#like girl offer them to someone else why are you throwing away a whole entire order

[irregodless]

a coworker bought some kinda thing from a wing store and she ate like two and was like whew those were hot! well never mind and threw away the rest of them

[stitching-in-time]

Voyager rewatch s1 ep9: Prime Factors

Oof, this one is a lot heavier than I remembered, but really, really good.

I remembered the beginning part with the alien pleasure planet, but didn't remember how it turned into a serious moral dilemma with everyone on the ship wrestling with their consciences, and eventually with eachother. That final scene is a real gut punch, damn.

It starts out light enough, with seemingly friendly aliens inviting the Voyager crew to hang out on their paradie-like planet for a while (though casting a smarmy Eurotrash type in the role made him seem too sinister from the very beginning, they should have cast someone more charming so his eventual turnabout would have been an actual surprise.)

There's a nice scene where the crew are on the planet, and Harry meets a nice meteorologist girl, and they hit it off over science, and she invites him to take a trip to her favorite spot on a transporter. They almost have a romantic moment, but Harry gets distracted by learning that the transporter can take them to distant planets, and could take them halfway to Earth. (They could have at least let him kiss the girl, they never let Harry be the romantic lead, and honestly he's adorable and sweet and girls would be throwing themselves at him all the time.)

Harry luckily interrupts Captain Janeway almost kissing the smarmy Eurotrash guy (thank god, she deserves better!! why would she even like him at all??) and the plot thickens as the Voyager crew find themselves on the other end of someone else's Prime Directive when they ask to use the alien technology to get home, but their request is denied because the planet's laws forbid them from giving away technology too.

The subsequent debates among the crew about what to do and how to go about it, how to get around the law, whether it's okay to get around the law, whether to take the technology when it's offered to them through unlawful channels, whether disobeying orders is merited when it serves the greater good, are all a wonderful, and gutwrenching, character study about what each character is willing to do, and to sacrifice, for the one thing they all want more than anything else, to get home.

(Little shout out to the nice moment where Harry notices B'Elanna isn't really okay after the meeting and give her a reassuring word. They honestly had this whole beautiful friendship subplot going on in the first season that I'd entirely forgotten about, and I'm so sad it got abandoned.)

The scene where the crewmembers who disobeyed the captain's orders are trying to get the device to work before it's too late is excruciatingly tense, since the dread of knowing you're doing something you shouldn't is something everyone has experienced at some point, and it's palpable in B'Elanna most of all. Roxann Dawson's performance is heartbreaking as the weight of her guilt hits her, and she makes the decision to step up and take responsibilty for it.

The final scene where B'Elanna and Tuvok go to the Captain to confess what they did hurts to watch. All the actors knock it out of the park- Janeway's hurt at her their betrayal, and their pain at having caused it, are so raw. I teared up a little bit watching it. There's no happy ending for anyone here, all they can do is try to pick up the pieces and give each other grace because all they have is each other out there so far from home. It's messy and real, and it's one you keep thinking about even after the episode is over.

This one really got to me, in the best way.

Tl;dr: an unexpectedly strong episode full of top notch performances, which raises debates that don't have easy answers and tests the character's consciences and relationships in revealing ways. A+ grade.

[touhoutivations]

ghost anon here - thank you again for the reassurance, i appreciate it. writing in again because i've got a crow tengu friend who's moving to an entirely new place and theyve been crazy stressed out about it - maybe a fellow reporter could weigh in about changing surroundings?

"Ayayaya, a new place hm?  That's always a tricky thing, whether you planned it or not- at least with me, I know I've had a few times where I've gotten my cove torched and had to…rebrand as it were, aha~" "I guess it comes down to how you feel about old and new stuff. Some need to cling to the time you have, some feel like it's some…doomsday clock- some throw themselves into the new, or some feel like it's invasive. It's hard to determine whether you're ready or what works. Whatever it is, I want you to know that whatever you feel- even if it's a contradictory whirlwind, is okay."  

"Depending on how convenient it is- I think what would be helpful is to find homes away from your house. Whether that's near your future place, or near a workspace or somewhere else you frequent- try finding places that make you feel cozy and comfortable. Bonus points if they have flexible hours or they're public services that you don't have to spend money with."

"You have a nice tea place nearby? Try that item you always think about but never get- even if it's not that great, opening yourself up to change on your own terms can be helpful. Get comfortable, and ease yourself into experimentation and investigation! "

"I sometimes think back to an old case I had with the doll on Nameless Hill. Where I offered her a soapbox about her whole 'doll liberation' thing. The results were as varied as they were catastrophic. Humans were devastated and tried to get their old dolls back, even if they got poisoned, some kids felt scared to let things go because they didn’t want to hurt them or get hurt if they became tsukumogami, some relived nice times, some painful scars… I got into a bunch of trouble up top for it. And Miss Melancholy wasn't happy because both doll and human felt chained to each other…

But oddly enough, the one that fixed the issue was the Misfortune Goddess. She wanted to try 'update' the old Nagashi festival, since the yamawaro were getting frustrated that dolls kept stockpiling- which, yeah- if I was a doll I'd be sad about if I got chucked in a river. So…Hina suggested 'recycling' that misfortune into fortune, transferring the memories and care you felt to another child- who would make something special with that doll, to so on and so forth. Thanking it for the time and company that it occupied, allowing a civil dismissal, and not feeling all gloomy and weighty.

…Miss Melancholy hated it at first. She thought it was just 'shoving the problem onto someone else- and why am I seen as a problem anyway-' but…seeing a girl get an older doll from an elder, seeing the two of them stitch new clothes for her and repaint her faded eyes…I never knew dolls could cry but…yeah. And writing that article with Kagiyama's assistance…yes, it truly was one of my prouder moments as a journalist. …It really was, and I yearn for another masterpiece like that…ah-"

"I'm getting off track here, but I mean that everyone has their own thoughts, feelings and journey about change- and it's going to take some time, even if you know the 'perfect' way to handle it. Be patient with yourself, that's the one thing you'll always be travelling with- ahaha~ But being able to find little gaps of happiness, a fantastical scoop anywhere you go- even if it's a lone autumn leaf on the road- you'll find many more homes to report to!"

[kittyprincessofcats]

RWBY Volume 9 Ep 3 - Rude, Red, and Royal

This episode frustrated me a bit at first but got very interesting in the end. And then I rewatched it and this whole post just kind of happened.

- “Uh... are we sure we should do this?” Yeah, the longer all of their interactions with the Red Prince kept going on, the more I was wondering why they were even doing this in the first place. “Because the Red King helped Alyx in the book” - okay, but clearly the Red Prince is completely different and not willing to help whatsoever. So why engage with him in the first place? It didn’t seem like he was ever going to help them so like... should have just let Yang rough up those guards in Ep2 (since he beheaded them anyways) - but then again, maybe not following the path of the story wouldn’t have worked?

- I also think it’s interesting how because “The Girl who fell through the World” and “Alice in Wonderland” are not exactly the same story, there are moments where we as viewers know more than the characters do. For instance, they think the Red King will help them, but all of us know that the Queen of Hearts is bad news.

- I love Weiss and Yang not even pretending to be nice with their birthday wishes.

- So instead of the Queen of Hearts hating white roses, we have the Red Prince hating green things - nice reference, including the “Off with their heads!” thing. And gosh, Ruby’s heartbroken expression when she says “How could you?” after he throws Penny’s sword away - she needs to come back and get it PLEASE. (And based on the trailer I’m guessing she will.)

- See, and Ruby now offering to cheer the Prince up with a game is what I don’t get. Like, at this point, they should have just left. Clearly this isn’t the King they know from the story and this isn’t working. Oh well.

- Little suggesting “small” as a compliment and then being pleased when it works - I love them.

- “Now we’re all Littles!” Gosh, I love Little so much.

- On a more serious note, Ruby being so scared for her friends during the game really struck a chord with me. She just lost Penny, the girl she loves one of her closest friends, and during this whole scene you can just see the fear in her eyes at the thought of losing someone else. When she says “No one’s going to get hurt, right?”... babygirl :((. (I hate the Red Prince so much ugh.)

- Wait, how did I only notice on my rewatch that the white pieces are losing on purpose at first because the Red Prince tells them to? That was super obvious and I didn’t catch it the first time.

- Aww, Blake blushing when Yang cheers her on is cute.

- When the Red Prince kept asking questions during the game I kept thinking... I don’t think you should be telling him any of this.

- “Little is a mouse... at least I think.” Little is Penny theory confirmed

- The entire fight sequence on the board is abolutely amazing. The music, the choreography, that one epic shot of Weiss... yeah, that’s a really amazing sequence. I get why CRWBY were hyping this episode up for the music.

- But gosh again, pay attention to Ruby during the fight and how worried she is the whole time. This is really freaking her out.

- What freaks me out here is that Blake would have fallen if Little hadn’t grabbed her. Like yikes, that was way too close!

- “unable to do the one thing you were put on this acre to do” Hmm.. so winning board games is the prince’s purpose? I still want to know more about how this whole world works. And who is the curious cat? How do they know so much? Why did they decide to save Team RWBY? I want to understand what’s going on! (I know we’ll find this all out, but I’m impatient.)

- “Change” definitely is an important theme this season. We’ll see where that eventually leads.

- So wait, did the cat... teleport them?

- “Great, so we’re not in the stupid story after all - we’re in its stupid sequel!” Oh, Weiss has the best lines this volume! (Made better by the knowledge that sequels are usually worse.)

- “You’re not nearly as interesting as the others I’ve met.” Okay, plural there - so Alyx isn’t the only human the curious cat has met. Either they already met Jaune and/or Neo, or there have been other humans besides Alyx here before - probably the latter.

- “Can’t anyone here be normal?” I’m kinda feeling you on that rn, Weiss. But then again, this is Alice in Wonderland - "we’re all mad here” and all that.

- Has Yang ever used “Rubes” as a nickname for Ruby before? I like it!

Something, something, brothers of light and darkness...

Green lightning and green rain - so here’s how green symbolizes Penny and therefore her spirit is still in this world... okay that one’s maybe a bit too far-fetched

What is the Jabberwalker holding here? They ask “Fix?” and then throw it away. Looks like a piece of metal? Did anyone get a closer look? Whatever it is, this seems important.

(Okay, far-fetched theory time because I want her back: This is Penny’s core (we don’t know if her new body was fully human - Ambrosius never specified that it was and Team RWBY never specifically asked for it to be) and if Team RWBY take it back to Remnant, Pietro can build Penny a new body and they can revive her again.)

So, Neo falling is represented by a pink comet crashing down. This makes the intro more interesting:

We see a red comet here in the beginning - Ruby, I’m guessing.

And then we see two blue ones here. Now this is interesting. This could be Weiss, but who else? Jaune fell after Ruby, but wouldn’t his be yellow? And why only show Weiss and not the others? I think it’s more likely that this is either Alyx and someone else (the other human the curious cat has met?), or that it’s Alyx twice if she’s reliving her story in a time-loop like some people have theorized. But I think it’s the former, as we also see someone else behind Alyx here:

So yeah, I think there was definitely someone else with Alyx.

- Also, since Neo and Ruby/Blake fell at the same time, but Neo is only landing now, that makes me wonder how time works here and if Jaune has even landed yet.

- So wait, did Neo’s semblance just evolve? She seems surprised at the copies of herself suddenly appearing, so this seems new. Really cool, but at the same time Neo was already one of the most op characters in the show; so this is kinda terrifying.

- Aww, poor Jabberwalker, I feel bad for them. Let Team RWBY befriend the scary monster, actually.

Yeah, interesting episode - but I need to know how it goes on now please.

[lindszeppelin]

Long time lurker, first time asker… what IS the deal with the Gerbers?

I know Rande was sued for sexual harassment. I know Kaia was tied up in some effed up cops and robbers game and that whole situation. I know how Presley turned out. Kaia looked sick (drugs or ED) for a while. Allegedly Cindy isn’t the nicest human. I know the rumors about George Clooney. What else though?

I’ve always thought something was really wrong with this family but I have trouble putting my finger on it. Then I saw a pic of C&K with the Kardashian Klan and a lightbulb started to go off. It feels like the Gerbers wanna go in that direction and chase fame and that’s a big part of why they feel off for me. Is there other dirt though? Should you publish this, any followers have any dirt or tea they wanna share on this blog? Someone said on Reddit Kaia was an entitled bitch at a restaurant they worked at but not a ton of personal stories I’ve seen otherwise. Kaia seems sweet enough, but I also think there’s a mask that will drop eventually and I can’t let that feeling go.

All gossip forums, including here and on Twitter casually mention knowingly that this family is effed up, and while I believe it sometimes I feel like I’m missing some of the information too- if that makes sense.

Am I missing any info? Help a girl out figure out why I think this family is extra creepy and dysfunctional in a sea of plenty of weirdos in Hollywood who don’t give me the same “ick factor”.

I haven't dived deep into the Gerber/Crawford lore but I know enough to say that I would not trust that family with anything lol, especially when it comes to career, dating, and social advice they may want to give. It just feels like Cindy Crawford is still trying to stay relevant since her 90s heyday, and she's doing that through her children. Trying to get them into modeling at young ages. And Presley lashed out bigtime. I know he's doing some Mental Health Awareness thing on his instagram and i applaud him for that. But I kinda wish he brought more substance to those vids. Both him and Kaia are sooooo unprofessional when it comes to that format of content (ie. Kaia and her bookclub and her not offering anything of substance in them).

I would not be surprised at all if they wanna go down a Kardashian type route. That entire family knows how to run Hollywood and I think Cindy fancies herself as a Kris.

Rande Gerber just seems like a fuckwad weirdo. They way he treats not only his own daughter but other women is sick and I get bad vibes from that man whenever I see him. I remember it was going around, a weird post he made on insta about Kaia, and the caption reads, and i quote " We used to have this thing we would say together when she was growing up that went like this. “I have big brown eyes and a cute little figure, stay away boys til I get a little bigger” ". Like...HUH. A cute little figure?! Who tf says that about their minor daughter.

Aside from the things you've mentioned, I haven't heard of anything else (sans the whole Harry Styles linked with Rande Gerber too). And frankly the more I learn about this family the more I want to throw myself over a cliff.

[fuckzachariah]

Zach’s knee bounced erratically as he anticipated Kylie’s performance; her nerves bled through the veins of the stadium, flooding him with a magnificent but frenetic glow on her behalf as they cut to ad break and the MC took to the stage to entertain the live audience. The song was yet to be released, and would be her official debut with both Andrew and the Label in front of the whole world. The music video would then drop immediately after the show closed out in less than twenty minutes time. Her rehearsals had been a brilliant distraction from Zach’s indecision and turmoil, though he was frequently tasked with dodging Andrew’s questions in person as he took a very hands-on approach with his artists, visiting the dance studio frequently to oversee production and offer his insights and feedback. Kylie relished in the attention, understanding and adoring that she seemed to be such a priority to her new CEO when her previous had oftentimes left her to fend for herself and pick up the pieces when a project fell through. She was taking a sharp turn into a more mature image, and Andrew understood exactly what was needed to pull that change off in the eyes of the public. As they waited, Amanda tittered in Zach’s ear. “If Angelo King wins Best Artist tonight, that’s a clean sweep for Andrew,” she reeled. “Next year is about to be front-to-back Winthrop if you make some good decisions. And make them soon, Zach. Coming off the back of tonight, we’d be ridiculous not to get the ball rolling. They’re hungry for you, and Kylie has proven herself as a standalone. You have nothing to hold back for now. It’s-” The lights came back down, cutting off both her rapid monologue and the disquieted churning in his gut. He knew tonight he would be truly confronted with the reality of his decision to step away from the opportunity Andrew was offering him. He didn’t need Andrew or the Label to succeed. His name, his legacy, spoke for itself; and yet the guilt gnawed on him like a vulture to the dead. Throwing it away for what? The silent comfort of not having to watch a girl who did not want him, want someone else? It seemed like the cruelest thing of all.

The host, to the side of the stage, spoke clearly into the microphone. “Performing her brand new single ‘Hands To Myself’ dropping right after the show tonight, please put your goddamn hands together for Kylie French!” The stage spun on its axis to reveal a visual of a lustrous pink bedroom set, the bed itself so enormous it easily fit the bodies of twenty people, and at the hilt of it Kylie sat perched with her legs dangling off the edge with her chin in her palm. She wore a short, sheer robe with a silk belt and huge fur trim, her face a vision as her rose-in-bloom voice cooed to the crowd; “Can't keep my hands to myself… no matter how hard I'm trying to…” Throughout the course of the song, she executed choreography with the loose grace of the black swan, each dancer in turn depicting their lust for the pop star. Zach was removed from the experience; he observed like a transfixed fan, jealousy in the wind. It was unclear to him whether this lack of green streak stemmed from his sobriety, therapy, or simply that the object of his affection was no longer Alexandra Burton. In the center of the gargantuan mattress, her knees sank into the satin as forty hands of her dancers clawed for her, singing in a jaunty quip, diamond eyes to camera; “I mean I could, but why would I want to?” Applause went up from the crowd in a roar he had not heard all night, and he glanced around in elated surprise for her. He had almost forgotten just how much hinged on their response; how it might dictate the trajectory of the entire musical era she had planned. Ryan squeezed and shook his shoulder. “Fuck, man, they love it,” he breathed, responsible in its entirety for the production of her lead single. Zach glanced at his best friend, a wicked grin on his face. They stood to applaud and cheer as the song came to a close, the camera birds-eye over Kylie laid on the mattress with her hair fanning out around her, the sensual look on her face giving way to a devastating and bashful smile.

Angelo King did, in fact, win Artist of the Year, twenty years into his career and for the fourth time in total. It was an undeniable feat for Andrew, accredited by the host as Angelo took his leave from the stage, waving nobly. “Gotta hand it to Andrew Dupree this year, folks. You had big shoes to fill and damn, did you fill them! A clean sweep for your artists, that’s gotta feel great, man. Congratulations. And congratulations to all our incredible winners and nominees tonight.” The closing speech went on, but Zach and his party had been temporarily stunned into silence; a brief, two-second flash of Andrew on screen revealing his knock-out date. “W - was that Alex?” Ryan stuttered in disbelief, craning his neck now to try and locate the couple in the audience. “What the fuck?” Eden whispered, wary of alerting Kylie to the fact of their familiarity, but immediately vacated her seat to find her long distance best friend. Zach’s jaw feathered delicately, a strangeness descending on him like a mist to a dark sea. He felt it fog his veins, the turmoil between his ears blanketed. He wished it wasn’t so. He wished he could see her and feel nothing. Better yet, happy. But she sparkled as brightly as the fat diamond on her finger, and now he knew she was there, he felt her like she was the heartbeat of the room. Bodies began to filter out, and Zach quickly stood. “That’s crazy, jesus christ,” Ryan muttered, following him. They made their way, along with Amanda, to Kylie’s dressing room. Zach continued to stalk along in silence, attempting to seamlessly file away every complicated feeling he had and forcibly dissociate. The trick was, he could never quite achieve that feat when he willed it so. “Andrew should be meeting us in the dressing room. We should celebrate. And definitely press GO on your-” Zach held up his hand to silence her, head frustratedly jerking away. “Stop,” he insisted evenly. Amanda looked at him, offended. Ryan stepped in. “What if he brings Alex?” Zach sighed and walked faster, away from the conversation, towards his waiting girlfriend.

Beneath her faux lashes, Alex scanned the venue, searching for any familiar faces amidst the sea of strangers. Her smile widened as she spotted a figure she recognized, a distinctive tattoo gracing caramel-colored skin. He looked different now, his once dark locks now shaved close to his scalp in a sleek buzz cut. Clad in a perfectly tailored suit paired with trendy Nike sneakers, he exuded a newfound confidence. Clearly, Amanda had worked her magic, giving him the full Hollywood treatment. As Alex observed Issaq from afar, she couldn’t deny that it suited him well. It had been two years since their last in-person encounter. Surprisingly, he had taken her admission of not being ready for a serious commitment well. He had taken it in stride, even continuing to check in on her from time to time, ensuring her well-being. It was evident that he still harbored a tender spot in his heart for her, despite their paths diverging. Once Issaq became aware of the deepening seriousness of Alex’s relationship with Drew, his messages gradually tapered off. Alex understood his distance, especially as his career underwent a significant transformation in a relatively short span of time. With Zach taking a temporary hiatus, Isaaq found himself stepping out from behind the shadows cast by his former tourmate. A void emerged in the music industry, yearning for a sultry heartthrob, and Isaaq was more than willing to seize the opportunity. He was undeniably talented. Alex had witnessed Isaaq’s journey firsthand, but their audience perhaps felt similarly to her – that he wasn’t a direct replacement for Zach Winthrop. Nevertheless, she took genuine joy in witnessing his success and the opportunity for him to share his music with the world on his own terms. However, she couldn’t deny the feelings that stirred within her when Issaq confessed that several songs on his new album were inspired by their past relationship. It served as a reminder of why she was relieved to no longer be romantically entangled with musicians. Luke, too, had likely channeled his emotions into music, possibly crafting songs filled with bitterness over their one-night stand. She silently prayed that any such compositions would remain buried and never see the light of day.

Isaaq, feeling a familiar gaze fixated on him, turned, instinctively orienting himself towards Alex. A radiant grin spread across his face, his arms extending in a welcoming gesture as he eagerly approached her. “Ale,” he crooned in his melodious tone, enfolding her in a warm embrace as if no time had passed at all. They held each other tightly, swaying gently back and forth. “You look amazing. It’s so good to see you. It’s been, what?” he inquired, before Alex interjected with a soft laugh, “A long time.” She took a slight step back, delicately balancing on her towering heels to regard him. “Look at you, a bona fide pop sensation, selling out your own arenas,” she remarked, admiration lacing her words. She remembered the days when he had been just another struggling artist, and now, seeing his success, she felt a swell of pride. Issaq chuckled, his hands instinctively resting over his heart, a gesture of gratitude for her kind words. “Yeah, it’s been wild. Amanda’s been keeping me on my toes. She’s probably lurking around here somewhere, trying to sniff me out,” he joked, his gaze drifting to Alex’s left hand. His eyes widened in surprise as they landed on the sparkling diamond adorning her finger. “Oh, shit. So, it’s true then. You’re engaged to Drew. That’s awesome, Ale,” he exclaimed, genuine happiness evident in his voice. Detecting the sincerity in Isaaq’s voice, she noticed the contrast with the hollow congratulations she had received from Zach. It was clear now, if it hadn’t been before, that his words had lacked any genuine sentiment. “Drew’s a great guy, isn’t he, Dupree?” Isaaq’s voice broke through, his hands clapping around Drew’s shoulders to draw his attention. Drew turned with a grin adorning his chiseled features, immediately recognizing Isaaq’s familiar voice. They exchanged a handshake, their ease in each other’s company palpable. “It's good to see you, Isaaq. You’re absolutely killing it out there, man. I love to see it,” Drew commented warmly. Isaaq graciously accepted the compliment, expressing his gratitude. Despite their shared history, the interaction between Drew and Isaaq seemed effortlessly natural. As Alex observed them, she wondered if such ease could ever be achieved with Zach. Perhaps in due time, or when hell froze over, she mused wryly.

“I really appreciate that. Your support means a lot,” Issaq responded gratefully. As the lights flickered within the stadium, signaling the imminent start of the ceremony, Issaq realized he needed to return to his seat. “I better head back, but it was great catching up with you both. Take care of her,” he added, gesturing towards Alex with a playful wag of his finger before stepping away. Alex rolled her eyes affectionately, dismissing him with a simple wave of her hand. “He looks good, doesn’t he?” Drew suggested, his hand finding its familiar place on Alex’s inner thigh as they settled into their seats. With a comfortable spread-leg position, he leaned back, ready for the show to begin. Before long, the host took the stage, welcoming the audience to one of the most anticipated nights in music. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement as the host cracked a few lighthearted jokes about their attendees, including a playful jab at Zach’s dating history. Alex’s eyes widened as she spotted his face on one of the many television screens, Kylie by his side. “Kylie! What have you done to my man, Zach Winthrop?” Kylie played to the cameras with a hint of mischief in her eyes. In hindsight, it was foolish for Alex not to expect Zach to be in attendance, especially considering his girlfriend’s multiple nominations for awards that evening. She assumed that he might have been in one of his infamous moods, projecting his inner turmoil onto those around him and refusing to comply with anyone’s demands. If he was unhappy, it seemed like those in his vicinity would inevitably suffer too. However, as she continued to watch him, she considered that she might not have given him enough credit. His appearance at the event suggested that he had matured past his selfish tendencies. His bright smile and sparkling eyes hinted that he was there for Kylie, out of love for her. “There they are,” Drew remarked, breaking Alex’s train of thought with a clap of his hands.

Watching Zach effortlessly slip into the role of the perfect supportive boyfriend would always be difficult. While a hint of jealousy swirled in the pit of her stomach, the predominant feeling was one of sadness, wondering where this remarkable version of him had been hiding throughout their relationship. Alex made a conscious effort not to dwell on these thoughts for too long. She knew they would only sour her mood, potentially casting a shadow over Drew’s big night. She was determined to support him wholeheartedly, fully present for one of their first major events as an engaged couple. She didn’t want to risk embarrassing him again. As the night progressed, Drew found himself applauding almost every single one of his artists for their well-deserved wins. Kylie was no exception, earning the coveted title of Best New Artist of the year. The camera panned toward their section, capturing the former friend group that Alex had once intimately known rising to their feet to celebrate Kylie’s success. A pang of bitterness stung Alex’s heart as she watched the scene unfold. It felt as if she hardly knew them anymore, and perhaps she didn’t. Two years had passed, bringing with it a gulf of distance and change. Despite the ache of nostalgia, she couldn’t deny the genuine happiness radiating from the group as they cheered on both Zach and Kylie. Zach’s gentle gesture of cradling Kylie’s face in his hands, urging her to take the stage to accept her award, spoke volumes about their bond, leaving Alex feeling like an outsider looking in. Lost in the moment, she hadn’t even noticed Drew beside her, also rising to his feet and joining in the applause for Kylie. Her attention was solely fixed on the screen, where Zach stood beaming with pride. The audience hushed as Kylie delivered her heartfelt speech, her words stumbling through tears of joy. She expressed gratitude to everyone who had supported her, including Zach, whose presence seemed to fill her with an overwhelming sense of appreciation. Alex smirked softly to herself.

It was amusing to hear Kylie thank some higher power for delivering Zach into her life. God or Satan, indeed. Those were humorous ways to refer to Alexandra Burton. If she hadn’t closed the door on her relationship with Zach years ago, Kylie might not have the man standing before her now. Shaking off the nasty thought, Alex gently squeezed Drew’s hand, seeking comfort. He glanced over at her with a concerned smile, his brows furrowing in worry. “You okay?” he asked quietly. Alex simply nodded in response, though inside, she was grappling with the discomfort of enduring the Zach and Kylie love fest for much longer. If she had known they would be the focal point of the evening, she might have reconsidered attending, if only to preserve her own sanity. As night went on, awards were bestowed upon the most deserving artists, including an unexpected win for Lola Fonseca. In a peculiar twist of fate, the only award she claimed that evening was in a category pitted against Kylie. Alex thought of how Zach must be feeling facing Lola once again. He had never disclosed the details of their relationship, but Alex suspected Lola had been incredibly cruel to him. Perhaps that was why she still didn’t feel an ounce of guilt about the altercation that had left Lola with a black eye all those years ago. Alex’s disdain for Lola Fonseca was evident. Though she had little affection for Kylie, her feelings toward Lola were even more intense. Lola’s smug demeanor on stage, coupled with her awareness of who was in attendance and their respective dates, only fueled Alex’s animosity. Lola seemed to relish in stealing the spotlight away from Zach’s new love interest, basking in the satisfaction of her victories. For a brief moment, Alex felt a twinge of sympathy for Kylie, until her triumph in other categories forced Alex to endure another round of saccharine speeches. Drew, ever the proud mentor, reveled in the moment, turning to Alex with applause as Kylie exited the stage.

“Her performance tonight is going to be amazing. I caught a bit of the rehearsal. Just wait.” Something within Alex told her she could indeed wait, though whether it was with anticipation or dread remained to be seen.

[tommyspeakycap]

Shelby!Sister getting poisoned whilst at dinner with the whole family?

changed it up a bit; reader is roofied at one of Tommy’s fancy ball type parties and there’s one particular gentleman around to help her out.

Good Team

Tommy had, since you were merely a little girl, endeavoured to introduce you emphatically as (y/n) Shelby, with your surname stated soaked in ferocity and warning. You are a Shelby. You are his little sister. He makes sure people know this. He makes sure they’re aware. He sees it as a pre-warning, the kind that lets them know that you are very very important to him without actually saying those words. He sees it very much as a pre-warning for grievous bodily harm had any trouble befell you at another persons discretion. It was made incredibly clear from the moment you were born that you were so far from off limits to the enemies that it didn’t even need to be spoken.

However, it was a relatively occasional occurrence that this message was not accurately conveyed no matter how clear your elder brother was about the matter.

You were usually so cautious and so careful, but you were in your brothers own ballroom with his own supplied champagne and you had very few worries of such a simple business gathering for Christmas. You were adorning an extortionate dress that Tommy had made for you with a beautiful fur shoulder wrap, cheeks dusted with a champagne blush and a gorgeous smile as you mingle with rich business people and rich couples who were born into money. They were amazing at times to ogle at, coming from such a poor background. It was hard enough to adjust to your new life flaunting pretty dressed and walking around with a purpose and a job that had significant purpose.

But it would be safe to say you weren’t so worried around these people. You should’ve known better.

You keep blinking, squeezing your eyes shut to try and find vision again that wasn’t restricted by blurriness. The heels on your feet didn’t aid you much in the way of keeping your balance as you stumble into a long hall. You don’t remember where you last saw Tommy and you can’t remember where the glass you were holding had gone. You don’t know much, but you know you have to find one of your brothers.

Heavy footsteps behind you send a rush of hazed adrenaline through your veins, forcing your legs to move you faster, your arms scratching off paintings lining the walls as you attempt to use the wall as a stabiliser.

“Someone’s ‘ad a bit much, eh?”

Your eyelids flicker as you try to keep them open against the light that makes you feel like your head is exploding. “No, no I- there’s someone trying to get me!” You hiss in a slurred whisper with arms that flail somewhat aimlessly as you attempt to point out the person behind you. The man with his his on your biceps steadying you leans around to get a good look behind you. “Mhm, there me no one there love.” He says, confused. You can only vaguely make out who the person is that holds you up and it’s someone you know your brother only invited so as to attempt to talk him into taking on more Blinders for distillery protection.

Alfie Solomons wasn’t entirely the most trustworthy person that surrounded your family. Him and Tommy had a bit of a tendency to betray each other, no matter how expected it always was. The London gangster probably wasn’t the best person for you to bump into and definitely not the most reliable, but he was who you had ended up with and although it could have been him that drugged you, it didn’t seem incredibly likely. He told Tommy and Grace when greeting people at the front door; “No need for the fucking niceties eh Tommy? I’m here for the free booze mate yeah?” and walked on through with a pat on your brothers back.

Despite the fact you didn’t have much trust in him, you really holed that he wouldn’t pass you off as being overly drunk and leave you alone. You feel dreadfully unwell. Alfie looks down the hall, then back at you and with a sigh, he slips his strong arm around your waist and pulls you into his side for your stability. “I think you’re right, Shelby.” Alfie mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for even you to hear. “Something‘s just not right.” He turns to you, using his arm that wasn’t wrapped around you to lift up your eyelid. Beyond the terror in your eyes in huge pupils. “You’ve been drugged,” he states, his voice still low. “Better find those brothers of yours.”

That brings you some form of relief, but the terror still remains. It’s a scary situation, to know what you want to do with your limbs and know exactly what you want to say, but to be unable to speak or walk or even hold up your head. Your heart hadn’t stopped racing and you were drenched in sweat. It’s a shock you didn’t recognise you had been drugged before hearing Alfie say it.

His arm is tight around the waistline of your expensive ballgown, keeping you steady against him as he walked as quickly as he could manage while supporting your weight. He only vaguely knew the way around Tommy’s huge country house, but he did know where the man’s office was, and he’d likely have a maid in waiting there who Alfie could send to fetch him once he got you there. As you both rounded the corner into the corridor that would take you to Tommy’s office, there a man dressed like a waiter standing seemingly waiting for you. “Mister Shelby sent me to collect his sister when he heard she was overly inebriated.” The man spoke. Alfie furrowed his eyebrows tightly, but nodded and walked you closer to him. You want to protest, but your mind still won’t coordinate with your body and the most you can do is grumble. “She’s a bit hard to deal with,” Alfie admits, “So a tip you should really know for the future?“ He pauses, moving as though he’s going to pass you over to the arms of the other man. Alfie leans in until he’s only a few inches away and whispers a warning “I fucking hate liars,” before sharply drawing back his head only to but it forward forcefully into the man’s face.

He stumbles back and Alfie takes that opportunity to grab the front of his suit jacket and throw him behind the two of you with a kick to his ribs a few times for good measure. He wraps his arm back around your waist and continues on down the hall as if nothing had ever happened. “Could tell by his-fuck!”

A yelp leaves you as your legs tangled when you attempt to bare your own weight and instead clatter to the floor with a thud. Alfie grunts and you fight to open your heavy eyelids to see that a man had dove out at him from a doorway along the long hall and there were now two of them and two of you, except they were both conscious and had full control of their own bodies, whereas it fell upon Alfie to fight for both of you. The Londoner truly does not know why he has put himself in this situation for anyone, never mind for a Shelby he had only met a handful of times. But every time he had met you, you were incredibly sweet and kind to him. He knows that they’ll stop attacking him if he allows them to take you and do as they please with you, but something in him prevents him from doing that. There’s a part of him that encourages him to spit the blood from his mouth and stand in front of where you lay in and out of consciousness on the fell, ready to fight for you like he had something to lose if he couldn’t protect you. Tommy would never know Alfie was there with you if he walked away now, but something in him wants to be there. Wants to fight for you.

And so fight he does, throwing punch after punch, trying to take on two at once. Alfie managed to take the blonde assailant out of the game by cracking the wall with his blonde head of hair, leaving him out cold and potentially dying on the floor. When he does that though, his moment of glory is short lived before the other appears behind him with an arm tightly around his throat. Alfie squirms and grunts, kicks and scratches attempting to get him off, but the attacker holds on despite the blows. Alfie thinks he may well have to accept his fate.

Then he clocks you again on the floor, except this time your hands and trailing up your leg, hiking up your dress and he is utterly confused at your behaviour, thinking that it must be the drugs acting weird in your system. That is, until your dress reaches your upper thigh and the London gangster feels what he thinks may be butterflies when he spots the holster and gun that had been well hidden by your long ballgown. He would laugh, grin even if he wasn’t being strangled nearly to death. He watched with blurry vision as you try to steady your hands enough to point the gun at the attacker that was too bury trying to hold Alfie Solomons down to notice your movements. Alfie squeezes his eyes shut as you move your finger over the trigger and he hopes to God your heads are steady enough to shoot the right person.

The bang goes off and very suddenly he can breathe again. He notes that’s a good sign. He scrambles away quickly, turning around to press his foot onto the bullet wound in the shoulder of his attacker. “I will come back for you.” He growls in warning, pressing his foot harder to elicit a scream before he nods and turns back to where you stand. He wipes the blood off the bottom of his shoe on the carpet before he steps forward to swoop your gun off the floor to slip it back into your thigh holster, and then he helps you back up. Except this time, he opts to sweep you off your feet and into his arms bridal style.

“Good shot.” He notes. You breath a chuckle with hooded eyes in response, but can’t manage anything else. If you hadn’t been severely drugged, Alfie might’ve kissed you.

He makes it to Tommy’s office with ease, ordering the maid to get your brother immediately. Alfie lays you down on the soft couch in the office, placing you carefully on on your side for safety in case you’re sick. He uses the not blood tinted side of his handkerchief to wire some blood splatter and sweat from your face gently, and offers a gentle smile. “We make a good team, Solomons.” You hum with words slurred and jumped, but he understand what you said nonetheless. “That we do, Shelby.” He rumbles back in response.

The moment is as any moment of yours often is, interrupted by your elder brothers storming in. Immediately, Alfie is ripped from your side by Arthur slamming the him roughly against the wall with a loud clatter and bang. John goes to stand by Arthur’s side, and Tommy takes a knee beside you. The patriarch places his cool hand against your forehead before dipping down to place his ear just above your lips. “She’s breathing.” He concludes, “What the fuck did you do to her?” He sneers through gritted teeth as he takes steps towards Alfie.

“And why the fuck and you covered in blood.” Alfie sighs heavily, rolling his eyes and flaring his nostrils at the proximity of the three Shelby brothers. “Funny story, you see Tommy.” He grumbles discontentedly, “Seems as though someone tried after your sister right under your fucking nose, mate. Drugged her drink, removed her from the crowd. I found her wandering the halls all fuckin’ disoriented yeah. Now I don’t like a man who targets a woman, much less has to fuckin’ drug her to achieve it.” Alfie shrugs. Tommy narrows his eyes, but something in him believes what the Camden Town Gangster is saying. Alfie doesn’t have much in the way of necessity for taking you and it wouldn’t make sense for him to have the opportunity to but instead to bring you here. Right to them. “Doesn’t explain the fucking blood.” Arthur hisses, slamming his back against the wall again.

Alfie holds up his hands. “You’re little sister isn’t such a damsel as you make her out to be, Thomas. She has a fantastic shot. Some cunts-“ Alfie’s words drop with pure venom as the reminder of the man nearly strangling him to death reenters his mind, “Came after her. On that note, you’ll need a carpet cleaner and some body bags just along that hall. Don’t let the missus see that mess.”

Tommy paused for a moment, his eyes not leaving Alfie’s even when he speaks. “John, check that corridor.” He orders, making his younger brother grunt in annoyance but do as told nonetheless. “Arthur,” He grumbles, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Take our sister upstairs and get Polly.” Arthur is hesitant. Tommy might believe the words that Alfie speaks, but Arthur despises him and the only thing he hates more than Alfie is the thought of Alfie’s hands on you without any of them being there to help you, protect you. He knows that he and a Tommy are asking themselves the same question. How could something like this happen to you right beneath their noses. How had someone managed to get to when they were so close, literally right in the same room in an event organised by them. Arthur couldn’t answer the question, but could probably have killed Alfie in his rage at that moment. “Arthur,” Tommy repeats more firmly, “Go.”

This time, he listens. But that’s not without a warning glare at Alfie, who simply offers a smirk in response. “And you,” Tommy says finally, turning his attention to Alfie, “Fuck off.”

Alfie chuckles, but begins to walk past Tommy to leave the office when the smaller man grabs his arm in a vice like grip that makes the tips of his fingers tingle with the strength of it. Alfie feigns the urge to fight back in reaction to the pain. Tommy leans in close to his ear with a low snarl, “You don’t just help people. I don’t care what the reason was eh, but don’t you ever go near my sister again.”

Then he lets go and Alfie simply shakes off his arm and walks away. He hasn’t listened to Tommy Shelby any time in the past, and it appears as though today will be no different.

[scarlettriot]

Stood Up

Pairing: Sero/F!Reader

Summary: When you find your dating making out with someone else at a Halloween party, Hanta swoops in and reclaims your evening, rekindling an old flame.

Contains: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Demisexual Reader, Astronomy/Greek Lore Nerd Sero, Old flame

Warnings: 18+ Below the cut, Minors DNI! Swearing, Demi Problems, Praise/Smidge of Degradation, Name-calling (slut & whore), Pet names (Love, good girl, pretty girl), Car Sex, F Masturbation, Oral M Receiving (Road Head) I think that's everything

A/N: This took me much longer than I expected. It's also my first time writing Sero. Given the season, I decided to add a touch of Halloween and costumes to this one.

If you'd like to read other's in the Stood Up series, here are the links:

Stood Up - Bakugo - WC 3,502

Stood Up - Kirishima - WC 3,612

Stood Up - Kaminari - WC 2,461

Word Count Starting Below: 3,494

Denki Kaminari's annual Halloween bash was in full swing by the time Hanta had arrived. He'd come straight from patrol, wrapping himself up in his own tape making a half assed mummy costume for himself. Not like anyone would notice with the flashing colored lights, loud music, and abundance of liquor.

However, Hanta didn't even make it up to the double glass front doors of Denki's home. Not before doing a double take at the very familiar pirate that ran by him.

"Y/N?" You stopped allowing him the chance to catch up to you, "Holy shit, it is you, when the hell did you get back?"

Three years you'd been gone, working in America. Time differences and busy schedules made it so the two of you barely kept in touch. It was a shame, Hanta thought, considering how close the two of you used to be.

"I- uh- just a few weeks now. I heard you were helping out with the disaster relief after that storm."

It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him, the funny colors of the dancing lights were what made your cheeks look wet, right? Those couldn't have been tears.

"I was, yeah, but I got back yesterday. I didn't know-"

"Get the hell outta here!" His head snapped back towards the front of the house, just in time to see Eijiro, dressed in an impressive werewolf costume, literally throw someone out of the party. The guy drunkenly stumbled off, Eijiro walking over towards where Hanta was standing with you. "Y/N, you good?"

You nodded while Hanta tried to piece together what'd happened. "Sorry, it took me a second to find the bastard. Do ya wanna come back in? I'll make sure he leaves."

"No, Eijiro, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home."

The wolfman frowned but understood. "We'll have a smaller party for ya! Just the gang as a welcome home! You know Denki will look for any excuse to throw a party." He turned his gaze on Hanta. "A mummy, really?"

"You've been a damn werewolf for the last two years! You don't get to give me crap."

Eijiro poked the fuzzy pointed red ears carefully set into his spiky hair. "Mina and I worked real hard on this costume... seemed like a waste to only wear it once."

"We both know you haven't just worn those once, big man."

That got a chuckle out of you while all Eijiro could do was shrug and try to hide a shit-eating grin.

He asked you again if you'd like to stay and once more you said you were going to just head home. It was when you specifically said you were going to be walking home that Hanta spoke up offering to drive you back to your home since it was Halloween and people were creeps.

You were a damn pro hero but he still didn't feel right about just letting you walk home alone.

When you agreed he told Eijiro he'd be back soon and walked over with you to his car.

>>><<<

A part of you missed the old station wagon Hanta used to drive, not that this BMW he now drove wasn't absolutely amazing, you just sort of missed the comfort of the old car.

He waited until he'd reached the end of Denki's long, winding driveway to finally speak. "So, you wanna tell me what happened back there, or am I just supposed to pretend like Kiri didn't kick someone out on your behalf?"

"You could probably just ask Kiri and he'd tell you."

"I could, but, I'd like to hear it from you."

You knew you could tell him, there was nothing you couldn't tell Hanta. There was once a time when the man knew every single detail about your life. Sure, time and distance had put a strain on that relationship but you were back now. There was no reason why you couldn't at least start rebuilding what you and Hanta once had.

"Y/N, if you don't wanna say anything-"

"I was just casually seeing this guy. You know me and dating, how we don't always work out." You said abruptly and he quit talking, "And so, we weren't like official but we said we'd go to this party together. Well, I got here and went looking for him and found him making out with one of Hawks' sidekicks. I got a little upset when he noticed me and, well, he just said he found someone better."

Hanta actually stopped the car, pulled off to the side of the road, threw it in park, and looked right at you because he knew what found someone better meant exactly. You'd used those words in high school when that guy from Shiketsu that you'd been seeing got pissed off that you wouldn't put out and ended it with you. You went to his dorm crying because he 'found someone better', is what you told him. It took him a few hours to get the truth out of you.

You'd always been the kind of person to love with your entire heart but sexually, you'd confessed that you felt different from all the other kids your age back then. Not having the same urges and desires that everyone else seemed stricken with.

"Hanta, it's fine, really. Kiri heard the whole thing and, well, you saw what happened."

"Doesn't make it right! So, you went on a couple dates with a guy, that doesn't mean he just gets to expect you to put out for him! Even if you weren't demi, no one gets to just assume they deserve sex."

His lips were pressed in a narrow line, nostrils flared once in annoyance. He was usually so calm and laid back that you thought it rather cute when he got overprotective. "It's alright, Hants, really."

He still gave you a look that said he disagreed but then shook his head, dropping the subject for now at least.

"Still like those late-night drives?"

"I love them."

"Good."

Hanta waited for a car to pass and whipped the car in the other direction.

It wasn't long before he had the windows rolled down, conversations filling in the blanks of lost time, in between belting out choruses of your favorite songs. Minutes slipped by the further he drove, you lost track of both time and kilometers, letting him tell you all about the ridiculous antics the group had been up to.

Eventually, you caught the scent of salty air and even in the dark, you had a pretty good idea where Hanta was going. He followed a winding road, making two left turns and then a right leaving you on a stretch of road that paralleled the ocean.

You let your head fall against the seat, eyes falling shut and inhaling that wonderful smell you missed so much. Hanta had just one hand lazily on the wheel, his elbow resting out the open window, a relaxed smile was illuminated in soft orange lights off his dash.

You let your head roll onto his shoulder, not as easily done without the bench seat in his station wagon but it worked nonetheless. "Thanks."

His free hand came to rest on your knee, "Anytime."

He turned the wheel, pulling over and parking in front of a small beach access that you guys had found at 3 in the morning five years prior. Hanta kicked off his shoes, leaving them in the car to avoid them being sand-filled and you did the same with the knee-high boots purely because you longed to feel the sand between your toes.

The wooden planks were worn, parts buried beneath the sand until eventually, none remained. Breaking waves flooded your ears and you made a run for them! Before you could reach the lapping water though, tape had wound around your middle and yanked you backward.

"Not happening!" Hanta said firmly. "Last time I let you talk me into late-night swimming we didn't have a change of clothes either and we both got so sick! I think I might have actually died without Bakugo's soup!"

You chuckled, remembering being nineteen and curled up with Hanta on the sofa in the living room of the apartment you all shared for nearly a week. The sniffles didn't cease for almost three weeks.

"Okay, okay, no swimming." You flopped back down into the sand, his tape still attached meaning the cellophane hero was pulled down with you. "Tell me about the stars then, Hants. Who's out tonight?"

Astronomy was a hobby of Hanta's you learned about after moving into the dorms your first year. It wasn't uncommon to find him out on the roof most nights, laying on his back and looking up into the clear night sky littered with twinkling stars, usually with a joint pressed between his lips. It became almost a habit for him to grab you on his way up, pulling you along because you were more than happy listening to him tell you about each constellation and the stories behind them.

It was around this time of year, in your final year of high school; somewhere between him recalling the greek mythos of Aries and Sagittarius that you noticed your heart beating a little faster. You realized something had shifted between the two of you, and, holy shit, was this what it felt like to have a crush! When the hell did that happen?

You'd entrusted everything to Hanta back then, and now, laying in the sand shoulder to shoulder while he talked about Draco, that familiar feeling stirred again. You remembered what it was supposed to be like when you weren't forcing it for some random guy. How simple it was supposed to be.

You inclined on an elbow and he stopped mid-sentence. "Eh, everything alright?" You nodded but he looked anything but convinced, mirroring your position and asking you again.

It was easy for you to lean forward, to brush your lips against his for the first time in three years. And, when you pulled away, he looked about as shocked as he had the night you'd done it when you were eighteen.

"You- you still like me?"

When you left for America, you'd both agreed to put a pause on your sort of relationship. Free to date and screw whomever you pleased because three years was a long time and it just seemed like a fair decision to make. The realization that he might now have someone else special in his life dawned on you...

"Yeah but I totally understand if things are different now and I shoulda asked- oof!"

He kissed you so hard you toppled back into the sand, quick pecks, one right after another, ending them with a long one that nearly left you breathless.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. I didn't want to make you feel awkward about things or make you think I expected something. I thought that maybe since we didn't talk for a while your feelings might have changed."

"I can say with confidence they haven't."

"Thank fuck." He groaned and captured your lips in another searing kiss.

It was easy to lift his shirt off, the shreds of tape that remained were now covered with gritty sand that clung to your fingers as you traced the chest and torso you knew so well. Gliding over defined muscles, lingering on old scars and mapping out new ones he'd collected in your time apart.

His own hands were busy flicking open the brass fastenings of your corset, huffing about it being so much more difficult to get to your chest and something about it being very unfair.

By the time he'd undone the last one, bright headlights shown across the beach. "Shit."

Giggling ensued from the walkway and you both sighed, at least it wasn't the police or a hero patrol. Hanta gathered his shirt and ran back to his car with his hand in yours.

"I thought our days of being caught were over."

"At least it wasn't Mr. Aizawa this time."

A chill ran down your spine remembering the night and the lecture you'd received when your teacher had caught Hanta sneaking out of your room early one morning.

"So, uh, do you still plan on going to Denki's party?" You asked innocently enough but Hanta knew you far too well.

"I think I'm gonna miss it this year." His hand found a home on your upper thigh. "Apparently, you and I have a lot of catching up to do. Lost time to make up for and all that."

"Too bad you don't have that old station wagon anymore. If you did, we wouldn't have to wait to get back."

Dark eyes glanced over at you not so subtly parting your legs.

"I dunno. It's not too often I travel in the backseat of my own car but I've been told it's pretty roomy. Lots of legroom."

Your hand ran over your legs, dipping down to lightly brush your more sensitive parts, thankful you opted for the thin pair of black leggings rather than the dark skinny jeans. Your fingers danced again and this time you let a soft moan pass your lips. "Eyes on the road, Hants."

"That's a little hard to do when I've got you spread out in the passenger's seat." He grabbed your free hand and pressed it against the bulge in his pants. "You've got me distracted, filthy little woman."

You appreciated him testing the waters, a subtle way of checking if you liked those nicknames he used only in private with you, giving you a chance to protest if your likes had changed. They were one's that only felt right coming from him and you were eager to hear more.

Forgoing your own high, you leaned over the center console as best you could, undoing his belt first, followed quickly by his zipper letting his strained cock be free.

His grip tightened on your leg when you kissed the tip of him. "Just like old times, huh?"

A chuckle turned quickly into a moan, taking him in your mouth, pushing yourself further on his cock, fighting your gag reflex to get him down your throat. Hanta reclined his seat further, giving you more room to work with.

Your legs clenched tighter with every groan you pulled from him, wiggling your hips in the seat, letting a hand fall back between your own legs. There was an attempt of a moan around his cock when his fingers coiled in your hair. "Such a good slut. Keep fuckin' goin'." He let you continue at your own speed, needing to focus as best he could on the road rather than what you were doing but, damn, you were making that increasingly difficult.

He wasn't stopping you though. He rarely did. You'd sucked him off on countless drives before and only stopped when- "That's it." He lifted you off him by your hair at the same time he pulled off the road. There was a convenient turn-off, hidden by overgrown brush you noticed before he shut off the headlights.

Hanta took you by the chin, smearing drool. "Backseat, pretty girl." He reached into the glove box and pulled out a foil wrapper, "What do you say we test out that legroom?"

He wait to watch your smile grow wide before crawling into the back because he had to be the first to go if this had any chance of working. Once situated, pants under his thighs, he patted his lap for you to climb over.

You slid easily onto his lap, hands traveling up and over his shoulders, kissing hard while you rocked your hips against impossibly hard length.

There was so much comfort in the familiarity of him. It wasn't awkward to fall back into rhythm with Hanta, to remember that he loved the feeling of your nails dragging down his chest. And he was just as eager to get your shirt off, reach your breasts he'd missed so much, and get his tongue on your nipples.

Your head tipped backward, loving the pace he set, hips bouncing creating the perfect tug on your nipples between his teeth.

"Love, if I promise to buy you a new pair, can I rip these damn leggings? They're just so thin and-"

"Please." Your breathy moan had him smirking and with a single grunt the leggings were ruined, cool air from the vents had only a moment to touch your bare ass before Hanta's hands reclaimed it.

There was no way he hadn't felt your arousal before ripping your clothes off, you soaked through your panties and leggings, you knew that, but that didn't stop him from commenting on how soaked you were now on his fingers. "Want me inside you, whore? I think you do."

You nodded with a whimper and he slipped a finger in. "Hants, noo- I- I want your cock, please."

"You're gonna take my fingers like a good little slut first." You clenched at the words falling from his mouth. "So fuckin' tight you can barely take a finger. How'm I supposed to fit in here if you can even take a single finger? Need you to loosen up, alright." He pushed another finger in, scissoring the two inside you.

"This gonna make you cum? You need this bad, don't you? Tell me. Tell me how bad you need to cum."

"I want it. Please, please, I need it. I'm so close," You babbled and ripped the foil open with his teeth, rolling it with one hand on his cock. In an instant, his fingers had been replaced with this dick. Sticky fingers on your ass helping you ease down on him with a hiss.

"Fuck," Hanta let out a throaty chuckle, "You still fuckin' feel the absolute best." He dropped a kiss between your breasts, letting you adjust to his girth. "Perfect. Good girl. Such a fuckin' good little slut."

He wasn't about to last long. Not once you started bouncing up and down on him, your tits right in front of his face.

"Couldn't even wait for me to get you home, had to fucking tease me in the damn car." He held onto the fat of your ass, pulling you along him and slamming you down hard.

"Kinda pathetic how desperate you are. Fuck. Kinda hot too."

When the top of your head bumped the roof of the car, he scooted lower, trying to give you as much room to ride him however you pleased.

"What do you need? You wanna cum, don't you, pretty girl, what do you need?"

"Faster, faster please."

Hanta shifted even lower, making you grab onto the two headrests while he thrust his hips up into you at a rapid speed. His thumb on your clit was the additional stimulation you needed to fall over the edge. Nails clawing at the black leather as he continued to moan below you now chasing his own release.

You stayed poised above him, using every last bit of strength to stay upright until his mouth was rambling and his cock pulsed inside of you. Fingers bruising your skin before holding your pelvis snuggly against his.

He was bent in a way that looked entirely uncomfortable and yet he still smiled so widely. Reaching up to brush hair out of your eyes, "You okay?"

"Perfects, Hants. A little sore but I'm sure you are too." He moved off his lap, letting him slip out of you with a groan, "Is your neck gonna be okay?"

"I'll be fine. Having you back, love, is more than worth a little bit of a neck cramp."

As he tied a knot in the condom, depositing it into a plastic bag he had tucked away under his seat, Hanta raised a brow, "Love, really, are you alright? Please, tell me if I hurt you at all."

"No! I'm good, why?"

"You're sitting silly."

You were sitting a little odd, perched on your knees rather than sitting on your ass because the leather was chilly and you told Hanta as much making him laugh. "Wait, I think I can help." He leaned back to the front of the car, flicking a button making it glow. Once he tucked himself back in his pants he hopped out of the car and you could see him rummaging in his trunk through the rear window.

"I keep forgetting to take this out from our camping trip a couple months ago. Guess it turned out to be a good thing." He laid the blanket down over the passenger's seat, declaring that should help a bit.

You wrapped the now toasty warm blanket around your bottom half while Hanta drove back towards the city, your head on his shoulder, his hand on your thigh.

"So, shopping tomorrow? I believe I owe you a pair of leggings..."

"It's a date."

[weepingvoidpenguin]

One of Your Favorites

Jealous Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have an objective. Get Rumlow to confess. Simple enough, right? No. Aside from his usual condescending attitude towards you, Bucky has made it extremely apparent that he doesn’t think you’re capable of - well, anything, but especially not handling Rumlow. And yet, he is the biggest challenge of this entire ordeal.

Warning: T R I G G E R WARNING!! ATTEMPTED SA, DRUGS, language, light smut. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IF SA WILL TRIGGER YOU. 

Word Count: 8.3k

   “We have good intel stating he’s working as a double agent for HYDRA. Selling information, exploiting tactics, even going so far as to tell them where we’ll be and when.” Natasha scanned the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention during the briefing. 

   You slouched back in your swivel chair and twisted to-and-fro slightly with your hands gripping the arm rests on either side. It took all of your willpower to act engrossed in her words. And you meant every single drop. You’d been paying attention, sure, but the only issue was the dominating presence two seats to your right and directly in your line of sight to Natasha. You rolled your chair to the left to clear the path for the third time, only for him to block your way without missing a beat. The growl that left your mouth was nearly involuntary. Nearly.

   How long would this man act like a child? Despite his graceful and seemingly unsuspecting movements, you were fully aware his placement was intentional. This was not the first, nor did you doubt that it would be the last, time that Bucky acted impudently toward you. Frankly, you’d grown bored of his behavior. It was the same thing everyday. He would act a nuisance during the briefings, speak over you whenever he had the chance, steal the limelight from you and invalidate any concerns or thoughts you shared. The whole charade grew tiring and he had been dancing on thin ice for months now.

   You averted your gaze from burning holes through the freshly washed, brown locks and switched your attention back up to the redhead. Thankfully, too, because you managed to catch the end of her sentence just as she locked eyes with you.

   “And that’s why Y/N is going to be the one to extract the information from him,” she finished.

   You blinked, “Wait, what?” 

   Bucky straightened his posture and threw a quick glance your way, “Yeah, what? She’s got no heat, couldn’t toast marshmallows if we gave her all day. She shouldn’t lead this, she wouldn’t know how,”

   “Well, tonight might be a good time to start learning, then,” Steve chimed in, throwing a wink your way. You smiled and appreciated his aid, not because you needed it but because at this point, you were seething and if you opened your mouth to defend yourself this meeting would go south, quickly. Luckily, Steve always believed you were capable of a great deal of things and knew you strove for more experience so any opportunity to lead or expand was one he thought you should take. 

   “Besides,” Tony spoke up, twirling a platinum pen between his fingers from across the table, “our little double-agent has always had the hots for Y/N so unless you’re gonna be the one to bat your eyelashes at him and get him alone in a room, Mr. Barnes, we have to use his own flaws against him.” He turned to face you and held up a hand, “Not to say that liking you is a flaw, you’re great Hot-Stuff but exploiting him is our best option indefinitely,”

   “Do I have to seduce him?” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow towards Nat, trying your damned hardest to avoid the unmistakable glare the brown-haired super soldier was sending your way. 

   “The only thing you have to do is extract any information on him that you can. Get him a little drunk, catch him in a slip-up or two, take note of any inconsistent stories and be on your merry way,” she reassured, “How you manage to do that is up to you,”

   “Ooh, extortion,” Clint chirped up from the far back corner, his hands rubbing together maliciously around an arrow he pulled from his sheathe, something you noticed he did a lot when he was uninterested; be it a person, mission, or conversation.

   “No. Not extortion,” Steve shut it down and you chuckled at how Clint’s countenance fell into one of disappointment. 

   “Not yet anyway,” Natasha mumbled and you sighed as she walked around the room and handed each of you a folder with your individual objectives inside.

   “But he’s such a pervert,” you grumbled.

   “All the easier,” 

~

   The rest of the day was drudged with Nat while she taught the pertinence of body language (both yours and theirs), verbal ruses, and overall ensnarement. You bat your eyelashes until you were certain you would catch enough wind to fly away, smirked enough that your cheeks began to ache and raised your eyebrows ‘til you felt the impending wrinkles on your forehead. By the end of the drill you weren’t sure you were even going to make it to the company party from the migraine creeping its way on.

   “How’s the bait coming along?” His voice alone caused you to roll your eyes but you paid no mind while you rubbed at your temples and stood up alongside Natasha.

   “She’s not gonna be able to lie to me any time soon but she can flirt her way to whatever she wants,”

   “Benefits of targeting a narcissistic misogynist, they don’t think anyone can fool them.” Tony belted as he sauntered into the room with strawberries, offering them out to you while he munched on one.

   “She’ll still mess it up,” Bucky countered, “Make someone else do it,”

   You plucked the fruit off Tony’s tray and examined it, trying to figure out whether you were going to consume it or use it as a weapon.

   “I really appreciate your words of encouragement, James. Unfortunately, they’re not wanted, nor are they needed.” You bit into the fruit and glided towards the door, looking over your shoulder at the super soldier, “So unless you actually have something to contribute, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way while I get the job done,”

   Nat walked out behind you and handed you a tiny, skin-colored device meant to conceal itself and you placed it in your ear. 

   “The conversation is gonna be recorded so we can catch any inconsistencies. We’ll all be able to hear what you’re saying so tread on delicate waters but don’t be afraid to shake mountains if you have to,”

   You nodded and opened your door for her to enter your room knowing she’d want to help you get ready for the event. Natasha, shocking as it turns out, enjoys company while preparing for events. She would much prefer to be surrounded by people than be alone. You never had gall to ask her why that is. Or maybe you respected her too much to ask.

   An hour had passed, maybe two, but you enjoyed the silence between you both. There was no need to fill the empty quiet when it was so comfortable and welcoming. You two spoke without words at times and that was probably your favorite personal skill. Eventually, there came a knock on your door and you opened to find Wanda with her flat iron and make-up bag in tow. It’d long since been decided that your room was the gathering center.

   Wanda helped you finish touching up your outfit and you waited on your bed while they finished getting ready. Nat occasionally quizzed you on certain situations and how you should act depending on the tones and moods of the conversation. You tried to explain that you didn’t have difficulty reading a room but Nat tested you all the same. 

   “And if he puts his hand on your thigh?” She called out from your bathroom.

   “Then he loses it,” you practically sang in response.

   You were met with a flying hairbrush and laughed at the onslaught.

   “You’re not the only one with that mentality,” Wanda called out as well, her iron glossing over thin strands of hair.

   “Nat knows I can handle myself.” You sat up on the bed and went over to your closet to collect your favorite pair of shoes to go along with the formal attire Nat selected for tonight. “What a coincidence that we happen to have a company party the same night we have to extract information,” you hollered over your shoulder, moving aside terribly worn shoes while you scoured for the pair you had in mind.

   “This objective has been in the works for weeks now,” Nat released the tendril of hair from around the barrel and pinned it to her head so it could cool.

   “Wow, thanks for the heads up, then.” You gripped the desired pair and placed them beside your nightstand for later.

   “The plan wasn’t solid until we knew for a fact that Rumlow was coming. It’s a company party so it’s not mandatory but once he heard you were making an appearance, it didn’t take very much persuading,”

   You rolled your eyes and plopped back down on your mattress, “He’s so annoying, I doubt I can hold much of a conversation with him,”

   “Take a shot or two to ease your nerves, if he sees you drinking it’ll put him at ease too. He’ll be more inclined to drink,” Natasha recommended. “But don’t act too out of character. If you were always curt and short with him and suddenly you start acting over-friendly, he may get suspicious. He’s an idiot but he’s a paranoid one,”

   You nodded, taking a mental note to have a half-empty bottle in your grasp when Rumlow arrives. If he thinks you’ve already been drinking, he might also consider catching up. 

   “Y/N? Not uptight for once?” Wanda sarcastically questioned. “I can’t picture it,”

   “Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled and in turn received laughter from the two girls. “Besides, of all of us I’m by far the least uptight. Barnes takes the cake for that one,”

   There was a beat of silence that you didn’t register before you were met with a response.

   “Ya know, he’s not as bad as you paint him out to be.” Nat unpinned the curl from her head and moved on to the next section, “He’s got some serious loyalty and always willing to volunteer first for everything,”

   You lifted your head to stare at her reflection through the mirror, “What are you talking about? He’s annoying and irate and lacks a filter,”

   “Mmm, irate isn’t the word I would use,” Wanda countered, looking over to Natasha.

   Nat shook her head in response, “I’d lean more towards . . . over-protective,” 

  “Much better,” Wanda agreed.

   You squinted your eyes at their image and felt the corners of your lips turn downwards, “Over-protective? Since when are you two defending Barnes?”

   “We’re not defending him, per say.” Wanda glanced over to Nat, “We’re just trying to give you a fresh perspective,” 

   “You could give me a brand new pair of eyes and I’d still see him the same,” you retorted, now leaning on your elbows due to the strain on your neck. 

   They ignored the comment, “And he’s only annoying to you,”

   “You’re telling me he doesn’t annoy you at all?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

   “More like . . . he doesn’t go out of his way to mess with us.” Nat applied a nude color onto her lips.

   “So you agree that he goes out of his way to irritate me,” you stated rather than asked.

   “That’s been made very apparent,” Wanda responded. “But you have to wonder why,”

   You huffed a little and sprawled back out on the bed just to result in staring at the ceiling above. If you looked hard enough your mind would create pictures from the chaos of the cracks and shapes began to form. Sometimes, when the night lay still and life seemed to dwindle at the edges of your reality, you could swear a familiar face fashioned together and your imagination ran wild with the images you’d see. Some that brought a warmth to your cheeks even now. 

   You shot up out of bed and shook the memories from your vision. Ugh. He haunts you even when he’s not actively tormenting you. How he’s managed to crawl his way so deeply within your skin you had no idea but you fought for control of your thoughts whenever you caught them slipping into that hellhole.

   “Or slipping into euphoria,” Wanda chimed in.

   “Wanda!” You scolded, crossing your arms, “Euphoria my ass,”

   “Yeah, he thinks so too,” she continued and you chucked the abandoned hairbrush back their way. 

   “Stay out of my head,” you jokingly sniped at her but was met with a low chuckle.

   “I didn’t even have to be in your head to know what you were thinking of,” Nat defended and caught your weapon of choice.

   “Are you guys done yet?” You rolled your eyes and stretched yourself out before swiping up the pair of heels you’d chosen and sliding them onto your feet.

   “Why? Are you in a hurry to see a certain someone?” Natasha teased and Wanda let out an eruption of laughter.

   “All right, I’m done.” You made a beeline for the door and threw it open, “Lock up when you’re finished!” You bellowed over your shoulder and made your way to the top floor of the building where all the parties are typically held.

   You didn’t run into anyone on the way up and you used that time to calm yourself, prying inch by inch away from the invasive thoughts that called for you in the darkest hours of the night. But, then again, maybe those tormenting thoughts weren’t that bad? You mean, he certainly IS handsome, very much so actually. And he has the most knee-wobbling smirk you’d ever come to know, not to mention those little tricks he does with his knives always manage to entrance you. God, did he know how to use a knife. 

   On more than one occasion had you caught yourself staring at how his hands encapsulated the hilt of the blade. How they clenched and relaxed, drawing out some of the more prominent veins on one of the extremities; of course, you were even more so enticed by the hand he hid as well. You’d imagined what it felt like to have such strong hands grip onto your thighs and coax you into spreading them open with just a few teasing touches here and there. You couldn’t fathom the front you’d put up would last very long, he was stellar at pulling reactions from you. He’d see you break under his caresses and he’d degrade you like he always did but this time it’d emit a different response from you, one that made you whimper and shake. At that, he’d probably call you a good girl, he definitely seems the type to switch between degradation and praise, and would press his mouth up just where you wanted it the most. You’d try your hardest to be quiet but damn the way that tongue moved against you and the way he’d pull you harder against his face at each sound of pleasure you let slip past your lips. He’d enjoy it, too. Eyes closed as he devours you, he likes to put on a show for you to watch. Give you a memory that’ll slick your thighs later that night if he hadn’t fucked you into a coma by then. He’d make you watch him and if you dared to close your eyes you’d earn a firm, cold smack on your ass. He knows you like when he uses temperature play. He growls a little too, he can’t help his innate behavior. Then, just as the accumulation is coming to its apex he’d pull away abruptly and kiss you straight on your mouth so you can taste yourself and that’d earn him another whimper which would result in another smack that leads to that cold metal trailing its way to your core and just as he pushes the tip of his finger inside-

   You cough and straighten your posture as the elevator door opens. When had you leaned up against the back wall of the elevator? Oh Gods, you could feel the slick at the apex of your thighs and you squeezed them together as inconspicuously as you could in fear that you were producing a . . . scent that would be rather difficult to conceal. But the slick only grew worse when you locked eyes with the person stepping into the elevator.

   Fuck.

   “That’s what you chose to wear?” He asked, a certain venom in his tone that immediately calmed the ache in your heat.

   “And what would you have me wear instead, Barnes?” You quipped back, your body facing forward as he took his place beside you in the cramped space.

   There was a beat of silence. Then another. “Not that,” he responded.

   “Well I’ll make sure to ask you next time since you have such impeccable taste,” you retorted, your eyes yet to abandon the sight of the closing doors.

   You weren’t sure of all the effects of the Super Soldier Serum that had been injected into Bucky and all that it heightened but you prayed to any God that would listen that his hearing wasn’t one of those things. You were too preoccupied with attempting to settle the hot pulse beating between your legs to worry about how loud your discomfort came across.

   “What do you look so nervous about?” Bucky’s gruff voice prodded. “You can’t possibly be nervous about the mission considering how big-headed you are,”

   You took a deep, long breath and held it to soothe you. Had you not been so previously preoccupied, you’d have given him hell for the insult. “I’m not nervous about that,” you sniped and rested back against the cool wall to satiate your burning skin before lifting your gaze to him only to find him already examining you.

   “Of course not, I just said that,” he retorted, bringing a gloved hand to his face to rub along his jaw, “there’s obviously nothing for you to worry about,”

   You scoffed, “And why is that, Barnes?” Cue the dramatic crossing of your arms. 

   “You’re smarter than Rumlow and significantly better trained. Overall, he really doesn’t hold a candle to your ability,” He paused for a second, his whole frame tensing until he remembered to relax, “But that’s not really saying much considering it’s Rumlow,” 

   You hadn’t noticed you raised your eyebrows until you felt your face fall, “Ah, there he is. You had me worried there for a second, Barnes. Thought you might actually try something new and display common decency for once,”

   A corner of his mouth turned up subtly and he shook his head. You trailed your gaze down to his hidden hand and stared long enough to burn a hole through the fabric.

   “If something’s bothering you, Dollface, go ahead and speak up,” 

   You weren’t sure what possessed you to say anything, especially knowing how touchy the subject was for him but the words left your mouth anyway, “I don’t know why you insist on hiding yourself,”

   He lurched his head back, your statement seeming to have a physical affect on the man and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

   “I’m not hiding myself,”

   “But you are,” you interrupted, your thoughts coming out in pools of candor, “you aren’t your hand. You aren’t your past. You are you. Presently. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. That’s not even the same hand you had back then. It’s not tainted and neither are you. I say drop the gloves,”

   “And why would I care about what you say?” He growled, his eyebrows furrowed together and his neck tight in potential restraint.

   The elevator dinged and you looked towards the opening doors, “You don’t have to but they don’t look right with your suit either.” You walked through the exit and sauntered over to the others who had already gotten the party started, leaving Bucky dumb-founded behind you. “I need a shot,”

   “Already ready,” Tony quipped up, holding the small glass in the air for everyone to behold before bringing his cheek to yours in mock welcoming, “This’ll up your tolerance for the next hour, try to get all your drinking done within that time-frame,”

   You pulled away with a warm smile after faux kissing his cheek, “Finally!” you displayed and threw the liquid back in one swift motion, your face scrunching together against your will.

   “Yeah, she’s got a kick to her,” he mumbled and handed you a fruity drink to chase it down with. 

   You went around and said hi to everyone as you recognized most of those present. You made small chatter with those lesser known and drank the liquid in your hand significantly quicker than you’d like to. You excused yourself after you finished the drink and walked over to the bar, scanning the room as you were handed another glass. No Rumlow in sight.

   You headed towards the foosball table and gripped the handles after setting the beverage down on the counter beside you. You flinched as a reflection of light caught your eye and at first you thought your glass was the source. Until your eyes fixated on the reflection’s actual origin. To your far right, and up a few steps you found Bucky conversing with Steve, a dull light emitting from his hand. Not a glove in sight.

   “So, where’s your boyfriend?” Sam inquired when he filled the opposing spot.

   You rolled your eyes, “Bucky’s not my boyfriend,”

   “Bucky?” Sam’s tone chirped up teasingly, a knowing look wearing on his face.

   Your grip tightened around the handles and you slowly pulled away to throw the little white ball through the circle, your hands immediately twisting the miniscule players around. Your eyes shot back and forth, your sight never leaving the darting sphere. Sam still managed to win the first point.

   “Ha!” He shouted in triumph, bringing his finger up as if to scold you, “Don’t think you got away with that comment either, Y/N,”

   “What comment?” you questioned and gulped most of your drink before slamming it back down on the table.

   You heard your earpiece come to life with quiet static and you tried to keep your face masked. Rumlow had entered. Not a surprise either, the party was finally starting to pick up now.

   Sam threw the ball in and you turned the players meticulously this time, brute strength hadn’t helped you earlier so maybe you should take it slow. Steve made his way over to the table and threw his drink back, the liquid trickling down the side of his face before he wiped it away. Sam won the second point.

   “I play winner,” Tony chimed, standing beside Steve.

   You made a point to catch up and now you two were tied at three each. 

   “Best out of five?” You proposed, quirking an eyebrow at Sam.

   “If you didn’t want to play anymore you could’ve just said that,” he teased and you smirked at him as Tony made a subtle show of handing you another drink and you finished your second. “Loser takes two shots?”

   “Deal.” You nodded, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice as a small crowd began to form around you two. Rumlow amongst them. 

   Your jaw dropped when Sam shot the ball directly into your goal as soon as he’d let the ball go.

   “What the fuck?” You shouted, “No fair! That doesn’t count!”

   Thor erupted in laughter to your right and you blinked slowly, staring at the gargantuan man. 

   “It most certainly does,” Sam shouted back, his grin practically touching his ears.

   “Sam, take it easy on her,” Bucky muttered from beside him, quickly averting his gaze from yours and his expression loosened, “The brat hates losing,”

   “Brat?” You snarled.

   Bucky took a swig of his beer, watching you the entire time and you reeled back the fire beginning to form in your chest just to bring your drink up to your lips and chug the entire thing down. You handed it over to Tony who left to replace it. 

   “Last point,” Sam stated, “It’s not too late to quit now,”

   You shook your head and blinked away the feign distortion you were supposed to have. “Just play the ball,”

   “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teased and threw the ball in. 

   You wanted to win. Desperately. But you had a character to play tonight and she was supposed to be drunk. So you hit your hand against the corner of the table just as Sam happened to make the winning point. You grumbled and threw him a glare when Tony broke through the crowd.

   “Coming through,” he shouted, handing two small glasses to you while you gripped your knuckles in pain. “Noooo, you’re not getting out of taking these. C’mon, take your punishment,”

   “Yes, Daddy,” you grumbled and cringed at your own words when the realization hit you. Whatever. You were supposed to be drunk, anyway. 

   “Daddy?” Tony quipped and pulled the drinks back towards himself, “Maybe you should be cut off,”

   “What?” You argued, leaning slightly on the table with your hand and snatching the drinks from Tony’s hold, effectively spilling some on yourself. “See?” You lifted up the half empty shot glass, “This barely counts as a shot,”

   “I’ll get her a new one,” Rumlow offered and disappeared before anyone could argue. 

   “She really doesn’t need another-” Bucky tried to interject and take the shots from you but you twisted around and chugged down the one full glass.

   Water.

   You looked up at Tony and his smirk was barely noticeable. But you could tell. Bucky nearly ripped the other drink from you but Tony blocked his path and you exaggerated your next drink as Rumlow broke back into the crowd, shot in tow.

   “Here.” Rumlow’s calloused hand held the drink up above you and you stared at him with a questioning look. “Open,” he ordered and the fire burning in your chest fought to destroy everything in its vicinity. You bit your lip in refrain but tossed your head back and opened your mouth.

   Static broke over your earpiece. Don’t drink that! Wanda’s voice erupted.

   Your eyes widened as the liquid made its way down but you coughed hard to stop whatever you could. 

   Why? Steve’s voice came through right after.

   You choked on the liquid and shut your eyes at the way it burned its way down. You reached your hand out to grab someone’s drink to ease the burning and grasped a tall glass and tossed it back. The burning didn’t ease up and you felt a hand rest on your back.

   “Are you okay?” Rumlow’s voice rang out and your skin nearly recoiled from the contact, “How about we get you some water?”

   You looked up at him when the burning subsided minimally and nodded your head, letting him lead the way to the bar. He parted the crowd and someone took step right behind you to follow when the presence suddenly died out abruptly. You turned around to check who it had been and found no one.

   Why? Steve asked again.

   Where’s Wanda? Bruce broke through.

   You lifted your head and flitted your gaze around the room until you found the familiar Sokovian on the couch, laying down with her eyes closed. You pulled away from Rumlow but his grip on your hand tightened and his steps grew in haste. You whirled your head to yell at him but the way the room swayed with the movement cause you to shut your mouth in surprise. 

   Didn’t Tony say you would have a higher tolerance?

   “Couch...” you muttered, pointing over your shoulder just in case your target was curious enough to ask but the message was delivered.

   Rumlow hoisted you up onto the bar stool and stood on your open side, using his body to keep you from falling over. Or to cage you in.

   “I don’t feel good,” You rested an elbow on the countertop and held your head up.

   “I can’t imagine you would. You’ve been chugging those drinks like they’re water.” Despite that, Rumlow motioned to the bartender and asked for two more.

   You giggled and your head lulled forward with the action. You let Rumlow catch you from tumbling over. Why did your body feel so heavy? Not to mention the way everything around you dazed about. You couldn’t catch a single action, let alone attempt to read Rumlow’s body language. But you did happen to notice the way his eyes searched the room before coming back to you.

   “You okay?” You rested your forearm against his chest and pushed slightly to allow yourself a better view of his face.

   A small smirk, “Am I okay? What about you?”

   You smacked your lips and brought the ice cold glass to your lips. That’s not water. “I’m doing reeaalllyy good,” you drawled.

   Rumlow chuckled and pushed you deeper into the chair, “I can tell.” He took a sip, his attention never faltering from your body, “Just be sure to pace yourself from here on out,”

   You made a show of cocking your head to the side and letting a smile sprawl onto your face as you studied him. 

   “What?” he questioned, a curious lift in his brow.

   You shook your head gently and kept your gaze on him over the brim of your glass, “You’re just . . . not what I was expecting,”

   “And what were you expecting?” 

   Don’t forget to bat your eyelashes. “Worse,”

   “Sorry to disappoint,” he jeered, his attention once again cast throughout the room before centering back on you.

   You followed his action but quickly came to the conclusion that moving any pace faster than a sloth was going to make you nauseous and you could barely keep a thought together. Your stomach began to rise in your chest and the fear seized your throat shut. Why couldn’t you hold onto a thought for longer than a second? It was like you were aware of your lack of consciousness but could do nothing about it because any thought or bout of panic phased through just as soon as it arrived.

   “What are you so tense for, Rumlow? You know you’re not currently on the clock, right?” You teased, your head leaning on your shoulder as you spoke.

   He brought his drink up to his lips and finished it off in three gulps, “I’m not tense. It’s just hard to turn it off sometimes,”

   You nodded slowly and pushed your drink towards him, “Relax. You know everyone here,”

   He shook his head and placed your drink back in front of you before asking for another beer.

   “And two shots!” You shouted to the bartender, throwing two of your fingers high up and instantly regretting how fast you’d done it.

   “Are you trying to get me drunk?” He asked you, a side smirk beginning to form.

   You placed your finger over your lips and hushed, “Shh, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You dragged your lower lip down and his eyes fixated to commit the scene to memory. “Besides, I always feel dumb if I’m the only one drunk,”

   He motioned to the rest of the party, “Believe me, Sugar, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself,”

   “But are you?” 

   “Am I what?” 

   “Enjoying yourself?” 

   Your skin crawled when he placed his rough hand on your barren thigh, “Absolutely,”

   Don’t forget what you’re here for. Don’t let the objective slip. Gods, how the fuck were you supposed to retain anything when you were so sleepy? And why was it so warm?

   “Hot,” you mumbled, fishing around in your glass for an ice cube to rub on your face.

   “Thank you,”

   You threw your head back in laughter and nearly earned yourself an up-close and personal view of the floor had Rumlow not wrapped an arm around your waist and held you steady. Once he was certain you weren’t going to toss yourself onto the ground, he parted your legs and stood between them to keep you rooted to your seat.

   All the movement had you spinning and you white-knuckled Rumlow’s cotton shirt to keep yourself grounded to something, anything. Red warning lights were firing up in your chest and you tensed with the way your body buckled to the panic coursing through you. Your heart pounded in your ears and danced across your skin, lighting it on fire and making the room too stuffy to bear. Please, no. Not now. Focus. Snap out of it. Come back, stay back. Your breathing hitched and you looked down at the sensation crawling its way up higher on your thigh. Too hot. Everything was too hot, if you didn’t get out of this now you would never-

   “Vision!” You cheered, happy to see your friend.

   The presence on your thigh recoiled slightly.

   “I’m taking Wanda to her room, seems she’s had a bit too much to drink,” Vision informed and you’d only just then noticed the body in his hold.

   “Wanda!” You smiled, admiring her peaceful features as she slept in his arms. You poked at her cheek then jerked your gaze back up to Vision. “What? Wanda doesn’t drink,”

   She’s not acting, Sam’s voice erupted in your ear and you flinched at the sound. 

   Vision’s eyes went from you to Rumlow then back to you slowly, “Y/N . . . are you okay?”

   You beamed at him and slowly brought up your thumb. “Good,” you responded.

   You followed Vision’s gaze back up to Rumlow and smiled at the agent beside you. You guess he’s kind of cute. In a strange, unsettling way.

   “She’s had a lot to drink, so we’re just trying to slow down the pace. Aren’t we, Y/N?” Rumlow looked down at you.

   You nodded fervently, “Yup!” 

   Vision hesitated but knew he didn’t pose much of a threat with Wanda in his arms unconscious, so he quirked a smile and walked towards the hall.

   Someone get to Y/N, something’s not right, Vision ordered and you lifted your head up to find him. You could have sworn he just left.

   “Here.” Rumlow handed you a glass, “Drink this, it’ll cool you down,” 

   You stared at the glass in his hold and looked up at him, “You drink it first,” you slurred, holding your finger up at him.

   He cocked his head to the side but took a swig of the drink and you watched it go down his throat. You shrugged and grabbed at it.

   Do not drink that, Nat ordered from somewhere and you looked around in wonder at who she was yelling to.

   Bucky, Sit down! Steve growled.

   Like hell, responded a voice you knew all too well.

   Your smile grew and you looked through the crowd, “Bucky!” You feverishly called, completely expecting to see him before you. Rumlow’s head lifted instantly, his eyes scouring the area.

   “I’ve got this, Pretty Boy,” Tony hastily spoke, “How ya doin’, Hot Stuff?” He interrogated and you reeled at the tone.

   “Quite well, thank you,” you responded tenaciously and attempted to take a swig of the drink in your grasp.

   Tony’s hand shot out and covered the top, slamming the cup back down on the counter and effectively getting the drink all over your dress.

   “What the fuck?” You tried to shout but the words came out heavy and required too much energy to speak.

   “You’ve had enough for tonight,”

   “It’s just water,” Rumlow defended but Tony paid him no mind.

   Your jaw dropped open and you glared at the older man. Who the hell did he think he was? Tony’s stare burned through your skull and despite your irritation, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was so pissed.

   “Are you mad at me?” You drawled, lulling your head to the side.

   “No,” he responded curtly. 

   “Am I being too loud or something?” You pushed. You couldn’t imagine you were any louder than any other drunken bastard at this party.

   “No,”

   Get her out of there or I swear to God I will, his voice hissed into your ear.

   Your eyebrows rose slightly in excitement, “Mmm, Bucky,” you smiled and Tony nodded.

   “’Mmm, Bucky’ is right. Wanna go see him?” Tony offered, sticking out his hand for you to take.

   You fell forward into Rumlow’s chest but shook your head furiously none the less, “For what? So he can tell me I’m horrendous at my-”

   Oh shit. Your job. The job.

   If only your body didn’t feel so heavy and your mind so light.

   You pushed off Rumlow’s chest and glared at Tony, “I can handle myself,” you insisted, a new sort of sober tone making its way through that caused him to do a once-over. “I know what I’m doing,”

   “How many drinks have you had?” Tony challenged and you fell silent.

   Then you felt a tap, and another and a few more.

   “Six,” You said, hoping you’d counted right.

   Tony, don’t you even fucking consider it, Bucky threatened.

   “You could at least change, recuperate and then come back,” Tony offered and you sighed a breath of relief before nodding.

   “Deal,” you agreed, “I’m hot anyway,”

   Tony gave you one last glance before turning around and blending into the crowd on the other end of the room.

   You looked up to Rumlow who’s gaze was still locked on the sea of people, “Don’t you wish you’d taken that shot now?” you tried to jeer, every last word bringing you deeper and deeper.

   “Are they always that intense?” He questioned, not turning his attention to you.

   “They can be over-bearing,” you admitted, hand grabbing the water from earlier and pressing it up against your forehead, “They consider me the baby so they’re always criticizing and suffocating until I just wished they’d disappear.” You took a gulp, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the family and I like that I have a cause but . . . they don’t let me do anything. It’s exhausting,���

   You let out a long breath and smeared the condensation from the glass onto your chest. Rumlow studied you then, not just your body but your reaction. He was watching how you dropped your shoulders at the confession and how you faced your back to them to block them out. 

   You plastered your torso on the countertop and tried to slow your heartrate down. You couldn’t be the only one here unfathomably hot.

   “Why is it so fucking hot?” You questioned, fanning yourself weakly.

   “There are a lot of people around,” Rumlow offered, “how about we go somewhere else? Tony did say you had to change,”

   You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes and meekly groaned in compliance. “Fine,”

   You lifted yourself away from the counter and gently placed your feet on the floor. You’d touched the ground faster than anticipated. Had the ground always been so close?

   “Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Rumlow threw an arm around your waist and helped you trudge towards the elevator.

   Where the hell are you going? Bucky yelled and the sound of shuffling could be heard from his end.

   We can’t let you leave with Rumlow, Y/N. We’re not even sure you’re acting anymore, Sam stated.

   Rumlow pressed the button when you couldn’t muster the strength to do it yourself. The level that your room was on lit up and the doors began closing. You thought you saw Rumlow wave at someone but the mock smile on his face didn’t make it seem like a warm good-bye.

   Your legs had all but given out by the time the elevator reached your shared floor. 

   “Heavy,” you muttered, letting Rumlow carry your weight fully.

   “I know, Sugar. We’re almost there,” he soothed and you conceded to the fatigue wearing you down.

   Your head hung low and your arm dangled uselessly at your side. The familiar sound of your door sliding open caught your attention but you did nothing. You couldn’t. 

   “How . . . know . . . my room?” You questioned, each word causing you to pull from an empty well of energy.

   “I’ve been here before.” Rumlow tossed you onto the bed and sprawled you out.

   “Oh. Ok.” You tried to turn on to your side but strong hands gripped down onto your ankles.

   Rumlow sighed and slipped the heels off your feet, examining the pair like he wanted to wear them. You extended your feet until you felt every muscle in your leg stretch to its capacity and let out a groan of pleasure at the release. Those shoes hurt so bad.

   “You seem . . . intelligent, Y/N.” Rumlow dropped your shoes onto the floor and slithered to the side of your bed, standing beside it with his hands tucked into his pockets.

   A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, “Hot . . .” you croaked and he nodded.

   “You’re right. It is getting kind of hot.” He brought a hand up to his neck and ripped off the tie hanging around it.

   Get the fuck out of my way, a growl erupted in your ear.

   We’re going with you, Buck, Steve responded before knocking something over.

   “So, what I have a hard time understanding is. . . why you’re here?” 

   You groaned a weak ‘huh’ but even that didn’t sound right.

   “You’re good at what you do, you finish every mission successfully and yet you’re underappreciated.” He took a seat at the foot of your bed and placed one of your legs into his lap, “Why do you allow them to treat you like that? We wouldn’t,”

   The shuffling in your earpiece halted.

   “We?” 

   He began to massage your calf and brought your knee up to his lips, peppering light kisses on it. “We could use someone with your skillset, babe. We’d take real good care of you,”

   The shuffling started again.

   Rumlow had made his way onto your thigh at this point and you let out an involuntary moan when he skimmed over a delicate part on your inner knee.

   “Ya like that?” he questioned but didn’t wait for a response. He brought a hand up to his temple and grabbed the earpiece. You figured he just hadn’t taken it out from his earlier shift but when he pulled it apart, you understood why he always kept it on him.

   “Flash . . . drive earpiece?” Your weak tone tilted a little. “W-why tell . . .”

   “I figured I’d give you the option to leave since you seem so . . . suffocated. If you said yes tonight then I would remind you tomorrow. If you didn’t,” he chuckled, “well, you wouldn’t remember anyway.” His hands trailed to your mid-thigh and you squeaked. “I’m impressed though, I’ve never given anyone else as much as I’ve given you tonight. The drug usually works so quickly on others, but not you. It’s kind of hot, actually,”

   Sick fuck, Natasha growled through a ragged breath.

   The world around you was slow or maybe it was you that was slow? You couldn’t tell, honestly. But when Rumlow moved as if he could predict your actions before you could make them, you wondered whether you were moving at all.

   “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” Rumlow sighed.

   You shook your head, or thought you did but despite the way your body was live-wired, it remained still against all desire. 

   Fight. Move. 

   You managed to push your legs shut but his hand slithered between and spread them open similar to opening a door, but this required much less force.

   “Kill,” You threatened and the sinister smile that crawled its way onto Rumlow’s face was vile enough to sink your heart into your stomach.

   “Kill is fucking right.” Someone snarled and your door was ripped from its hinges.

   Rumlow’s hand jerked away from your body and Bucky seized his open palm, intertwining their fingers and pushing Rumlow’s so far back that they touched the back of his own hand. The cracks were sickening onto themselves but had you not been so weak you would’ve turned from the sight altogether. You really couldn’t fathom how his fingers were still attached at all.

   “Lay another hand on her and you won’t be able to use it again.” Bucky spit.

   Despite Rumlow’s pain, the sinister smile remained sprawled on his face, “You should’ve heard the noises she made,”

   Bucky’s grip tightened and the bones in his palm broke next, “I did,”

   Natasha flew in right behind Barnes but completely dismissed the two and headed straight for you with a needle in hand. Your eyes shifted from the needle to Nat’s face and back again until she stabbed it into your upper arm. Ouch. 

   “Wha-”

   “Shh,” Natasha hastily hushed, “Keep your strength, you should be back to normal soon,”

   Steve came behind Nat and scooped you up to lead you out of the havoc going on in the room. Nat turned her focus to Bucky and reached over to grab the earpiece from Rumlow. Who knows if his nose will ever heal back normally. You held one finger in the air as Steve stepped over the splintered door.

   “Goddamit, Y/N,” Steve huffed, jogging towards the elevator and pressing the floor that led to the infirmary.

   “We won,” you croaked out, a small smile on your face and Steve shook his head.

   “I’m never going to hear the end of this,” 

   Steve looked you up and down for bruises but couldn’t find any and you promised you weren’t lying to him when you told him Rumlow did not get very far in his ‘advances’ at all. You had to swear the mid-thigh was the worst that it came to. 

   Bruce was the one that took a few blood samples and made sure everything was reversing back to normal. Apparently, as soon as Rumlow took you to the bar Tony handed Banner the shot glass that Rumlow gave you and Banner ran analysis on it. The cure was pretty easy to find.

   After being given strict orders to lie down for the next hour or so, it had been decided that Rumlow was to be turned in considering all the evidence required to make the arrest was in the flashdrive and everyone was to gather together for a ‘family night’. Whatever the hell that meant.

   You were in the middle of debating which movie to pick with Steve when the infirmary doors flew open.

   “Where is she?” Bucky nearly shouted upon seeing Bruce.

   “That’s my cue.” Steve stood up just as Bucky rounded the corner, “If you need anything me and Banner will be right over there,”

   You smiled and thanked him then turned your attention to the super-soldier who just arrived at the foot of your bed.

   He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at you. No, not really. Not at you but through you. A few painstakingly slow seconds went by that way.

   “You owe me a new door,” you joked, a half-smile on your face.

   “Are you okay?” He asked, finally registering your presence.

   You nodded slowly, “I am,”

   Then a few more seconds.

   Bucky turned his gaze down to his hands, both of them barren and on display for the world to see, before shifting his weight between either foot, “Did he- did he touch you?”

   “Not really. Just really liked my legs for some reason,” your attempt at another quip didn’t reach Bucky. He stared back up at you waiting for an answer, an honest one. You sighed, “The damage is more mental,” you admitted, now you were the one not able to look up, “I didn’t like being in this altered state of mind. It’s invasive and . . . scary. He could’ve done things, much worse things but it never got that far or that bad. It was more realizing that I wasn’t completely conscious or present and having that state of mind be taken advantage of, that mostly frightened me. Ya know?”

   “More than anyone,” he answered immediately.

   You looked back up towards him, finally making eye contact, “But I’m fine now, really. Just a little spooked. Steve wants to do a movie night tonight and I would actually prefer that over being alone.” Your eyes fixated on the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the bar by your feet, “If I’m alone then I’ll get stuck in my head about it. Besides, I consider this a hard victory with a few bumps in the road,” 

   He chuckled, lulling his head a bit, “You’re too stubborn for your own good,”

   You shrugged, “Maybe. How’s Rumlow?”

   Bucky hissed and moved over to the side of the bed where he took a seat, “He’s unconscious. And has a hand that he’ll never be able to use again. But other than that, he’s fine,”

   You chuckled and Bucky watched how the laugh met your eyes. He liked that look on you. It was one of his favorites.

   “Why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned once it fell silent between you two again.

   “You called me Bucky earlier,” he remembered.

   You scoffed, “I call you Bucky all the time,”

   “Not to my face,”

   “Not to your face,” you agreed, a teasing smile dancing on your lips and Bucky had one that mirrored yours. 

   “It was nice. Hearing it, I mean,” he admitted and a wave of warmth made its way to your face.

   “I see your hands are exposed,”

   He looked down as though he weren’t aware that he’d taken off his own gloves, “These bad boys? A friend of mine reminded me that I’m not my past. I’m my present. Why hide my growth?”

   You twiddled your thumbs together, “She sounds smart,”

   Now he scoffed, “Oh, it wasn’t a girl, it was some old buddy of mine.” He quirked up a brow, “Unless the person being a girl would make you jealous because in that case it was most definitely a girl,”

   You fought against the natural tug at the corners of your mouth, “Is she at least pretty?”

   “Stunning,” 

   “Smart?”

   “Genius,”

   “Good at her job?”

   “Amongst the best,”

   “Then consider me jealous, Barnes,”

   Bucky chuckled and you watched how the laugh met his eyes. You liked that look on him. It was one of your favorites.

[astridthevalkyrie]

A Scene Popped Into My Head But Instead Of Writing A Whole AU I’m Just Going To Write That One Scene &lt;3

---> Scene Capture Fics Masterlist

---> Today’s Feature: Arranged Marriage AU Levi!

---> Part 2

---> a/n: this one is self indulgent to a fault. like, self indulgent to the point where i was just frustrated all day (all week, really) with my family and so i whipped this out. stayed up till 1:30 am writing it. i wouldn't say it's a full fic, which is why i'm still posting it as a scene capture fic, but i may post it to ao3 too. let me know what you think!

In your anger, you nearly rip your earrings off, throwing them onto the vanity. The jewelry clinks on the table, followed shortly by your necklace and bracelets. The door closes gently a few seconds after you storm in, and you hear your husband rummaging around in his messenger bag for his glasses.

You hate this. Hate this room, hate those earrings, hate this house. It's not even yours, it's your uncle's. He's generously offered to host the entire family over for his daughter's birthday party, and now that you're married, you get your own room instead of rooming with the kids. Whoop de doo.

Truthfully, you'd prefer sleeping in the same room as a bunch of loudmouths instead of with Levi Ackerman. But as Mrs. Ackerman, it'd be extremely strange for you to sleep anywhere else but in the same bed as him.

"What's wrong," Levi murmurs in that grating voice of his. In another life, you might have found it attractive. Oh, who are you kidding, you have found it attractive, but not when he pulled the stunt that he just did,

"Nothing," you mutter shortly, unbuttoning the buttons on your top.

He sighs. It only makes your blood boil more.

"If you're not going to tell me, stop sulking."

"I'm not sulking," you spit out, taking out your pajamas. How dare he?

"You are," he retorts easily, "you didn't have fun playing minigolf?"

Sure, you had fun. You had fun when you had to hit the golf ball at least six times on each track because of how terrible you were. You had fun when your cousin clapped for Levi every time he got a dumb hole in one and then giggled when he thanked her dryly. And you definitely had fun when you and your sister got into an argument that she booked tickets to the local amusement park without you even though you were the one who brought up the idea a couple weeks ago and now she was going with some of the other family members.

What wasn't there to be overjoyed about?

"Are you still upset about that ridiculous argument?"

That ridiculous argument—those words hurt the most because they're true, the fight with your sister was ridiculous. It's certainly not something you want to waste your energy on. She's her own person, and she can go wherever she pleases with whoever she wants to go with. But it's not the fight that has you so heated.

It's the fact that during it, your sister had turned to Levi and said, word for word, "Come on, Levi, tell her she's being stupid!"

And Levi had, without hesitation, turned to you and told you that you were indeed being stupid.

That, in front of your entire family, had felt like a hard slap to the face.

You'd been able to kid yourself for a few months now. That even if you and Levi didn't love each other, at least you were becoming friends, at least he might sort of like you as a person. That you could have a husband who'd stick by you. That, for once in your life, someone would prioritize you.

But that was just a far-fetched fantasy, a dream for stupid girls who were kidding themselves. Girls like you.

"I'm not upset. We should go downstairs, pizza will be here soon."

"No," Levi refuses easily, grabbing your wrist before you can reach the door. "Go apologize to your sister first."

That, finally, makes you snap.

"I should go apologize? The least she could have done was not tell me she was going with other people and throwing away our yearly tradition!" You snatch your wrist away from him, glaring daggers. Who the hell does he think he is? "And just for your information, the two of us have never been in a fight for longer than a day. Tomorrow morning she'll see a video that's so funny she just has to share it, and I'll find it so fucking hilarious that I'll go up to her and ask her if she's seen some other video it reminded me of."

Levi frowns. "Then what the hell are you so upset about?"

"None of your goddamn concern."

"Yes it is. Tell me. Is it me?"

For someone who's so perceptive, he's also incredibly stupid. "Levi. I'm not a child. Why don't you go flirt with my cousin or something, because I can deal with my emotions just fine, like any other fucking adult, and I don't need your coddling."

Perceptive indeed. "So it is me," he concludes, "for your information, I've never once flirted with her, I try to avoid her when I can—"

"Oh my fucking God, do you think I care? Do you think I give a single goddamn shit if you flirt with her or anyone else? I'm not a jealous crybaby. Go sleep with someone else and see if I even lift a finger to stop you."

A pregnant pause fills the air for a couple seconds, and then he says, "Yeah. I do think you care."

You scoff. "Then you're full of yourself, because I don't."

With that, you whirl around, determined to leave this terrible room with its disgusting yellow color, but as soon as you inch open the door, it slams shut again, and Levi whirls you around, boxing you in against it. With one hand, he locks it, and your fingers tremble in rage.

This is too far.

"Move."

"No."

"Move, or I'll scream."

"Scream all you'd like. I'm not opening the door until you tell me."

From the hard gaze in his eyes, you know he's not bluffing. His arms are on either side of you and he’s so close that any other time you might have been embarrassed. From this point of view, you can appreciate how very pretty your husband truly is.

You have no choice.

"When we were fighting," you begin, giving him your deepest scowl, trying to cloak how vulnerable you feel as he forces you to expose your own insecurities, "you took her side."

"You were being ridiculous." Levi frowns, as though he can't fathom why you'd be upset about such a thing.

"I was." Your agreement comes naturally, but it causes a lump in your throat. Ridiculous, childish, emotional, those were traits that you were supposed to hide from everyone, because everyone had drilled it inside you that these were bad things, that you had to act mature or else face the consequences of being ridiculed. "But what would have been the worst thing that happened if you took my side? Or even if you stayed out of it? If you just..." Against your deepest wishes, your lower lip trembles. "If you just didn't call me stupid for having emotions?"

Something shifts in Levi's expression, something that you've never seen in these past few months. Something akin to softness covers his features, a stark contrast to the emotionless robot you married. His thumb comes up to brush a single tear that drips down your cheek. "You wanted me to stick by you," he claims softly, trying to understand.

Wetness coats your lashes. "I wanted you to choose me. I wanted someone to choose me. No one ever chooses me, and I wanted you to. And that's idiotic, I know, to expect the one person I was forced upon to actually want me. So just—just forget about it, Levi, I mean it." You're pleading now, anger having made way for ugly jealousy and insecurity and self hate. "Go have fun, and—"

"I'm sorry," he breathes in one quick admission.

An apology is the last thing you expected to hear. By this point, you didn't even think the situation warranted one. But Levi goes on.

"You're right. If it was that stupid, and it wasn't, then I could have taken your side. I...I'm not good with this stuff, but if you want me to support you, then I can. I will. I'll do better next time. Okay?"

Levi is so blunt that it makes your heart clench. Avoiding the problem altogether or just brushing past it would be easier for you to deal with, but this, an apology and a promise to improve, makes the tears filling your eyes to fall.

"Okay?" he repeats, quieter this time. You nod, not trusting yourself to form any words. "Okay." And then he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, one that spreads warmth across your face down to your fingertips.

The moment ends as soon as he steps back, as you awkwardly and hurriedly wipe your cheeks, while Levi adjusts his glasses and pulls out his phone, coughing into his fist. Couples who didn't have a choice in the matter aren't supposed to have moments. And yet, he's left you flabbergasted at how compassionate he really can be, and for the first time, you consider that being Mrs. Ackerman may not be the worst thing in the world.

"There's not that much traffic right now," he mumbles, eyes locked on his phone as you make yourself presentable.

"Right. And?" Taking a tissue, you silently wipe away the mascara that's staining your skin.

"If we pack quickly, we could probably make it home by 11."

Your heart leaps in joy at this prospect. "But...but we're supposed to be here for another two days."

"Do you want to stay?" Levi questions, looking at you in the mirror. Your answer should be yes, this is your family.

"No. I really don't."

"Alright," Levi decides, nodding to himself, "then if you want to, we can leave." He looks at you expectantly, seeking your answer.

Back home, you have more awkward silence and forced pleasantries to endure, along with possible disagreements and compromises that leave neither of you happy. A return to a not-so glamorous life of a couple that was pushed together not by fate, or destiny, or love, just other people.

And despite all that, you suck in a deep breath, wipe the last of your tears away, and say, "Let's go."

[luimagines]

First Kiss! Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2 will include Sky, Legend and Time

Content under the cut!

Sky

Walking through the town was something mundane and simple.

Walking through town hand in hand with your boyfriend Sky was comforting, a journey and a delight.

You always seemed to see things differently when he was around and you’re not sure why but walking with him always made things look brighter, happier, more enjoyable. You never wanted it to end.  

The two of you turned into the town square and watched the others of the group disperse into the natural inclinations for civilization. You laughed and leaned against Sky as they went away, the two of you not having a destination in mind.

“I don’t actually want to do anything right now.” Sky admitted as you walk. “Is there something you had in mind or can we go?”

You hum and think for a moment and realize that there’s not much you think the town can offer you at the moment that would be worth staying and shake your head. “Nope. I’m good.”

Sky smiled and begins to drag you along to the outer rings of the place, making random turns at random times just trying to create distance no matter how imaginary.

“I thought we were leaving.” You snort and stop in your tracks, keeping Sky from moving forward.

Sky blushes a little and uses his other hand to scratch the back of his head. “I realized we would need to check in with someone and I didn’t know where any of them went. So-”

“So we can’t leave because someone could go looking for us?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah...”

You snort and cover your mouth with your free hand. “I should have known.”

“What?”

“You’re too much of a good boy to just ditch people.” You grin and tilt your head. ”Which is cute but I should have known there’s no way you’re a bad boy, even for as something as trivial as knowing where we are.”

You shake your head good naturedly and feel Sky get closer. “Honestly I should have-”

Sky gets into your personal space and the close proximity stuns you into silence.

Sky raises an eyebrow and leans even closer. “I can be a bad boy, if I wanted to.”

The air suddenly feels charged and while you’re not sure with what, you somehow manage to get your tongue working again to shape the words you need to say. “No offence dear, but I doubt that.”

Sky leans in and you lean back to gain some space, less he collide with your face only to feel your back collide with a wall behind you.

You’re trapped. 

You gulp and look up into Sky’s eyes with confusion, only marginally intimidated by his actions.

Sky smirks and you feel a blush cover your face as you bite your lip. You look down out of embarrassment and try to figure out what’s going on with your heart at the same time. Sky finally lets go of your hand and brings his arm over your head to rest his weight on it, his other hand coming up to put a finger under your chin, lifting it just a little higher for you to properly look him in the eyes.

The action combined with the somewhat devilish look on his face and his action have you go weak in the knees and you press yourself deeper into the wall for some semblance of stability.

Sky looks you up and down at the sight and tilts his head, the smirk ever present.

He’s enjoying this.

Your heart is pounding, all you seem to hear is your blood rushing in your ears and your whole body feel too warm and ice cold at the same time.

Sky leans into your face and you can feel his breath on your cheeks as he places little butterfly kisses against you. He brushing his nose against yours on accident but it fails to feel that way. If anything it makes the moment more intimate and charges something in you.

The little kisses he leaves on your face are a kind of sweet torture you’re not sure you can bare for any longer.

You gulp and flutter yours eyes open- not sure when you closed and gasp for a breath. “Oh my god, kiss me.”

Sky stills and you think you might have pushed something just before he angles himself in front of you again and presses his lips against yours.

Your close your eyes and lose yourself in the feeling.

Your hands travel up his check and rest on his shoulders before closing in by his collar bone and snaking behind his head to tangle themselves in his hair.

Sky keeps his arm on the wall but uses his other hand to tilt your head even higher, pushing himself against you as he kisses you deeper.

A loud cough has the two of you jumping away from each other and you can’t help feeling a little pissed that someone interrupted your moment.

There stands Time, a smirk and knowing look in his eye. “Pardon the interruption, but I believe I was tasked to bring Sky to Warrior for a consultation. That is.... unless you’re busy.”

Sky coughs and steps away from you. “No, I... I can go.”

You glare at Time, not at all subtle in your intentional message you’re trying to send.

Time holds back his snickers... barely. “Good. I’ll him know you’re on your way.”

Sky blushes at being caught and laughs a bit when he sees you. “We’ll continue later.”

You blink and only then feel a little shame at also being caught- or it shame for how much you enjoyed it.

You nod at Sky and watch him- his phantom touch still on you.

You collapse against the wall and sigh.

That was not what you were expecting.

Legend

Running.

You and Legend were running through the castle trying to lose the tail of the guards that have found out that you two were very much not supposed to be there. Your party clothes billowed behind you and your steps echoed through the mostly empty hallways, more of them thundering behind you as more guards joined the cause.

“This is the last time I follow you blindly, Link.” You hiss and nearly trip over yourself.

Legend spins with little to no trouble at all and grabs your shoulder, helping you get back onto your feet and throwing you in front of him.

“It’s not like I asked for this.” Legend hisses back to you and pushes you to keep running through the hallways.

You want to stop and breath and leave but you’re lost and Legend knows this place better than you do so you’re stuck with him if you want to survive and not get caught.

Without waring Legend pulls you into a sharp turn and closes a door you didn’t notice behind you only stopping at the last moment to not slam it and instead rest it gently, closing even the small gold threaded curtain over the little peep window. 

Around you is a somewhat closed off spiral stair case and another door in front of you that leads into another unknown area but you can hear people.

You’re still not safe but no one seems to have heard you come in just yet.

“This must be one of the servant stairwells.” Legend says as he pants, resting his hands on his knees. You had though that when Legend had first appeared next to you in his finery that he was very handsome. And even when he’s all disheveled and exhausted, you still find yourself appreciating how every curve and sharp angle is accentuated by the outfit.

But this isn’t the time for that.

“Can we get out through here?” You ask, leaning up against the wall. there’s not  a lot of space between you and Legend where you stand but you’re too tired to compute it at the moment.

“Not without getting seen by more people.” Legend sighs. “We’ll just wait for the guards to pass and then head out the other way.”

You nod and continue to pant, placing your hand over your heart as if that would stop it from beating out of your chest.

Legend takes a few more breaths and walks over to stand next to you and places his weight against the wall as well. He opens his mouth to say something before abruptly shutting it with a click and forcing you to duck down as well when you hear the guards that were chasing you just outside the door that hide you from their gaze.

You stop breathing entirely, leaning closer to Legend who places himself between you and door.

You wait.

They leave.

The two of you nearly collapse into each other when you hear them take their leave to continue their search for you somewhere else.

You both stand up again and Legend reaches for the door.

Someone begins coming down the stairs.

Your eyes widen, body ready to run out the door but you’re being pressed against the wall with Legend on top of you before you can think of moving a muscle. 

Legend presses his lips against yours and traps your body there with his own. He attempts to coax a response out of you as the steps continue to descend, his hand burring itself into your hair as the other pulls you closer by your hip.

Your eyes flutter close and your hands come up to cradle his face, kissing him back like you’ve been wanting to do the entire night.

Legend groans a little as he deepens the kiss and angles you closer to his body.

You begin running your hands all over him, trying to map out his curves and angles that you’ve eyeing the entire night with your hands.

Legend responds favorably and even bites your lip when you refuse to let him kiss you even deeper.

“UM!” A voice squeaks. “My apologies but uh... you can’t be here.”

You break away and Legend turns around to address the poor maid that had caught you two.

“Sorry.” He flushes and waves her away. “We’ll be on our way. We didn’t know.”

You swear you blush all the way to your feet and can’t even bring yourself to look the poor girl in the eye as you both leave.

Legend subtly looks around for anyone who might still looking for you even you both leave and you both calmly leave the stairwell and the maid and begin to make your way out of the castle.

You hand finds its way to your mouth, the phantom touch of his lips on yours still tingling in the present moment because of it.

“I’m sorry.” Legend blurts in the quiet moment, his face a deep red as he looks down. “I panicked... but that doesn’t make that ok. It was the heat of the moment but... I probably could have found another solution or maybe we could have just ran.”

You bite your lip and hold your hands behind your back. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“I just assaulted you-”

“You’re a good kisser-”

You both stop in your tracks and stare at each other wide eyed.

“What did you just say?” You speak at the same time.

You gulp and shake your head. ”I didn’t think you... If I didn’t want you to...Um...” You look away first and try to hide behind your hair. “I wanted to kiss you all night, so.... I’m not complaining.” 

“You- you did?”

You blush deeper and try to walk away from him as you talk, as if that would negate how he would still be able to hear you even now that you’re both outside. “For awhile now actually, but.... uh... you look very handsome like that, so the urge was stronger than usual.”

Legend doesn’t say anything for a while but you keep walking, trying to get away from the awkwardness Your friendship is going to change after this night and you can feel it. You just don’t want to acknowledge it.

It was a good kiss.

Footsteps begin thundering behind you and you turn around to see what’s got Legend in a panic before he tackles you to the ground- ruining your party clothes in the dirt before trapping your lips against his again.

He lifts himself off of you as he pants. “You can’t just say that and then leave.”

“I wasn’t trying-”

“You look gorgeous tonight, it was so hard to control myself.”  He kisses you again.

You blink and stare into his eyes when he lifts himself off of you for the second time, letting a moment of silence over you before you take a breath. “Kiss me again.”

He grins and leans down.

If this is the change to your relationship, let it be known that you’re certainly not complaining.

Time

You sigh and watch the sun set just beyond the mountains in the west.

Every bone in your body felt tired and sore and there was nothing else that you wanted to do. You thought that one more person wanted to talk to you today you were going to lose it.

Time comes to sit next to you and puts a hand on your shoulder. He leans over to look in your eyes before he nods to himself and shifts his weight so that he sits with his front to your side.

Gently he coaxes you to move around also and you follow his lead without much question.

As soon as you’re with your back to him, his hands comes to rest on your shoulder and begin to knead.

You almost groan with the immediate pleasure and relief it brings you but the others are still nearby and you don’t want to give them any ideas.

You have no idea how he does it but Link always seem to know what you need without you saying anything and even before you even know. 

You sigh and try to relax even further under his touch.

Time continues with his massage and travels all over your shoulders, upper back and neck.

Your eyes close and you lean back after a few minutes of this, right into Time’s lap. “Thank you.” You say and smile more genuinely toward him. “You didn’t have to but I feel better now.” 

“Good.” He says and plays with the hair that falls over his leg. “You looked tense.”

“Everything was sore and not happy with me.” You blinked your eyes open and look up into his. “That felt nice.”

“Well you’re welcome.” He smiles back.

You grin and sit up again much to the protest of the rest of your muscles. With a small shimmy, you turn around and hop up to place a little kiss on Time’s cheek before you lose your nerve. “Payment.”

You don’t know where your boldness comes from but you’re not so shameless as to kiss Time fully while the whole group is very much nearby.

Time stills completely before he stands up after you.

You attempt to walk away and go back to the group before he can say anything but he catches your hand and pulls you back with a spin, trapping you with an arm behind your back and your chest against his.

You blush at the close proximity and try to pull away. “Time, the boys-”

Time lets go of the hand behind your back to free that up but he instead rests his hands on your waist and pulls you flush against him. “What about them? I believe that if that was the payment that you’re a little short on the change.”

He’s smirking when he says this. 

He leans down and brushes his nose against yours. “If you’re ok with it that is.”

You gulp and stare at him wide eyed. You bite your lip in thought and you can see Time glance down at the subtle movement.

You grin and push yourself into him, closing the distance between you two with more vigor than either of you expected. The force pushes Time back a step and you throw your arms around him to stabilize yourself. 

He kisses you back with as much passion as you want to believe he’s been holding back. You start to crumble from under him and he follows you down when your knees fail you, bending over to keep kissing you, to kiss you deeper and to pull you closer even if you’re bent in half at this point.

You don’t care. 

Together, you lose yourselves in each other and try to memories each factor of him.

The broadness of his chest, the way his toned arms hold you, the way his lips move against you and your skin and how he moves from your lips to your neck-

“Oh for crying out loud-  GET A ROOM!” Legend yells from across the camp and you pull away from time in shock.

Time calmly looks over and pulls you back on to your feet again. “Do you see one?”

“Time.” You whisper yell and smack his arm a little, your blush on your face clear as day even as the sun sets beyond the horizon.

He smirks and turns back to you, capturing one more kiss from you before he steps away with a low and frankly dangerous kind of chuckle. “Later.”

“Later?” You looks after him and cover you lips with your finger tips. “What do you mean by later?”

Time doesn’t turn around to answer you ad you don’t know if you’re excited for it or too embarrassed at the blatant wanton behavior of yours to even think beyond anything than going to bed and starting the next day.

Who are you kidding?

How are you going to sleep when time has frankly put your mind on over drive that that?

It’s going to be a long night.

Part 3

[robininthelabyrinth]

i've been keeping a list of possible prompts for you and there's one i have no memory of adding that just says "courtesan nmj????" so i guess that's the prompt you're getting lmao

What Does the Fox Say - ao3

“Second Madame Nie!” a disciple shouted, rushing into her little garden. She didn’t recognize him, but he was solidly built and well-muscled like most of the others – truly, the Unclean Realm was a rapturous feast for one with eyes to see it. Yum, yum. “Second Madame Nie, I have bad news!”

Boo. She hated bad news: bad news meant she’d have to do something, usually, and right now she was seated very comfortably in a pleasant piece of sun in the garden path that’d been made up just for her and to her preferences, with her feet up on a chair and a full plate of fruit from the kitchen on the table in front of her just begging to be devoured, morsel by delicious morsel.

Her schedule was packed!

“I regret to tell you, but your husband has been killed!”

“Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. “Has he? How obnoxious of him.”

How unreliable. Men.

She sighed.

“Second Madame – Second Madame – you don’t understand!” The disciple was all red-eyed and weepy, which was a look she liked, especially in big, stout men like this. The salt added a bit of spice to the whole thing. “You must flee at once! He was killed by Sect Leader Wen in an act of outright aggression – Sect Leader Wen has declared war – the Wen sect is invading!”

She nodded and picked up another lychee to start peeling it. She’d get around to fleeing in her own time. As long as this Wen sect or whatnot was being led by a man, she wasn’t terribly concerned.

“They intend to wipe out the inheritance of Qinghe Nie! They will rip out the child in your belly!”

She hummed noncommittally. Really, how attached was she to having a child of her own? Really?

“They will slaughter civilians – execute Nie-gongzi –”

Her hands stilled.

“What,” she said, and the disciple took a step back automatically, proving that he, at least, had something more of a survival instinct than her late husband did. “Hurt my little meat bun? My darling rice roll? My savory zongzi?”

She stood up, diminutive height and over-large belly and frilly clothing doing absolutely nothing to diminish the vaguely menacing aura that darkened the sky around her. She bared her teeth.

“Who does this upstart Wen dog think he is?!”

The disciple blinked owlishly, but nodded, seeming relieved that she’d finally accepted his concern, though she could see on his face that he was thinking that her reasoning was – characteristically – a little strange. But then again, and she could see this thought process on his far too honest face, it was well known that the second Madame Nie been quite strange ever since Sect Leader Nie had found her in some lonesome place with no family or background and brought her back to be his new wife nevertheless.

Such a charming man. Pity about his loss, really.

“You have to flee at once, we can’t possibly fight so many people,” the disciple said once more, and this time she nodded in agreement. “We can escort you to a hidden exit –”

“No!” a little voice called. “We can’t go.”

She turned to look, and there was the little pork-and-shrimp dumpling himself, chubby-cheeked and earnest-eyed, looking as delicious as always.

“What do you mean, fish cake?” she asked. “Of course we have to go. Didn’t you hear what this strapping young man said? This Wen person wants to kill you!”

“If Father is dead, then I’m the sect leader,” her stepson said. He was serious and solemn in a way that made her want to pinch his cheeks and bury her face into his belly to blow raspberries, and also possibly to eat him right up, flesh and marrow and gristle and all. “That means it’s my responsibility to preserve the Nie sect.”

“Nie-gongzi, no!” the disciple cried, throwing himself to his knees in a dramatic display of loyalty. “You would only die – far better for you to run, and live!”

“Then isn’t the same true for everyone else?” the tasty little dish asked, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. Possibly he was trying to put on a fierce expression, maybe, she couldn’t quite tell sometimes. He was so cute. “Why should I live, and them not? I refuse to buy my life with their deaths!”

“But – Nie-gongzi –”

Her charming little honey cake shook his head and held up a hand to stop the disciple, turning to look at her instead.

“Second Mother,” he said, and he had that wholesome trusting expression again that was such a perfect little one-shot-kill to the heart, ugh. “You always said you’re the best at hiding. The best in the world, no one better among all the gods or demons!”

She was, too. She couldn’t help but preen a little, proud.

“– can’t you do something?”

“Oh, darling cabbage bun,” she said, not without fondness. “I can hide myself from even the net of Heaven itself if I so choose, from gods and demons alike, and I can most certainly hide a small group from any mortal eyes that dare to look, if you don’t mind being a little tiny bit dishonorable about the business. But an entire sect? That’s a bit much, even for someone as talented and skilled as me.”

Her stepson looked up at her, all straight-steel sincerity and upright righteousness wrapped into a perfectly edible little snack-sized package. “If we split them up, the sect could be small groups,” he said eagerly. “Couldn’t you do something then?”

He was so cute, and he trusted her. He trusted her, believed in her, felt that she could perform miracles with a wave of her sleeve if only she so wished.

It was awful.

She couldn’t bear it.

“Oh all right, you nummy little slice of roast pork belly,” she said, yielding. “But I’m telling you now, it won’t be the least bit honorable! There’s only so many excuses you can come up with for having a lot of strong men with wide shoulders and women with thick thighs hanging around, and not a single one of them has the slightest bit to do with what you people consider to be appropriate.”

“That’s all right. Preserving human life comes first, always.”

The disciple looked between them, clearly completely confused. Clearly all his effort had been spent on developing the muscles in his arms (quite nice) rather than his brain (quite slow).

“What?” he said. “What’s happening?”

“We’re saving the sect,” Nie Mingjue announced happily, clapping his hands together. Too precious, too precious entirely; she’d have to make sure no one else even thought about going near her darling little snackling. “Tell everyone to prepare to evacuate.”

“That will take too long,” she said, and smiled, with teeth. “Let me call some friends to help.”

-

When the Wen sect arrived at the Unclean Realm, they found the gate open.

That was unexpected enough, but when they entered, they found that the entire place had emptied out – not just of people, but of everything else, too. There wasn’t a single intact chair or table in the entire place, not a scrap of cloth nor a bit of food, like it’d been swept clean by locusts or wild monkeys come to pilfer whatever they could.

Even the paving stones where arrays had been laid out by the Nie sect’s ancestors had been pried up and carted away.

Sect Leader Wen ordered a search, but there wasn’t any trace of it – of the people, of the stuff, anything.

No one ever found out what happened.

-

Jin Guangyao despised social events, he’d found.

It was one thing when it was something he’d planned himself, where the work was interesting enough to distract him, but when he was an honored guest for someone else…miserable. Utterly miserable.

The only thing more miserable was when the host was his erstwhile father, from whom he’d forcefully extracted recognition. With Wen Ruohan as his backer, indulging his favorite torturer as if a beloved pet, there wasn’t much Jin Guangshan could do to refuse, and neither could he force Jin Guangyao to do anything on his behalf, either. And so Jin Guangyao, sitting as always by Wen Ruohan’s side, right beneath his sons, was now an honored guest at his father’s house, getting offered his pick of prostitutes as if the man had no notion of the irony.

Maybe he didn’t. Jin Guangyao couldn’t quite tell if his father had just forgotten his origins, thinking his bastard son too unimportant to remember the details of, or whether it was meant as a deliberate insult – who could tell?

“Oh, right,” the simpering idiot in front of him, a nephew or cousin of some sort to the sect leader, said. “Our dear Jin Guangyao is known not to like the gentle flower queens, even when they come from the finest houses in Lanling. Isn’t that right, cousin?”

Jin Guangyao’s fists clenched. A deliberate insult, then.

Despite that, his face remained neutral. Instead, he chuckled and said, “The appeal is limited. After all, I have seen the best of them.”

Beside him, Wen Ruohan nodded and smirked. He appreciated Jin Guangyao’s devotion to his mother, though Jin Guangyao suspected it was because he thought it funny that Jin Guangyao would bother to honor such a lowly woman – but what he thought didn’t matter, not really. All that mattered was that he let Jin Guangyao pay his respects to her to his heart’s content.

“Well, you’re in luck!” the idiot Jin Zixun said, looking absurdly smug. “We have something of a different flavor than the usual tonight – we’ve invited entertainment from the local branch of Splendid Spring.”

Jin Guangyao barely managed to avoid rolling his eyes.

The Splendid Spring Palace was a series of brothels that had popped up fully formed just about everywhere some years back, with madams and girls and musicians and bodyguards of all sorts. It was so patently a political move that Jin Guangyao had barely bothered to pay attention to it once he’d become actually powerful, and Wen Ruohan hadn’t paid attention to it at all. After all, in the unlikely event that the business really was backed by a cultivation sect that didn’t care about its face any longer, anyone who needed to use such a façade to gather power was clearly beneath notice.

Jin Guangyao had paid only very little attention, but to different and unusual aspects of the place: by all accounts, they were surprisingly decent employers as far as places like that went. They didn’t steal girls or accept unwilling goods – they had some connection with the merchant caravans, or at least one of the companies that helped coordinate routes and provide protection to such things, and they were as meticulous about checking things over as they were about seeking refunds if they were dissatisfied – and they did accept married girls fleeing unhappy marriages, which not everyone did. They did buy up all the girls in the local markets wherever they were, but they swept them away and brought them back transformed, even the ones that wouldn’t sell because they were too ugly; Jin Guangyao assumed that meant they had people who were talented in make-up and clothing, since the usual rumors of the girls being blessed with a yao’s enchantment were obviously ridiculous and nothing more than the usual marketing gimmicks that brothels since time immemorial had tried.

Even once they had the girls in hand, the places were pretty decent: they had physicians on staff to help with the usual side effects of the business, made sure their girls were clean and healthy, and were said to even limit the number of customers a girl would be obliged to take on in a given evening…honestly, knowing as he did the brothel business, Jin Guangyao sometimes wondered how they’d managed to bespell enough people to even make money in the early days. At any rate, whatever they’d done, it’d worked, because by now they had a solid enough reputation to trade on.

In short: a decent enough place, far better than the usual run of the mill. Once he’d had the ability to do so, he’d even pulled a few strings and arranged for the better of his mother’s old compatriots to end up there, since he couldn’t convince them to leave their old professions behind entirely.

Anyway, if they also seemed to have a sideline in information brokering and assassinations, well, let them. In the cultivation world, where the only thing that mattered was strength, real strength.

A little thing like that wouldn’t make any real difference.

Or so Jin Guangyao had thought.

He found himself re-thinking that, though, when the entertainment in question came out. There were the usual set of attractive (albeit in a wider variety of shapes and sizes than usually seen) dancers, dressed up in silks that seemed actually high quality, and plenty of strapping young men carrying sabers – dancers as well, once assumed, to provide some spice to the entertainment, and implicitly on the offer for men who cut their sleeves or women with more flexibility, like widows or ones with especially permissive husbands. Wen Ruohan’s wives were in that latter category, and they were already whispering to each other excitedly, looking at them.

They’d even brought in the local madame, who was…

Well, she was actually breathtaking, even by Jin Guangyao’s extremely jaded standards. She had hair that fell almost all the way to her ankles, shimmering in the light, and dark eyes shining with liveliness, a smooth and ageless face that simultaneously suggested youth and health but also winked at knowable experience, the features characteristic of what his mother’s employers had called the ‘fox-face’. As if to emphasize that, the lady was wrapped in fox-fur and draped in embroidered brocade, with little stylized foxes running up and down the hems of her clothing and along the gazy silk draped on her shoulders.

It ought to have looked absurd, looked gaudy and overwrought and overdone, but it didn’t.

She was a thousand dreams of wealth and beauty and power and sex appeal all wrapped up in one, and even Jin Guangyao – who was in his personal preferences quite firmly a cutsleeve – couldn’t help but intrigued by her, wondering what it might be like to touch the hem of such a glorious creature.

And next to her…

The lady was accompanied by two men that seemed completely different from each other. One was a slender and winsome young man, fluttering his eyelashes from behind a fan with a charming smile, emanating the appeal of softness and weakness, ready to be indulged. While the other…

Jin Guangyao swallowed.

He was the exact opposite of the first man. Clearly strong, muscular and powerful, and tall to the point of towering, with wide shoulders and a narrow waist, a chest that you could lean your head against and an ass that begged to have someone’s hands on it – and there were his hands, big and broad, perfect for holding someone down or up if they so wished and of a size that was very promising as to what was only hinted at under his clothes. His face was hidden behind a veil as if he were a woman, marking him, like his comrade, as one of the available courtesans of the Splendid Spring, but his body was visible under clothing clearly cut to put it to the best advantage.

And oh, what advantages it had…!

“It seems we found something to the tastes of dear cousin Guangyao after all,” the idiot said mockingly, sniggering and snorting like the pig he was, and for once Jin Guangyao didn’t even care.

“Who’s the woman in front?” Wen Ruohan asked, ignoring their interplay. He seemed utterly fascinated, almost spellbound, and Jin Guangyao couldn’t blame him one bit. If this woman had been at the same brothel as his mother, there wouldn’t have even been room for jealousy or shame; his mother would have gone straight up to her to ask for some tips. “She seems…familiar, somehow.”

“That’s the madame of the Splendid Spring,” Jin Zixun said proudly, as if he’d done anything at all in relation to this – nonsense, of course. Everyone know which brothels were backed by the Jin sect, and Splendid Spring wasn’t one of them. He was acting as if he deserve a pat on the back just for the introduction! “That means she’s not for sale.”

His smile faded a little, twisting in a small bit of bitterness. “Or so she told my uncle, anyway…although I’m sure if it were Sect Leader Wen asking, the answer would undoubtedly be different.”

Probably because Jin Guangshan couldn’t slaughter prostitutes with impunity if they said no to him, whereas no one could stop Wen Ruohan from doing any damn thing he pleased.

Wen Ruohan grunted, pleased by the answer – he was a possessive man, in the rare events that he did exert himself in the realm of women, and there had been more than one instance where he’d stolen away some girl his sons had been eyeing first just for the joy of having had her first – and raised a hand, catching the lady’s eye and gesturing for her to come over, which she did.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

She laughed. “You can call me Hu Jiuwei. With the ‘Hu’ being the character for fox.”

Jin Guangyao tried not to choke. There were false names and then there were false names – the lady’s theme was already clearly related to foxes, given her fox-face and fox-fur lining and the foxes embroidered onto her robes. Was the over-the-top name really necessary?

“It’s a fake name,” she added, unnecessarily.

“I see,” Wen Ruohan said, sounding a little choked himself. Possibly it was the woman calling herself ‘Foxy Ninetails’ and then kindly reassuring them all that the name was false as if she thought them too dumb to figure it out that was tripping him up a little. Jin Guangyao couldn’t tell if she was doing it deliberately in order to make her frankly inhuman beauty a little less frightening, or maybe she was blessed with so much beauty that she hadn’t bothered to cultivate her brain at all. “Are you our entertainment for the evening?”

She smiled, and any complaints Jin Guangyao (or indeed Wen Ruohan) might have had about her intelligence faded away at once.

It was that type of smile.

You could wreck nations with that type of smile. Jin Guangyao couldn’t help but wonder: how had a woman this extraordinary ended up in a brothel, of all places? How had no one snatched her up to keep her all for himself before now?

“My sons and I –” she gestured at the two behind her, “– would be more than happy to provide you with all the entertainment you could possibly want.”

Her smile widened.

“We’ve been hoping for an opportunity like this for a long time.”

[s-brant]

Angels Roll Their Eyes (2/2)

(gif: @toesure) (PART ONE)

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

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

Word Count: 24k

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

Hurricane Agatha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you smiling about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He isn't sure why she buys into it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

JJ misses her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Weird in what way?"

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

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

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

She sighs.

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

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

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

That part is the most fuzzy in her mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gotta catch me first!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They tried.

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

It was simple in the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fuck?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because what?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

There it is.

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

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

Her heart sinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then prove it."

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Internally, JJ is losing his shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll—"

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

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

"Promise?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wouldn't matter if the topic of their exhibitionism were any other Pogue or a stranger, it isn't about who it is, it's about the thrill attached to the concept of almost getting seen during such a heated moment. In all actuality, John B is probably snoring face down into his pillow right now with no care for what's happening out here, but he knows what it does to her when they push the boundaries of decency this way. It's the same rush he gets from stealing random, useless things every so often, it's the thrill of getting away with something.

The hand tangled up in the roots of her hair sneaks down between their colliding bodies to rub her clit, and her mouth drops open to take in a shaky breath.

The sight of her beneath him is undoing in and of itself. Head tilted enough to expose her neck to him, chest rising and falling rapidly with her breaths, and breasts bouncing gently with the momentum of their actions—seeing her this way makes his thrusts ramp up into more of a frenzied, uncontainable pace rather than one with the same control and cadence as before. But it's mostly the eye contact that kills him. She doesn't dare to shut her eyes the entire time, as if she can sense that he'll tell her to look at him again the second she does.

"You want him to know what?" he asks, and she knows he won't let her get away with not saying it.

She whines, utterly helpless to the climax starting to build inside of her, "Please."

What she's pleading for, she isn't quite sure, but he can tell by how she's acting that she's starting to get closer, and he wants nothing more than to tease her with the impending chance of her orgasm.

"If you wanna come, you're gonna have to do a lot better than that."

Just like that, he withdraws his hand from between them and leaves her desperate, blindly grasping for the peak she was so close to reaching, she could almost feel it already.

With JJ rocking into her at a relaxed, slower rhythm, the pleasure hasn't disappeared completely. It's there, but she can sense the feeling of her orgasm receding as quickly as it had creeped up on her as soon as he slips his hand out from between them.

It's instantly clear to him how desperate she is as all of her previous shyness surrounding having to admit this to him out loud withers away in seconds. She isn't beneath begging again at this point. He could tell her to crawl across the floor to him and she'd happily do it for the chance of touching him. It's pathetic but true. As much as she has him wrapped around her finger, he has done the same to her and she isn't afraid to admit it anymore.

Her hips jerk toward him in search of the familiar frenzy they were in before that sent her to the brink of climax, but he is impressively stubborn. Despite the fact that it physically pains him to dial it back again, he tries to keep the signs of his own frustration at bay. She knew what she had to say to get what she wants, so he'll only cave when she does.

This time around, she doesn't give a fuck about how badly she blushes or the voice in the back of her mind telling her she should keep this side of her to herself. This time, the one thing she needs to do to prompt her to open her mouth and speak the dirty words he asked her less than a moment ago is look at him. One second of staring up at him and here she is, driven mad enough to say or do anything to get him to pick up where they left off.

She says between the soft noises and breaths coming from them both, clinging to him through every slow but deep thrust that sends sparks ricocheting through her body, "I want John B to know I like getting fucked like slut." Her voice is breathless, and he hangs off of each word as she pauses, looking up at him with a challenging attitude swirling in those pretty eyes. "So stop being a tease and fuck me like one."

His jaw clenches at the bratty statement, one he's too far gone to resist at this point, and right when he's about to respond to her, she speaks again.

"Either that," she says, and a deceptively sweet smile crosses her kiss-swollen lips, "or I can go ask him to—"

She doesn't even get the chance to voice the rest of that thought before he's set into motion.

The hands on her hips flip her over with such casual strength, all she can do is yelp in surprise at the sudden movement that blurs the living room in her peripheral version until she lands with her hands and knees pressing into the rug. He was so swift in pulling out of her and tossing her onto her front like she was nothing more than a rag doll, she hardly had the time to take a breath before she ended up here.

There's hardly any time between when he pulled out to flip her over and when he returns to her again, but it feels like an eternity for them. The few second transition might as well be a few years as she feels his hands guiding her body where he wants it, pushing down on her back until it arches just so, and falls down onto her arms. But as soon as she gets situated, she feels a pair of hands yanking her arms away from where they were braced against the floor and put them behind her back.

It's only then, when he has an unflinching grasp on where he keeps her wrists behind her back with one of his hands, that she is met with the relief of him sinking into her again.

Y/N's jaw goes slack, and she cries out into the rug that her cheek is pressed into as he gives her no chance to adjust or catch her breath before resuming the brutal pace they kept a moment ago. Mentioning anyone else but him doing this to her was the quickest way to get him to snap, so it's safe to say that she's getting what she wanted. After all, she did what he asked, it's fair that she gets rewarded for it.

Amidst the sounds of the storm waging war on the landscape outside of the house, the one thing she can hear over the buzzing pleasure that drowns out her senses is the sinful blend of sounds they create together. It's the sound of their bodies merging, his name falling from her lips, and the curses he makes under his breath that never fail to drive her a little wild.

The hand that isn't holding her arms behind her slides down the length of her curved back until it wraps around her throat to pin her down, and her reaction is everything he could ask for. Seeing her rock back against him to meet him halfway makes his grip on her wrists tighten enough to turn his knuckles white.

Her hair is spread in endless directions in a fan around her head, and he can only see one side of her face from where he kneels behind her, but that glimpse is more than enough. Brows scrunched in pleasure, mouth dropped open in a gape as soft 'uh's and 'ah's escape her on the upstroke of each thrust—she's a mess right now. A beautiful, perfect mess.

"Oh God, JJ," she moans between her rapid breaths and the strong hand constricting her neck, "I'm so close. Please, just let me come."

It took virtually nothing for her to be pushed right back to the edge of the peak she was at less than a minute ago. It took a mere half-minute of this and she's once again reduced to incoherent pleas for more and shaking with no control over herself. Her legs tremble with the effort to keep herself up in this position, and she isn't even the one doing most of the work. In all fairness, this change in position has made the intensity triple. It's deeper this way, and with how harshly he slams into her, it's as though she can feel it in the base of her abdomen.

It's the enjoyable type of pain, however, not the bad type. It'll surely end up with her being sore tomorrow, but she can't hide how much she loves the painful pleasure of how rough it's getting. Being denied an orgasm when she was so, so close to it was initially disappointing too, but it was worth it. If the build up to what would've been her climax before was a spark, this is a flourishing fire spreading through her with no chance of smothering the flames.

He lets go of her throat and taps the side of her jaw in a silent request that she picks up immediately, letting her lips fall open to suck his fingers into her mouth without a second of hesitation.

The taste of her arousal on them is faint, but still there, and it occurs to her that she thought about this earlier before things evolved into chaos. Her tongue swirls around the tips of his fingers as he starts to pull them away in what feels like the blink of an eye to her, leaving him to remember what it felt like when her lips were once wrapped around a more sensitive part of him a week and a half ago.

The one other time he let himself remember it was when they were on the boat with the Pogues, yet that wasn't really of his own volition. It was hot out, so Kiara bought ice pops for them and his mind wandered far from where it should've stayed.

Shining with her saliva, his fingers are pulled from her lips with a soft 'pop' in pursuit of that sensitive collection of nerves at the apex of her thighs. She just needs is a little push to go over the edge, and when he slips his hand down her body to rub tight circles onto her clit, she loses whatever remnants of control over herself she had left.

The steady rhythm of her hips moving back against him falters as she is overwhelmed with the separate sensations culminating into one and giving her the push she needs to come. Her entire body tenses up in anticipation, and since she's pinned to the floor with her hands behind her back, she can only lay there and savor the feeling as it hits her.

After what felt like ages of having it build and build within her, then having it taken away to start the process over again, finally being given a release is a relief beyond any she's felt before.

It's so consuming, it takes away her ability to think of anything outside of how it feels to dissolve into the shockwaves of euphoria rushing through her. Every pulsing wave is prolonged by him, not even through the peak of it does he let up on his precise touches and unforgiving thrusts into her that turn a typical orgasm into the most intense thing she's ever felt.

She's melting in his arms through it all, and as if the change in position didn't make it worse, her involuntary spasms leave him hanging on by a thread.

JJ collapses onto her, barely having the chance to keep himself propped up on his arms as he lets go of her wrists and falls forward onto her sweat-slick back.

The heat of his panting exhales raises goosebumps in its wake where his face is buried into the curve of her neck, and he whines at the impossibly tight feeling of her squeezing around his cock through the end of her climax. Those sounds he doesn't realize he's making have her writhing through the aftershocks, answering with a sound of her own that almost makes him come instantly.

For that reason, he makes the decision to pull out and flip her onto her back.

At this point, she's so dazed and fucked out that she doesn't register any of it until she notices the hollow absence of him inside of her, but it doesn't matter when his face appears through the partial darkness above her.

Despite how sensitive she is right now, the sight of him makes her hands reach out blindly to pull him closer again. They're frantic in their need to get back to one another, grasping and clawing until he finds his way back to her in less than a second, hiking her legs up around his waist with a touch that is somehow demanding and tender at the same time.

It's only when he's inside of her again that it occurs to her why he rolled her onto her back again, and it makes her want to kiss him until her lips turn numb. It may be undeniably hotter to pin someone down and fuck them hoarse, but, no, that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be able to look at her, to see her face, and the thought of that has her biting back a sudden confession of love. She isn't sure why she doesn't say it right away, since it isn't like they haven't already done it, but she keeps it to herself for a second first.

It's different now. It's not less passionate or frenetic. It isn't as if he isn't being as rough with her as he was before, but they can both sense a shift in the energy between them as soon as he reenters her. It's less about the pursuit of pleasure and more about the feelings they've kept hidden away for so long. It's a simultaneous realization that hits them a little late after they initially confessed their feelings for each other: this is reality. It's real, and when she touches him this time, he isn't going to disappear if she opens her eyes.

The realization of what happened tonight had yet to hit them until right this second, but now that it has, they move forward with a sense of sentimentality that remained partly dormant before.

If there's anything JJ dislikes, it's being vulnerable. The idea of letting someone in to see every part of him, including the parts he doesn't want to see of himself, has always terrified him after years of being made to believe he's undeserving, yet he isn't uncomfortable right now. Somehow, he feels safe with her. Sex has never been something so emotional for him until now, until her, and he doesn't want it differently.

Their bodies are drawn in close, her arms thrown around his neck, and he's so close, he can feel the muscles leading down past his lower abdomen contract with the inevitable approach of his orgasm. She can sense it too in how he acts.

When he gets close, he becomes clingier and lets his feelings get the better of him. His hands squeeze at her hips, sliding up her sides and back down to hike one of her legs up high around his waist to press deeper into her. He can't bear to allow his touch to stay in one place for too long before exploring another part of her, wanting to memorize the delicate intricacies of her body in its entirety.

It's as if she can read his mind too, cause even when she's sensitive enough to gasp when he pushes her thigh to her chest and throws his remaining energy into fucking her at a satisfying pace, she understands what he needs. She knows to reach up and run her fingers through his hair, to tug on it gently until the light strands are taut from his scalp. She knows to lift her head off of the floor enough to trail tender kisses along his face, his jaw, his neck—anywhere she can access.

"Come for me," she says into a kiss placed on the edge of his cheekbone, reeling in overstimulation as she jolts with his quickening thrusts, "I want to watch you..."

Hearing those words, paired with the kisses and fingers pulling on his hair, does it for him. It doesn't take more for his hips to falter and jerk forward into her a final few times before he comes.

Their foreheads press together as they cling to one another for stability, though it's mostly JJ clinging to her while she watches in adoration, and she has to bite her lip to contain a moan at how it feels. The aftershocks of her orgasm have yet to fade as the feeling of pulsing warmth inside of her makes them stronger, reigniting the fire she felt a moment ago if only for a second.

There's a closeness to this situation that they hadn't felt the last time, and they know it has everything to do with what was said before this happened. The sex itself feels like a dream sequence in her mind now that she's coming down from it with him, moving together slowly and gently beneath the candlelight until they ride out the ends of their highs. It was like they were put under a trance by each other, and now that it's over, the first thoughts that come to mind are of what comes next.

It's not the sole topic on their minds though. They're more focused on catching their breath from where they lay, tangled up together, on the living room floor. As soon as the very last of his orgasm faded from him, he fell onto her without a single ounce of energy left to spare. He's careful not to crush her, but, for the most part, he relaxes on top of her and lets his head rest on her heaving chest.

Strong arms slip down to loop around her waist, and she sure that she couldn't get him to release her if she wanted to, which she doesn't.

But they can't stay like this, not for any longer than a few moments anyway, since they don't know how if John B might wake up and come out of the safety of his bedroom after hours of leaving them to their own devices. JJ was right. He's out cold, but for as much as it turned them on in the heat of the moment, neither of them finds getting caught by him as hot with the clarity of their rational minds coming back to them.

He's the one to break the silence.

"As much as I wanna stay like this, we should probably move in case John B wakes up."

The sound of his voice settles in her with the effects of a sedative. It calms her more than anything else could, especially with the added comfort of him cuddling her so closely. One of her hands strokes through his hair and pushes the damp tendrils of sunshine away from his face as he cranes his neck to look up at her. And, for fuck's sake, what else is she to do except admire him?

His cheeks are dusted pink in a way they often are when he spends too much time outside without one of his hats shielding his face, and she thinks he's never looked better.

Ever since they became friends, she's had this theory about him. In the unrealistic landscape of her overactive imagination, JJ didn't come to this world the way the rest of them did. To her, it seems impossible that someone so good, even in his worst moments, could've come from someone like his dad.

So, in idle moments where she would watch him on a day out with the Pogues or daydream about him, she decided that he's the sun.

She imagines he was created in those breathtaking but brief moments where the sun meets the horizon atop the ocean and washes the sky with a vast array of colors. She likes to think he's the incarnation of it. Golden, warm, and bright for everyone but himself, he keeps the world light for her and their friends without intending to.

Some days are warmer than others too. Some days, the light is dimmed by another bruise beneath his clothes or a bad run-in with some kooks, but today is not like that. This moment is eighty-five and sunny with a balmy breeze. Looking at him right now feels like basking in the sun, and she'd burn here forever if he let her.

Without realizing she zoned out, she jolts when he pinches her arm to rouse her from her ridiculous thoughts. He has this dopey half-smile on his face that nearly draws her back into them again.

"You know what they say," he says, "if you take a picture..."

Her soft laughter invades the room, filling his heart with this light, fluttery feeling that always finds him when she's near. His smile grows as she playfully shoves him and reaches above their heads for her wet shirt to cover up with just in case. Odds are, their friend isn't waking up at the exact moment before they seclude themselves to the spare room and get dressed, but she doesn't wanna take that chance.

"I wasn't staring."

She was totally staring. But who could blame her? When someone looks at a person the way he looks at her, how could they ever stay away?

"Whatever you say."

JJ keeps smiling to himself while he pulls his underwear and shorts up his legs and waits for her to be decent enough to sneak past John B's bedroom to the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

The clothes are soaked through with rainwater, so they feel quite uncomfortable to slip back on, but they merely redress enough to be covered. She stole his shirt to avoid putting her shorts back on, the hem of the grey tee hanging right at the tops of her thighs when she walks. As soon as she slips her panties back on and picks up the rest of their cold, wet clothes, that's the cue he needs to scoop her up and take her away.

Y/N curses under her breath in surprise at feeling her feet being plucked off the ground, but she relaxes again once she's settled in his arms, realizing that it was just him who snuck up behind her and lifted her into his arms.

She doesn't say anything on the way to the bathroom. Instead, she lays her head on his shoulder in exhaustion and finds herself staring at the mark she left behind on his neck.

It's a deep, purplish red against the backdrop of his tan skin...the Pogues will surely notice the next time they see him. And while it will make her blush, it won't make her scared as it once would've. There may be a lingering sense of doubt and insecurity within her, but she wants this with him. Even if it means being teased by their friends or dealing with the jealousy of watching kook girls and tourons at parties hit on him, she wants this.

By the time the shower is spraying the rainwater from her hair and washing her clean of sweat sticking to her skin, she realizes that he isn't saying anything either, but she doesn't think it's out of any awkwardness or miscommunication. There's truly nothing to say, at least for now.

Though they didn't have the chance to talk in depth about everything yet, neither of them thinks of that right now. All they know is that they're together, whether it be officially or not, and it feels good. For once, something in his life feels right, and he lets himself enjoy it in silence.

The shower is a cramped space when shared between them and the wet clothes they have draped over the back edge of the tub, but they make it work. It's not like they mind anyway.

They bump into one another whenever they do so much as breathe, and the white walls echo the sounds of her giggling when he tries to tickle her. She leans her head back against his chest and lets out a laugh with shampoo dripping down the front of her face, and he'll be damned if he ever heard a sound as intoxicating as that.

It's a little weird. He's never been as soft and loving with a person before, and he has already felt overwhelmed in the lulls of quiet between them when he's given the chance to think about it.

When she washes his hair for him, insisting that she must return the favor after he so kindly washed hers, he was struck with the same mixture of wanting to simultaneously lean into and pull away from her that he felt the night of the party.

The warmth of the water loosens his sore muscles, washing suds of the green apple scented shampoo over his shoulders and down, down, down until it circles the drain beside his feet. All the while, her fingertips are delicately tracing over a healing bruise on his torso. Those pretty lips of hers are painted in a suppressed frown that she can't hide from him.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

His instant reaction is to fake a smile, to brush it off and distract her as he usually does, yet he doesn't. He forces himself to remain neutral and not push her away.

"Happens all the time," he murmurs, shrugging and averting his eyes to reach for the soap off on the ledge.

The hands holding either side of his waist tighten as he tries to turn, pulling him back to her with more strength than he knew to anticipate from her. Their chests gently collide back together beneath the stream of water, and she can feel his breathing catch for a second or so in response.

The fact that their relationship has changed doesn't change how she handles this aspect of his life. Their new confessions don't have an impact on the part of his life he never wants to let anyone see, so she isn't going to force him to talk about it because they're trying out this whole relationship thing now. He has hard boundaries that she knows not to push sometimes. That's the way it is, and it might change as they grow closer but she knows to accept it for the moment.

As soon as he hears what she has to say next, he could crumble in relief at the realization that their new dynamic doesn't change anything.

"I didn't necessarily mean...that...I meant generally, you know? It's just that—" she sighs, "you shrink away a little when I hold you, and I wondered if I was making you uncomfortable."

Before she could finish the sentence, JJ was already thinking of what to say to prove her wrong, because that's not it. That's not what it is, and if she thinks she's done anything wrong, he'll do anything to convince her otherwise because it isn't her. It's him.

It's his dad lingering in the darker trenches of his mind, commanding his fear and attention so that even when he isn't physically present, he's still here. Part of why he denied wanting her was because he knew these types of things would arise in the beginning, that there would be difficult adjustments to make and conversations to be had, and he didn't want her to leave him as soon as she was faced with one of these things.

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything."

The feeing of her chest rising and falling with his begins to steady him after a moment of allowing the initial hesitation to dissolve. His internal reaction to her touch is the mental incarnation of a flinch. It's him waiting for the other shoe to drop and expecting her to do something, to hurt him, before his mind catches up with his heart. But once he realizes everything's okay, he loves it.

"It's kinda embarrassing, but I guess when you touch me, I'm expecting something else," he says softly, scared that if he speaks too loudly, everyone in the world will know how weak he feels.

She should've figured, but hearing him say it is different than wondering what the reasoning behind it is. Hearing him admit it after months of strict avoidance on the topic is a sucker punch to the gut.

Both times they had sex, he was too distracted and thoughtless to get caught up in that part of himself, but it's when the bliss of the afterglow disappears that it creeps back in. That's why he could always handle touch when it came in that context. It was his way of obtaining what he wanted without having to face this side of it—a temporary fix to a greater web of issues.

But there's nothing temporary about her. He doesn't want her to leave him, not without him resisting the urge to beg her on his knees to stay and at least remain his friend, so there's no choice but to face these momentary challenges head on.

She pauses for a second, thinking, then says, "You don't have to be embarrassed about it, I get it. We'll just have to take it day by day then. We can take it slow, and you'll let me know if it gets to be too much, okay?"

It's hard not to be shocked by how well she's taking it. A lot of people probably wouldn't feel too great after someone they love tells them they expect to be hit whenever they touch them, yet she's taking it in stride.

Things are back to normal as soon as she sees the grin on his face.

"So, you're saying you're gonna be trying not to throw yourself at me all the time?" JJ asks, then clicks his tongue as though in thought. "I give you a week. Tops."

Her eyes go wide as she looks at him. She holds her hand over her heart as she pretends to be scandalized by such an accusation, but they know it's true. They both can't keep their hands off of one another, which is why it confuses him. How can he want to reject and enjoy her touch at the same time? Sure, the discomfort disappears after the first split-second, but the fact that it happens in the first place annoys him to no end.

She rolls her eyes and tries to hide the fact that she's giggling as she reaches for the soap.

"You're a little shit, you know that?"

He doesn't miss a beat, saying back, "Yeah but I'm your little shit, so I feel like that says more about you than it does me."

While he's too busy rinsing the rest of the shampoo out of his hair, she smiles to herself at what he said.

Hers.

Nobody has ever been hers before, or proclaimed themselves as belonging to her as proudly and casually as he just did, and her heart melts over the sweet sentiment he didn't think twice about.

Less than a day ago, she was agonizing over her relationship with him and trying to ignore how powerful those feelings for him were, and now they're here. She no longer has to steal glances when he looks away or hide how jealous she feels when other girls flirt with him. To finally let the tension disappear is an immense weight off of her shoulders.

The rest of the shower is as quiet as the start of it was, and that comfortable silence continues through from when they're drying off and redressing to when they hit the mattress in the spare bedroom with tired sighs.

After the day they had, the mere suggestion of sleep is enough to make them start yawning, so being able to slip beneath the sheets and rest their heads almost sings her to sleep instantly.

Their bodies are laying in the exact outlines of where they laid the night of the party, the only difference this time being their mindsets. This time around, they aren't holding themselves back from anything, and it's most evident in the little things. Like how she doesn't turn around to shield her face from him, instead laying with her head propped on the other end of his favorite pillow.

They're so close, their noses brush if they make any slight movements, and this would be enough for him to submit to the urge to drift into sleep if not for the fact that he feels her jolt when thunder rumbles loudly outside of the window.

Much like his own fears being pushed to the side amidst their desire for each other, her anxiety about the storm wasn't on her mind until they laid down to sleep.

She was so wrapped up in him and everything that happened between them that she didn't have the time to think again until now, until she hears the violent patter of rain against the roof and feels her stomach drop at the sound of the thunder. Suddenly, she's not the one reassuring him about his fearful reactions, it's the other way around.

His warm hand takes hers, snatching it up as though he's worried it'll disappear if he doesn't take it quickly enough, and she lets him. Her eyes flutter shut with the release of a slow, deep breath, and she lets the presence of his hand in hers bring her back to earth.

JJ asks into the darkness, "Can I take you out on a real date?" After a beat of silence, the comforting sound of his voice returns to her. "Not that this isn't fun, but I think you deserve a little more effort than John B's living room floor."

A short-lived chuckle escapes her—a win as far as he's concerned. It's difficult to lure her head from the clouds when she gets this way, and it isn't like he has much experience with calming her during these moments either, but that sounded good to him. It sounded like she wasn't thinking about the increased pace of her heart or the howling wind outside.

He was planning on asking anyway. However fitting of a first night together this was, he wants to take her out for real sometime soon. He doesn't have much money for it, like at all, but they can come up with something special together, even if it's similar to the same shit they usually do together. As long as it's time alone together, they don't necessarily care if it's a perfectly traditional first date.

The tip of his thumb rubs comforting circles onto the back of her hand in the brief time it takes her to respond, stroking the soft skin as if to tell her that everything's okay. It seems to say, I'm right here. Nothing can hurt you. And it might make her crazy, but she believes him. JJ could take her back out into the eye of the hurricane at this very moment and she'd still believe his unspoken promise of not letting her into harm's way.

"Of course," she says, then pauses, and the sound of her sleepy voice hardly reaches his ears when she speaks again, "...I'm sorry I avoided you for the past few days. I was scared to tell you how I felt but I shouldn't have left that morning."

The memory of waking up in his arms is fresh in the forefront of her mind, so much so that she can remember the way his breath felt where it exhaled in warm puffs onto her skin.

In the first few moments of consciousness, it was peaceful.

She laid awake for a minute or two to count his breaths and soak in the comfort of being cuddled up next to him, wishing she could stay there for hours. It wasn't until another moment passed that it clicked with her where she was and what was going on between them recently, and that was what prompted her to slip away from the bed to get ready for her day at work.

It was the second time in a row that she left him in that bed with nothing to wake up to but the cold absence of her body between the sheets he slept under, and he can't deny that it's part of why he holds onto her hand so tightly tonight. Even though she's promised him otherwise, he can't help but think she'll be gone by the time he wakes up. At this point, he's struggling to stay conscious. She can see those pretty eyes drooping more and more by the second, yet the hand holding hers doesn't loosen its grip.

He takes a deep breath and scoots closer to her, keeping his one hand in hers while the other arm drapes itself over her waist, and he can feel her relax into the touch.

"It's okay," he says.

It's easier for him to adjust to so much physical contact when he's the one initiating. He knows that's why she only reached out to hold his hand. If she had it her way, she would've already been cuddling with him as soon as they laid down, but he likes that she gives him the space to initiate it. In the ways it counts the most, she cares about him more than anyone else has.

The touch in itself is his way of accepting her apology. However, truth be told, he already forgave her for it before knowing his love was reciprocated could be a possibility.

Right when she's about to fall asleep, the screen door slamming open and shut with the wind on the back porch makes her whip her head around to look over her shoulder in the direction of the sound. It seems like every time he successfully distracts her from it, the storm finds new ways of reminding her of what's happening outside of the safety of the Chateau.

There's the sound of a barely audible, sharp inhale, then her whispering into the dark room as she looks at the closed door, "I can't believe I went out into that. What the fuck was I thinking?"

It's beginning to close in on her again; the sounds of the storm, the sense of being trapped no matter how safe they truly are, and the rising tidal wave of anxiety that picks up speed the more she tries to will it to stop. This is the part where she tries to relieve it in some way, usually by smoking weed to sleep or going to one of her parents so they can help her through it, but she can't help herself right now.

Debris was being picked and tossed around in the wind like it weighed nothing when she was out there, she could've been knocked into the marsh or struck by a piece of debris.

How could she be so stupid?

Not only could she have hurt herself, she could've hurt JJ knowing that he'd likely follow her out into the storm to bring her back inside, and the thought of him being hurt makes the tension in her chest heavier. Her breathing picks up speed, the anxiety starting to snowball out of control when—

"Hey, look at me," JJ says, reaching up to turn her head to face him, and she damn near crumbles in relief at feeling his hand cup her cheek. It doesn't make it all disappear, but it provides a momentary comfort that she doesn't take for granted. "You're safe here. You know damn well I'll do anything to protect you. I mean, shit, dude, if I have to go out there and tell that rain to fuck off, I will."

This draws out a laugh from her, chest stuttering with the happy sound through the tears glistening in her eyes, and he never wants to stop hearing it. His thumb swipes away the first teardrop that falls before it can slip over the apples of her cheeks. I'm Her quiet cries and shaky breaths continue for a while after the laughter disappears. For a second or two, he watches with his thumb still wiping her tears away and hopes that it'll be enough to comfort her, but it can't do it completely.

He pulls away from her to get up from the bed with an idea popping into his mind, but upon hearing her whine at the loss of contact with him, he pauses to say, "I'll be back quick, don't worry."

The remaining humorous side of her left wonders if he's actually gonna go tell the rain to fuck off, but he's just opening the bedroom door to trot out into the living room.

A candle burning on the coffee table illuminates the space for him, guiding him straight to the forgotten backpack she left slumped against the arm of the couch hours before their relationship was changed for the better. It takes him an instant to get there and back with the bag in hand, and he's digging through it for a second before climbing back into bed with her.

If anyone else rifled through her bag, sifted through her personal belongings, and dug her phone out of it, she'd probably be annoyed, but she never is with him. She's inherently protective of her things, but JJ can do whatever he wants and it has always been that way. It should've been the first warning of what was to come.

He pulls the sheet back over his body and scoots up close to her, trying to resist the urge to retreat at first when he maneuvers her to lay with her head on his shoulder. It should trigger the flight or fight response that often alarms in his head, but he's able to push it away.

She's so vulnerable right now, so gentle and in need of the warmth of another person that he isn't as intimidated. It's not that she couldn't hurt him if she wanted to right now, she could, but he knows her. He knows that the last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt him, so he has to remind himself of that and give himself the permission to enjoy the physical intimacy of her touch. The part of him that questions if he even deserves it can't reach him now, not when he's so focused on her.

"Thumb?" he asks with the phone held out expectantly.

The screen is less than two inches from her face, so she has to push it back slightly, but she flattens her thumb to the button without further hesitation.

When he unwraps the pair of headphones from around the palm of his hand and plugs them into the charging port, she realizes why he left in the first place.

When she was facing away from him, eyes shut and headphones in to distract herself with music earlier, he was stealing glances at her every so often. He tried to keep away from her for the most part. It was difficult though, especially knowing what she said about being jealous the night of the party and knowing how scared she was of the hurricane. He couldn't help but keep an eye on her, for both his own selfish needs and his worry for her.

He keeps an arm tucked around her, pressing her body into his while he pops one of the headphones into her ear and the other into his. The thing is, her eyes aren't trained on the screen like his are once he starts looking through her vast collection of not-so-legally acquired music for a song that suits both of their tastes, they're trained on him.

Their taste in music tends to diverge in certain ways and overlap in others, so there's always a fifty/fifty shot of him liking what she plays when she's the one picking the music. That is why he smiles to himself and halts the endless scrolling in its tracks to hover his thumb over one song.

He obviously heard it before she played it that one time, but it's different for him now. They were riding together in the backseat of the Twinkie on the way to the beach with John B, Kie, and Pope when they let her take her turn to play a song.

That's how it is with them, the driver goes first, then it goes to the front seat passenger, and so on and so on until they make their way back to the beginning of the rotation. It was her turn when she picked this song, and it could've been the song, or the sunset shining through the window, but he felt as though his heart exploded when he looked at her in the middle of it.

He remembers feeling confused, confused as to why he couldn't catch his breath and why he suddenly adored the song he only heard casually a couple of times.

It was her. It was everything about her. The soft hum of her voice murmuring the lyrics, too shy to actually sing them in the presence of anyone else, was too delicate for the others to appreciate over the sounds of the van. He heard it though. He clung to it and admired her, so unashamed in his staring that he didn't realize he was doing it. It wasn't until she noticed that he stopped.

"Do I still have ice cream on my face or something?"

Her fingers came up to wipe at the corner over her mouth, and the action sent him turning his attention away quicker than he knew he could move, pulling the lighter out of his pocket to fiddle with as he mumbled, "Yeah, but you got it off now."

The cheery melody of Just Like Heaven bursts out of each headphone into their ears.

How did he know? How is he constantly reading her mind without realizing it?

This was her first song on the couch that she couldn't stand to sit through without thinking, naturally, of him when confronted with the topic of love. Somehow, it's like he knew that, and instead of feeling exposed and scared he'll know her feelings like before, she feels loved.

She is never skipping this song again.

"Go to sleep," he murmurs, clicking the screen off and resting it on his stomach.

It takes him a short thirty seconds to fall into an easy, calm pattern of breathing that tells her he isn't asleep, but soon will be. But she's fighting her sleepiness to continue looking at him. His eyes are fluttered shut, hair messy on the pillow, and she'd want to reach up to kiss him if he weren't trying to fall asleep.

Instead, she settles for matching her quickened breaths to the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand and shuts her eyes along with him.

By the time the song reaches its end, she thinks he's asleep, but she still whispers, "Thank you," and feels his arm squeeze around her body in response.

The next songs fade into white noise at this point for her, drowning out the storm to the point where she begins to forget it's happening out there.

Maybe they can be each other's safe place when things get rough. After all, he handled this wonderfully considering his lack of experience with her anxiety and she never pushes him on his plethora of unsorted issues, even when she wants so badly to be the one to initiate the touch.

She never makes him think she pities him, or wants to "fix" him like so many partners with savior complexes who will never try to understand how it feels often do in these situations. With each other, maybe it doesn't have to be so complicated anymore, even when they have those inevitable arguments here or there.

The last thing he does before allowing himself to be dragged under is brush his lips on her forehead in a tender kiss. And when he eventually wakes to the rising sun shining through the windows in the aftermath of the violent hurricane, she's still there.

Tag List: @jjjmaybank, @its-simply-fanfiction, @naughtydild0swaggins.

[bbangsoonie]

backdoor

member: jaehyun (hyunjae) genre: fluff (requested) word count: 3,120 synopsis: jaehyun has always been your rival. so when he bets that he could make you fall for him, you can’t back down and say no. but when you’re too confident, you let your guard done.

backdoor: a term used in league of legends; when you secretly attack the enemy’s nexus while they’re focused elsewhere. this is done by sneaking into the enemy base and taking them by surprise

Lee Jaehyun was the cockiest and most annoying person you had ever met. You would think that growing up as childhood “friends” would make you two close. After all, your parents were best friends with his parents.

But no, you and Jaehyun had been rivals ever since you were both enrolled into a tennis club as young children. You always had the upper hand until he suddenly hit puberty and became a lot more physically fit than you. Once he started beating you in nearly every match, he became your #1 enemy.

He had always been super competitive and made everything into a contest. Who could run to the car faster? Who could receive a higher score on the exam? Who could make the other lose their temper first?

With high school came his sudden increase in popularity. It inflamed his ego to the max, which irked you to no end.

Every Valentine’s Day, he would brag about all the gifts and confessions he received. And every White Day, he would compare the numbers to yours.

He was loved by the girls for being a casanova and admired by the guys for his athleticism and gaming skills.

You, on the other hand, could not comprehend why the entire school was infatuated with him. You had your eyes on someone else. Kim Sunwoo. He had caught your attention since the first day of freshman year. Now, as a senior, you were about to graduate without ever making a move.

You were too shy to approach him. You couldn’t even find a common interest to naturally bring up and talk about. All he ever did was make music and play League of Legends.

So you found Jacob during lunch and practically begged him to teach you how to play the game.

“Please please please?” you whined.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I can’t,” Jacob said apologetically. “I have basketball practice every day. Besides, I haven’t played in almost half a year. I’m rusty.”

“I just need you to teach me the basics!”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Sighing, you gave up and slumped in your seat. You poked at the food in front of you with a pout.

“Did I just hear the Y/n ask Jacob to teach her how to play League?” Jaehyun suddenly popped out of nowhere.

“Fuck off,” you rolled your eyes at him as you set your chopsticks down.

“You know, I’m the highest ranked player in our school,” he said smugly. You wanted nothing but to wipe that look off his face.

You ignored him and took a sip of your water. Jacob awkwardly glanced between you and Jaehyun as he tightly held onto his spoon. He could sense another argument coming.

“I can teach you if you want,” Jaehyun offered.

“I don’t want,” you coldly rejected.

“Of course you don’t,” he scoffed. “You’re too afraid to spend time with me because you might realize that you actually like me.”

“Oh please. There are a few things in this world that will never change. The sun rising from the east, the sun setting in the west, and my hatred for you,” you said.

“Well if you hate me that much, then let’s make a bet out of it. The first one to fall for the other’s seducing loses,” he smirked.

Still stuck in the middle, Jacob shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“You don’t have to accept the challenge if you’re not confident,” Jaehyun shrugged, making you narrow your eyes at him.

A list of pros and cons was being made in your head as you contemplated the crazy suggestion. The logical part of your mind wanted nothing to do with him. You knew that stooping down to his level was childish. You had much better things to do than go along with his bet.

The competitive part of you, however, couldn’t bear to back down. You would have to deal with him flaunting over you and calling you a coward if you didn’t agree to this.

So you disregarded all rationale and crossed your arms with a curt “deal”.

The walk to school the next day was full of complaints as you whined about falling for Jaehyun’s trick and Kevin chided you for it.

“I don’t know why you thought it would be a good idea,” Kevin tsk-ed. “He makes your blood boil within seconds. How are you going to hold back from tearing him apart? Never mind flirt with him.”

“I’m already regretting it,” you groaned.

“Speaking of the devil,” Jacob coughed, nudging you.

You looked up to see Jaehyun waiting by the school gates. He was holding a bouquet of flowers and every girl who passed by whispered to their friend about it. To everyone’s shock, he walked up to you and handed you the flowers.

“So it starts now?” you stared at the roses. “You call this seducing?”

“I call this romantic,” he grinned.

Rolling your eyes, you handed Kevin the bouquet and walked away. He awkwardly chased after you as Jacob offered Jaehyun a pat on the shoulder.

“She doesn’t like roses. She thinks they’re cliché,” he said before leaving.

When the dismissal bell rang, Jaehyun was waiting for you outside of your classroom. Hushed whispers erupted again as your classmates tried to figure out why he was being so affectionate to you. It was no secret that you two never got along.

After gathering your belongings, you grabbed your backpack and left without sparing him another glance. Unfazed, he easily caught up to you and slung his arm around your shoulder.

“What? Are you wavering already?” he teased.

“Not a chance,” you scoffed.

“As a part of the bet, I can teach you how to play League. That’s what you wanted anyway. Think of it as killing two birds with one stone.”

You ignored all the incredulous looks you received with Jaehyun by your side as you left the school grounds. You didn’t realize that you weren’t headed home until you stopped in front of a PC Room. Puzzled, you stared at the building in front of you.

“I promised that I’d teach you. Our first lesson starts today,” he said as he dragged you inside.

Your brain was bombarded with a whole new world. You struggled to keep up as he rambled on about bots and gold. He was showing you a demonstration by playing a round but your inability to multitask made it difficult to understand what was going on on the screen.

“My main is Jace and I usually go jungle,” he explained and you pretended to understand by nodding. At your silence, he eyed your expression and chuckled.

“So is Sunwoo the reason why you’re suddenly interested in League?” he asked, catching you off guard.

“How did you know?” you gaped.

“You thought I wouldn’t notice your little crush on him?” he raised a brow.

You were taken aback to say the least. You didn’t think he paid much attention to you other than when he was bored and wanted to mess around.

“Anyway, he usually goes mid as Zed,” he shrugged. “To be honest, the best way for you to bond with him through the game is for him to play ADC and for you to be support.”

“As if I know what all that means,” you frowned.

At that moment, his character died and the screen went gray. You snickered, earning a light flick on your forehead.

“ADC stands for attack damage carry. It’s the champion who usually does the most attacking. They go in the bottom lane with whoever’s playing support. Supports are supposed to aid and heal the ADC. So you would follow and communicate with them.”

“Sounds complicated,” your nose wrinkled in distaste.

“Sounds fun,” he corrected before turning back to the computer.

The next day, Jaehyun surprised you with a small potted plant in front of the gates.

“Since you don’t like roses, I got you a succulent instead,” he said proudly.

Next to you, Kevin giggled and Jacob let out a soft “aww”. Slightly touched yet also slightly embarrassed, you took it from him in a hurry and stormed off.

“You’re slowly getting there,” Jacob laughed as Kevin shot him a thumbs up.

Smiling, Jaehyun watched as they ran to catch up with you. He heard you yell at them after what was probably a teasing remark. You then began to chase Kevin, who ran away shrieking.

After two weeks of spending hours at the PC Room after school, you were starting to get a hang of the game. You found Teemo, who you insisted was a dog (he’s actually a rodent), and gushed over how cute he is.

Jaehyun made fun of your champion choice and shook his head as he explained that Teemo was the most hated character.

“Why? He’s adorable!” you defended. “And I love the little eggs he plants.”

“For the nth time, those are mushrooms! Not eggs,” he exclaimed. “And that’s exactly why everyone hates him. He’s so annoying.”

“You’re annoying,” you shot back.

“Well, Teemo’s not an option right now,” he pointed out.

He was teaching you how to play Howling Abyss that day. And playing ARAM meant your champion would be randomly given.

“Oh! The cute cat is available,” you excitedly clicked.

“That’s Yuumi and that’s actually not a bad choice,” he nodded in approval. “You just have to attach onto me and heal me.”

You hated to admit that you had grown closer with Jaehyun. Only a couple of weeks had passed by since the bet and you didn’t completely despise him anymore.

He gifted you something small each morning, whether it was a plant or piece of bread. He was always waiting for you at the gates. Dating rumors were already circulating the school but you hadn’t forgotten about the bet. You were determined to win it.

Which was why you began to wake up earlier to put on makeup and even complimented him during games. It was easy to make him smile. All you needed to do was throw a lame joke in here and there and he would burst out in laughter.

It was almost suspiciously easy. He was too willing to respond to your advances and never put up a wall.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t get on your nerves. His antics still bothered you to no end.

On the way home, he insisted on feeding you ice cream instead of having you hold it yourself. Except he kept pulling the spoon back when you opened your mouth to eat it.

The first time, you gave him a dirty look. The second time, you punched his arm. The third time, you gave him the finger and walked off after a “fuck you”.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” he laughed.

Once again, you were reminded of how immature he was.

“So has there been any progress?” Kevin asked.

It was gym period and all the students were running around in the field. Jacob was playing volleyball with Jaehyun while you and Kevin were sitting on the sidelines.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged.

“It would be the best enemies-to-lovers trope if you two actually end up dating like this,” he commented.

“Never,” you snorted in disbelief.

You had seen Jaehyun ever since he was a snotty little kid. Even back then, he was a mischievous brat. There was no way you could ever see him as anything but that.

The teacher blew his whistle, signaling the end of gym class. You got up, dusted your pants, and skipped down the steps. Unfortunately, you landed wrong and felt a sharp pain in your ankle as you fell down.

After Kevin shouted your name, Jaehyun turned his head to see you on the ground. Without thinking twice, he ran towards you and asked if you were okay. When you couldn’t reply, he put you on his back with Kevin’s help and sprinted to the nurse’s office.

Your heart was beating fast but you couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why. Was it because of the pain? Or all the attention you were receiving from your classmates?

By the time you reached the office, your ankle was throbbing and swelling up. The nurse was nowhere to be seen so Jaehyun retrieved an ice pack himself and wrapped a towel around it before applying it.

You were sitting on a cot while he was bent down to tend to your wound. His forehead was wrinkled with worry and you stared at him. This was the first time he had ever treated you with such gentleness.

“I don’t think you broke anything but it’s definitely gonna hurt for at least a week,” he winced in vicarious pain.

You suddenly didn’t know how to act around him. You weren’t used to receiving sympathy from him.

“Uh that’s okay,” you coughed to cover up the awkwardness. You’d rather have him make fun of you for being clumsy. But instead, he seemed genuinely concerned for you.

“You should’ve been more careful,” he scolded.

There was something about the way he looked at you. His eyes were no longer playful but you couldn’t figure out what emotions hid behind those eyes.

Those eyes. His eyes clouded your mind. For some reason, you couldn’t get it out of your head.

You found yourself avoiding him as you struggled to organize your thoughts. Or rather, your feelings.

Wanting to distract yourself, you decided to finally talk to Sunwoo. Surely, spending time with him would help you forget about Jaehyun.

So you mustered up the courage to ask him out on a date. To your surprise, he happily agreed and suggested that you watch a movie together. There was a new romcom film that came out and that he had been wanting to watch.

The date wasn’t as awkward as you thought it would be. Sunwoo’s goofiness offset any nervousness and it was fun to be around him. But yet, it also wasn’t as heart fluttering as you thought it would be.

Perhaps you had idealized him too much in your imagination. Your romantic feelings for him dissipated and you saw him as a good friend. Luckily, he felt the same.

However, word about your date had already spread by the time you got to school on Monday. It had reached Jaehyun’s ears and his expression hardened when he saw you laughing with Sunwoo at lunch.

He knew what the ugly feeling in his stomach was. And he wasn’t happy about it. So he reacted in the only way he knew. By clinging to your side and pestering you.

He spent the whole day messing up your hair and being sarcastic. Eventually, you finally snapped and told him to piss off.

“I’ll consider it if you can beat me in tennis today,” he said.

You crossed your arms, wondering what was going on in his head. You hadn’t been able to defeat him since middle school.

“If you can get a single ball past me, I’ll leave you alone,” he proposed. With a huff, you reluctantly agreed. It would be faster to just get it over with.

That was how you two ended up at a tennis court after school. He never went easy on you but he was going especially hard that day. He gave you no breaks and flung the ball back at you with what felt like all his strength. Ball after ball flew past you as he grabbed another one to start again.

“What the hell, Lee Jaehyun?” you yelled across the court. “Why the fuck are you so aggressive today?”

“Are you giving up?” he taunted while bouncing the ball.

“Oh hell no,” you grumbled as you got in position.

Another half an hour passed by with him beating you again and again. You were drenched in sweat and starting to feel sore. But you refused to give him the pleasure of watching you admit defeat.

So you kept going until the ball accidentally hit your shoulder. The amount of force he put into that backhand made you yelp in pain as you dropped the racket.

Startled, Jaehyun ran over to make sure you were okay.

“You just can’t bear to see me win once, can you?” you glared as you shoved his hand away. “You turn everything into a competition and act like you’re superior over me.”

“I-I didn’t mean to do that,” his brows furrowed in guilt.

“Didn’t mean to do what? Make my childhood a living hell by ruining my favorite sport? Use my crush on Sunwoo to trick me into another stupid bet? Confuse me into thinking that you might actually not hate me?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Then why are you so clingy?”

“Because I like you!”

His words brought upon silence. The tension in the air was thick as you both stared at each other.

“You’re so dense,” he sighed. “I wanted your attention, okay? But back then, I was a kid and didn’t know how to stay by your side without annoying the hell out of you. And then I didn’t know how to transition out of that.”

He fidgeted with a loose string on his shirt and took a deep breath before continuing.

“This stupid bet was supposed to change our relationship. I was supposed to show you that I’m not as bad as you think I am. That I’m a guy too. That I’ve been in love with you for a whole decade now.”

To say you were surprised would be a massive understatement. All your life, you had been sure that Jaehyun’s purpose in life was to irritate you. So when your heart began to skip around him, you cursed yourself for giving into the hormones that made you see him in a different light. You never thought that the feelings would be reciprocated.

“You don’t feel the same way? At all?” he carefully asked.

Your mouth opened but no words came out. You couldn’t find the right words to answer his question.

“You’re not saying no,” the corners of his lips curved up.

He took a step closer to you and held your cheeks. You felt your heart race at the proximity and froze.

“For confirmation?” his lips ghosted over yours. You barely managed to nod slightly before he closed the gap between you two.

As cheesy as it sounded, you felt sparks fly the moment you had your first kiss. By the time he pulled away, you felt your cheeks heat up.

“So I guess that means I won the bet before it even began,” you joked, making him laugh.

“Yes, yes you did,” he smiled as he hugged you.

[shotofire]

Butler

Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

Overview: Levi is a butler for your family, and you can’t help but fancy him

Warnings: Cursing, pushy parents, angst, smut, fingering, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, age gap (legal of course), that filthy talk (mild), hair pulling, slight choking

Requested by @heyyharuhi (thank you for this request, as soon as i read the idea i started on it)

Okay, i’m going to admit.... i’m too lazy to proof read this. Work is kicking my ass and i just want to sleep. hopefully i didn’t fuck up too bad. I tend to type faster than my mind is thinking... so i apologize in advance for the typos. enjoy :)

-

The room is hot, almost enough to make ones skin feel as if it’s on fire. Maybe that had to do with the anger everyone at the dinner table is feeling. The scrunching face of your father and mother as the look of disbelief is spread across their features. Not to mention how silent it is, so uncomfortably silent. The sound of your fork scraping across the table is all that can be heard.

Your father takes in a deep breath, eyes closing in utter frustration. “Tell me again why you don’t like this boy? He’s taken you out to dinner several times now, and has been very kind to our family,” you can only roll your eyes at your fathers words. All they care about is setting you up with a wealthy stuck up man, not someone who will bring happiness. “And every time he flirted with the waitress,” you snap, “also, he has horrible manners.”

It’s sad the situation you’re in, really. This has been going in the family for years, the children not getting to choose who they marry. Of course they could’ve rejected and rejected until their parents gave up, but no one has been able to push through. Your mother is a perfect example with having to marry your father. A stuck up man who you’ve never even seen smile at your mother, it’s saddening. “The man has money, lots of it, and you know how much we’re struggling right now,” your mother says with the same look of disbelief.

The double doors to the dining room swing open, making the conversation come to a pause. There he stood, your butler, with a tray of freshly poured drinks. He has the same expressionless look as always as he strides over to the table setting each cup down. As his body stands close to yours, you can’t help but take in how good he smells. Yes it may come off as creepy, but you’d never encountered a man who smelled so fresh. Like a flower garden.

“Thank you, Levi,” you say with a small smile. Your parents never thank him or even acknowledge him and it pisses you off. The man must be in a horrible situation financially if he’s willing to put up with your parents. They always complain about money yet have maids, chefs, and butlers. As if they can’t do anything for themselves. Levi nods at you with a small smirk in reply before exciting the room.

The rest of dinner goes in, filled with arguments and insults. Just a regular night in this family. It’s frustrating, really, how your parents only care about money. They don’t even care for you, or even themselves. All the two want is to appear rich to everyone else. It’s all about image, that’s it. Why care about those things when you can have love and happiness? That’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Since you were a teen, your parents have been shoving stuck up boy after stuck up boy in your direction. Each one has bragged about their live’s, and how women love them. None have even bothered to ask you a personal question. To get to know you in anyway. Each one saw women as a pretty thing to wear on their arms for public gatherings. And any other time you’d just be seen as another maid to them, it’s the sad truth.

Women are pushed around by men, especially in this life style. All that matters is money and looks. Love won’t get your name respected by others, that’s the power of money. The people you call your parents have never been affectionate towards one another, not that you’ve ever witnessed. It’s not wonder they only ended up having one child. Usually by this age, in your family at least, people are married. Some even have a kid of their own on the way. But you just keep rebelling until they give up, that’s what you’re hoping for.

It’s late now and the hallways are dimly lit, not a sound to be heard. At times like this your mind wanders. Thinking about Levi, which isn’t a good idea. Sure he’s really good looking, but there’s no way he could be interested. When he’d first started coming around, a few months ago, you immediately wanted to get closer to him. Then you learned of his age which was something you definitely weren’t expecting. The man looked around the same age as you.

The sound of a faint hum can be heard from down the hall. It sounds like it’s coming from the living area. As you round the corner you see him standing there. Levi sat on the couch with a book perched in his hands, the lamp lit up next to him. His eyes move to your frame and jumps at your presence. The maids and butlers have their own area of the home to stay in during the night, which is really shitty may you add. He shouldn’t be here during this time. If your parents were to see him there they’d throw a fit.

Before he could react you’re walking towards him, sitting next to him on the red sofa. “What are you reading?” Levi is at a loss for words, really, this has his heart racing. Yet he manages to choke out, “Just some cheap poetry book.” The two of you had only talked a handful of times, and it was never real conversation. The man has always found you beautiful and can’t believe you haven’t gotten married yet. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” You ask and he lets out a small laugh, “Couldn’t you ask yourself that?”

Levi feels his chest tighten as you move closer to him, looking at the pages of his book. This whole things was off to him. The man had never seen you in anything but a dress, yet here you were in nothing but a shirt and shorts. He always imagined you to sleep in some sort of fancy silk nightgown. And yes, he thinks about what you wear to bed. He has scolded himself for where his mind has gone to thinking about you, but he can’t help himself. You’ve always been so kind to him.

“You should let me borrow this book sometime,” you say with a small smile. You’re inches away from his face now, eyes peering into one another’s. “Of course,” he gulps. The room fell silent. He isn’t sure if he is reading this moment correctly. One thing he is sure of is he’s definitely not the type of man you need to get caught up with. As this thought crosses his mind he’s quick to stand up off the sofa. “It’s getting late, I should get to bed.” Before you can say a word, he’s walking out of the room.

Complete and utter failure. That was your chance to get closer to him and you ended up scaring him off. Did you come across too forward? Sure you’d gotten rather close to him but you didn’t that that was too far. Was it? You let out a loud huff before falling face first into a pillow, groaning into it.

You were just a young girl who couldn’t decide her future, what could you possibly offer him? He’s older and has his shit figured out, it seems like it at least. As you mentally scold yourself for embarrassing yourself, Levi is in his room doing the same exact thing. He has found you breathtaking from day one and constantly wanted to get to know you. Then the moment you two are alone he panicked.

The man is grown, almost forty, and has been with countless women. Not to brag, he’s just never been one for settling. Then here comes a girl, younger and less experienced than him yet he’s the one choking up. Maybe it was the thought of your parents finding out that got the best of him. They may actually die of shock if they knew you even talked to him in the way you did, in your sweet voice. Or worse, they’d kill Levi themselves.

-

The next day rolls around, then the next, and so on. It seems like Levi is avoiding you to the furthest extent that he can and it’s really pissing you off. You don’t think he’s required to like you, but you’re still kind to him. You still try and brighten his day with a smile or a simple, “how are you?” Yet he won’t even stick around long enough for you to ask. Did you make him that uncomfortable? You’d rather hear him reject you then have this awkwardness floating in the air.

Knowing that you could’ve possibly made him feel uncomfortable really started to eat at your conscious. For awhile you stopped wandering the halls at night searching for him. Most of the times, after the first encounter, he’d hurry off at the first sight of you. Even through all of this your desire for him only seems to grow more intense.

Why did he have to be so damn attractive?

You lay in your bed, looking up at the ceiling. Levi is the only thing on your mind. It’s hard to not wonder what he’s doing on late nights like this. On a Sunday, your parents off doing business in town. No one here to boss him or the other workers around.Maybe he got scared off thinking of your parents catching you two so close that night, of course that’s something you keep telling yourself.

Being stuck in your home not allowed anywhere always eats away at you. Being here wasn’t something you enjoyed any day, but actually being told you can’t leave makes you feel crazy. When your parents are away they think the maids and butlers are going to pocket the entire house and run off. But you know each staff member well enough to come to the conclusion that they’d never do such a thing. If only your parents would listen to you when saying this, maybe you wouldn’t be trapped in here.

When they’re off doing business or whatnot, the staff takes that as their full opportunity to get some good sleep. Just be able to relax. Your parents always have them on the go it seems, until the sun goes down. Sometimes, most of the time, even later than that. They’ll see a book out of place and call for a maid instead of doing it themselves.

The staff has always been fond of you from the beginning. Some of the older maids watched you as a little girl. You’d always beg them to help clean or just be around them. As you grew older, you stopped asking to help and went ahead and did it anyway. If you notice they happen to miss something, which is rare, you’ll grab a duster or a broom and finish the job. It breaks your heart when your parents treat them to harshly.

That’s one of the many reasons Levi is so fond of you. Even after being raised by such pigs you still managed to be your own person. To be kind. He’d worked for other wealthy families in the past and usually every member was horrid, and treated him like dirt. Then he came here and met you, a sweet girl who loves to help.

Levi remembers when he was first joined the staff at your home. It was very hectic. He didn’t expect your parents to need such assistance. Usually families would try and do some things for themselves, but no. It seems your parents need their hands held constantly like children. It was a lot to handle at once, but you made it easier for him.

You helped him set appointments, organize, or any other unpredictable needs. He didn’t talk much, but he still made it very apparent that he appreciated all of your help. Moments like those were when you would look at him and just be in awe of his beauty. To you he was like a prince. So charming and kind, his looks are just a bonus.

You find yourself rising to your feet and leaving your room. The sun has already set and the stars are lighting up the sky. Your home is quiet now, somewhat peaceful without your parents. Without thinking, you’re in the hall walking through the darkness. Your fingers trace along the wall as your toes gently push into the carpet. You’d hate to wake anyone up this late.

As if your body knows something before you do, your stomach begins to have slight butterflies before rounding the corner into the living area. Would Levi even be up this late? it’s much later than the times he’s usually out here reading. As you turn the corner your eyes land on him and you take a silent breath, that you can’t help but hold onto for a second longer.

On the sofa sits Levi. His hair is clutched between a few of his fingers as his eyes squint at the book he’s reading, almost frustrated it seems. Instead of saying anything and scaring him off you swiftly walk to him and sit yourself down. He lets out a small, ‘ah’ at your presence, not expecting you, and you can’t help but let out a small giggle at his reaction.

“What? Not happy to see me?” The sweet smile on your face makes a blush rise to his cheeks. Of course he’s happy to see you, even if he can be complicated sometimes. “Uh, no. Not that, just didn’t expect you up so late.” That’s truly what it is. He came out here with a full expectation that you, and everyone else, would be fast asleep. “I guess we’re both night people, huh?” You shove at him lightly with your arm and he smirks.

There’s a silence that falls over you two, but it’s not uncomfortable. You can’t help but move a bit closer to him, the situation feeling all too familiar. This time Levi isn’t tensing up, or moving away. If anything, you’re pretty sure he moves closer to you ass well. “What are you reading this time?” Your sweet voice makes him shiver.

His eyes scan over your features, sticking to your lips for a little too long. This doesn’t go unnoticed by you. “Just some romance novel I picked up, it’s sorta frustrating to read.” “How so?” Your eyes sparkle in interest. Your bodies are so close, just the side of your leg pressed up against his has his heart racing. That and the fact you look beautiful right now.

“They both like each other and won’t act upon it, and it just keeps getting drawn out. All it is is boring conversation and hearing their thoughts. They should just kiss already.” He watches as your face moves closer to his, lip sinking into your bottom lip. “I think they should just kiss already, too.”

That’s all it takes for Levi to close the gap in-between you two. Your arms come up to wrap around his neck, while his hands have already started grabbing at your waist. His touch sends electricity through you. You’d only been with a few men, and Levi was already making you feel a knot in your stomach that you’d never felt before. It was a good feeling.

A feeling of excitement.

One of his, rather big, hands trail up your spine causing you to shiver at his touch. The hand goes all the way up until it reaches the base of your neck, tangling in your hair. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into the bruising kiss as his fingers tug at your locks. He smirks, and you feel it. His other hand squeezes your thigh, sending a jolt right to your heat.

Levi pulls back to examine your face, rosy cheeks and eyes half open. “Fuck, you’re breathtaking,” he cursed before diving back in. This time his lips are attack your neck, nibbling and licking as you let out high pitched sighs.

This is all happening so fast, but you love it. There is so much built up tension between the two of you and it’s all coming out. You can’t stop yourself from tugging at his shirt, a whine falls from your lips. There’s no telling how many times you’ve dreamed of seeing this man without a shirt on. He follows your complies and pulls the shirt over his head, exposing the pure glory beneath. Yes, glory.

You stare for a good moment. He’s so fit, more than you imagined. “Like what you see?” He teases with a cocky smile. “More than like, I could look at you all day.” The blush that spreads across his face doesn’t go unnoticed by you. He looks into your eyes and his hands snake under your shirt, slightly pushing you backwards until your back meets the sofa. He’s above you now, with a shit-eating grin.

When his fingers make contact with your chest he can’t help but bite his lip. You don’t have a bra on. “Do you want me as much as I want you?” You’re about to answer his question, but his fingers brush against your nipples. The action makes you let out a soft gasp at the feeling. “What was that?” He asks with that same cocky smirk, “Use your words princess.”

The pet name just sends you for another loop. “Yes,” you manage to get out, “I want you.” He presses his lips to yours, then your neck again, before discarding of your shirt. His soft lips trace down you stomach with light feathery kisses, making your breathing become uneven. His fingers loop in the waist ban of your shorts before pulling them down your legs, tossing them in some random direction.

Everything happening has your head spinning. In the best way possible, of course. His mouth is hovering about your clothes core now, it’s enough to drive you mad. Your excitement is visible on your underwear. “So wet,” he coos, his breath fanning against you. He takes off the last item on your body, leaving you bare.

For a second you want to close your legs when the shyness kicks in, but Levi acts quick. His lips attack to your clit in an instant, and your fingers fly to his hair. Tangling and pushing him closer into you. His mouth is like magic. “Fuck-“ you cut yourself off with a moan. His tongue moves up and down your slit, circling your clit. Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head.

His finger comes up to circle your entrance before pushing its way in. The way he’s working with his mouth and fingers had you seeing stars. “I’m gonna-“ right before you finish he completed stops his actions. Of course he just had to be a little shit.

“You’re going to come on my cock,” he says with a smile. Just his words alone have your stomach turning. He lines himself up with you before pushing forward slowly. You hiss at the pain, never ever have you been with someone this big. He halts his actions at the sound you make, but you’re quick to beg for me. “No, keep going, please don’t stop!”

He slams into you and you hold back a scream. The pain quickly turns into pleasure as his hips start to slam into yours. “How does that feel princess?” Him and that damn pet name again. “So, So good,” you manage to get out. Unexpectedly, his hand comes up to wrap around your throat, pressing lightly. Your eyes just about light up when he brushes against that spot.

He must of saw the sparkle in your eyes, so he does the same movement. Over, over, and over again. It doesn’t take long before you’re coming undone around him, shaking and vision blurring. His movements continue until he’s coming inside of you, deep grunts escaping his mouth. The only sound is heavy breathing as Levi lays on top of your chest.

“Do you want to go to my room and cuddle?”

Levi looks at you with a childish grin. “of course.”



[husbandohunter]

Hello may I request albedo x shy reader where albedo and reader has feelings for each other but reader is too introverted to do anything and albedo doesn't want to tell as he thinks he scares her as reader always gets red and is stuttering when he talks to her. Klee finds out about this and makes it her mission to get albedo and reader together.

Klee gets albedo to play hide and seek with her and invites reader to play together with her. Albedo is counting down while klee and reader hides. Klee and reader hides in a location that klee always hides in so albedo would find them quickly. While they're hiding where albedo is within hearing distance, klee ask reader about whether she has feelings for albedo or not. Reader then admits to having feelings for albedo and makes klee promise not to to tell him. Albedo having heard all this comes behind reader and says why not, proceeds to bring reader to a private location and tells reader his feelings.

If this is too detailed a shy reader x albedo headcanon is enough.

I Found You [Albedo x Shy!Reader]

Synopsis: For someone as meek and reserved as you, love with Albedo was a game of hide and seek...literally!

Genres: Fluff

(A/n): Ahhh what a cute idea, don’t be afraid to be detailed at all! I love hearing people’s ideas. Buuut kinda went overboard with this one since I am in the narrative mood, hope you don’t mind >//< Word count_2.3k

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Albedo wonders if he had done something wrong?

Three weeks, four days, sixteen minutes and twenty five seconds. To this moment he had counted down every tick of the clock since the day you began avoiding him. That's how he sees it at least. You weren't always deliberately doing this on purpose, as Lisa's personal helper, there were times when you were given a chance to converse with the Chief Alchemist after dropping off the books he requested for research purposes. Albedo would ask how your day went, trying to find out if you wanted to take a short break and drink some of the tea Noelle had prepared for him. Your response was a modest one but he didn't mind, he eventually came to enjoy your tranquil prescence after a long day of work. 

But something changed. Those moments where you came in during your free time have gradually faded to nothing more than swift bows and small greets coming from the door. Every attempt he made to invite you for another tea session you left as quickly as you entered. At first he dismissed these moments, thinking that you were probably too busy with no time to stop by. Albedo was a busy person himself, though, that didn't prevent him from noticing your odd behaviour whenever he saw you in the hallway. Just as he was about to call your name, you avert your eyes and take a sharp turn until you were out of sight, leaving him perplexed and alone. The alchemist couldn't help feel neglected. Compared to everyone else, he was the only one you couldn't approach with ease. It bothered him immensely.

Did he accidentally say something to upset you? Albedo was well aware of his straightforward attitude which might have caused a negative affect on your contrasting, rather delicate personality. But he always felt that he had taken great consideration on how to approach you. Or what if it was the time when he happened to eat the last bite of Noelle's shortcakes? Remembering the afternoon you sat in his office, he recalls that there were exactly five instead of four treats left on the plate. Little by little, they began to disappear, you only ate two while he devoured three. Was this the reason why? No, that can't be it. You were the one who offered and refusing would only be impolite. Unless you felt pressured to do so when he told you that he was very fond of sweets….

Albedo heaves his shoulders and lets out a breathly sigh. He became very melancholy since then, staring out the window from the second floor when there were still unread research reports lying on his desk. His mind was so cluttered that he couldn't bring himself to focus these days. How troublesome. If only he were more adept with the ways of socializing, only then he can figure out what triggers you to be so nervous around him, why you tend to shrink when he gazes into your eyes and how is it that he feels so bitter when seeing you act the complete opposite with someone else.

"Big brother?" asked Klee. She hops off her stool before throwing the box of crayons to the side. The young girl prances her way to where Albedo stood and tugs on the hem of his coat, "Is there something wrong? Why are you sad?"

"Klee," Albedo turns his head in reponse. A pair of oversized cherry orbs looks at him with concern while the girl's bangs falls sideways to frame her petite face. He felt the white fabric crinkling within her grip as she signals him to come down. Placing one knee on the floor, Albedo gently smiled, speaking in his soft and brotherly tone, "Don't worry, I'm fine. Have you finished your drawing?"

"Mhm, almost done!" She throws her hands up and cheers, "But can you help me with the backgrounds? Klee doesn't know how to colour them."

"I don't see why not," agreed the alchemist, "Come, I'll teach you."

Just when Albedo was leading Klee back to the little space he set up for her, a knock was heard on the door. He ushers her to stay put and Klee tries to peer over his shoulder to see who the visitor was. When she recognized you standing at the frame, her smile grew wide in excitement.

It's big sister (Y/n)! Did she come here to play with us too? Oh please please please!

"(Y/n), you're here," Albedo couldn't help the apparent surprise on his face, "What brings you? Is there something I can help you with?"

"Ah sorry to bother, I-I have the documents you requested from the library!" You nervously handed him the folder.

Huh? Klee brings a finger to her chin, That's wierd...Why does she look so scared?

"Thank you (Y/n)," Albedo slips them out of your trembling grasp in the same fashion he would handle old relics on the verge of breaking. It was so long since you last visited him and he didn't want to startle you, "I appreciate you for bringing them here."

You shook your head in response, "It's nothing much…"

There it was again. You were avoiding to look at him in the eye. At this rate the next thing to occur would be you taking your leave and he didn't want that. Not when he finally gets the chance to fix his mistakes. Using his calculative mind, Albedo tries to formulate the best approach to soothe your worries. He thought of the first step, something that would make you more comfortable. Perhaps he could try smiling? Yes, that could do it. They always seem to have positive affects.

"(Y/n)."

He calls you. The sound of your name on his lips brings you out of your frenzy state and you subconciously lifted your gaze, daring to take a small peek over his countenance. 

"I'm very glad to see you again, truly."

Oh!

You froze into place. Your brain stops working and the whole world comes to a halt. It was the sight held in front of you that stole every last breath away leaving you with nothing but butterflies fluttering about. They spread their wings, voraciously swarming from the pit of your stomach, desperate to burst along with the pounding of your heart. Never in your life have you witnessed or even fathomed the idea of how Albedo would look if he smiled but here you were, mesmerized and captivated like a butterfly entranced by the flower's glow.  It blooms. So brilliantly that you couldn't stop yourself from being drawn. Eyes you fought so hard to tear away from, sparkled just for you, crinkling from the impact of his evergrowing smile. It was the feeling that made you fall for him. The same feeling that pushes you to run somewhere far far away, knowing if you flew too close, the outcome would risk everything you were trying to protect. 

"(Y/n)?" The alchemist tilts his head in confusion. He noticed the redness seeping into your features and immediately brings a glove hand to press against your forehead, "Your temperature is rising. Are you feeling sick? You should have told me earlier."

"I can't…" 

"Hm? Why not?"

"Ah I just remembered there's something I need to do!" Taking a step back you gave him a stiff bow, "Good luck in your research Sir Albedo!"

Given no chance to reply, Albedo watched you dash away before disappearing around the corners. He could only stare blankly at the empty space in front of him before dropping his arm back to his side, contemplating; where did I go wrong?

"Does that mean (Y/n) doesn't want to play with us?" Klee said dissapointedly.

"…I suppose."

"Big brother?" Upon hearing Albedo sigh, Klee finally figured out what caused him to falter these days. Perhaps not entirely being the small child she was but there were enough clues to let her know that the relationship between you and Albedo was somewhat strained. To Klee, she saw you both as the bestest friends! And it was only natural that friends play together right?

----------------------------

"Eh? You want me to play hide and seek?"

The Spark knight nods heavily as she grinned up at you, "Uh huh, and with big brother!"

"Klee, don't force her if she doesn't want to, it'll be fine with just the two of us," Albedo scolded lightly and folds his arms over his chest.

She only returns him a pout, "But it's fun with more people!"

"Klee-"

"It's okay Sir Albedo, I don't mind," you chimed in at last. You were just taking a stroll near Starfell Lake after you finished organizing the bookshelves in Lisa's stead (as always, she naps while you worked away). All of a sudden, Klee waves over from the otherside and proceeds to drag you into a friendly game for little kids. You weren't sure why she seemed so desperate but…

"Yay!" While jumping side to side, the girl did a little mini dance while waving her arms in the air, "You're the best (Y/n)!"

It was hard to refuse someone as cute as Klee.

"So for the first round, big brother is going to be the one who counts to twenty while you and I go hide so he can never ever find us," Klee informs enthusiastically. 

"Alright, that shouldn't be a problem," said Albedo.

You followed suit with a giggle, "But considering it's you Albedo, I don't think twenty seconds is enough."

He quirks an eyebrow, shocked from the way you referred to him.

"Ah, I-"

"Let's go!" Klee interrupts which you were thankful for, "And no peeking!"

Turning to face the Statue of Seven, Albedo counts down monotonously while you and Klee scrambled for an ideal hiding place. This was not the first time you indulged in one of her many activities, in the past it had almost become part of your daily routine to assist the alchemist in entertaining his little sister. Even Klee was capable to be the seeker for several rounds and Albedo would lead you to a spot nearby yet discreet, just the right amount of difficulty for her to handle.

He wouldn't think of this area again, would he?"

"Six...five...four..."

Eeek! Better hide.

You hopped into the crevice formed between the mountain rocks and crouched down, huddling your knees together against your chest to blend with the shadows. You let out a soft sigh, pleased that you were able to make it in time.

"Wow big sis, I didn't know you would be here too."

The screech nearly escapes when you were startled by a pair of ruby eyes gleaming at you innocently. Klee signals you to stay quiet and you nodded, bringing down the hand that you used to cover your mouth. From a distance you spotted the chief alchemist shifting his footsteps against the grass, though he was far enough on the otherside to not notice you and Klee together in the same room. You beamed softly. He was purposely holding back.

"Pssst! Big sis?" Klee whisper-shouted, "Are you angry at big brother?"

You returned a curious glance, slightly taken aback by the outlandish statement she made, "No of course not. How could I?"

(If anything, it was the contrary).

"Then why are you always running away from him? You guys used to be really good friends, Klee misses you and big brother misses you that's why...that's why he's always sad when you're gone.

"Oh...I-I had no idea..." feelings of guilt begin to emerge when you realized what your action seemed from a different prespective. You were so caught up with being cautious that it prevented you from seeing how Albedo would react on the recieving end. Without knowing, your true colours began to reveal themselves as you could no longer stand the thought of making Klee (making him) upset, "I'm sorry, I'm just not good with words."

The little girl cocks her head to the side.

"Ever since I was little, I never found it easy to make friends. Until now when I finally became Lisa's assistance, I still can't approach other people and they tend to shy away from me since I am...difficult to hold a conversation with..."

Hugging your knees even closer, a fond expression graces your features, "But Albedo was kind to me. He was patient when I didn't know what to say. Whenever I made a mistake, he would always be there to teach me the correct steps. I have alot to thank him for."

"Huh...?"

"I think it's also on of the reason why I fell for him too. But I will never have the courage to say it. I don't want to ruin the friendship we have so I chose to keep it to myself. Though, I guess it only made things worse. So promise me that you won't say anything okay? I'll apologize to him later."

Klee did not respond. She only stares past your shoulder and you immediately spun around to see Albedo standing at the entrace with an expression equivalently shocked as yours.

"(Y/n)...."

"I...I-" you stammered. The embarassment was so unbearable to the point that tears began to form at the corner of your eyes.

"Wait, don't cry. There's no need to because-"

You thrusted your way past him before he could finish his sentence, sprinting to the distance while yelling, "I'M SORRRYYYYYYYYYYY!"

"Wait!" The alchemist chases shortly after, "Come back!"

--------------------------------------------------

You groaned at the pain throbbing against your skull as you pushed yourself upright. A fallen branch, it was. One you didn't catch before tripping over your steps and tumbling down the hill while landing harshly on the sensitive pad of your elbow. The surroundings seemed unfamiliar to your memory since you never travelled too far from Mondstadt, your vision was filled with nothing but the endless columns of trees and bushes nearby. There were no signs of anyone else within the area.

"I'm lost," you announced in a defeated tone. Something cold taps against the tip of your nose and you realized that the clouds have already gathered over your head, violently spilling the rain down to where you sat. You crawled to a dry space where the tree branches were thick enough to keep the water out. You stayed there, waiting. But waiting for what?

"I can't go back," you meekly say, "I can't see him."

The air was cold and you shiver in response. You hated how much of a coward you could be sometimes. You were always so weak, never having the strength to be courageous for once. Albedo was a beautiful man, he was smart and he was popular, he was everything you're not. There's no way that he'd return your feelings.

However...

"I found you."

Why did he come back?

"Thank goodness you're alright. Are you hurt?" Albedo lowers himself to meet your level. Up close you could see the strands sticking from the side of his golden head and the residues that marred his features. Still, he looked beautiful. Your heart soars from the intense gaze he kept on you, drawing lower until he caught the scrape at the side of your arm. Albedo pulls it forward so that he could examine them at nearer proximity, "Hmm this doesn't look so good. We should head back so I can treat your wounds immediately. Can you stand?"

You nodded. 

"Good. Here, take my hand," he offers his gloved fingers and pulls you up to your feet. You could tell that he was trying to be gentle from the way he adjusted his stance so you wouldn't wobble. Kind. He was so kind.

"Why did you come for me?" You started, "I don't understand."

Albedo frowned. There it was again, the expression he hated. The one where you wouldn't look at him in the eye.

"I just don't want to-"

He didn't even bother with what you wanted to tell him. Instead, Albedo removes his coat almost within an instead and threw it around your shoulders. He wraps you gently, making sure that the rain didn't touch your bare shoulders before bring his arms around your figure and trapping you in his embrace. You could feel his fingers raking against the strands of your hair as your vision was blocked by the star on his neck. A little voice thanked the archons for this particular position, for two reasons in fact. The first being that he wouldn't be able to see your expression, knowing you must've looked as if you ate a bowl of raw Juyeun chilis. The second reason, well, you were simply overjoyed. 

"Do you understand now?" 

Closing your eyes, you succumbed to the grasp of your beloved, "Yes, I do."

"You won't run away?"

His tone was almost a plead. You reassured him by moving your head to the crook of his neck, how foolish for you to assume all this time, "I won't, don't worry."

"Are you sure?"

"I promise."

"Good," Albedo's eyes soften in response as he pulls alway to see your face, "I love you too (Y/n)."

Alas the butterfly and the flower finally united as one. Like nectar, he was sweet. How bold of him. It seems that not only was he able to steal your heart but your first kiss as well.