground. he sighed in relief before sitting down next to you. you uncovered your ears and turned to face him.

"hey, I'm here now. it's okay, you're okay, alright?" he looked you in the eyes, nodding his head to reassure you that he wouldn't leave your side.

you nodded back, reaching out for his hand. he wrapped his hand tightly around yours, giving it a little squeeze as you scooted closer to him. you rested your head on his shoulder and he reached over his hand to shield your uncovered ear from the thunder. you stayed like that for a long time, sitting in a comfortable silence as the storm passed. after what seemed like forever, the lights finally flickered back on. you sighed in relief, pulling away from lee know and groaning as you stretched.

"now why did you make me sit on the cold kitchen floor for so long?" he moaned, getting up along with you.

you rolled your eyes at him. "well, if you're actually curious, I was making dinner, but..." you looked down at the raw chunks of meat sitting in your pan, "this won't be done any time soon." you sighed loudly.

lee know thought for a moment before he moved past you and placed the pan in the fridge. he reached for the electric kettle, filling it with water and turning it on. then, he walked past you again and opened the cupboard.

"do you wanna eat ramen with me?" he winked, pulling two cup ramens out.

you smacked his arm, snorting at his dumb joke. "sure," you chuckled, "god, you're such an idiot." you mumbled, making him playfully scoff.

(in korea, "do you want to eat ramen with me?" is a pg-13 euphemism, search it up kids <3)

changbin

you were looking forward to your first date night with changbin since tour ended. you knew he'd want to do something relaxing after spending months away from home so you had planned a movie night at home, with your favorite movies lined up in a queue and the coffee table covered in snacks. you heard a storm brewing outside of your windows, but you ignored the uneasiness settling in the pit of your stomach because you knew changbin would be home any minute now anyway.

and you were right, because just moments after you'd sat down on the couch, you heard the front door unlock and your boyfriend walk in, breathless and soaked to the bone in rain.

"the storm's definitely not going to settle down any time soon." he groaned, shaking the water out of his hair.

" you must be freezing! go change and take a hot shower." you said as you walked towards him, ushering him towards the bathroom.

"my baby doesn't want a hug first?" he pouted, trying to trap you in his arms.

"seo changbin, you get my clothes wet and it'll be the last thing you ever do," you warned him, quickly avoiding his outstretched arms. "shower quickly, I'll be waiting." you pecked him on the cheek, running back to your place on the sofa and waiting for him.

you scrolled through your phone, growing more stressed out as the thunder began to get louder and louder. you began hoping for changbin to get out of the bathroom and to join you more and more as the storm picked up. the sound of the shower raining down soon stopped and you heard changbin come out humming a song, answering your prayers. but just as you began to relax, you heard the windows rattle and in a matter of seconds, your lights and the tv flickered off. you squealed in shock, matching changbin's loud yelling from the bedroom.

"hold on, baby, I'm coming!" he shouted out to reassure you. he rushed out with just his sweatpants on, walking around blindly and hitting his limbs multiple times and hissing in pain as he made his way to you.

you sat quietly, holding your breath and flinching at the roaring weather outside. changbin sat down next you and pulled you into his lap. you relaxed into his touch, his warm skin against your cheek comforting you. he rubbed your back gently, softly shushing you every time the thunder got louder.

"this is nice, isn't it?" he whispered, stroking the side of your face.

"I'm sorry about our date." you mumbled, sighing against his shoulder.

"why are you sorry?" he chuckled, "you didn't make the power go out, baby." he kissed the top of your head.

"still, I wish we could've done something." you pouted.

"I like this more, let's stay like this a little longer." he insisted, making you give in and rest your head against his shoulder.

"I love you." you hummed.

"I love you more." he kissed you sweetly.

hyunjin

it was a brutally rainy day, thunder grumbling like an empty stomach every once in a while to remind you of how miserable it was outside. the only good thing about this kind of weather was that it brought the artist out of hyunjin.

you were sat on the floor of hyunjin's art studio, watching him silently as he painted his newest piece. it was an honor for you, honestly; hyunjin usually hated the pressure that came with having people watch him paint, but he had decided to make an exception for you this once after months of pleading from your end. you beamed up at him, being especially careful to not make any noise that could distract him.

he was beautiful when he was doing something he loved. it was the same with when he was dancing; he would scrunch up his face in concentration right before he took action, whether that be moving his body or his paintbrush with fluidity, and as soon as he really began, it flowed. you were mesmerized by how freely his hands moved despite all of the control you knew he had in his brush strokes.

"you're staring." he whined, not looking away from the canvas.

"I can't help it, you're so amazing." you said breathlessly, eyes glued onto the way hyunjin's hand moved across the canvas. your concentration on him was soon disrupted, however, by a particularly loud strike of lightning. you gasped a little, but hid it by clearing your throat a little.

"hmmm," he hummed, "wanna help, baby?" he asked, turning towards you.

"hyunjin, I can't paint to save my life." you chuckled nervously, still uneasy from the thunder.

"come here, I'll guide your hand," he beckoned for you. you sat in between his legs, leaning your back into his chest and letting him wrap his hand around yours after you held his paintbrush. "gently, just like that. the harder you press, the richer the color." he told you next to your ear. you blushed a little at the proximity between you two, focusing back on the way he dragged your hand across the canvas.

just as you began to enjoy yourself, the lights flickered as another bolt of lightning disrupted the moment, making you flinch violently.

"shhh, I've got you. you're doing so well," he whispered into your ear, rubbing a comforting hand against your thigh. "keep breathing and follow my lead, yeah?"

"okay." you replied quietly, continuing to paint with him. as the storm passed through your area, you grew less tense, feeling safe with hyunjin wrapped around you and hearing him hum against your ear.

"hyunjin?" you called him after a long while.

"hm?"

"thank you for making me feel better." you said sheepishly.

"you don't need to thank me, baby," he hugged you, "I don't need anything as long as I can make you feel happy and safe." he mumbled, peppering your face with kisses.

"stop, it tickles." you whined, making him giggle.

"now that I'm looking at it, I think you might be a better artist than me, baby." he hummed, pressing a firm kiss to the temple of your head.

"acting like you didn't do the whole damn thing , huh?" you rolled your eyes, making you both laugh.

jisung

it was a sunday evening, and sunday evenings meant one thing in your home---game night. you and jisung were sat on the floor in front of your tv, wearing your comfiest pajamas with your hair tied away from your faces. you both pressed away furiously at the game controllers in your hands, with your occasional yelps and sneers competing for power with the grumbling thunder outside. for once, the thunder wasn't bothering you; the need to beat jisung at mario kart was much stronger than your fear of the thunder.

"hehehe, kiss my ass!" you yelled as you zoomed past his character, earning a scoff from him.

"shut up! I'm going to win like I have literally every other time." he grumbled, already bitter about a loss he hadn't even suffered yet.

"I'm gonna win, I'm so close!" you cheered. but just as you began to get excited, a terrifying strike of lightning rung through your apartment, followed by a flicker and then pitch black. you gasped at the suddenness of it all, dropping your controller with a loud thump. you heard jisung scream a little at the same time, only scaring you more. you heard him regulating his breathing, before he spoke up.

"I'm gonna come over to you, okay baby? don't get scared, it's just me, I promise." he said as he began to shuffle towards you. another deafening bolt of thunder screeched, making you and jisung scream yet again.

"oh my god, okay, okay. y/n, it's okay." he breathed, sounding like he was trying to convince himself more than he was you. you felt his hand on your arm suddenly, making you flinch a little.

"just me, baby, just me." he whispered, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you against his chest. every time thunder struck, jisung's breath hitched and he pulled you closer as he rubbed your arm up and down. you could tell he was scared too, but he was braving the terrible weather in order to take care of you. as the storm passed, your gratitude for jisung only seemed to grow stronger.

"I love you so much, you know that?" you mumbled against his chest.

"nice to know," he hummed, chuckling when you slap him on the arm. "I love you, too. so much." he kissed the top of your head.

"you know I was gonna win tonight." you sighed, pouting at him.

"but you didn't!" he sang, earning a loud whine from you, "wanna call a truce? or..." as he began, the power suddenly came back, restarting your tv.

"a rematch?" you smirked, pulling yourself out of his arms.

"deal!"

felix

as soon as the thunderstorm started, felix dragged you out of the living room and into your bedroom. he tucked himself under the duvet, pulling it over his head so he was completely underneath the covers.

"y/n! come on!" his muffled voice yelled after you, making you do the same until you were face to face with your boyfriend underneath the covers. he stared at you and blinked cutely, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his body.

"baby?" you piped up.

"hm?"

"can I ask why we're under the covers like this when the sun literally just set?" you laughed.

"thunderstorms are the best cuddling weather. plus if the power goes out---" the lights flickered as if on cue, "well then, we're already next to each other so it's less scary."

"you're so thoughtful, baby." you giggled, planting a chaste kiss against his lips quickly. you wrapped your arms around him as well, playing with his hair. the thunder soon picked up, making your anxiety skyrocket. you hated the way it made it feel like your entire home was shaking underneath you and how it was the only thing you could focus on because of how it surrounded everything around you. you gasped lightly at each bolt, terrified.

"hey," felix tilted your head to look him in the eyes, "tell me about your day. what did you do in class today?" he asked, moving his hand to your hip and rubbing your side comfortingly. you took a deep breath, knowing exactly what felix was trying to do. you didn't care about his ulterior motive, though; if blabbering about your day distracted you from the storm outside, you were more than happy to comply.

you filled felix in on everything, from how you almost missed the train to school to how great your lunch was to nearly falling asleep in your dumb econ class. felix listened to you diligently, asking questions to further steer your mind away from the storm. he kept a firm grip on you the entire time, soothing you by gently rubbing his hand against your back as the storm peaked before finally moving across your area.

"I think the storm's passed." he said with a small smile as you finished talking about your day.

"mhmmm,' you nodded, "you wanna stay like this?" you questioned.

"you know I do." he grinned, smothering you as he scooted closer to you.

"okay, your turn. how was your day, lix?" you pushed the hair out of his face.

"well, I'm glad you asked." he moaned.

"oh god, here we go." you chuckled, making him smack you playfully.

seungmin

seungmin was never a physical affection type of guy. he avoided it and never really initiated it, but tolerated it when it came from you. that's how you knew he loved you; him letting you hug him without seeing your life flash before your eyes was a form of seungmin's love few had the privilege of receiving.

but seungmin's avoidance of physical touch was painfully clear right now, as you sat at the dinner table in front of your half-finished food in complete darkness. the rain and thunder pounded against your window, making you flinch harshly every time.

seungmin was out of his chair as soon as the power went out---always the efficient one, he had started searching for candles and a lighter right away. you could hear him muttering to himself as he searched, mumbling about flooding and how he was going to get to work in the morning.

you, on the other hand, had no thoughts other than keeping your calm. you had hated thunderstorms since you were young, spending many nights even as you got older in your parents' bedroom or with a pillow tightly held against your ears as you slept. you regulated your breathing, trying to focus on seungmin's soft muttering from the utility closet to distract yourself. but as a fast and sharp bolt of lightning screeched outside, you couldn't help but yell out of surprise. your heart pounded against your chest as you gasped for breath. you heard seungmin's feet quickly pad through the hallway as he came up to you.

"you okay?" he asked gently, sitting in the chair next to you.

you shook your head, rubbing a hand above your heart to help you calm down. "seung?" you reached out your hand, silently asking for his comfort.

he understood right away, putting the candle down on the table and tightly lacing his fingers with yours before carefully wrapping his palm over top of your intertwined hands. he rubbed his thumb against your hand, tenderly kissing it. you stayed like that for a moment before he stood up slowly and dropped your hand so as to not alarm you. he stood closer to you immediately after so you could wrap your arms around him.

"gonna light the candle, okay? we gotta finish dinner before our food gets cold." he said sweetly, leaning into your side hug and resting his hand against your back. he lit the candle quickly, illuminating your dinner table with its warm glow.

"romantic, isn't it?" you giggled quietly, leaning against his side as you finally eased up.

"let's call it a date night, then, yeah?" he chuckled along with you, rubbing your back comfortingly.

"then we go to bed and cuddle?" you asked hopefully, pushing your luck.

he quietly deliberated before finally relenting. "okay," he groaned, "but only if you don't make a big deal about it." he grumbled.

you squealed a little out of joy, hugging him tightly, "yay, thank you!"

"you're making me regret it already." he moaned

"no takebacks." you remarked swiftly, making him laugh a little as you both continued your dinner in front of the candlelight.

jeongin

there were many things to love about jeongin. whether it was his kind heart, his great sense of fashion, his dedication to following his dreams, or his wisdom that went beyond his years, it was really hard to find something to dislike about him. even after years of dating, you only managed to find one thing you found less than desirable from jeongin---his ability to sleep through anything and everything.

and that included now, as a thunderstorm roared and vibrated through your home. jeongin, always the sound sleeper, was knocked out in bed, completely unaware of the thunder pounding against your apartment walls. you, on the other hand, stared up at the wall, desperate for sleep to overtake you.

you gasped lightly at each loud lightning strike, being awoken from your sleepy state multiple times. you turned to face your sleeping boyfriend, jealous of how easy it was for him to fall asleep and stay asleep despite all of the noise surrounding him. you admired his relaxed face in the soft glow of your bedroom sleep light when all of a sudden, it flickered off.

you gulped nervously, taking a deep breath to try and keep it together. but your resolve soon went out the window as a bolt of thunder shrieked suddenly, making you yelp out loud. jeongin frowned a little instinctually before his resting face smoothed over once again. you were shaking, shifting around restlessly as your anxiety got the best of you.

"y/n?" jeongin croaked awake, "c'mere." he yawned, lazily opening his arms for you to join him.

"sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. the thunder just makes me anxious, I'm sorry." you explained apologetically as you laid down in between his arms.

"shhh, it's okay. try to sleep." he mumbled sleepily. he covered your ears before rubbing your back soothingly to help you fall asleep.

and while it didn't help you fall asleep immediately, you appreciated how much effort he put into taking care of you, even fighting the sleep he desperately needed in order to help you. as you grew sleepier and the storm passed, you whispered, "thank you, I love you."

and you couldn't tell if he really said it or you dreamt it, but you could've sworn you heard a "I definitely love you more" coming from above you as you drifted off to sleep against jeongin's chest.

[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕊𝕚𝕩𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: ℂ𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘

🥀Pairing: Dragon Hybrid! Mingi x Bunny Hybrid! Reader

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact 

🥀Au: Cotton Tails and Simmering Fires by @starlitmark and meeee, hybrid au

🥀Trope: established relationship, poly (background)

🥀Summary: when you crave some time with one of your busy boyfriends, the compromise turns out to be everything you need with an unexpected surprise

🥀Kinks: cockwarming, brief oral prep (m), cockwarming (she tried her best okay), special! dragon! cock, sudden female orgasm, soft! dom! mingi, soft! sub! reader

🥀Word Count: 1,241

🥀Betas: @flurrys-creativity

🥀Day Fifteen: Femdom/ Degradation 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Seventeen: Body Worship

The state of part arousal and part comfort you were in was slowly driving you insane. 

You had wanted some quality time with Mingi but it was the period in his semester when he had little time to spare, between reading and grading papers, and fielding student questions. So the two of you had come to a compromise. He was heading into his on-campus office early Saturday morning to get some work done and you were going along with him.

Mingi tugged you out of your nest with Jongho and Yeosang, blurry-eyed and a little whiny at being pulled from the warmth of your two boyfriends arms. Mingi told you with a gentle smile that he could leave you here if you really wanted to stay but when you remembered how much your heart ached last week, seeing him drag himself to his bed and collapse on it, you dismissed the offer immediately. 

In his office, which already had his faint personal smell of gingerbread, you sat on a couch that served as a bed when Mingi was too exhausted to drag himself back to the loft with the thunder. But it wasn’t close enough to your boyfriend. In fact, it was torture. Watching as the early morning lit hit his charcoal gray scales along his hairline, how his shoulder spread out his plaid shirt, the way his buttons looked like he was one big breath away from losing his shirt--

Mingi sighed rather loudly and closed his laptop. “Hops--”

Your ears pushed back in disappointment. “Don’t use my government name, Mingi,” You couldn't help but pout.

“I can smell the beginnings of sugar cookies like they’re in the oven,” Mingi continued, rubbing his face tiredly. “I can’t exactly nurse a hard-on AND focus on my student’s papers.”

“But--!”

Mingi sent you a stern look with his red slitted eyes and you deflated immediately. Not without adding, “You could use it though.”

“You’ve been hanging around with Wooyoung too much,” Mingi grumbled, “I am not bending you over my desk, Hops.”

You looked at Mingi with hopeful eyes. “It doesn’t have to be like that.”

Mingi watched you with a confused expression as you quickly rushed to his side at his desk. “I just want to be close to you. If you let me cockwarm you--”

Mingi groaned loudly and then clapped his hand over his mouth. “Hops,” he growled.

You threw up your hands in defense. “I’m not trying to trick you. I did it with San recently when he was gone for a business trip but I had a stacked schedule with my orders. It helped.”

Mingi scratched the back of his ear. “Yeah but I’m much bigger than San,” he reminded you.

“Can we please try?” You plead eagerly. Your tail twitched behind you, ears moving in anticipation and Mingi found he couldn't say no to you.

“Alright but--” He bit down on his lip just in time as your hands went to his pants immediately to undo the belt and the zipper of his tweed pants. “Treasure--” A delighted gasp left his lips as you pulled his cock out and pumped it to make sure it was hard for you. “Oh fuck.”

You sent him a sweet smile before taking him in your mouth. You gathered saliva in your mouth and bobbed on his length, taking in as much of him as you could before he hit the back of your throat. Mingi held your hair out of the way, partly to make sure nothing got on your hair and the other reason was to watch your cute little bunny mouth work on him. Just when Mingi was tempted to let you suck him off, you pulled off of him. 

You pulled aside the loose shorts you wore for easy access, and with the lack of underwear underneath, it was easy to brace yourself on his thick thighs, and play with the spade head of his cock against your already wet folds. 

“Treasure, be careful!” Mingi worried. 

No matter how many times he had taken you, he was always concerned with your comfort and his cock. Not only was the length and girth something to worry about, his head was spade-tipped, curved perfectly to push past pussy lips. There were also ridges on the underside of his cock, starting at his tip, AND three beads along the top side. Mingi’s dragon cock was definitely one of the more complicated breeds out there but you never seemed to complain about taking him.

In truth, even though you struggled to fit him inside of you, it always sounded like you loved everything that came with his cock. “So big,” You sighed, only managing his head so far. 

Mingi reached around you and rubbed a dry finger slowly around your clit, aiding in making you even more wet in order to take him. “You’re doing amazing,” Mingi encouraged you.

You slowly but surely sunk down on his length. Each ridge on his cock was like a landmark that you were getting it done. The relaxed way your pussy was swallowing Mingi’s cock was doing something to you, however. Mingi was still; he had massive control over his body, despite your tight, wet heat taking him centimeter by centimeter. 

“Mi-mingi,” You moaned softly. 

If you were being honest, you were drunk on Mingi’s cock. It was always like this getting it inside of you, but in this soft setting, the early morning rays making his office warm and Mingi’s heat at your back, you were lured into a sense of complete security. So when you rocked your hips forward to get the last final ridge on the underside of Mingi’s cock, it worked. However you were so wet from Mingi’s middle finger doing slow circles around your clit, that the remainder of Mingi’s cock that could actually fit inside of you slipped in. It was so sudden, but the sudden push of Mingi’s cockhead hitting your womb sent you into your climax.

You moaned wantonly, becoming jelly in Mingi’s lap and you collapsed back on him fully. Mingi could feel your cunt convulsing around his cock so he knew exactly what had happened. Luckily for Mingi, he had the control, and the practice of competing with Yunho over who would cum first, so he was able to hold on. He simply rubbed his cheek against your soft ears as you rode the waves of pleasure and settled down.

“Was that good, Treasure?” His deep voice rumbled from behind you and you simply nodded your head tiredly. “Words, please,” He prompted you.

“That was like having the slowest sex ever and then experiencing the most explosive climax,” You mumbled to him.

“Well, I hope it was that good because you’re going to have to remain here while I finish my papers,” Mingi announced, smacking a kiss on your head.

“Mingi!” You protested quietly. Because Mingi still was perhaps only halfway seated inside of you, so you were going to have to hold yourself up until the professor was done.

Mingi chuckled, the type that only came from a man who just gave his lover a good orgasm. “You wanted to cockwarm me, Treasure.”

“Yes, Mingi,” You said desolately. 

You settled into Mingi’s warmth regardless. Perhaps you could nap. Which would have worked. If Mingi hadn't pressed his hand to your stomach to see if he could feel his cock from the outside.

🥀Day Fifteen: Femdom/ Degradation 🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Seventeen: Body Worship

[clairegibbss]

In the spotlight - Pablo Gavi

____________________________________________

Pablo Gavi x Female reader

SUMMARY: Gavi shares a heartfelt moment with his devoted fan, leading to a deep connection.

WARNINGS: Fluff

NOTE: My requests are open!

———————————☆————————————

The atmosphere in the stadium was electric, the air thick with the scent of victory and the sound of jubilant cheers echoing off the walls. FC Barcelona had just secured a thrilling win, and amidst the sea of ecstatic fans, one stood out to Pablo Gavi. You, with your vibrant jersey and unwavering support, had been his silent cheerleader through every match, your passion evident in every shout and every clap.

After the final whistle blew, amidst the chaos of celebrations, Gavi found a moment to breathe. He scanned the crowd, his eyes locking onto yours, a smile breaking across his face as he waved you over. You felt a rush of disbelief and excitement as you made your way to the players' area, your heart racing in sync with the thundering applause surrounding you.

“Hey! You were amazing out there!” you exclaimed, your voice barely rising above the noise as he pulled you into a warm hug.

“Thanks! It felt incredible,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of victory. “But I think we should celebrate somewhere quieter. What do you say?”

Without waiting for a reply, he led you away from the raucous crowd and into a more secluded part of the stadium, a small lounge where the team often gathered after games. The noise faded into background chatter, and the two of you found a spot in the corner, away from the celebrations.

As you settled in, the weight of the day began to lift. Gavi leaned back, his expression softening. “It’s nice to get away from all that sometimes,” he said, gesturing back towards the wild celebration. “Everyone expects us to be perfect, to win every match, and it can be a lot to handle.”

You nodded, understanding the pressure he faced. “It must be hard to always be in the spotlight. Do you ever feel like you can’t be yourself?”

He sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “All the time. I love the game, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes it feels like people only see the player and not me. It’s like I’m trapped in this persona, and I just want to connect with someone who sees me for who I really am.”

Your heart ached for him, the weight of his words resonating deeply. “I get that. I have my own dreams and fears too,” you shared, feeling a surge of vulnerability. “Sometimes I feel lost in what everyone else expects of me, like I’m just playing a role.”

Gavi’s gaze intensified, and he leaned closer, his eyes searching yours. “What do you dream about?” he asked, genuinely curious.

You took a deep breath, feeling the moment's gravity. “I want to make a difference in the world, to find something I’m passionate about and pursue it. But I’m scared of failing, of not living up to my potential.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s okay to be scared. I am too. Every time I step onto that pitch, I feel the weight of everyone’s expectations. But I think what matters most is finding people who support you, who believe in you, even when you doubt yourself.”

You felt a connection forming, a bond strengthened by shared fears and dreams. “You have that support, you know. The fans, your teammates—they all believe in you.”

A shy smile crossed his lips. “And you? Do you believe in me?”

“Absolutely,” you replied without hesitation, your heart racing as you met his gaze. “You’re going to do amazing things, Gavi. I know it.”

He looked at you, a mixture of surprise and gratitude lighting up his features. “Thank you. That really means a lot,” he said softly.

The moment hung between you like a fragile thread, and for a heartbeat, the world outside faded away. Gavi seemed to lean in just a little closer, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him, the air thick with unspoken words.

“I wish… I wish I could find someone who understands me like you do,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart raced at his words, the longing evident in his eyes. “You’re not alone, Pablo. You’re not just a player; you’re a person with dreams, fears, and someone who deserves to be understood.”

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made your chest swell with warmth. “Maybe we can help each other find that connection,” he suggested, his voice teasing yet sincere.

You nodded, feeling a spark of hope. “I’d like that,” you said, your heart racing with possibility.

In that quiet moment away from the crowd, surrounded by the echoes of victory, you both found solace in each other’s honesty, a fleeting connection that promised to blossom into something beautiful.

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Death of Peace of Mind | Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Part 1: Altitude. Altitude.

summary: life with a pilot isn't all it's cracked up to be. a/n: hi friends! welcome! entry, please! i told you i would be back :) unfortunately, it took a lot longer than i expected. i moved states this year, started a new job, found a loving and healthy relationship, traveled internationally for the first time... i.e. i have been super busy, but i'm out of my depressive slump and finally got the urge to write (and post) again. i won't say that consistency is back, as my social calendar has obviously been slammed, but i will try my best <3

<< Previous | Next >>

Thunderous.

That’s the only way to describe the sound of hundreds of boots pounding down the ship’s stairs toward the dock below. While Hangman had only been aboard for a few weeks, many of the crew had been deployed for months on end. He, and a few other Top Gun members, made the vessel their temporary home while they completed a brief mission. Nothing like the Dagger mission, just simple recon; but the security was top-notch, and the admiral wanted his best on the case.

Hangman rolls the toothpick between his teeth with his tongue and shrugs his duffel higher up his shoulder. He laughs at a dig Phoenix makes at Rooster and claps a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, Phoenix. How I’ll miss you and your quick wit,” he sings, the sun hitting his face as his boot hits the dock beside her.

Phoenix shakes her head as she pulls her aviators from her shirt and settles them on the bridge of her nose. “And I will miss nothing about you, Hangman.”

“Ouch! Brutal! You wound me, Natasha.”

“See ya next time, Hangman.”

“You won’t have to suffer too long, Rooster. I’ll be in your dreams tonight, per usual.” He nods in the other man’s direction. “Rodeo, it’s been a pleasure.”

“I’ll never understand why you boys can’t seem to get along.”

Bob’s cousin, Rhett Abbott. Related by their twin mothers, almost identical themselves. A skilled pilot and proud country boy, with a heart of gold. Not to mention, entirely tolerable. Unlike his buddy, Bradley. Hangman and Rodeo clap hands in a firm handshake, smiling at each other. “It’s not in my blood, cowboy.”

They say their final goodbyes and are about to split up when a tiny voice shouts, “DADDY!”

Usually, this wouldn’t be uncommon. They’re on a dock, where families had come from all over Texas to welcome their servicemen and women home from a long deployment. It’s an emotional affair, albeit happy, but emotional nevertheless. However, when a little blonde girl they don’t recognize (again, not uncommon, usually) gets closer and closer, set on a path in their direction, confusion is written all over their faces. That confusion only increases tenfold when Hangman breaks into the biggest, most genuine smile they’ve ever seen him wear, and takes long strides in her direction.

“DADDY!”

Hangman drops into a squat, holding his bag in place on his shoulder, and grabs the child with his other arm. “Hi, baby!” he exclaims and fervently kisses her cheek. “I missed you so much!” 

He can’t remember the last time his heart felt so full. He understands now, why so many people have their families show up after every deployment or mission. Watching his daughter, who somehow managed to find him in the crowd, run up to him with so much excitement and love was entirely different than walking in the front door.

Although, it’s been a while since that’s happened.

He shakes the thought from his mind and scoops her up with his arm while he stands again. Her little arms go right around his neck, hugging him tight. He’s gently rubbing her leg when he asks her, “Where’s your mom?”

He’s fully aware of the absolute circus in the minds of his fellow pilots in the background. They haven’t spoken a word, silent, but he doesn’t have to look to know that they’re probably standing in the same spot. Unmoved, jaws on the floor. What Hangman does do is look around, keeping an eye out for–

“Mama!” the little girl yells, waving her hand frantically at the woman approaching.

“You found him! I’m so proud of you, Daise!”

Jake Seresin was an expert at keeping his personal and work lives separate; or he thought so, at least. Work often bled into personal, but never the other way around. Any piece or crumb the crew knew about his life outside of work, he had fed them willingly and with intention.

“Would you…want to come to port?”

“...What?”

“Only if you want. I know it’s a long drive for Daise–”

“No, no. We could fly. I’m just…surprised. You’ve never…”

“We’re docking in Corpus. The crew asked if I would show them around while we’re on leave. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to introduce you. And Daisy. Especially with…”

“That sounds nice. We’ll be there.”

“Great. I’ll send you the info.” Silence. “Thanks, Red. I mean it.”

“I know. Thank you for including us.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.”

“You’re fixing it. That’s all that matters.”

He thought that he had mastered work-life balance, too.

Apparently, not.

You give him a short side hug, partially blocked by his familiar duffel. His hand lingers on your arm after you pull away. 

“Hey. Thank you for coming.”

“Happy to. I wish you could’ve seen her face when I told her. Didn’t complain once the whole drive here.”

“Really? Isn’t that something?” He turns his attention back to Daisy. “Were you good for Mama?”

Jake listens intently to your daughter’s jumbled, excited retelling of your journey, and you occasionally butt in with light banter. He hadn’t been gone long, but from the speed and fervor at which Daisy was talking, you’d think she hadn’t seen him in months. This goes on for a bit until someone interrupts your daughter’s babbling. A male voice barks his callsign, and he peers over his shoulder in their direction.

He looks back over at Daisy with a gasp. “Daise, would you wanna meet Daddy’s coworkers?” he asks, his eyebrows quirked in faux shock.

“For real?!”

“Yeah, for real.”

“Yes!”

And that’s what you do. Jake nods in the group’s direction, and you follow his lead, sticking close to his side. He had obviously done an excellent job at keeping his family a secret; you can tell from a mile away that the band of pilots is trying to quietly deduce what the fuck is going on while you approach. Daisy is practically ready to launch out of his hold in excitement, giggling and wiggling like a little worm.

“Alright, don’t get yourselves in a tizzy.” He hikes Daisy up on his waist. “Daisy, this is Rodeo–”

“Like the rodeo at home?” she asks, in her curious, pitched voice.

“Just like that. Rodeo, this is Daisy Mae.”

“Pleasure.” The man holds his hand out to her, and she takes it, bursting with giggles again. The sound is like music to your ears, and you just know that Jake is absolutely reveling in her joy. Rodeo has a charming smile and a warm personality. You’ve heard just about every complaint under the sun from Hangman (and he has plenty), but he’s bitched about Rodeo the least. Although, when he bitches, that usually means he cares.

And he complains about Rooster a lot. A lot.

Rodeo then moves on to you and offers the same gesture. “Rhett Abbott. Miss…?”

“Seresin. I’m his wife,” you say, shaking his hand while you tell him your first name and insist that he drop the formality. You can sense Jake, your husband, looking and smiling down at you like you’re his moon and stars. You make a feeble attempt to avoid meeting his gaze but it’s futile. You make eye contact, and you know you won’t live the admission down.

You’ll talk about it later.

“You have a hat like Daddy’s,” your daughter says, and reaches out to touch the brim.

“Do I, now?”

“Moving on.” He turns her a little, “And this is Rooster.”

Daisy’s button nose scrunches in distaste, and her brows furrow together, before “…Ew.”

The man with a mustache, Rooster, clicks his teeth. “Seriously, Seresin?” he exclaims, exasperated.

“You know it. Up top, pumpkin.” Daisy throws her whole body into the high-five. You laugh as they smack hands in the air, and Jake shakes it off as if it were the crispest he had ever received. “Ouch. You’re gonna have a nasty right hook one day. You know who else throws a good punch?” He turns them to the next person, the sole woman of the party. “This is Phoenix.”

The dark-haired woman smiles brightly. “Hello! Phoenix is my work name. You can call me Natasha,” she says as if they’re sharing a secret. She’s very pretty, you notice, and you already like her. You hope the two of you can keep in touch, maybe even become friends.

You thought you would be more nervous, meeting the people Jake spends most of his time with, but you feel at ease. Sure, there’s anxious fluttering in your stomach, but it’s minimal. You’re in his sanctuary, his church, for the first time ever, and the magnitude of that isn’t lost on you.

“N…Tasha.”

“Exactly. Tasha’s okay too.”

It almost feels like before. Before Jake, Hangman, blew right past the hard deck of your relationship and left a fiery pile of rubble, which he was now attempting to repair.

But this isn’t before.

Then

Altitude. Altitude.

Not being selected for the mission stung; but being put on standby (babysitting duty), twiddling his thumbs on deck in favor of Rooster, stung even more.

Hangman knew deep down what Rooster was capable of. He said so during their training exercise. He had all of the skills to complete the mission just fine if he would just buck the fuck up. He didn’t have the confidence, too cautious for his own good. He hoped Maverick was right, that Roos was ready to get the job done.

“We got two minutes to target.”

“Copy. We’re a few seconds behind, Rooster. We got to move.”

“Thirty seconds to tomahawk impact on enemy airstrip.”

“Dagger, Comanche. We’re picking up two bandits. Single group, two contacts.”

They would be fine. Nothing to worry about.

“Sir, Daggers two and four are behind schedule. Time to target, one minute-twenty.”

“Rooster, where are you?”

“Come on, Bradshaw, pick it up…”

“Come on, Rooster. Bandits inbound. We got to make up time now. Let’s turn and burn.

Good, Payback. Kick his ass into gear.

“Guys, we’re falling behind! We really gotta move!”

“If we don’t increase our speed right now, those bandits are gonna be waiting for us when we reach the target.”

Hit the gas, Rooster. Do it.

And he did. By the sound of it, Roos had blown his wingmen out of the water with the way he took off. He nearly left them in the dust, to Hangman’s surprise and pride. Maybe the other pilot had taken a page out of his book.

“Dagger one is hit! I repeat, Dagger one is hit! Maverick is down!”

He had considered at least one of the lieutenants not making it back. Whether it was Rooster for being too slow, or Payback and Fanboy going down with him for his hesitation. He was fairly certain Phoenix was safe, with the legendary captain as her wingman. But losing Maverick wasn’t anywhere close to his radar. He started adjusting in his seat, checking his buckles and legroom while holding his mouthpiece up. “Dagger spare, request permission to launch and fly air cover!”

There’s a beat, before Comanche’s response. “Negative, spare.”

And like a good soldier, Hangman listened. Begrudgingly, and with great frustration, he listened. Even as Rooster disobeyed orders. Even as he located a somehow living Pete Mitchell. Even as he crashed like their leader. By that point, they were sure to be dead, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

That is, until–

“Daggers two, four, and spare. Be advised, a supersonic F-14 has been detected with Rooster’s headset. Unconfirmed occupants. Do not engage.”

“What?” Jake’s head whipped around and his eyes darted to Phoenix in her cockpit. She was looking between Hangman and Dagger Four just as confused as he was. “Did they say–?”

Payback lifted his mouthpiece. “Comanche, repeat.”

“Rooster headset has been picked up in the air.”

Going after Roos and Mav was a split-second decision. He knew he shouldn’t have done it the second his wheels left the carrier.

Pull up. Pull up.

And by then, it was too late to turn back.

“Dagger spare, do not engage! You do not have clearance for take-off! Acknowledge!”

“With all due respect, Comanche, not acknowledged.”

A man’s voice, likely the vice admiral, suddenly cut in. “Hangman! Stay put! That is a direct order!”

If he was going to get written up, potentially court-martialed, for disobeying direct orders, he was going to make the most of it.

“Sorry, sir. I can’t do that.”

Hangman didn’t respond to the slew of orders and cursing. He engaged the jet canopy and sat in silence with his hand over his right breast pocket, where three small photos were safely tucked away. One of you, in your pajamas with your hair up and an ice cream spoon in your mouth, eyes crinkled as you grin at him. Another of him and Daisy, and a third of the three of you.

You’d better be worth it, Bradshaw.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. This is your savior speaking.”

“Hey, Hangman. You look good.”

“I am good, Rooster. I’m very good.”

You were standing by the door, rifling through the pile of mail from the day, when you found an official-looking letter in the middle. “Jake, baby, there’s a letter for you.”

Altitude. Altitude.

“Does it say ‘confidential’?” he hollered from the kitchen.

You turned the thick envelope over, then back again. “No, it’s just addressed to you,” you said, shaking your head as if he could see you.

“Go ahead and open it.”

The paper and adhesive tore easily around your finger as you approached the kitchen. You pulled the single page out of its sleeve and quickly skimmed the letter to give a summary. But that cursory glance sent an icy chill up your spine, choking back the first line that you had meant to read aloud.

You stood between the living room and kitchen, letter in hand, frozen; a reprimand.

“What’s it say, babe?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, let alone move. Your eyes meticulously crawled through the slip, unblinking, tears pooling helplessly at your lashes. Eventually, your body couldn’t take the stillness and your lashes fluttered. The gathered drops raced down your cheeks and soiled the paper.

LETTER OF REPRIMAND FOR FAILURE TO FOLLOW ORDERS

MEMORANDUM FOR Lieutenant Jacob Austin Seresin

FROM: Vice Admiral Beau Simpson

You are being reprimanded for violating Article 92, Failure to Obey an Order or Regulation. During the [REDACTED] mission, you, Lt. Seresin, were ordered to remain grounded. You neglected to do so. As your commanding officer, the risks and outcomes of the mission were weighed carefully. You decided, on your admission and recognizance, to steal government property and engage in air-to-air combat with an enemy force that had already shot down two of your fellow airmen.

Said action could have resulted in your death, as well as the deaths of others. As a lieutenant and military member, you are expected to be a leader and obey all lawful orders. This behavior is unacceptable and will not be tolerated. Any future occurrences of failing to comply with Navy Standards will result in stronger disciplinary actions.

After reviewing the sequence of events, and given the outcome of your actions–

You didn’t need to read the rest; the course of action Jake’s command had decided upon wasn’t important. You’d had enough. Your face suddenly felt hot. And your insides, your insides, too. The wet streaks on your face and neck suddenly burned; or was it the heat under your skin turning them to vapor? Eventually, after Jake prompted you again, an echo in the ringing in your head, you managed a quiet, “Get out.”

“Can’t hear you. What?”

Through gritted teeth, you turn to stare at him, gaze like hot daggers, and growl, “Get. Out.”

He turned to find you, the epitome of feminine rage and nearly cowered back. In the years you had been together, he had never seen you so angry.

“W…hat do you–”

His confusion only made your fury worse. And so your rampage began. Your heavy footsteps cut him off and you all but ran to your shared bedroom, and slammed the letter on the kitchen island on your way past.

“Red–” The thought died in his throat when he scanned the mail.

Fuck.

A bag flying into the living space from the hall broke him out of his stupor. Jake quickly moved toward the source, and asked, “Red, what are you do–” When he crossed the threshold, a pressed uniform smacked him in the face.

“Get out! Get out, get out, get out, GET OUT!” you screeched, lobbing clothes and other small objects at him.

His pants, his socks, his fucking underwear–

Out. Get it all out. All of it. Fuck him, fuck his shit, fuck his job–

“Baby–!”

“Fuck you! Don’t call me that!”

“Red, baby, please! Stop!”

That finally sparked a coherent thought in your mind. You were sobbing, choking on your cries, but you managed ragged breaths to string together a sentence. “We just talked about this! You promised me! You promised that you would do better, and I believed you! MOTHERFUCKER!”

A phone charger smacked the wall where Jake’s head once was; he swatted at a pillow that came in his direction when he straightened back up. “I…Sweetheart,” he stuttered, desperate sounding. “I couldn’t–they would’ve died! I’m so–”

Hearing him about to say he was sorry made it so much fucking worse. You don’t know what else to do but just…scream. Like a banshee. That was when the heavy shit started–the remote, a picture frame, a vase, a lamp. During your blind frenzy, he managed to get close enough to grab your arms when you turned your back, searching for another projectile. He pulled you to his chest, practically crushing you against him, so you would stop fighting and trying to injure him. But you were vicious; screaming obscenities and insults, writhing in his iron grip. You managed to get your legs up and kick at the bed, which sent Jake stumbling back and forced him to plant his feet. If he were honest, he would admit that he struggled to keep you contained, even for a moment.

His body, his flesh touching yours was too much, and your sleep set didn’t offer you much relief. Your skin crawled like you might just burst at the thought of having to be in his proximity any longer. Amidst all the chaos, you’d almost forgotten about your toddler, sleeping soundly in another room.

“I can’t believe I trusted you! You’re fucking killing me! And you do it like it’s nothing! Like we’re nothing! I’m done! I’m fucking done!”

Pull up. Pull up.

You kicked again, and Jake let you go, instead holding your face to make you look at him. But you shoved him away before he could get the chance. “Red, you have to understand–!”

“I’m done understanding! I don’t care about them! I don’t care about the military! Why should I give half of a shit, when my husband would rather die for them than live for his fucking wife and child!”

Jake didn’t respond. He couldn’t. What could he have said? To apologize, to make it better, to prove that. He’d already groveled to get to where they were then, and he screwed it up so quickly. 

The battlefield that was his mind wouldn’t cooperate. He was barely keeping his head above water lately, let alone while trying to mitigate the damage he had done to his wife. Damage that he didn’t—couldn’t—see, and still didn’t quite understand. You brought up your feelings, over and over again, and he did his best to keep his promises.

He did his best. Why wasn’t that good enough?

“You don’t get it! And I don’t know how to make you understand. I’ve begged, I’ve made threats, and it’s not working. So I’m telling you again. GET. OUT!”

“Red!”

The neighbors called the police. They heard your fight from next door, through the hum of their TV while their family ate dinner. How your daughter slept through it, even with taking after her father with his heavy sleeping, you’d never know. Jake sat on their doorstep shell-shocked, a cop around his dad’s age hovering over him with a sad look.

“I just want him gone. I need to be left alone,” you choked through tears, wiping your sleeve across your face. “I’m always alone.”

How did we get here?

Daisy’s faint cries flooded through the doorway from her bedroom. Your husband instinctually went to get up and tend to her, but was met with a firm hand on his shoulder. The man shook his head, and Jake slowly sank back down. If he could’ve sunk into the concrete, he would’ve. What kind of man was he, if he couldn’t even tend to his daughter?

The officers told each of you separately that charges weren’t necessary for a case like yours, which you were grateful for. Jake would never hit you, and you told them as much; you’d just reached your breaking point and needed space. The older man followed the pilot through the house as he went to fetch some clothes to last him a few days. It took everything in his being to ignore Daisy’s cries for him from behind her closed door; it was enough of a challenge that the officer had to nudge him past when he paused at the painted entryway, adorned with her namesake.

With instructions to restrict contact to Daisy’s needs for the next few days, to give you both time to cool off, your husband left peacefully. You didn’t watch as he tossed his bag into the backseat of his truck, or when he pulled out of your driveway. You simply thanked the officers and closed the door, leaned back against it, and sobbed into your palm. You don’t have long, your daughter having gotten louder with each passing minute she was left unattended. You let her cry for just a bit longer to get it out of your system before fetching her.

Even though you had just kicked your husband, the love of your life, out of your family home, you still managed to be incredibly gentle with your toddler. It felt like your soul was torn to pieces, one of them on his way to a motel or parking lot, no doubt.

You shushed her quietly as you scooped her into your arms and smoothed her hair. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mama’s here. It’s okay.”

Altitude. Altitude.

Copyright © 2024 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[joannasteez]

with me, the world is yours

pairing: roman reigns x black reader authors note: i wrote all of this late summer/early fall and after breaking away from it for so long, i've kind of lost the drive to finish the story in the original way i'd intended to write it, BUT, i am willing to add to it in small ways with little drabbles and such. so whoever reads this, please consider it as background/exposition and or a prologue to whatever gets added to it. if anyone wants to see something added to this specific story please drop me scenarios in my inbox!! word count: 8k

he liked to walk the floor

carpet smooth beneath the expensive drop of his heel and toe. hubris a limitless force, the broad width of his chest swelling. pride, unsullied, raw and ever simple in its existence. it was a deep elegant staining streak along his being that refused to leave him, unless of course he willed it so. and the casino floor of The Summer Isle Hotel, his hotel, filled with this great thundering of rage and joy and desperation. tiny drops of poker chips like small striking claps. the flipping of cards giving that easy slipping swoop against padded black jack tables. the hum of the room was loud, because the room itself seemed, to his eye, to never end. a tenacious buzzing that simmered his blood quick, excited. 

the night was young. restless. ruby red suede heels moving, clever and seductive. the color of champagne at every corner his eyes took him, bubbling rich in flutes and set in the sweet form of silk dresses. pearls sitting tempting over cleavages and diamonds dressing the sturdiness of fingers that roamed the figures of excitable women. emeralds, jades and sapphires, taking every shape against the skin that would have it. 

earrings, anklets, rings, bracelets......

whiskey and brandy swishing in glasses......

dry champagne hitting the tongue just right......

bodies hugging, lips kissing, eyes glazed over and just so damn greedy......

this...this ceaseless atmosphere. the un-quelled need to have. to take hold. to win. 

roman loved to walk the casino floor of his hotel. 

but he hated, absolutely hated cheaters. fucking thieves, cunning-less and eager. their tact lacking just as much as their ambition. roman figured, if their schemes were anymore complex, then he'd feel somehow better about their stealing. he'd at least respect their finesse before using their heads to shove them out the entryway doors of the establishment. and what a fine establishment it was, built off the sweat of his brow, his, others, blood and many tears. owning a hotel on the vegas strip was no easy feat and he'd be damned if someone disrespected it. disrespected his work. his vision. 

...so then why?...

your eyes flit over to a table just some feet away. 

...why did he let you play your games?...

a man in muted clothes gives you a signal. many silent signals, ones roman was once oblivious to, but now overly familiar with, as if he created them himself. 

...four seconds of a stare. one mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four. four meaning spade, given they were following the alphabetical order of the suits. 

the man, face more punchable by the minute, touches his nose. meaning, the spade is a face card. 

and the fucking dealer is young, flips up his card too easily, exposing just before he deals.

roman wants to do many things. to the man, the dealer, and the other pairs around the other blackjack tables following the same system. his fingers curl, ball inward till his palm pains him but his eyes remain as they always did. fiercely void, teetering delicate on some fine line of violence, until you move. speak. 

"blackjack", you call. with just enough disinterest that prides the flow of his blood. makes him smirk.

"they've all been at it for days", paul bristles. 

"end it", roman calls, walking away. 

---

you despised most men, despised their presence, looking at them, unnecessarily speaking to them, breathing the same air as them. they'd bred more trouble than they were ever worth and always, without fail, served up to you, on some disgusting dish, half baked and ill formed, the least discreet of charms, to win even slivers of your attention. it was the usual lousy song and dance, artless and heavy handed. you despised most of them, because they led you to places like these with promises too alluring to ignore. all you wanted, want still, is the money. its all you need. 

and they'd all but manhandled you from the casino floor to a room. two men, one barely distinguishable from the other, but then again...they donned shades that matched their disapproving looks. lips turned in scrutiny. but what the fuck did they know anyway?... fuck them and this...this room. a holding of some sort. walls white, chairs black, a purposeful minimalistic touch crafted to intimidate. and it was working...even if just slightly. 

your chair creaks, wooden and anxious. you hated this, always would. this forceful feel of surrendering. 

and you don't speak first, but because of that neither does he. 

grey's scattered about his beard, scarce but still there. slight face lines...stress maybe?...and tawny specks living as freckles. he's groomed to perfection but still there's something about him, a flare in his eye that lends itself to a buried ruggedness. a meticulous sort of brutality. 

and he's just sitting there... 

...close to you but not too close. enough to open you with his eyes, but not enough to leave you breathless...

he's practiced in this. patient. 

...he can't do this all day... you think, till his body sits more comfortable than before. he will if he has to, and he will. to prove a point. to win. 

the room is cold. sterile. you shiver some, the first to say anything. 

"i didn't do anything wrong". 

"then why so defensive?"

you felt some ways away from lethal and the reasons for such a feeling mounting more every second. forming knots in your belly, heat and pressure. guilt and a sickly intrigue. his voice was rich and deep. smooth and commanding. if in another place, at some other time, you could see yourself falling for that voice, lulled and taken by it. you hate it, the hot twinge it drives into your skin. you grow sharp, words throwing like daggers. 

"if you were me, sitting where i am, you'd be defensive too". 

"i could have you brought up on charges", he presses. toying really. flip and flopping between seriousness and sarcasm. the heels of his shoes click the floors, and you fall slow into the creak of the chair, pulling away from the size of him as he approaches. he bends, levels with you, but even this feels like a looking down upon. "cheating and swindling. maybe even restitution". 

"what?" you start. you cant help your self. "not nice enough for a little jail time". 

you see his jaw shift. "smart mouth". 

you move in with a sudden spell of boldness. "fuck you". your lips twist to spit against the floor. "and fuck your casino". 

it's quick. harsh. his fingers long and curling at your jaw. he's warm, grip steady despite the push of your hands. he feels the fight in you, regardless of how soft you are to the touch. skin tender, like untouched feathers. 

but still... that damn mouth of yours. 

"you tried remember", mirthless but not. 

"don't fucking touch me", you rant. hitting at him harder. attempting without end to pry away his fingers, until finally he lets go. 

and it's rather shortsighted but brave nonetheless, the way your feet carry you to go at him. to do what exactly? you're not to entirely sure. but it doesn't matter much anyways, not when he's this mountain of a man. herculean and spiting. resolute in fucking with you a little for whatever enjoyment he can get out of the situation, and you know this to be true when your momentum to him is soured, a scream bleeding coarse through the walls. 

the dense walls block most of the action, but the scream of pain is undeniable. the faint crush of bone breaking through to where you are, fixing you to the floor where you stand in some sickly mixture of fear and surprise. 

"the money or their fingers i asked them". his stare is heavy. daunting. "some of them chose money, but of course they get to keep neither". he walks to the single entry-exit door. body taking up most of the frame. "paul, escort the young lady back to her room". 

you scoff on instinct. hating the condescension his tone takes. you shift by them both in a way that knocks your shoulders into their arms. paul's chalky, round face as amused as his boss. 

"i can escort myself". 

---

amongst the other's lining the vegas strip, The Summer Isle Hotel is the second largest. and where the floors lack that bold blood red carpeting, there is laid instead a fine marbling, in the endless halls and walkways, polished enough to see even the faintest of facial details. the ceilings venture high, littered with crystal chandeliers and in the walls and on ceilings are engraved these renaissance inspired paintings. there is this rhythm to the place, something archaic and forever far away, that is meant to always be desired. as people sip champagne, drunk and more verbose by the second, bleeding their pockets dry to their hearts content, the artistry of the hotel leaves them wondered and greedy. that even as they eat the finest food and drink the oldest wines, there is more to indulge in. more to have, to reach that unreachable place of pure luxury.

it was extravagant and all consuming, and pieces of you wondered what it all felt like. to never want or lack for it, because it was just simply there, at the edge of your fingertips. 

the hotel was big enough to get lost in, big enough to lose others in, so when paul sits himself at your table for two, security detailing not too far, just at the edges of the bar, you grow weary and annoyed. he'd been looking for you. 

you swirl your drink with a cocktail straw. feeling the pressure of his stare. "im being babysat now?" 

his hands fold with an instinctive diplomacy. 

"just call it reassurance". 

reassurance...that was bullshit. you didn't need to be told things more than once, especially when the talk was as loud and showy as it was earlier. "he made it pretty clear what can happen. i'm a cheater, not stupid". 

"there isn't always much of a difference between the two".

you hum, sipping what's left of your drink. "if you're gonna chat me up, buy me another drink then". his brow raises, as if in waiting. you sigh, annoyed at having to perform niceties. "please". 

its expert and concise, a look and just under a handful of gestures to the bartender, but his awareness never wavers from the already empty cocktail glasses where vodka-cran once filled. three to be exact. this fourth, he hopes, would be your last, as it was now that the glazing over of your eyes was coming underway. and he'd originally been an advocate for roman's earlier display of brutish prowess, and still is in all honesty, but seeing you, it did unsettle him in very few but poignant ways. he knew enough to know that you were attempting a drowning of frenzied nerve. sitting here, he hopes you understand, like everything else on the strip... its just business. 

paul shifts. bringing his chair slightly closer. "the system you use on the blackjack tables, how long did it take to come up with it?" 

"not long, maybe a few minutes", you start. sipping and thinking on whether to indulge him or not. but it seems to you now that the whole trip has gone to complete shit so why not. "it's all about assigning basic signals to cards but it's the memory part that fucks people up. memory and performance anxiety". paul chuckles at the absurdity and you grin, slightly pleased at his interest. "practicing in a warehouse versus being on a casino floor, at a table. it's different. anything can happen". 

you push away the drink. satisfied. paul's eyes turn soft, with what you think is relief. why relief?

"and then theres the whole finding a weak dealer situation", you continue. "no offense, you guys have a better looking hotel but the venetian runs tight security". 

"noted". 

its your turn to shift in your chair. asking the question you've been wanting the answer to since the moment happened. "why didn't he break my fingers?" 

"who knows. maybe he's waiting for you to get stupid", paul jokes. 

"you either are or you aren't. no in between". 

"that means you'll stay put then?" 

you scoff. "what, i'm on lockdown?"

"the boss says you're free to do as you please. just no stealing".

you smile coy, standing to leave. "you wouldn't mind covering the tab then? can't seem to find my wallet". 

---

thief. cheater. schemer. you've heard many names and resented none of them, because at their root, the truth remained what it was. it was artistry. and if you're clever enough, sharp enough, quick enough, finessing could be masterful. the constant putting together of a challenge, a game. and it was practical to love games, because good players win. 

but this? this was not practical. he was not practical. 

he seemed to be playing a different game entirely. you figure solely to spite you. a figurative spitting in the face if you will. 

every waiter of every bar in every corner of the hotel knew your cocktail order. vodka-cran with lime, extra ice. a splash of club soda. 

the security detail seemingly doubled overnight and each of them never failed to greet you. a smile and a head tipping nod. 

casino floor personnel, always with a subtle but sudden direction, pointed out to you the slots that paid out the biggest and the most often. 

the restaurants you dined in refused to give you the check and when you asked why, flustered and confused, they gave the same answer every time. 

"because the boss said so". 

complementary goods in your hotel room. aged wines and sweets. 

tickets to shows you neither wanted to attend or cared for.

if you were a different woman, who lived a different life, you figure she'd find this every bit as enticing as it was. enchanting even. grand gestures made out of some sickly sweet distant admiration. but you were not her and most men you knew or had known only did things; provided, loved, cared, with condition. so only one questioned remained. why? and after days of guessing games, a stomach turning foreboding shifted swiftly to irritation. he'd upped the ante finally, moving from these fairly small gestures, which to you were not small at all, to something a little bit too much for you to take. 

and you wonder now if he knows that he's reached your end, knocking hard at the ceiling of your limits. body simmering hot with this slow to finish unraveling feeling. as if at any moment unknown to you, you'll break in some uncontrolled fit of rage. he was becoming more persistent, silent still but more persistent and the affects of such persistence were all around you. soft wool carpeting where marble floors ended, a detailed fretwork spanning every corner of the ceilings, and french sliding doors connecting you to a wide stretched pool looking over the vegas strip. 

"the boss sends his regards", housekeeping said after it was all said and done. 

from the 6th floor straight up to the 39th, he'd gotten them to move everything you'd bought with you. your clothes, shoes, purses, from a studio room you could just barely pay for, to the penthouse suite. 

all of this, and a tiny note atop the dresser. 

enjoy your stay - roman

"roman", you try aloud. 

it isn't till the next day that you realize he's quite fond of leaving these little letters. words thin and cursive. messages brief enough to never reveal even a semblance of his thoughts. 

friday morning his words scribble a small card stuck to the center of a bouquet of white roses. 

white desdemona's. enjoy the roses - roman

you struggle for sometime in the bright silence of the morning. the busyness of the vegas strip bleeding a hum in through the sliding french doors. it wouldn't be hard, indulging him. cling fast and easy to soft petaled gestures, quelling finally that wayward need for a romantic sort of fascination. buried so long ago but clawing upwards tirelessly still, begging for relief. but it would be more sensible to deny yourself, which in the same breath meant denying him. tearing that pristine white card in two and setting the roses out to sit just in front your suite door. to send a message, simple but strong, enough for him to understand. 

a sudden knock urges you to settle into a resolution quickly. quicker than you were prepared for. the white card now in your hand tearing into two pieces with a twist of your wrist as you go to open the door. 

its house keeping. 

you place the torn paper in their hand before stepping out of the suite, furthering more down the hallway to the elevator by the second. the roses themselves were too lovely to get rid of anyways. 

"tell your boss i send my regards". 

---

would you believe them?

a less than modest woman from the north east, standing above the illustrious wonder of the vegas strip. and from your glass flute a slow, smooth sip, along with some restless awakening of a dream, even if it last only for a moment. an imagining from this high place, that with a deep sure breath like some figure from beyond with a vast primordial power, you gave life to this idle desert, and with sun and sand, birthed from pure will what they call fabulous las vegas. but this must be what he feels, day after day, night after night, standing above the rest, the staunch rush of pride, like something simmered well into the run of his blood. for you it was this endless day dream, the money, the power, the access, but for him, it seemed real. it was real. 

and still the question remains... would you believe them? a cunning woman, wrapped strapless in leather fine enough to please even the most marred skin, and heels that extend the vicious form of your legs. 

just tuesday you were cursing the good name and fortune of this place with your dna splat just mere inches from his shoes, and now here you are friday, waiting for him. 

if they, whoever they are, told you sometime ago that you'd be here, you wouldn't have believed them. 

he'd done well to send another card, and with it, another gift. 

the rendezvous. 7pm - roman

he'd gotten house keeping to do more of his dirty work, the poor bastards, but even their precision was daunting. the placement of the card, and the gift, and the complementary wine, and a single blooming stargazer. the petals dainty and blushing. it'd left you standing deep in a well of emotion, finding everything he'd left, and your bed taken by a box. the lid pulled off quickly by that gnawing urge to indulge him. and despite his initial brutish behavior and persistence, it was safe to say that the man was not void of taste. 

but it would be more sensible to deny yourself,  like a chant, it'd echoed, and your fingers ran over the plains of something silky. a dress, cool raven color, strong and subduing, but the fabric was so fine to the touch it'd felt criminal to hold. and with it had lived perfumes, bottle after bottle, as if he feared you'd somehow go without. and... fuck... sitting, waiting really, in a satin pouch... two pairs of goddamned diamond earrings. one pair smaller than the other, but both far more delicate than most things you'd ever owned. and soon the short warm swell of excitement had grown cold and hesitating. why was he doing this? what did he want from you? 

they were questions you intended to get answers to and it seemed if they weren't answered now then who knows when, unsure if you'd ever see him again. 

"you didn't like the roses"

your heart takes to some quick instinctual beating. a ragged fraying of nerves just off the simple sooth and strength of his voice. before, in that silent white room, you were sharp, aware of him but the power of his aura did nothing to sway your wanting to see him pained by your indifference to him. now though... it was so damn different now it seemed, as you were a small ways away from a purely formed nervousness. 

you turn just enough to give him your profile, sipping slow at the flute, steeling one buzz under your skin away with another. "i'd like them more if they were red". you face him finally, staying leant up against the balcony railing of the restaurant. "but it seems i don't have much option or choice here". 

"no need to choose when everything is the best". 

"that doesn't sound self important at all". 

"doesn't make it any less true". 

champagne has never tasted so good, you think, sipping and fighting the impulse to look away from him. his eyes softer than before but still lying in them are traces of searching for some unspoken truth. it was a much more subdued attempt compared to before, every pass his eyes made about your own, short flickers to your lips, the way you clutched the glass, your hair, your jewelry, the dress you were wearing, like a gentle pealing back of a layer. less scrutiny out of a short bout of anger and more of a learning. he'd come to the conclusion after watching you leave the white room all those days ago that he wanted to learn you. 

here now, watching you sip champagne, he wondered if you'd let him. 

"listen", you start. taking a closer step to him, with some new found form of resolution, and its hard to keep this will strong and steeled away when he's this close. scent heady and soothing to your senses. "i don't know what you're thinking, but i do know that you got me a lot of fucked up for just hauling my shit-"

"the suite is yours for as long as you want it" 

"i'm not paying for it"

his grin is warm. inviting. long fingers slipping the flute from your hold after its been emptied to set it down at a nearby table. "it's yours anyways". 

your confusion is palpable, lives in the way you retreat closer to the banister again, for fresher air void of him. in hopes to think more clearly. "just the other day you practically had me hemmed up and now you're-"

"that was different. it was business". 

you scoff. "business my ass, fuck you-"

"and fuck my casino, i know". 

it's your go to insult it seems, this time having less of an affect on him, but still there is something there. a small stinging pain bruising the very large stain of ego. 

you look to him with searching eyes of your own. "so the wine... and-and the roses and just... everything, i mean thats?..."

"gifts. just gifts. not to be payed back ever". 

your face fixes in a fashion similar to the first time you spoke to him. eyes defensive and unsure, brows pulling in for a full measure of scrutiny. "why?"

"have dinner with me". 

you press again. "why?" 

"because", he starts, with a streak of vulnerability. "all of my attention is taken up by a casino resort on the strip of one of the busiest places in the world but for some reason, for the last 72 hours or so i've only been able to think clearly about you".

your eyes roll off instinct despite the flutter feeling in your gut. "am i supposed to be flattered?"

"its the truth". 

roman hadn't been a man who lent himself to believing in chance or possibility for sometime. if he wanted something, or hell even someone, it simply happened, because thats the way it had been, since the first burst of the resorts success till before this very moment. when he spoke, the world of the resort opened and bent, twisted and curved till it formed to his liking, so much until the effects of his wants rippled through the whole of the strip till they echoed miles away, through the rolling of nevada desert dust. but you...

the click of your heels, the soft sway of your hips, the way words twisted from your lips comfortable because you knew yourself well enough to know that regardless of his capabilities you'd do something drastic and a bit ways away from reckless before ever letting him get the best of you. 

that bravery, an unflinching flame, new and unpredictable and different and more exciting than anything he'd seen in sometime. 

whether you were leaving or staying, he follows you and savors even the cut of your eyes. it's quick and fierce, unsure of its power but stripping the resolve of him all the same. and of course a curt look is all you give him, as he opens the door to the rendezvous and follows you in, not a word to him as waiters and well off patrons pass the both of you by. a leisure walk around pristine white cloth dressed tables and velvet chairs, each of your steps like some small conquering of a widely secured territory. his territory. you move more sure of yourself by the second and it rushes his warm and wanting. 

with no real hurry, roman pulls out the chair you've picked to sit in just before you can make to do it yourself, finding himself closer than he needs to be, just some inches from your face. each breath in, sweet and tempting. the perfume he bought you...

you sit without a word, not even a thank you, and he finds himself more drawn in by the second. 

it isn't until he sits himself that roman realizes you've chosen a seat at the center of the restaurant. and whether it's purposeful or not, it's damn sure fitting. 

a trivial orbit of faces and voices. 

"you don't take no for an answer do you?"

"when you're where i am, after a while, you stop asking and getting asked. you never even have to hear no". 

its arrogant, eye roll worthy even, but you don't miss the truth in it. the pull of his brows together, lending themselves to a pure honesty. and it's hard, quelling that pull up of envy. to be so well off, so rich, never having to answer to any one. i wish, you thought. i wish

your finger trails along the fine table cloth. "i must have you so out of sorts then, how rude of me". 

"it's fun", he grins. a single finger signaling someone. " 'm learning my manners again". 

and there was this fidelity to his words ......everything is the best because i am the best...... a quality that spilled over into everything that he touched, spoked to, looked at, and did. it was this undeniable thing, a force, that caused such a natural hesitation in you, but also this impulse to fight. you wanted to struggle against him, war with the easy diligence of him till he folded. cracking under the weight of his hubris till large fragmented pieces ground to dust. but you would not win that battle today, no, not as waiters execute their level of precision, plate after plate set atop the table in such a meticulous manner that it seemed to be planned. a well thought scheme with the intent to impress. dish after dish, revealed, one after the other smelling more divine than the one before it. 

the waiter, an adorably eager young man, falls into a spiel about the wine you can't be bothered to care about. his work of a perfect pour all for nothing. it nearly pains you. "i'll take a water please". 

the waiter flattens. a curt nod as he hurries away. 

"it's vintage", roman says. seemingly unaffected by your disinterest in old aged wine. 

" 'm sure it is". eyeing him. the sip his lips take. "seems you've had things all planned out. what if i'd said no?" 

"someone else's lucky night then. a free meal on the house".

"do you have a ready made answer to everything?". 

"i am who i am. it's impossible not to".  the cut of your knives into plated steaks reveals this smooth buttery finish. the meat tender against the blade and more so to the taste. and it takes everything in you not to moan or go cross eyed, not when he's watching your every move. seemingly studying and committing your eyes and lips and words to memory. no, you simply chew. sip at your water and live as quiet in your delight as possible. till of course it hits you, not as hard or sudden as one would expect, but it's more of a washing over. a stilled piecing together that quickens your pulse and frowns out the apathy on your lips. 

you stare down at your plate. a short ways away from dumbfounded. "you know how i like my steak".  even the way he chews is perfect. measured and steady. a luxurious sort of etiquette steeped into the make of him. but you find that his manners are selective, as he doesn't even bother to meet your eyes. low sitting and accusing. he chews as you did, but with more leisure. the slice of his knife and the clink of his fork fighting against the waiting you do in the silence. even when he works to indulge you, he abides in his own time, lets you wrestle with the trivial chatter of the room the way you did not so long ago with the abundance of his gifts. 

he wipes his mouth with a cloth. a feigned unawareness about him. 

"the chefs know how you like your steak".

you scoff. maybe your tenth eye roll of the night. " and the bartenders so conveniently know how i like my cocktails too". 

he sips his wine easy like he would water. "they have an eye for detail, thats why they work here". 

"or maybe", you start. fork an obnoxious clinking at the plate as it drops dramatic from your fingers. "just maybe it's someone else's eyes they're looking through. someone else's words they're following". 

"maybe". 

...so fucking goddamn frustrating... you think. eyeing the full table of food. and it's less anger and more confusion, that slow to finish fraying of nerves. these things that he does, says, that leave you emotionally inconvenienced. 

"you don't know how insane it feels, night after night, trying to pick up a check for dinner and the waiter refuses your money. it feels like stealing". 

he chuckles. "something you should be used to then". 

"fuck you. i only steal out of necessity". 

and this was it, the thing from which his curiosities where born, feverish in his fingers. an ache to flex broad and wide, to do and make till need was just a distant word laying dead at the recesses of your mind. necessities were strange, and if it became flesh and bone with legs and the will to speak it too would be a stranger to him. roman had not wanted for anything in some time, and if he felt in himself that he needed something, the readiness by which it came to him revealed only that he did not need it, but that he wanted it, in that covetous way that a man wants another mans woman. and so it became natural, that others around him would not need for anything either. 

the way he's settled into the velvet of the chair becomes less leisure, leaning in slightly with a more focused determination. "what do you need?" 

your smile is wry. unconvinced. "like you care". 

"if you could have anything, what would it be?"

the list was endless it seemed, a question you'd asked and answered thousands of times and then thousands of times again. cars, houses, shoes, clothes, jewelry, yachts, boats. trivial and obnoxiously expensive things even, if it meant that you could feel the freedom of just being. it was an easy thing to answer, but so hard still when all the answers were far away from you, never even brushing faint at your fingertips. 

and he thinks in this moment, your eyes softening, this is the most serious he's ever seen you. 

"i wanna be comfortable. enough not to worry about anything". 

"and why aren't you there yet?"

"i tried", a finger of yours slipping against the grip of the cutting knife. "but you stopped me". 

but how could he question you? was your drive, your diligence to get what you wanted not legitimate because it was not legal? and with this, the question forms clear again, why the fuck were you here? 

"a man at the top asking me why i'm all the way down here", your head shaking in this sly build of indignation. he had some nerve. "you don't see how shitty that is?" 

roman feels something in him lessen. a deep pulling away that reflects in the flare that takes to your eyes. an edge that leaves the room a bit cooler than before. how could he have been so stupid and blind? judging you for the very thing that had left him in this whirl of curiosity and admiration. 

" 'm not tryin to offend you". 

"but here i am. offended". 

he shifts, reaches the wide stretch of his palm to lay open against the table. an olive branch close enough for you to reach out and take. "let me make it up to you". 

you consider him. the outstretch of his palm. fingers strong and waiting. the way his eyes settle into this mild sort of kindness that still lends itself to something not so pleasing. the warm lights amongst the crystals of hanging chandeliers casting along his face in such a way that it shadows his eyes some but still shines against his features. speaking so clearly to the deepened well of his hubris, always revealing and hiding itself in his own time. he is a sure man, wanting only what he wants, but seeks it in such a diligent way that it suffocates the things, the people that he desires. but maybe, just maybe, if you leave him wanting, challenged and needy, he would give you everything. 

your finger tips move to tease at his. this faint dancing along his palm. "if you're gonna send me gifts, make sure it's things i like". touch a sly caress at his wrist. "i'm not a wine girl, and i hate seeing flowers die". 

he lets your touch play along his skin. revels silent in the rush it sends, a jetting stream into his blood. 

"what do you prefer?"

you slip off a ring that shines against his pinky. fitting it onto your middle one. your stare is this rapturous thing. hypnotic and breath taking, and he understands why you've probably gotten away with so much till now. 

"i have a sweet tooth". 

"i can work with that".

you hum into a sigh, considering still. your hand balling his own to close that reaching opened palm before you settle back into your chair. more eased now than you've been the whole night. 

"i hope so for your sake". 

and roman does not hesitate often, certainly never out of fear. he doesn't mind the manner of his words much, or their phrasing and the life it breathes into his expression. he doesn't suffer much to care for the thoughts of others and their own words, unless of course it somehow seeks to exist against his money, the resort or the greatness of his name. roman wasn't fearful, no, but being here with you, caution takes him all the same. like those tentative seconds where the lucky struck gambler is suspended in possibility, waiting for the dealers reveal. 

his words take to a mindfulness, as if each word is brought out selectively. "has anyone ever offered, to take care of you. buy you things. take you places". 

you laugh in that small uncontrollable way, when something, after so much confusion, becomes clear. because of course this is what he wants. of-fucking-course. 

"some have. i always told them no".

"why?"

to think of it, even if just slightly, annoyed you. "conditions. restrictions. rules. you can't go there, you can't do this. that's not care". 

"control is an acquired taste". 

a grin slips into the seam of your lips. curious. "is it yours?" 

his tongue peaks, a short run against his teeth, and something deep within, this buried and slow to rise feeling tightens at your core. maybe it wouldn't hurt to have a taste of wine.

his grin matches yours. "not if it ain't yours". 

"out of all the woman everywhere, why me?" 

"you try to steal from me, you spit on my casino floor, and you ain't missed a chance yet to tell me how you feel". 

"we're into degradation i see", you joke. and it gets a laugh you think not many have experienced. it's something sincere, crinkling for some seconds the corners of his eyes. and despite the short bout of fondness that forms at hearing him laugh, he's got to be joking right? pulling your leg hard for an even bigger laugh. "i'm a thief roman". 

"a very transparent thief. i don't meet people like that a lot". 

it's a losing fight but still, it's hard not to push back. 

"you barely know me". 

"i could know you, if you let me". 

"what's in it for you?" 

sex, you think. when he's given you enough of his money and access, he'll ask for sex. 

"your company". 

---

riverside, california was not the vegas strip, and by all intents and purposes did not claim to be the notorious sin city. the breeze here was something warm and patient. a soft flowing about, satisfied only by its own directionlessness. but in a small whispered taunting way, it was unadulterated. the vegas strip was loud, this harsh numbing sort of droning that buried the more subtle, truthful noises and those skittish undercurrents in the skin that lent to fervent thoughts and ideas. the silence of riverside and the quaint rooftop air of antonella's was this exposing thing. and you'd come west to unashamedly connive your way into some money, but now you were here, unsure of the minutes, hours and even days to come, with him. sipping at coffee, and picking gentle but anxious at his diamond ring, feeling as aimless as the riverside wind. 

and then, seemingly from no where, his shoes click against the cobblestone, steps slow and uniformed, a pace all his own. and as he sets down a fine spread atop the table; meats, cheeses, fruits, and small cakes, he can sense rather acutely this refusal to acknowledge him. from you, an amusing fight; one leg crossed over the other, a fidgeting in your fingers and this far away look else where, feigning indifference. 

antonella's at noon - roman

he'd written as he liked to do, and yet it was a little passed two in the afternoon. the drive over to riverside lengthy and unknowing. 

"you're late"

" 'm sorry?"

roman is amused but taken a back all the same. in the years of his success, lateness was not something to treat with avoidance or fear but just another trivial idea. something purely subjective. or maybe it was because things just ran on his time, started and stopped when his desires had not been met or when they'd exceeded his expectations. it was new to think that something like that was so bothersome for you. 

he sits in the empty space of a double seated chair beside you. the wood fine and stripped, carved with intricate designs. his arm falling against the top. your bodies closer now than they've ever been. 

"if i'm-", you shift to face him. eyes taken by the tan of his cheeks, sprinkled with freckles. lips full, and beard thick. his eyes softer than normal but still traces of an intensity to them. he's beautiful, even in his arrogance and persistence. "if i'm gonna do this. whatever this is, you have to be on time. i'm not a woman who likes to wait". 

his eyes drop to the plump of your lips. existing there this thin tempting line of gloss. "yes ma'am". 

and his stare lingers, a gentle taking in of the slight pout forming into the line of your lips and the soft round out of your cheeks. your eyes under the cast of the sun, more ethereal than not, but guarded some still in this impatient game of waiting for something that will quell that burden of unknowing. the small tells of your anxiety live in the way you play aimlessly at that ring you took from him, or rather the ring he let you take. even with your demands that fight against his own desires and your quick wits and your curt looks and your own bouts of teasing, you still hesitate for fear of the feelings that come with great disappointment. he wonders now if his words for you are not enough, and that though it had been enough for mostly everyone, you are not them. you are new and different and he'd have to treat you as such. 

roman cuts a piece of cake easy, and on a fork it waits for you to indulge in it. 

"taste this", he gives, handing you the fork. 

"what is it?" 

"panettone". his voice deep and delicate about the shape of the vowels, taking on a slight accent in reverence of the treat. italian?, you wonder. 

the cake is buttery and sweet, a taste of fruit with each pass it takes over your tongue and theres something there as you sit with the taste of it that tells you that it's homemade. its a perfect mixture of everything, as if the baker had made it a thousand times, and then a thousand times more. 

he reaches to pick off a piece of fruit with a slim pick, sleeves loose and revealing the beginnings of what you think is a full arm of connected tattoos. you wonder how far they travel, and where they possibly might end. 

the strength of espresso wafts against the flow of a simple breeze as he takes to refilling the teeny size of your cup and then a splash of his own to taste. 

he sighs, satisfied at the warmth of it. "you like it?". 

"mhmm", you give. a sincerity lining your lips as you give him a small smile. it's something new, relaxed. an earnestness lacking that natural wary look you wear when you look at him. "you're taking my words to heart. i like a man who listens". 

"i aim to please". 

you slip the ring back onto your finger, less fidgety with it now. an easy settling of the tensity in your shoulders that allows your body to rest closer to him. facing inward so that the cross of your leg touches his. and it's this innocent, dainty step towards intimacy. where the gentle quiet of the day fills the air with a more tender possibility. guards are fallen away, more than before if anything, and your eyes shimmer warm and a little more accepting. i'll try, you think to your self, to believe him even if only for a moment. i'll indulge him. 

"you like that ring?", he asks. staring at the way it shines against your finger. 

at the mention of it, you twist the band about your finger. 

"my mother thought the best thing a woman could do for herself was have jewelry. it's the only thing that doesn't disappoint". nostalgia a fine thread in your words. remembering the woman that taught you everything. and he sees the soft way your cheeks turn up. feels a need to keep them that way, but even more so when you look at him. "it's a little big, but it goes with my earrings". 

my...my earrings. claiming fully the things that he'd gifted you. 

his longer, stronger fingers reach for yours, for the ring, seemingly possessed by memory. and his touch is a light caress. featherweight and reverential. a shiver strums your skin there. teeming with the want for a heated relief found only in another pass of his finger, till it folds, along with the others, his over yours, to lock in an embrace. 

"i had it made ten years ago", he tells you. "about a month after the resort opened. a gift to myself". 

his thumb dances with a sweet brushing along your skin, with nothing particularly amorous, but there is comfort here, in your touch, a stranger. the way skin passes slow and steady to feel the other, lax and patient. 

"it's still beautiful", your hand dropping to your lap, locked with his still, and the pull brings him just that much closer. a comfortable leaning in that gives way to him taking in more readily the heady sweetness of your perfume. his eyes and his mouth something like a foot away, but feeling so very close, so much so that it steals breaths. kickstarts that harsh beating in your blood, a drumming pulse in your fingers. you wonder if he feels it. 

"it doesn't disappoint". 

you smile. interested in him. "how old were you then?"

"28. you?"

you can see him at 28. untainted by the burning pace of vegas. his eyes ever intense but in them more of a smolder. his hair longer, with no flecks of grey. more unsure and less persistent. grasping at things that come to him so easily now. 

"24". 

and he'd love to meet 24 you. maybe not as quick witted but clever still. fast in your schemes with a maybe not so predictable temper. but still, a covetous touch to the things you wanted. needed. 

"causing trouble where?", he chuckles. 

"new york". 

he looks at the ring. loose on your finger. 

"ill have the ring resized to fit".

you shake your head. unsure. "it's something special. i don't wanna take that from you". 

"you don't ask and you don't say thank you. if i give it, it's yours. simple". 

he is as serious now as the day you first met him, and beyond all of your own doubting, there's this burden to believe him. the quiet fervor of his words and his touch, the warm glow of him amongst the day light and the unwavering hold his eyes take to yours. and his thumb runs a simple caress over where your pulse quickens harsh at the inside of your wrist, from surprise and need. a soft lulling that only seems to stoke the flame of a slow but sure to rise desire. it's yours, words promising and unfazed by the endless unknowns of tomorrow. so much so that he proves it, slips an envelope from his pocket till it finds its way into your hand. 

and the envelope is mere trash compared to whats inside. a sleek black card, engraved with his own name. 

your fingers slip at it. failing somewhat to hide the growing excitement. but there is disbelief here also, coming alive quick but dying quicker the more you feel the fixed weight of his decision, heavy in his eyes and warm at his touch. his intensity is a power all on its own, working well to lull you in. to subdue. a twinge at your core tells you that you are not immune. "is there a limit?" 

"why would there be?" 

you chuckle. "you're serious?"

"dead serious". 

there's that twinge again, lingering hot and teasing. scares you away from his eyes and the tender hold of his touch, but he doesn't falter, even when your fingers leave the tangle of his. and then, caution breaks against the luxurious sort of excitement teeming quick, tightens into your fingers so that the card feels heavy. too fine to hold in your hands. but still, he remains, sitting with an endless patience, sure that he will win you over fully. if not today then soon. 

the moment still seems too good to be true for you. 

you sigh. "this all isn't just some round about way of trying to fuck me is it?" 

but he doesn't hesitate. amused even. 

"that only happens if you want it to sweetheart". 

and it takes courage not to imagine it. the details of a daydream where his lips slip against your skin, hands strong and leading as they push and prod to his will, till you're just how he wants you, playing in these fast to leave flashes in your minds eyes. you think though, under his heavy gaze, that it's something to wonder about when he's not this close and determined to commit your every expression to memory. so you steel your face, fingers grabbing his cup to sip at his espresso, the curiosity of your daydreams attempting with a desperate sort of vigor to run away from you. they barely succeed. 

with roman, you were in for something interesting. 

[katsukiizmoon]

[Types of Kisses from Katsuki ]

12:48AM ; Thunderstorm

You shove your face deeper into the crevice of his chest. The plush muscle provides warmth unimaginable. He smells of sweets and shea butter.

You breathe him in, deeply, wholly and brace.

The clap of thunder slams through your ear drums, making you jump against him. He murmurs something you don’t quite catch.

You anchor your hands behind his broad shoulders, sinking soft fingers into the skin and pull yourself up. The blanket shifts beneath you and he laughs lightly .

The tv hums in the background, light blue casting across the bedroom. You grumble, jaw tightening, and look him in the eyes.

Eye contact isn’t either of your strong suits. Something about it feels more intimate than anything else. More intimate than the night he pulled your hair back, spare hand rubbing circles in the middle of your back while you threw up.

He jumps a little at the next Lightning strike but his shoulders relax at the low rumble it leaves in its wake. You kiss his lips, which are plump and pouty in nature.

Katsuki turns, blonde hair rubbing against satin pillow cases. From there he reaches on the black night stand and uses the thin remote to click the tv off.

Lucky for you, the small aquarium-like nightlight still comes to live. Rumbles roll through the bedroom and your body sinks into his. His body is warm, as always.

He smells faintly of banana, so he’s sweating a little more. It makes your heart jump in your chest. You place wet lips on his collar bone, trailing up the column of his thick throat.

He hums, unwrapping an arm from around your body to grab your chin. You look up at him like he’s responsible for the stars in the sky. His lips fall on yours, like a meteor through space, burning for more.

A hot, wet tongue swipes over the entry of your lips and you open. He kisses you with passion, love, lust, intimacy- as if nothing else in the world could possibly be more important.

And he pulls away, puffing and huffing air.

“How’re you scared of storms but not my loud ass explosions?” Katsuki ponders, hand coming down to rub at the fat on your side.

“I don’t mind storms themselves, I just don’t like the sudden bangs. The rumbles are nice. N I know there’s no chance of you hurting me. See, sparky?” You explain, giggling towards the end.

His face twists at the nickname and his palms spark. You’re thrown into a fit of giggles, kissing along his jaw as he tells you to shutup.

You lick the column of his throat, vaguely tasting Shea butter and tang from the nitroglycerin. Something about it makes you love him a little more.

A smack of thunder shakes the house and you quickly get back to the task at hand: being peppered in kisses and hummed to until you inevitably fall asleep.

[yuri-is-online]

congrats on 300!! i rlly like ur writing (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)♡*⁠。can i get prompt 23 with ace and jamil?? ty!! 🫶

23. Sharing an umbrella on the way home

Thank you annon ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡) I am really happy you like my writing! I hope you like this too <3

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, uh I accidentally made Ace's post a bit angsty sorry! I promise the goal is still fluff. Check out the rest of the event requests here.

Ace

"Damn it's really coming down out there." Whistles Ace as your little group stands around in the main hall. The skies had been pretty clear when you left for class this morning, but by lunch the rain had been nasty enough to convince Coach Varags to move P.E. indoors. Or maybe Crewel had done that either way, you supposed, an act of god had occurred.

The distant noise of thunder made you a bit nostalgic, Epel leaning back, nodding at the skies, and letting out a "We really needed this" hadn't helped. Rain has a way of making everyone nostalgic, and right now it is making you very lonely.

"Hey prefect," Ace's smiling face fills your vision, winking in a way that promises nothing good and everything fun, voice dropping down just a notch "bet you forgot your umbrella." Your stomach dropped as your gaze immediately snapped off into the distance.

"Oh... yeah I guess I left it at home." Was it raining when you left home? You aren't sure, you know it was raining in Twisted Wonderland that night, that's how you met Grim.

"Stupid, what you'd leave it there for?" He had been teasing before, and he still is, but there's a slight pout there he always has when you dare to go off on an adventure alone. "It won't be any any use to you back at Ramshackle-"

"No like home home." Your group falls silent for a bit after that, and you try to not fell bad about how your other friends begin to move on towards there destination-

The edge of someone's umbrella fills your vision, to your surprise Ace doesn't bother to move, instead choosing to stand beside you in comfortable silence. Like he has been there all along.

Jamil

"Kalim, what was the one thing I told you to do this morning?" Jamil takes in half a breath, trying to remember to count in between.

"Check the weather report!" Kalim cheerfully replies.

"And what was the one thing you did not do this morning?" As if to really punctuate Jamil's point, thunder claps in the background as Kilm breaks eye contact with him.

"Ah ha... check the weather report." Kalim's still smiling despite his clear embarrassment. Jamil lets out almost all of the air in his body with a heavy sigh, but the stress remains as he glares down at the single umbrella he had packed for today. Usually he would be much more... prepared for Kalim than this but he has been insistent lately that Jamil start letting him prepare himself for the day.

"Just take it." He holds out the umbrella towards Kalim who winces.

"But!"

"It's ok Kalim, Jamil can share with me." Before Jamil can turn towards you to protest Kalim immediately snatches up the umbrella and dashes towards the courtyard.

"Sorry if I overstepped," you say, moving to hold the umbrella over his head with a smile "I just wanted to walk with you." The last bit of breath puffs out of his lungs, finally releasing the tension from his forehead.

"Fine." his embarrassment settled he makes sure to place his hand just over yours. "At least let me hold it with you."

[wisteriadumster]

Stress Reliever Theatre❥John Marston

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆:*.☾ ·☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───────

JOHN MARSTON X FEMALE READER

CW➻❥ public intimacy⋆private sex⋆fingering⋆consensual groping ⋆handjob⋆orgasm both m! & f!⋆extreme making out/kissing✮if I missed anything pls lmk!✮

WC➻❥2,233➻❥this isn't well proof read so any mistakes or odd things are purely accidental

Summary➻❥You drag John Marston to a show in Saint Denis, to relieve his clear signs of stress. Surely nothing more than two people watching a show together right?

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆:*.☾ ·☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───────

*✧･ﾟ:* WisteriaDumster original work.*:･ﾟ✧*

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆:*.☾ ·☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───────

You’re not sure how you truly convinced John Masrton to go to Saint Denis, let alone the theater.

Yet here you are, sitting in the back row by John's request, waiting for everyone else to take their seats. His breathing was tight and heavy, large sighs leaving him often, “This show is sure to take the stress off your mind.” A hand slid onto his left shoulder, attempting a weak massage. Even in darkness you can see his blushing cheeks, “you’re too sweet on me, you know that?” His compliment forces a side smile on you,

“well you’re bad at hiding stress, I’m just helping out”.

All other whisper conversations stopped, you turned away from John and looked to the brightly lit stage. A man stepped onto the said stage, “good evening ladies and gentleman.” His red suit is extremely eye-catching, “tonight men and women of only myth will perform in front of your very eyes!” Your hand went back to your lap, the man cleared his throat. “I have sailed the seven seas to find these people only heard in the stories your children read!” Scattered laughter filled the silent crowd. A few more useless sentences and jokes were thrown into his little speech which were all the same just different words.

“I won’t keep any more of your time, please welcome the werewolf!” He bows before slipping through the curtains that matched his suit in colour.

You waited patiently before the curtains finally drew back, a thunderous drum roll made you jump. Suddenly a man with more hairs on his arm than your entire body jumped onto the stage, he let out a growl. You stared at him, not a single inch of him was hairless, well besides his face.

His beard is so long it could be made into a small towel, his hair was even longer, reaching down to his knees. John leaned close to your ear, “he reminds me of Arthur,” he jokes, making you giggle.

The Werewolf’s act was finally over, the curtains drew back, the crowd cheered over the various tricks he had done. “Are you still stressed? I hope this is helping,” You look to John, your hands gently clapping. “I mean I feel better but I could use something else.” His hand is now on your thigh, he’s nervous, it wasn’t surprising as John wasn’t much of a romantic to begin with. “What are you suggesting?” You know what he wants, but in public? You weren’t used to being intimate or even romantic in public. “We’re in the back, people came for the show, maybe we can be the next act.” His fingers begin pulling at your skirt, slowly having it scrunch up your thigh. The curtains opened again, but all your attention was on John.

Your skirt was now in your lap, his rough hand rubbing your thigh, his eyes staring at your lips, debating if he should kiss you.

Since he wouldn’t, you did. You moved in close and went for a gentle and slow kiss. He couldn’t wait, his hand leaving your thigh and going to your hair, he pulled you in close, dying for all of you he could get.

The show was merely background noise as you played with his hair, John pulling at your waist trying to get you as close as he could with the arm rests of the chair in the way.

You can't resist letting a small whimper out into John's mouth as his nails dig into your hip. "You like that?" He smirks against your lips as his hand travels down to thigh once again. This time it doesn't stay there but begins sliding up, slowly reaching to your panties.

His fingers tease with the fabric, caressing the stitching of your own work. "I like where this stress relief is going," you spoke with a gasp, eagerly impatient for his next move. He laughs before his hand finally begins to pull down your underwear, you're quick to help him.

His hand again teases you and slowly goes up your leg, you pull back from the kiss. "John Marston, when did you become such a teaser?" Your hand is playing with a button of his shirt, "when I began wondering if I should fuck you here or in the cleaning closet down the hall." His breath is hot against your ear, how did he know of the closet? Must’ve been when he was searching for a bathroom when you came to the theater. “Well while you think, can you let me be pleased before I stare at the half naked man on that stage,” your attention averts to the stage with John, only for a moment. He looks back to you and sticks two fingers in your mouth, “sure I can think about it,” his smirk is terrifying yet exhilarating.

He wraps his arm around your waist before slowly entering those two fingers. Your stomach tightens and you hold your breath as to not alert the actual enjoyers of the show. He kisses down your neck as his fingers begin to curl, every part of you was stiff as the pleasure felt impeccable.

A hand was gripping the arm rests, your knuckles were becoming light in color. His fingers are starting to gain momentum, making your game at being quiet, extremely difficult.

John notices and goes back to your face, "What if we take this to another level, make it fun." You nod to the request, his speed beginning to slow, "will I have to stay quiet?" You manage through the grit of your teeth, he thinks for a moment while his fingers slide out, "that closet is still open I'm sure." He's gentle,”let hope the walls are thick enough.” Now out of his seat standing in front of you as he helps redress you.

You were finally calm and collected, standing and pulling your skirt down. His arm wraps around your waist and guides you out into the hallway.

The hall is silent, not a sign of life. John is touching all over your body, you began to think that you might not make it to the closet.

His lips are kissing your neck, his hands groping at your ass and waist. He left you to find the closet, you peeked through into a small room of brooms and a counter. He pushed you inside and closed the door in a matter of seconds, "I can't wait." You could feel how hard he was, before turning the oil lamp on. The room was dim.

He was pushing you against the wall, his arms wrapped around you, keeping you trapped.

His nails dug into your skirt as your bodies grinded together, the intensity of his desire for you was the hottest thing you ever witnessed. His kisses were turning to bites, surely this wasn’t the John you knew, but you can’t complain because whoever this is, will be fucking you good.

His hands cup at the bottom of your ass and lifts you to the counter, "I need you so bad." His hands are already under your skirt again pulling your panties, this time pulling them off completely. He's leaning over you, aggressively kissing you, taking a moment to again wet his fingers.

He enters slow again, gradually increasing the speed, faster than when inside the actual theater. Your body almost thrusts for a moment at the sudden speed gain.

He knows what he's doing, curling his fingers at the right angle before uncurling and thrusting them back in. Whimpers and whines bounced around in the room, how did you ever manage to stay quiet in that theater? His free hand was down to the buttons of his jeans, his breath was husky and quick. He pulls from the kissing to focus on his hand, his chest rising faster than it could fall. Your body was aching as you were already climbing up to your climax, ready to give out just from his fingers alone.

You were so focused on the pleasure that everything was drowned out,yet that was short lived when his fingers left you without the delight of them. You opened your eyes and looked to him, his eyes pierced yours, he couldn't hide the smile curling at the side of his mouth.

You spit in a hand and wrapped it around his cock that you noticed just barely. A quiver left his lips suddenly at the touch.

You made sure to have every inch perfectly wet for easy entry, his head hung back.

His hand is clawing at the edge of the counter while you did quick bursts of speed. “Like that do you now?” It was exciting to see how just a simple hand job affected him so heavily.

A giggle leaves you as your hand lets go, "I'm gonna need you to do that again sometime." He laughs as well while readjusting himself, his focus back on you. His hands were tight on your thighs as he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter.

He enters slow, you gasped at the sudden feeling of being less empty. He smirked, enjoying every way you reacted to him, almost as an ego boost.

You wrap your hands in his hair, leaving him to support you, his hands wrapped around your back almost like a hug. An intimate one definitely. His pace quickens, taking no time to move his hips as well for something more than just awkward thrusting.

Your kissing out moans, a hand was now at his back for stability. It was harder to hold on as you prepared for probably the best orgasm of your life. Your nails dug into his vest, every part of you was tight as he didn’t slow or change anything, he knew better than to ruin your growing orgasm.

You had pulled from the kisses and were moaning into the base of his neck. He wasn't much quieter, plenty of groans rumbled deep from his chest. He was struggling to hold back just as much as you, it wasn't a shocker that he couldn't last long. His pace was faster, less steady but more extreme. That's when it hit, he was loud and slowed, almost stopping. The feeling of being filled to the max was just what you needed to send you over the edge. Your head hung away from him as every nerve in your body gave out. Your moans echoed throughout the closet, surely loud enough to get the attention of anyone outside in the hallway.

After the wave of pleasure washed over, your head fell onto his chest, you were both panting heavily. "Jesus that was good," John's fingers are playing with your hair. "I didn't know you were so. Skilled," you laugh, completely blown away at the fact he just did that. “Really? I don’t look good in bed?” He’s sarcastic yet it doesn’t fully seem that way, “no absolutely not.”

"We should get out of here before that show ends and a maid comes." John pulls back to grab articles of clothing off the floor. “We should do this again, some time soon.” You bite your bottom lip imagining what he could do without a time crunch. “I’ll be sure to stress myself out, just for you,” He looks up at you as he begins to slide your underwear up your legs.

He kisses up your legs and he finishes dressing you, his kisses continue, going up to your lips.

Those aggressive kisses from earlier are more: calm, simple, romantic rather than hungry, lustful, intense.

He pulls you down the counter and sets you gently on the floor, “take the lead,” he allows you to exit first, his hand smacking at an ass cheek as you push through the door. The hallway is significantly colder, the closest was almost like you had a fire set loose in it.

A man is staring at you both as you begin walking towards the exit, you turn to see John holding back a laugh. “Good day sir,” you smile before bursting into laughter, John right behind you with a loud belly laugh.

He pulled you onto his horse, “if Dutch asks let say we were trying to hunt,” he suggests getting on the horse as well. “John Marston, he would never believe a lie like that, let’s say we were simply doing a bounty.” You shake your head at the thought, “we were trying to secure a train robbery or just a job for the gang but failed.”

“Oh that’s a good one,” John begins down the street, “must be good to have some brains with you for once huh?” You wrap your hands around his waist and snuggle in close, “you want to walk back to camp?” He has a deep rumble for a laugh in his chest, shaking his head at your remark. “What kind of man are you Marston?” You observe the city and the life that passes you, “I’m a man that could go for round two on the outskirts of the city.” The horse goes from a trot to a canter. “Oh really?” You bit your lip at the thought, “I think I want to get over the lecture from Dutch for simply not following one of his plans.” And just like that you were crossing onto the bridge that led to the city.

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆:*.☾ ·☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───────

[chaos-chloe]

The Great Gaming Fiasco

Summary: Grizzy rage, I think you already know this<3

TW: Established relationship, rage. anger, warzone moment, kissing, cursing and screaming, lmk if I missed anything

This fateful night started like any other, with the trio gathering their keyboards, their spirits high and laughter echoing through the room. “Ready to beat some noobs?” Grizzy hollered as he loaded up the game, the anticipation crackling in the air like static electricity. The familiar battle sounds filled the room, and they dove into the chaos.

“Why doesn’t that work?!” Smii7y bellowed, fierce frustration spilling from his lips like a dragon's fire, slumping dramatically in his chair as his avatar met an untimely demise. He banged his hand on the desk with a sound akin to thunder.

“Ello Grizzy!” Puffer sang with a comedic flair as Grizzy was unexpectedly reincarnated, flinging his parachute in a desperate bid to return to the sky. But alas, the parachute refused to open—like a deflated balloon. Grizzy’s frustration spiraled as he began to rain blows on his keyboard, resulting in a dramatic self-kill that could only be described as tragicomic.

“WHY WOULD YOU KILL YOURSELF?” Puffer cried out, the desperation lacing his voice as if they were in a high-stakes war council. “I COULD’VE REZZED YOU! WHY?!” 

With a dramatic flourish, the keys rained down like confetti, creating a chaotic storm of letters and symbols — a keyboard glitter bomb exploded across his desk! Each key had its own story, its own mission to fulfill in the kingdom of Warzone, and now they lay shattered in despair.

The keyboard chaos continued, keycaps flying around Grizzy’s desk like tiny meteors in a galactic explosion of rage. The comical scene escalated, with Smii7y unable to stifle his laughter. “I think I need a new keyboard,” Grizzy declared with a resigned sigh echoing through the room, a solemn testament to his fiery spirit, as if he had just climbed Mount Doom only to find it was a mere hill.

“He just lost all his keycaps.” Smii7y said with a smirk growing on his face, while Grizzy fumed, the air tinged with both laughter and despair. “Oh my god” Puffer moans in emotional pain in the background. “Bro it aint working today.” Smii7y responded to Puffer's distress. “Nothing’s working.” Smii7y joked about how each bug felt like a monster stalking them in the night, ready to pounce at any awakening moment.

“I’m kicking over the key caps, I’ll clean that mess later.” Grizzy growled, “It's a problem for another day.

 “What do you mean mess?’ Puffer aspirated at Grizzy

“Wait, can you even use your keyboard? Did you go get a new one?” Puffer asked for content

“I got a new one- well i stole __’s” Grizzy responded “Ugh-let me straighten my desk” Puffer laughed at Grizzy’s misery. 

“Yeaahh” “What the fuck happend?” “What happened to you?” Smii7y and Puffer asked.

“The situation where you're gonna pull your parachute and it says “NO”” Grizzy explained as annoyance seeped through his voice. “Yeah! That literally just happened to me as well.” Smii7y agrees with Grizzy’s annoyance at the game with their bugs. They exchanged stories of their own gaming disasters, an unwritten pact of camaraderie knitting them closer amidst the chaos.

“Yeah so then I decided to slam my keyboard, which killed me, which made me even more angry. So I just clapped my keyboard together, ‘til everything came off.” Grizzy tells the replay of what just happened.

“Were you doing a last second one?” Smii7y asked. “Uhh-no i pressed it like 3 times before landing, it just didn't pull.” Grizzy answered with a slight tone. 

“Like right now.” Grizzy placed ___’s keyboard down with some force, as he was clenching and unclenching his fist, storming off, as the trio couldn't help but spiral into a cyclone of banter, laughing yet again at Grizzy’s misfortune. Grizzy stormed off out of frame towards his right office door which was left open. 

In the midst of the laughter, the mood shifted. A loud crash resonated from Grizzy’s office, while I was in the kitchen. Quickly followed by a blood-curdling scream that sent shivers down their spines. 

“FUCK!!!”  Grizzy’s roar thundered through the house, slicing through the laughter like a lightning bolt, a haunting call of despair that made everyone freeze. After that there was an eerie unusual stillness lurking in the house. 

My skin jumped as his scream blared to life, roaring like a thousand ghosts at once, sending ice down my spine. I gasped in shock, my eyes popped open like saucers, my adrenaline rushing through my veins. In a flurry, I leapt out of my statue like a state.

With curiosity piqued, I tiptoed towards the scene, every step echoing with anticipation. Approaching cautiously, I soon found myself colliding with Grizzy, his frustration evident and his door hanging askew like a battle-worn shield, leaning on the doorframe. “Let me guess... warzone moment?” I quipped with a smirk, but concern laced my words like a thick fog that hung in the air.

“Yeah, I didn't know how else to take my rage out of my body, since I already broke my keyboard. I was most certainly not breaking your keyboard, yes I stole it after I broke mine. I knew how much time and money you spent on that keyboard.” Grizzy explained while I was giving him the “mom” look. As we stood there, I couldn’t help but chuckle. The chaos of gaming had turned into a comedic rendezvous, where gaming mishaps became fodder for laughter and camaraderie.

 “Well I appreciate  you not breaking mine, but now I have to fix your office door babe.” I say walking out his arms towards the closet of tools/storage that they have. 

As I set to fixing his door, the banter resumed. “Is it possible to rage hard enough to break a door?” I teased while wielding my tools. Grizzy sheepishly scratched his head, his triumph of rage slowly fading into recollection of the bond we all had. 

I heard Grizzy walk back into his office, as my hands were full of tools and glue so I could repair the holes in the wall. “I’m done, shut the fuck up. SHUT THE FUCK UP! I’m done, I’m done.” Grizzy repeated. “I just broke my door with my hands, now ___ is fixing it. I’m FUCKING DONE.” He screams in anger and slaps his hand on his desk.

“Sorry, baby, I'm not mad at you.” Grizzy apologized to me, as I was trying to make myself as small as possible. I was putting toothpicks and wood glue together in the holes, where the screws used to be. Grizzy ended the stream right after he apologized to me. 

“You’re fine babe, is there anyway you can get the sandpaper that i left on the counter. Also maybe the wirecutter in the tool box?” I asked him a favor, I felt my phone buzz in my butt pocket.

Hey ___ you okay? Grizzy okay? -Puffer

Yes we are both okay, he is calming down now as we are both putting the door back together. Try to tell, chat that too. You know how shit can spiral out of control. 

Will do, and okay we were just making sure

Its all good! I’m probably gonna make him, go get us food in a min

(read)

Moments passed as I tuckered away at the door, awaiting Grizzy’s emotional cooldown. “After all this fixing, how about a nice dinner?” I suggested with a smile, already picturing a delightful feast to reward ourselves after the wild night.

“C’mon babe, let's get your fine ass off the dirty floor and go find a nice restaurant.” Grizzy nodded enthusiastically, offering his hand to help me up, grinning ear-to-ear. As I stood up with his help, I gave him a kiss on the lips and started tugging him to the door, laughing together. 

[riahollywood]

thunderstorm where y/n is scared of thunderstorms and there’s a huge one outside and erling comforts her and it’s just really cute and fluffy? 🥰

the loud crash of rain hit the window as the sound of thunder echoed throughout room causing you to jump under erling’s usually cosy duvet.

giving up on trying to sleep, you carefully peeled yourself out of erling’s arms and sat up in bed. looking over at your boyfriend, you silently cursed him for being able to sleep through anything.

you wanted nothing more than to wake him up and have him have him comfort you, tell you everything was going to be okay and distract you from the booming storm that had been going on for the past hour. but erling had had a late night game and you couldn’t bring yourself to wake him up.

you put your feet into your slippers and grabbed erling’s hoodie that he had left draped over a chair in the corner of the room, immediately feeling a little more settled as you engulfed the familiar smell of his aftershave.

entering the lounge, you stuck the tv on and got comfy on the sofa, wrapping a blanket over your legs. you flicked through the channels and settled on some rip off version of selling sunset, really just wanting a bit of background noise as a distraction.

you couldn’t help a yelp escape you when a loud clash of thunder erupted and a strike of lightning flashed through the light curtains of erling’s lounge.

as your body begun to tremble, you bought the blanket up to cover your head. the storm showed no signs of stopping or even slowing down as the sound of the heavy rain remained constant, bursts of thunder going off every minute and flashes of lightning following each time.

you sniffled quietly, closing your eyes tightly to try and block out the lightning.

you were bought out of your trance once you felt a gentle hand on you. letting the blanket fall from you, erling was lent down to your level, visibly concerned.

“baby, what’re you doing up? it’s 4AM.” he spoke, voice deep and his accent stronger than usual. he rubbed his eyes and you felt awful for waking him.

“i’m sorry for waking you, i just- i had to do something to at least try and distract myself.” you spoke, sniffling in your best attempt to stop yourself from sobbing.

“oh sweetheart, is it the storm? are you scared?” erling asked and you nodded, not being able to hold back the tears anymore.

“hey, hey. it’s okay baby. i’m here, you’re safe. nothing is going to hurt you.” he was still crouched down to your level, gently stroking your cheek as he spoke.

“you should’ve woken me up, darling. how long have you been out here?”

you shrugged. “i didn’t want to wake you, it’s not fair after your game.”

erling took a seat next to you on the sofa, leaning over so he could look you in the eyes.

“what do you say i make us some hot chocolates and we cuddle up and watch that movie we were talking about till the storm settles down?” he asked and you nodded. he always knew how to make things better but just having him there and saying comforting words made you feel safe and as though nothing could harm you.

erling made the drinks and stuck the film on before cosying you next to you on the sofa, wrapping both of you up under the blanket.

“next time, wake me up. i don’t care how tired i am, you’re my girl and my number one priority. forever.” erling spoke softly and some of the anxious feeling that had taken over your stomach somewhat subsided at his sweet words.

it wasn’t long before there was another paticularly loud clap of thunder that made you jump and whimper slightly. erling grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“darling, you’re safe. i promise.” he spoke softly but reassuringly.

“it’s just so loud.” you whined, looking up at him.

“i know, baby.” he replied tenderly, wrapping him arm around you and encouraging you to cuddle up into his side.

“you know i would never let anything hurt you.” he kissed the top of your head and you hummed in response, closing your eyes and trying to focus on the man who you knew would never let any harm happen to you.

erling stroked your hair and held your hand until finally the storm quietened down.

eventually you fell asleep on him, and once he was certain you were out he carefully picked you up and carried you back to bed where he cuddled up behind you, planting a soft kiss on your shoulder before he drifted off to sleep himself, with you wrapped up in his arms.

[beardedjoel]

closer | part fifteen

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au  

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3  

chapter summary: you try to hide the fact that you’re afraid of thunderstorms from joel, but he sees right through you, coming to your rescue at the perfect time. slutiness and cuteness ensue. 7.8k words.

chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), soft!dom joel, protective!joel, boyfriend asf!, consensual somnophilia, oral (m receiving), unprotected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink

a/n: this chapter means i’m up to date on all the chapters i have posted on ao3 right now, so my updates may be a tad bit slower than they have been on tumblr. ty for bearing with me i love u all ♡

You used to like thunderstorms as a kid. They were fun back then - watching the lightning and listening for the next claps of thunder. Running around outside as it poured buckets on you and soaked you to the bone. It was fun. And now, you’re twenty five years old and afraid of them, thinking back on how you got here as you cower slightly from the most recent flash of lightning outside.

Your second year living in Chicago, there was a storm that you got caught in while driving home from class late one night. You should have waited it out, but things took a turn for the worse once you were already on the road, and you ended up in a car accident where you lost control of your car and crashed it. You were too afraid to move, seemingly stuck in your car anyways with the seat belt locking, airbags deploying, the whole nine yards. You were lucky you didn’t have many injuries, just a broken arm and some bad bruising. To this day, it’s the thought of hearing the rain pounding on the pavement, your only memories being the flashes of lightning and sound of thunder while you waited for someone to help you that really sticks with you. You’ve tried working through it, and made great strides for dealing with the anxiety that comes up during thunderstorms, but it doesn’t mean it’s completely gone.

Of course your parents are out of town this weekend, too, so while you lay in bed, trying to distract yourself, the power cuts out, and you cower completely. You’re glad that you’d already brought Benny up here earlier to keep you company. You’re just laying in the dark, feeling frozen in your little anxiety bubble, unable to get up to even find a lighter and some candles to bring some light into your space. You’re going to have to force yourself to do it soon, but you’re trying to get past the shaking from the surprise of all your lights suddenly going out.

Your phone rings, startling you even further, and you see Joel’s name pop up on your screen. You feel reluctant to answer, not wanting to bother him with your stupid, juvenile fear. You reach with a trembling hand to grab your phone and decide to answer the call.

“Hey,” you say, a slight waver in your voice.

“Hey baby, I just got in and my power’s out. Is yours?” Joel asks, and you swallow hard, pushing down your emotions.

“Mhm, yeah,” you say into your phone. “It is.”

“Everything alright?” he immediately asks, quickly sensing the difference in your demeanor. Damn him.

“Y-yeah, everything’s good. Benny and I are just, uh, hanging in the dark,” you tell Joel, running a hand over Benny’s belly as he lays stretched out next to you. He’s anxious too, you noticed, not seeming to like the pounding rain on the windows or periodic thunder. Poor boy, at least you can relate to how he feels.

“Alright, then. Just checkin’ in.” You can hear Joel shuffling around in the background. “Lookin’ for some more candles,” he murmurs to explain all the noise.

“I should light some, t-too,” you say, feeling and sounding completely robotic. You’re out of it now, your anxiety with the storm trying to take you to another place where you block it all out.

“Wh- are you sure you’re alright? You sound kinda weird,” Joel replies.

“I’m not being weird,” you snap slightly, then bite your lip, not wanting to lash out at him unfairly. “Really,” you try to say reassuringly.

“If you say so…” Joel trails off, and you hear a small sigh. “Found ‘em,” he adds quietly, completing his search for some more candles to light.

“Actually, I should go, sorry. Benny is uh, whining. He’s scared right now, I think,” you say, despite Benny lying quietly at your side. Why the hell are you lying to Joel now?

“Okay, darlin’, just text me or somethin’, okay? Hope this power comes back soon,” he says, and you hurriedly tell him goodbye before hanging up.

There you go, blowing your one chance for an out from this anxious mess you’ve found yourself in. You know Joel would probably rush over here in a heartbeat if you’d told him, and for some reason, it embarrasses you that it would be for something that seems this silly. It’s just a storm, and while you remind yourself of that constantly, it’s too difficult to not let your mind go to that familiar place when you experience weather like this.

Not even five minutes later, there’s a knock on your door. You start, but freeze after, the sudden knock only heightening the tightness in your chest, and you realize tears are pulling at your eyes now. Fucking hell. You force yourself up, walking over to the door with ginger steps, trying to focus on the present. Benny is at your side, tail wagging between his legs skeptically.

“Sweetheart, it’s me,” you hear through the door when you’re only steps away. Your eyebrows lift slightly and you close the gap between you and the door, swinging it open. Joel is standing on the landing outside of your door, completely soaked through and looking at you through concerned eyes. He takes one look at your crumbling façade, pulling you into him as he steps towards you slightly to keep you out of the rain.

“What’s goin’ on, hm?” he asks tenderly, his wet palms gripping your cheeks before wrapping around you completely.

“N-nothing.” Your face gives you away, eyes completely doe-like and fearful as you come down a bit from your anxiety when you feel his arms around you. You don’t care that his wet shirt is soaking right into yours now, you just need to breathe him in for a moment and everything will be ten times better already.

“Swear, if you don’t admit you’re afraid of thunderstorms to my face right now…” Joel says, slightly scolding but only because he cares, you know. Your eyes widen, hating that once again, he’s got you all figured out.

“Yes…” you reply, sagging your shoulders in defeat. “It’s s-so stupid, I d-didn’t want to tell you, it’s not worth it.”

“Not worth it? Look at you, you’re shakin’, baby.” Joel pulls his head back and looks you up and down. Benny nudges both of your bodies, curling up against your legs, and Joel smiles sweetly down at him. “I’m takin’ you both with me, c’mon.”

Joel grabs your hand and turns to walk away, but you hesitate, his grip on your hand tight yet you stand firm and unmoving. Joel shoots back a look and before he can even ask or you can protest anything, he swoops you up under the knees and holds you, carrying you down the stairs. He calls after Benny to follow, and despite his own anxiety, Benny trails you, likely making sure you’re okay - he’s always been a good protector like that. You’re instantly soaked, the rain hitting all of you in hard droplets, and you tilt your head down into Joel’s chest to avoid it getting in your eyes. A clap of thunder roars above as you enter into Joel’s yard and you tremble, your breathing shaky for a moment.

“Shh,” Joel murmurs near your ear, “Almost there.”

He rushes to his house and slides open the back door. You’re immediately welcomed by glowing candlelight all through the kitchen, and you can see past into the living room to see Joel has lit several candles in there as well. You feel an immediate sense of relief seeing the calming, flickering lighting and feel your body sink into Joel’s arms. He sets you down in a kitchen chair and steps back, taking stock of you and Benny in your soaked state.

“One sec,” he murmurs, walking off and returning with a towel before crouching down and rubbing Benny all over with it. Benny pants happily in Joel’s face and he cracks a smile when the chocolate lab shakes off some extra moisture all over the two of you. You manage to feel a smile tug at your lips now too, feeling like the worst of this night is over now.

“Your turn, darlin’,” Joel says, standing and taking your hand. “Let’s get you some dry clothes,” he adds, guiding you upstairs to his bedroom.

Joel grabs another Texas football themed shirt from his dresser before walking over to you, helping you undress before you get the chance. As he reveals your bare chest, he barely makes note of it, and you appreciate his gesture to make you feel safer. He slides the t-shirt over your head and then smiles down at you.

“Shorts next,” he tells you before tugging them down and tossing them in a pile with your wet shirt. He hands you a pair of his boxers, and you slide them on, and although they’re ill fitting, you adjust them until they’re able to sit comfortably enough on you. You sit back on the edge of his bed and smile appreciatively while Joel gets to work changing his own soaked clothing. The view of Joel damp and shirtless is almost enough to make you forget your unease from this evening, and Joel gives you a cheeky smirk as he notices you admiring him.

“Now isn’t that a sight,” he comments as he sees you lounging on his bed, clad completely in his clothes.

“This?” you ask incredulously, motioning to the baggy boxers and shirt you’re wearing.

“Never looked better, if ya ask me,” Joel says, throwing a dry t-shirt and athletic shorts on. He approaches you on the bed and leans down, kissing you on the forehead, his smell breezing past you as he does it, leaving you sighing quietly. “So sexy in all my clothes,” he adds, pulling his face back to look at you again, giving you a wink.

“C’mon, let’s head back downstairs and keep Benny company,” he suggests, and you follow him back to the living room where Benny is laying down next to Joel’s couch, clearly exhausted from the storm that continues to rage outside. Joel pulls you down so that you’re settled onto his lap, and you instantly curl into him, the warmth coming off of his body a welcome sensation despite the house starting to heat up without the air conditioner running.

“Alright, talk to me baby,” Joel says, curling his arm around you and rubbing your back.

“Promise you won’t think I’m dumb?” you ask him timidly.

Joel shoots you a wry look and tuts. “Promise.”

“I just… get anxious during storms now,” you pause to swallow hard, readying yourself to dig into the bad memories. “I had a really bad car accident a few years ago and it was during this huge thunderstorm. I-I was waiting for ages, I was too scared to move and reach for my phone at first, not knowing if I’d broken anything. A-and the seatbelt was stuck, so I just had to sit there and hope someone found me until I was able to finally get to my phone...” You stop, gathering yourself and biting inside your lip anxiously. “I was waiting and struggling for ages just listening to the rain, and I just get this irrational anxiety that comes up now when the weather is really bad like this. I don’t know…” you trail off, feeling a few hot tears brimming your eyes now.

“Hey, hey it’s alright. That ain’t irrational, makes a lot of sense to me,” Joel says reassuringly, continuing to gently stroke your back and shoulders.

“There’s a part of my brain that knows it’s irrational, but the other part just

“This weather just puts me back in a bad place sometimes. It doesn’t happen with every storm, but especially when I’m alone,” you say with a small, defeated shrug, concluding your explanation to him.

“Okay, now that I know that, I can help you out baby. Why didn’t you tell me on the phone?”

“I felt embarrassed, Joel. I don’t tell very many people about this since I just feel totally crazy and irrational when it comes up. I mean what kind of grown adult is scared of thunderstorms?”

“Someone who went through somethin’ scary like you did,” Joel replies in a heartbeat. You sigh and lean your cheek further onto his shoulder.

“Yeah… I guess so,” you reply skeptically. It’ll take more than his words to change your mind that it’s not an overreaction, but knowing he believes in you is a huge step.

“S’alright, not a bit of judgment from me darlin’, promise,” Joel says sweetly, giving you a squeeze. “I’m afraid of cockroaches,” he admits sheepishly, and you chuckle.

“See? There’s my girl.” Joel pokes his fingers into your side, sending you squirming and laughing. Just the mention of those two words you love - my girl - immediately lightens the tightness in your chest.

“Everyone is afraid of cockroaches, but I appreciate the sentiment,” you murmur, wrapping your arms a little tighter around his neck.

“You need to eat? We’ve got to eat some stuff in my fridge before it goes bad,” Joel says, and you perk up a little. “Wait, I’ve got just the thing,” he says before nudging you off his lap and onto the couch. You sit and wait for him to return from the kitchen, where he brings over a carton of ice cream.

“S’gonna melt, so we better go for it,” he says, offering you a spoon. You take it with a grin and he sits down next to you while you both dig into the already half melted ice cream. You sit back a little, draping your legs across his lap and he instantly starts running a hand along your shins and thighs. The ice cream and Joel’s presence is already immensely helping you ride out this thunderstorm, which is already seeming to lighten up a bit outside.

“So…” you say nervously, “I’ve seen your guitar in here every time I come over, but I’ve never heard you play…”

“You askin’ if I’ll play for you?” Joel asks, a cocky smile on his lips.

You bite your bottom lip and nod slightly, glad you don’t have to say it so directly. You’ve been dying to ask him about it for weeks but were worried about putting him on the spot.

“I’m not anythin’ to write home about, but I can certainly strum somethin’ up for you, darlin’,” he replies, and your heart melts a little when he stands up, handing you the ice cream to finish off as he picks up the guitar.

You sit patiently as Joel plucks at the strings, checking the sound. He sits himself in the same spot next to you, giving you a last glance before he starts to play. As it goes on, you realize you don’t know the song, but it has a relaxed, old time country sound to it. You feel completely mesmerized by it already, the way he looks down at the guitar with concentration, his fingers deftly moving along the neck as he strums. Your heart lurches, an undoubtedly lovesick smile on your face.

As if you weren’t already about to burst, Joel starts humming quietly along with the song, his eyes closing as he loses himself in it. You relax back into the couch, letting the beautiful music he’s creating lull you into a further sense of security. Now that you’ve calmed down enough to see straight, you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sleepiness that’s coming over you now.

You stifle a yawn and let Joel keep playing as your head gets fuzzy and your eyes start to blink more and more slowly. After a few songs, Joel stops playing, and you force your eyes open despite how tired you are and see him putting his guitar back on the stand.

“‘M gonna go to bed,” you murmur sleepily, stretching your arms up over your head a bit before sitting up.

“M’kay, darlin’. I’ll be up in a bit, you head on up there though,” Joel replies, planting a kiss on your forehead. He helps pull you off the couch, gently patting your ass as you move past him, and you shoot him a wry glance before walking up the stairs.

You use your toothbrush that Joel still has set out for you, and it makes you smile all over again. You can’t feel anything but grateful for everything he’s done for you tonight - you’d probably be having a restless, sleepless night if he hadn’t intuitively come and rescued you. You barely even remember your head hitting the pillow, your anxiety having knocked all the energy out of you this evening, before you’re fast asleep.

You wake up suddenly, a light gasp escaping your mouth as you sit up, trying to shake off your unsettling dream. You aren’t surprised by it, you tend to have strange dreams when your anxiety is high like it was tonight. You suddenly shiver, realizing the air conditioning is back on and Joel’s power must have come back while you two were sleeping. You burrow yourself under the covers a bit more to warm up and look over at Joel. It’s not often you get to watch him sleep, he tends to wake up before you when you spend the night together. It’s amazing that he manages to be an even earlier riser than you.

Your eyes soften as you look over him in the dark, bare chest dusted with hair rising and falling gently and his mouth slightly open. You suddenly feel a pull between your legs when you notice that there’s a small tent at his hips under the thin sheet, and you curl your toes as an image of his hard cock flashes through your mind.

You suddenly don’t think Joel would mind at all if you were to thank him for everything he did for you tonight. You don’t want to wake him just yet, so you slowly reach your hand over and cup the bulge in the sheet gingerly, rubbing ever so slightly. A small moan comes from Joel’s throat as he stirs slightly, but he immediately stills back into sleep as you continue to stroke him. You dare to do it a little harder, and Joel shifts again, but you can tell he isn’t quite awake yet. You smile deviously to yourself, finding that this turns you on more than you would have imagined. You try to reposition yourself without shaking the mattress too much, scooting closer and pulling the sheet down. You can now see that Joel has gotten significantly harder, straining against his briefs while you stroke your fingers along his lengthy shaft. You have to bite down to fight off the moaning that’s now on the tip of your own tongue.

Joel murmurs your name in his sleep, and your eyes go wide, thinking maybe he’s woken up, but he’s clearly just thinking about you in whatever horned up dream he must be having, and that makes your smirk grow even more. You have to fight off a giddy laugh now at the thought of it.

You slip your hand under the waistband of his briefs, caressing his warm, hard cock in your hand as you fist it, running your hand along the length as you position yourself in between his legs. Your hands hook around the sides of his briefs, pulling them down and exposing his throbbing cock to you, a drip of precum already leaking out from the light touching you have been doing. The power you hold over this man right now… the one who typically holds all the cards, the one who tells you what to do, is mesmerizing. You’ve got him in the palm of your hand, quite literally, and plan to do nothing but pleasure him until he wakes up to himself coming into your mouth.

As you swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, Joel’s hips writhe and he stirs a little more, a deep groan sounding from him when you take your mouth over the head and plunge it down further. You gather spit and push your mouth down, drooling all over his cock and taking it deeper and deeper.

“Wh-” you hear from above you, and you smile around his cock as you realize Joel is at the least half awake now. He breathes your name in questioning, his head tilted off the pillow and looking down at you. You glance up at him while continuously taking his cock over and over into your mouth in slow, even strokes. You pop the head out of your mouth and lap at it a few times, causing Joel’s hips to twitch up.

“Shh, just relax and try to go back to sleep. Want to say thank you for tonight,” you coo, immediately taking him back into your mouth, letting your tongue drag along the bottom of his shaft. Joel’s eyes flutter shut as he leans his head back again and groans at the sensation of your warm mouth.

“Baby,” Joel murmurs with a little pleased grunt, giving in easily and letting you take the reins for once.

He’s throbbing, already satisfyingly close to release as he sleepily pumps his hips up into each stroke of your mouth. You pull your mouth off and lick strokes up his length, flicking your tongue as you go, and he just about loses all control as he hisses through his teeth. You sink your mouth fully onto him, taking every inch you can to the back of your throat and Joel starts, sitting forward and grabbing the back of your head, bucking his hips up into your mouth as he comes hard, groaning your name while his warm seed spills deep into your throat. You relish every moment of it, swallowing everything he has to offer you with pride. Joel’s body goes limp, flopping back onto the mattress, his chest heaving and limbs spent.

“Jesus, girl,” he utters, running a hand over his sleepy eyes and down his face. You tuck him back into his briefs and slip under his arm, resting on his chest. “What was that all about, huh?” Joel asks, cozying up to you.

“Like I said, I was saying thank you for tonight. You helped me out, so I helped you out.”

“Helped me out…” Joel echoes with a drowsy chuckle, his eyes blinking shut slowly. “Funny girl.”

Joel’s breathing evens out, and you think he may have fallen back to sleep, when he suddenly speaks out into the darkness of the room.

“You know you can talk to me, right baby? Don’t hide yourself from me,” he says, opening his eyes again, a slight pain in them at the thought of you feeling the need to do that. You blink a few times, trying to avoid the tears that are threatening in the back of your eyes at his sudden declaration.

“I’m not trying to, I swear,” you start to explain. “I just knew you’d go out of your way if I told you the truth earlier.”

“And didn’t I anyway?” Joel asks.

The corner of your lip turns up and you nod.

“Cause I know you, darlin’. Always easy for me to read you,”

You furrow your brow, frustrated by that fact considering you find Joel hard to read a majority of the time. You tense up, about to protest what he said when he cuts you off.

“‘Fore you get all huffy it’s no offense, it just means I’m payin’ attention to you,” he explains, and you settle down a bit, running your fingers along his bare shoulder and upper arm.

“Well when you put it like that…” you say, giving up your angry facade completely.

“Dunno if you noticed but I’m awful protective, it’s not always a good trait. Sometimes it helps, like tonight, other times…”

“You end up fucking me against a wall because another boy talked to me?” you add cheekily, and Joel looks playfully taken aback.

“Oh she’s gettin’ mean now,” he chuckles hoarsely, “But fair point. It’s gotten me in trouble before.”

You bite your lip, debating on digging into what he said further. What kind of ‘before’ could he be referencing?

“Like… with other people? Women, I mean?” You surprise yourself by asking before you can think about it any longer.

Joel nods slightly, a smug smile on his face. “Yes baby, and we both know that gets you jealous.” You open your mouth to speak, and he cuts you off once again. “Don’t even try to deny it, sweetheart.” You concede, snapping your mouth shut and letting him carry on.

“I’ve been known to be a jealous boyfriend. Some people like it, others… not so much. Simple as that.”

You find yourself reeling for a moment at his choice of wording. Boyfriend… Your eyes peer out into the dark room, wide and searching, debating how to respond to him.

Joel must read the look on your face as he glances at you and he starts to backtrack. “Now darlin’, don’t get too excited, I just meant, in my past relationships.”

You clear your throat, trying to hide the disappointment from your face. “I-is that what you’d call this, then? A relationship?” You don’t mean to, but you know your eyes are full of a pleading hope, desperate for the answer you’ve been craving from him for so long.

Joel releases a sigh, clearly still warring with himself over it. “Listen, sweet girl, I had some… stuff happen before. The woman I was seeing, she and I started to not see eye to eye on things. I held her back, if I’m honest. Or so she thought, I guess. Things got real resentful, and I can’t go through that sort of thing again, y’understand me?”

Things are clicking into place, your mind beginning to race with all this new information. That’s exactly where Joel had gotten this wording from about holding you back - it must have been spit in his face by his ex once things reached that resentful place he was talking about. You would never be like that, you think solemnly - you could never resent Joel, he’s done nothing but bring joy into your life since you first saw him.

“Y-you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want t-to, I’m sorry,” you half mumble, suddenly feeling guilty for bringing up something painful for him.

“‘S’okay, angel. That’s not the point. It was a long time ago, and yeah, it does hurt to think about, but just ‘cause I can’t do that to someone else I care about, y’hear me?”

You nod, not sure you know what you’re agreeing to right now. “O-okay. I don’t think you’re holding me back, Joel. You make me… really happy.”

“I see that, baby. And that’s why I worry. I don’t want my selfish shit to get in your way if we do this thing. Ever. You’d have to promise me, at the first sign of it, you’d go running from my ass.”

You blink hard, not sure if you’d heard him correctly. You’re hardly even able to comprehend the second half of what he said, fully stuck on the joy rising in your chest at his imposition. “If we do this thing? Wh-“ you start, lips trembling slightly as you try to get the words out.

“Yes, darlin’, if this ain’t a relationship by now, I don’t know what to call it.”

You press your lips together to fight it but a sparkling smile breaks through, spreading across your whole face now. Joel closes his eyes and sighs at the sight, knowing he’s just agreed to his own potential downfall. He still isn’t managing to hide the little smile pulling at his lips despite his worries.

“Easy, now,” he says, letting his smile crack through the facade even more. He leans over and slides his hand around your cheek, pulling you closer as he finishes closing the gap between you and kisses you. You kiss him back softly, relishing in the feeling of it after this new confirmation from him. When Joel pulls away, there’s a beautiful, soft look in his eyes.

“My girl,” he says quietly, gaze locked onto yours. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you say breathlessly, and you mean it wholeheartedly. You can’t imagine being anyone else’s, feeling the constant, burning passion and care that you do for Joel for anybody but him.

“You okay with me being a jealous, possessive bastard? Needin’ to fuck you half to death every time anyone gets any ideas ‘bout you? Barely able to keep my hands off you around everyone else to remind ‘em you’re all mine?” Joel lists off, his voice growing hoarse with need as he looks at you hopefully with a sly smile.

“God, yes,” you breathe out. Even hearing him describe those situations makes you ache between the legs, and you know he’s going to the absolute death of you. “I fucking love all of it - we were made for each other, Joel. Let you do anything you need to me any time if it means I get to remind you I’m yours,” you say, hips lurching towards him as you feel slickness gathering in your underwear.

“Oh, really? Anything any time?” he repeats back to you, his features a shade darker now.

“Mhm,” you murmur with glazed eyes. “I’m all yours to play with,” you tell him, and Joel tenses next to you. You slide a leg over his, turning closer to him, your body begging for any kind of touch from him. Joel goes to reciprocate and lean into you but stops short, pulling back slightly.

“Wait, darlin’. You gotta promise me what I said, though,” Joel says, sobering up a bit. You look into his eyes and dip your head in confirmation.

“Say it,” he demands, and you wince a little, desperation clawing at your insides.

“J-joel, I don’t want to go running from you. I won’t let you keep me from living my life. P-please, please just let me be yours,” you beg, not caring how helpless and vulnerable you sound right now. You want this more than anything you can ever recall wanting, just for him to call you his and mean it in a real, tangible way. You gulp down the sob that wants to come out of you, blinking and sniffling quickly to try to hide it.

“Okay, okay, sweet girl. I’m sorry. I just care so much about ya, you know that, right? I’d never want to make that same mistake again.” Joel’s hold on you tightens as he sees how much this is affecting you.

“I know,” you tell him, pressing your forehead to his. “You will never be a mistake to me, never. Couldn’t ever regret being your girl,” you say, liking how the words sound spilling off your tongue. Joel seems to be appeased by your words and believe them, because his features quickly melt back into a soft, heady gaze as he stares into your eyes.

“You like bein’ my girl, hm?” Joel asks, voice low and slightly scratchy. He brushes his lips across your cheek and you breathe out shakily.

“Mhm. Every time you say it, I feel… so…” you trail off with a little smile, unable to even find a word to express it.

“My girl,” he whispers next to your ear, and you giggle at the tickling sensation and joy his words bring you. “I’m thinking,” he says, placing a kiss on your neck right below your ear, “we should,” he continues, another kiss closer to your lips on your jawline, “celebrate.” His lips find yours and you kiss him feverishly, barely letting him come up for air as you slide your tongue into his mouth and flip your body on top of his, sinking down onto him.

“Yes,” you say simply, finally releasing your lips from his. Joel smirks, his eyes glistening with lust for you as he notices every curve of you press against his mostly naked body.

“So eager when you get what you want, aren’t ya?” he says, the sparkle in his eye turning devious as his hands grip your hips, pulling down so you grind against his quickly hardening cock.

“Don’t have everything I want yet,” you reply, pushing your center onto his cock again, and Joel groans at the warmth radiating off your core through your clothes as you brush over his cock.

“About to rip these fucking clothes off of you, my insatiable little thing,” he grunts, immediately diving into the demanding, possessive persona you’ve grown accustomed to when he’s turned on.

“I’d like to see you try,” you squeak out quickly before hopping off his lap and using the bed to bounce yourself down onto the plush carpet. You giggle as Joel’s hand reaches out and just misses to grab you and pull you back to him. He growls, low and deep in his throat as he sits up and quickly launches off the bed, coming right for you. You dart around the room on light feet, Joel’s lumbering form struggling to keep up with you.

“The things I’m gonna do when I catch you, sweet girl,” he says, a sinful smirk on his gorgeous face, “You’ll wish you never tried this little stunt.”

“What, gonna punish me with your big cock?” you quip back, giggling like a mad woman as you hop up on the bed and sprint across it, heading for the bedroom door. Joel simply growls again, laser focused on his mission to get you back in his arms.

You dare a glance back and Joel is close on your tail, but you’re already on the stairs, halfway down them when a large arm wraps around your waist, stopping you mid run and nearly knocking the breath out of you. You haven’t stopped laughing throughout the entire chase, loving how worked up Joel was over the whole thing, but it’s cut short as your torso slams into his arm on the impact.

“Got you,” Joel says, menacing and quiet, tucking his arm tighter around you and pulling you into his chest with a thump. You don’t have a moment to catch your breath, being suddenly spun around, Joel’s large hand on your chest forcing you down onto your ass as you sprawl back on the stairs. Your chest heaves with excitement when you look at Joel standing above you on a lower part of the stairs, keeping your body down with just his hand alone as he snakes his arm out from around your waist and uses that hand to yank his oversized shirt you’re wearing up and pull down your boxer shorts and underwear. He kneels down, his cock out moments later, and he tugs under your thighs to pull you right into him as he slams his throbbing, dripping cock right into you without any preamble. A loud, guttural noise flies out of his mouth while your own breath is caught in your throat feeling him fill you so quickly. He’s moving already, barely giving your body a moment to register the sheer thickness of him. His eyes are flooded with untamed, savage energy as he delivers his discipline upon your body, recklessly thrusting in quick, sharp thrusts.

“J-joel,” you whine out, still unsure if the walls of your cunt are adjusting to him. Everything feels so tight and raw, your whole body tense from the way he’s moving.

“Don’t wanna hear any whining,” he grits out through ragged breaths. “Take my cock and be a good fucking girl about it.”

You whimper, his words sending your walls clenching around him and another rush of wetness coating his cock.

“Mmm,” Joel murmurs, feeling how slick you’re quickly getting, pussy squelching under him with pure need. He pulls out so quickly your body shudders upwards several inches, confused by the swift change before Joel manhandles your hips roughly and flips you onto your hands and knees, barely giving you a chance to catch yourself on them.

“If you thought that was a punishment, sweet girl…” Joel ambles, stroking one finger down your spine, sending your whole back spasming under his touch. “Look at how you fall apart for me…” Joel purrs. “What would it take… to break you, hm? Have you beggin’ for me to fill you again…” You’re equally fearful of and turned on by his twisted tone and the look on his face as you glance over your shoulder to give him doe-like, pleading eyes. His hands grip each of your ass cheeks, kneading them roughly before delivering a hard smack onto one of them.

“Nothing… I-I’m begging now… Joel, p-please,” you cry out softly, praying he’ll listen.

“Lucky I’m feeling generous for my girl tonight, aren’t you?” You nod furiously, popping your ass in his face slightly as your hips writhe for his touch between them. “Even after that little stunt you pulled…”

Joel’s finger explores your slit now, gently sliding down it and to your entrance, swirling a teasing finger. “Could fill this drippin’ little hole with my cock, is that what you want, baby?” he purrs as he teases your entrance with the tip of his finger, pushing it in.

You nod quickly again, knowing he likes it when you’re eager and begging. “Fill me, fill me Joel,” you say desperately, fingers clawing into the carpet on the stairs. Joel’s other hand trails down your back with light touches from the tips of his fingers and you whimper, your entire body shivering with the tantalizing touch.

“Ain’t gonna say please?” Joel asks as his hand reaches your ass, squeezing hard enough to leave a mark.

“P-please,” you correct yourself hastily, swallowing hard, feeling your body starting to break out in a sweat with the animalistic need you’re feeling for Joel right now.

“Good girl. That’s better.” He smirks, withdrawing all touch from you as he repositions himself behind you, his hard cock beginning to push in between your legs devastatingly slow, and as usual, you find yourself impressed with the restraint he can have when you’ve never been able to resist a single thing he does to you. Once again without warning, he slides himself inside of you, pushing up to the hilt, getting as deep as your body allows him at this angle.

“That’s it, baby, such a good girl,” he says more lovingly now, fingers kneading the supple skin of your hips as he holds you steady while he trusts in and out of you. You’re already moaning, the feeling of his cock at this angle sending you into a quick plummet towards release every single time.

“F-fuck, Joel, f-faster,” you manage to whimper, pushing your head down further to get an even better angle for him to hit the sensitive spot deep inside of you. Joel obeys without any question or comment, an unusual occurrence, but you can hear from the noises he’s making that he’s just as undone at this angle as you are, able to get deeper and feel your walls clench around him so deliciously.

“L-look so p-pretty takin’ my cock,” Joel says, his voice straining with his ragged thrusts. “Play with yourself, wanna feel you come with me,” he demands, and you slip your finger on your clit, rubbing circles and melting into all the pleasurable sensations your body is taking right now.

Joel’s movements slow down, dragging his cock in and out along your fluttering walls and you yell out, his name spilling from your lips repeatedly. The languid circles on your clit quicken while you reach your breaking point, a fever pitch breaking within you as you moan out pathetically for him, your whole body shaking and shuddering as stars explode in your vision. Joel rides you through half your orgasm, a few pumps into you before your clenching walls draw his own pleasure out of him and he comes deep inside of you, crying out your name in the process. His hips twitch and buck as you whimper at the sensation, your finger continuing to rub as a second quick orgasm tears through you from the aftershocks. Joel curses and hisses through his teeth as you bear down on him again, feeling you explode underneath him while you come all over his cock another time. You collapse onto your belly, bringing Joel down with you. He lays half on top of you, the both of you unable to speak while you catch your breath.

Joel places sweet, lazy kisses along the skin closest to him on your back, sighing heavily. “Fuckin’ incredible, baby,” he whispers, biting you playfully on a sensitive, ticklish spot.

You let out a tired laugh and wiggle under him before he pulls out of you, moving to readjust your clothing so it’s back on completely. He tucks his arms under your shoulders and lifts you up, and then slides them to your thighs, continuing to lift you and you gladly let him, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist and arms around his neck as he carries you the short distance back to the bedroom. He’s gentle as he lays you down, following up with pulling the bedsheet over you and crawling into the bed next to you. You two kiss for what feels like ages, no expectation in any of the meetings between your lips, just the desire to feel the others warmth and affection. Joel lets out murmurs of “my girl” periodically between kisses, building the emotion inside of you until you feel a single tear slide from your eye, traveling down onto the pillow beneath you.

“Your girl,” you find yourself quietly whispering as the two of you fall asleep cradled in each other’s arms.

With your parents out of town, you get to spend the entire weekend at Joel’s without anyone wondering where you are, and it’s some of the best hours of your life, holing up in his house together. You only leave to take Benny for his walks, get him food from your parents’ place, and on Saturday night to sneak into your parents’ pool to skinny dip in the dark. It’s exhilarating, letting Joel chase you around in the pool as you splash at him with the promise of something sexy to come after.

Joel cooks for you - breakfasts and lunches, and he brings you fresh fruit and periodic snacks while you lounge around, binge watching new reality shows for Joel to try and a movie that makes you cry. When you look at Joel through your tears, you notice the shimmer of tears in his and try to suppress your smile. You order pizza for dinner, learning that Joel’s go-to is a pepperoni and mushroom pizza, which happens to be at the top of your list too so you don’t have to argue about it.

You live in Joel’s clothes, not even bothering to stop at your place for anything since Joel cheekily suggested that you go without underwear, leading to yet another mind-blowing round of sex that leaves you pleasantly exhausted. That’s how it goes, the both of you in close quarters together - one small flirtatious comment leads to Joel’s tongue on your cunt, your mouth around his cock, or him buried deep inside of you for countless times over that Saturday and Sunday.

Everything is so easy, and you never run out of things to talk about together over the course of the days you spend together. When Sunday evening rolls around, you pout continuously at the prospect of having to leave and for the two of you to have to go back to reality and work the following day. Your parents are supposed to come back tonight, and you know you can’t stay at Joel’s much longer. He caresses your naked body to his once more after a particularly frenzied fuck, knowing you’d have to leave afterwards he wanted to leave you with something to think about tonight. And rest assured, you certainly will be.

You groan, looking at him and opening your mouth to speak.

“I know,” Joel says, placing a gently finger on your lips. “You’ve gotta get going, angel.”

“Nooo,” you whine, burying your face in his chest.

“Clingy little thing,” he jests, counteracting his words by clinging you tighter to him and laughing.

“You’re clingy too, remember all the times you had to fuck me this weekend ‘cause your cock gets hard if I even look at you a certain way?” you poke back with a raised eyebrow, challenging him.

“Don’t start talkin’ about my cock now, or you know what happens,” Joel warns, even though he knows neither of you have time for what would come next. “C’mon now, I’ll walk you down,” he says with a nudge into your side.

You frown but slide out of Joel’s bed, throwing on another one of his shirts and pairs his boxers. You are somewhat eager to wear something that fits you after days spent with this as your uniform, but you’ll miss having the feel and scent of Joel covering your body at all times. This certainly won’t be the last time you put on his clothes, anyways, you think as a comfort to yourself.

Joel follows you down to his kitchen, where he holds your hips as you stand at the sliding back door.

“Thanks for stayin’ over sweetheart,” Joel says before tugging your body flush with his, leading you into a warm embrace.

“Should be thanking you,” you reply, thinking of all the food, comfort, and care he gave you.

“Alright, off with you now,” Joel says, reaching around you and opening the door. He’s still got his arms wrapped around you in a hug, and he moves the few steps with you until you’re on the threshold of the door. You giggle at the awkwardness of his steps following yours before he captures your mouth in several kisses, the two of you leaning outside of the door now. You pull away reluctantly and place a hand on his chest, smiling coyly up at him.

“Bye,” you say quietly, and Joel steps backwards into his house before you turn to head back to your parents’ house. It’s early evening, and they’re supposed to be back in a few hours, giving you plenty of time to shower and change into fresh clothes that aren’t Joel’s, take care of the house, and get Benny settled back into your parents place after spending the weekend with you and Joel. He’s been at your heels as you said your goodbyes, and you call for him to follow you out of Joel’s house.

When you look up from Benny and over the fence towards your parents’ yard, you lock eyes with one of the last people you’d wanted or expected to see - your dad.

Well, shit.

taglist: @paleidiot​​​ @mumma-moonchild​​​ @soph55​​​    

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

falling to the music (jily)

a/n: band au jily band au jily!! i loved writing this, and i think it might actually ball-of-wool its way into being a full fic, so if you like this one keep your eyes peeled for a pt. 2

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‘Alright, alright, let’s cool things off a minute!’ The lead singer flips his long black hair out of his face and gives a nod to the band behind him, ushering in a more toned down beat that chugs along in the background as he continues to address the crowd.

‘Now! Show’s not over yet, ladies and gents, but I do want to take a breather and chat to you about the amazing band I have with me tonight!’ A couple of whoops go round the room. Behind her, Lily hears a group of girls yell drunken variations on ‘I’m in love with you’. The frontman grins something wicked at this, and directs a wink in their general direction, which seems to go down well based on the audible swooning. Lily doesn’t really get it - he’s pretty, sure, all high cheekbones and roguish elegance, but she’s not about to throw away any and all sense of dignity she has for him.

‘As gorgeous as I am,’ the singer continues, ‘I’m afraid I’m absolutely nothing without my mates here on stage with me. So let’s give them a little appreciation, yeah? Holding it down on bass, it’s the love of my life, Remus John Lupin everybody!’ Cheers and applause as the bassist, who’s revealed to have gone slightly pink in the cheeks by the spotlight they’ve got on him, dives into a solo. It’s impressive. His long fingers move lightning fast across his fretboard, his scars appearing silver as they move like tides over his tendons, and Lily decides she likes him. Remus has a nice sort of quality, possessing less bravado than his band mates but seeming entirely immersed in the music. She’s a bit disappointed when his segment comes to a close. But soon the long-haired singer is speaking again, introducing the next member.

‘Drumming for his life all the way there in the back, let me introduce you to Mr Peter Pettigrew!’ The drummer is short and round-faced, a bit like a cherub, and his eyes shine at the attention he’s getting. He blows his floppy dirty blond hair out of his eyes and starts going at his solo like it’s all he’s got. Snare and bass drums thunder out arrestingly in the small venue. Lily claps along with the rest of the audience when he delivers a particularly complicated fill, and then his time is up too, and he pulls back into the steady rhythm he’d been playing beforehand. The frontman, who had stepped aside to give Peter centre stage, returns to the mic. He’s smiling broadly.

‘Now, showing us all up on lead guitar and yes, ladies, he is single,’ he proclaims, ‘it’s only James fucking Potter!’ Lily’s gaze drifts across to the man in question and fucking hell. She’s not sure how she didn’t notice him before, but now, certainly, she’s looking. He’s dazzling, sporting a blazing red guitar that contrasts delectably with the warm depth of his skin. She thinks idly that her red hair might have much the same effect, before admonishing herself vigorously. Get a hold of yourself, Lils. He’s just a random bloke who’s half decent at guitar. There’s a problem there though, because he’s not just half decent - he’s good. And he knows it, grinning like he’s on top of the world with each new wave of screams that come his way. The crowd seems to really energise him. Soaring to new heights again and again, his solo is mesmerising, the sound flying off the frets with a gorgeous vividity. Beside her, Mary nudges her in the ribs and leans in to speak into her ear over the roar of the music.

‘Interested?’ Lily rolls her eyes and feigns disgust.

‘Not at all.’

‘You’re blushing.’

‘Bitch, it’s hot as anything in here. We’re basically in a Heinz beans can of people.’ Mary laughs at this, but the sound is drowned out by the applause as James finishes his part.

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever,’ she smirks as the noise dies down.

Back up at the front, the singer claps James on the back good-naturedly, and pulls him in to say something the audience isn’t privy to. Whatever it is, it’s funny, because James laughs uproariously. His brown eyes glint with mirth from behind the frames of his glasses. Then, he beckons for the mic, and the singer removes it from its stand to pass it over.

‘You’ve heard from all of us, so now it’s time to boost the bastard next to me’s ego - not that he needs it, mind.’ James’ voice is lower than expected, liquid and easy like molten gold. You can hear him smiling when he speaks. It’s horrendously attractive. What a twat.

‘So, please join me in celebrating, the sexiest family disappointment that there ever was, Sirius Black!’ Sirius throws an arm up as the reaction his introduction garners threatens to blow the roof off. He makes a performance of it, putting a hand up to his ear like he can’t hear them and blowing kisses to the people in the front row. Lily isn’t really watching him though. Her eyes are drawn back to James, like he’s literally magnetic. She wants to pull him down off that stage and shag him.

Later, when the last of the encores is over and people are beginning to make their way out of the sticky warmth of the pub into the sharp coolness of the street, Mary decides she wants to meet the band. This tends to be a regular occurrence - she always did have a thing for rockstars. But it is made worse by the endlessly irritating fact that this time, Lily’s got a thing for one of the rockstars too. She doesn’t want to go. She’d much rather go straight home and forget this band and their sexy lead guitarist as quickly as possible, but Mary won’t take no for an answer, and leads her by an iron grip through the venue. Fat lot of good being a best friend does you.

When they get there, Sirius is packing up his guitar. He looks up sharply when he hears them approach, but quickly softens back into the charismatic smile he was sporting on stage.

‘Evening, ladies. Enjoy our set?’

‘Oh, I don’t know, it was okay,’ Mary’s tone is a mock disinterest, but she’s given away by the smile that’s playing on her lips.

‘Don’t lie to me, babe, I saw you singing along. You might’ve been the loudest of the lot. Got a name?’

‘Mary,’ she replies breathlessly.

‘Charmed, Miss Magdalene. And your friend?’ Lily goes to answer, but doesn’t get there in time.

‘This is Lily. Say, you don’t suppose you could call your friend over, the other guitarist? She’d quite like to meet him.’ Mortified, Lily shoots her best friend a look of pure death and whacks her soundly on the arm.

‘Hold your tongue, Macdonald, or so help me God I will set you on fire and use you to light a cig,’ she snaps, earning a huff of shocked laughter from Sirius. He looks at Lily, calculating, then at Mary, then back to Lily again. Slowly, a wicked grin starts to spread across his face.

‘Jamie, mate?,’ he yells, refusing to break eye contact with his victim. ‘You’ve got that redhead here to see you.’ It is in this moment that Lily Evans mentally declares Sirius Black to be her mortal enemy.

When he gets there, James is out of breath.

‘Welcome to the party, Prongs,’ Sirius laughs, punching him lightly in the arm. ‘This here, my fine fellow, is Lily.’

‘Lily,’ he repeats, almost reverently. Her name shimmers in his voice, and does cruel, evil things to her stomach.

‘Hello.’

‘You, erm. You wanted to talk to me?’

‘Well… no, you know what? Fuck it. Yes. Yes, I wanted to talk to you.’

‘I think we’ll just, uh, scoot over there a little,’ says Mary, bestowing her vice-like grip on Sirius this time, who yelps in shock as he’s dragged unceremoniously off to the side.

‘What was it you wanted to say?’ inquires James, now that the two of them are alone.

‘I suppose… just that you’re a really talented musician. Like honestly, watching you up there doing your solo, it was completely insane. I didn’t know guitars, like, did that.’ Lily looks up at him after that last bit, and notes painfully that he’s a very good height for kissing.

‘You really think that? Oh my god, I mean, thank you! Really, really, thank you, thank you very much. That’s a really nice compliment, that- that’s really lovely of you,’ he says, words tumbling out of his mouth like pennies. He’s beaming down at her like he’s a puppy, almost as wide as he was on stage. It’s sort of adorable.

‘Yeah, well. Y’know. And… okay, stop me if I’m crossing a line here but - could I give you my number? Only my friend will kill me if I don’t shoot my shot, and you’re… well, you’re quite attractive. Sorry if that’s forward.’

‘No, no, not at all, I’m, er, well, I’m honoured. Fuck, listen, I don’t have my phone on me right now - I forgot to charge it last night because I’m a dunce, and I’m with Sirius most of the time anyway so I figured it wouldn’t matter if I left it at home, which I’m realising now is something I definitely should never do again, but I digress. I- could I give you a pen? Could you like, write it on me?’ Lily laughs as she watches him flounder, then nods assuringly.

‘Sure, I can write it on you.’

‘Okay, brilliant,’ he breathes, before scrambling up onto the stage and grabbing a Sharpie off one of the amps. He hops back down in front of her and holds it out for her to have.

‘Where should I put it?’ Lily asks, taking the pen from him and pulling off the cap.

‘Anywhere’s fine.’ Humming, she puts a hand just above his elbow and pulls his arm across, giving her access to his bicep.

‘Less likely to rub off if I put it here,’ she explains, to which James replies with a shaky exhale and a nod. Lily begins writing down the numbers in neat, confident strokes, her tongue poking slightly out to the side as she concentrates. Once she’s satisfied, she straightens up, recaps the pen and gives it back.

‘Call or text me, then.’

‘Yep.’

‘Listen, I’ve got to go find my friend, she’s a bit tipsy so I’m in charge of getting her home okay. But it was nice to meet you.’

‘You too.’

Lily turns to leave, then stops and swivels back round to look at him.

‘You smell really good, by the way.’