#no mom the house does not ''look like a hurricane hit it''

[coockie8]

People who don't mind their picture being taken can never just leave well enough alone, I swear to the Gods.

My mom is endlessly telling me I'm going to regret having not let people take my picture when I was a kid when I'm older, and as someone who still, to this day; I'm 25 at the time of writing this, does not like other people taking their picture, I'm gonna have to just firmly disagree with that.

Also, it's not like no pictures of me as a child exist, just not tons, and I like it that way. Like seriously what does this lady think poor people did before cameras became mainstream? Or even before the camera was invented!?

Actually, people just didn't know really what their parents looked like as children for the vast majority of human history, and that's not really a bad thing. It's not a good thing, but it's not bad; it's neutral, like most things are.

[andrevasims]

Here's the text that can appear in pop-ups when a sim watches the weather channel:

— Summer: —————————————————————

• When it's a really hot Summer day, sometimes I think about cold things, and my mind tricks my body into thinking it's cooler than it really is. Except one time I thought about too much ice cream and it made my stomach hurt.

• Sorry, but I can't help you today. I'm out at the pool.

• Why do they call us Meteorologists? I have never predicted a meteor in my whole life! They're scary. If you see one, let me know and I'll tell people. I'm on TV, you know.

• I'm having a bad day. Just go outside if you want to know about the weather. Stop bothering me.

• I've wanted to be a weather man my entire life. Sure other kids thought I was weird playing with my barometer during recess but I knew I was meant to affect people's lives.

• Weather prediction is a serious science. I have a college degree in it. At least I think it was a college. It was all done on the Internet, but I got a shiny certificate in the mail!

— Fall: —————————————————————

• My advice for today? If it rains, wear a jacket.

• I used to like playing in leaf piles. But not as much anymore. They're itchy.

• You know when people say things like "It's raining cats and dogs out there!" Well, that doesn't happen. Trust me. I've checked.

• Oh, what's the big deal? It's hot, it's cold, it's raining, it's snowing. Who cares? It still doesn't change the fact that my job is basically to look out the window. You know how depressing that is?

• I was struck by lightning once. It didn't feel so good. I put a lightning rod on my roof after that and it hasn't happened since.

• I just love playing in a great big pile of leafs. Burning them is fun too. Except when you accidentally set someone on fire. Poor grandma. Her eyebrows never grew back.

— Winter: —————————————————————

• It's Winter. Wear a sweater. Does that help?

• Sorry. Couldn't make it into work today. It's too cold out there!

• When I was a kid, I made up my own superhero. I was "The Boy Weather - Master of the Forecasters!" My mom made me a cape and a mask, and I ran around my house shouting things like "Chance of Showers: 50 percent!". I fought off evil tornadoes and powerful hurricanes with my powers of prediction. I didn't have many friends.

• I had the worst Nightmare last night. I dreamed I was being chased by a penguin and he wanted to hit me with a fish.

• Did you know Penguins can't fly? They also have a natural resistance to polar bear attacks.

• I always wanted a pet penguin but my mother said that I was too young. I asked her again yesterday, but she said that I should let it slide.

— Spring: —————————————————————

• Can you help me out with something I've always wondered about? If you're in the pool, and it starts raining, do you get more wet?

• It's allergy season out there. The pollen count is off the charts! I'm sneezing just thinking about it!

• I have the greatest job in the world. I can be completely wrong nearly all the time and never get fired. When I make a mistake, I can just shake my head and say, "What are ya gonna do? It's the weather!" How sweet is that?

• Don't look to me for all the answers! The knowledge you seek is just a small step out your front door.

• We've been hearing reports of lightning striking tall trees in the neighborhood, so be careful out there!

• Hello. You have reached the Weather Station. We're not in right now, but if you leave a message after the beep…

[poindexters-labratory]

Can you tell us about Mikey??

So... I started writing all of Michael's information and then I got 2,000 words in and realized that this was practically a perfect outline of everything that happens in this AU because Michael is the protagonist

Mind you, 2,000 words was just the introduction for the second installment of the AU, 'Blood, Sweat, and Tears', and that's a lot of spoilers for what happens if I was to continue writing for the rest of the installments (there's about six of them by the way, until Michael dies, 'Wild Cat', 'Before the Storm', 'Blood, Sweat, and Tears', 'Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria', 'Fazbear Emporium', and 'Reunion')

So, I can briefly go through Michael's history up until we start getting into the games:

CW: brief mentions of neglect, verbal abuse, physical abuse, psychological abuse, homophobia, substance abuse, and death (because it's not FNAF without it /hj)

Michael was born June 15, 1965

His full name is Michael John Edward Afton, he has two middle names

He is the one that made the Foxy character, his father begged for Henry to help build it

Mike was bullied in elementary school because of his family

He knew Jeremy Fitzgerald when they were in school together, they were friends

Evan was born when he was five

Lizzie born when he was eight, almost nine

Since mid-elementary, he hasn't liked his dad because his dad is really girly and not 'normal'.

Liked Henry a lot better

Jeremy left Hurricane

Had a distant mother and she left when he was about twelve with his sister

Before his mom left, he was a very polite and kind little boy

After his mom left and in the height of being a teenager, he became very aggressive, very confrontational, and this would decrease and increase depending on the stability of the relationships he had with the other people around him.

Would get in verbal altercations with his father very often, he's hit his dad once when he was sixteen, he's never gotten along with him very well but loves him because that's his dad

His father's springlock accident in early 1982 made him have a sort of epiphany that he really does care about his dad and he would be really sad if he was never able to see his dad ever again and feel guilty about not appreciating him and all of his oddities

Michael's behavior fell on the decline again after he broke up with a girlfriend, would scare Evan who was scarred by their dad's accident, witnessing it happen

Jeremy came back and Mike fell in love with him, and was a little concerned over this crush, which he found he could confide in his dad about since his dad is gay and understands that feeling of fear

Jeremy and Michael got together (in secret)

Broke up when Jeremy told a lot of people that Mike's dad was gay, and Michael beat the shit out of him

His behavior went on the decline again which resulted in the accident that happened in April of 1983

Michael moved out to live in California after he graduated to escape his spiraling father and his own guilt

He visited Hurricane a few times, his father's behavior getting stranger and stranger

Mike attended Charlotte Emily's funeral with his dad, both of them drunk and they decided to go home and drink some more

Not long after, in 1984, he got a call from the police department explaining that his sister and father were missing and Henry was dead

He came down to take a statement and look around the Afton house to see if anything was displaced, taken, or shouldn't be there and ending up finding the instructions from his dad to go to the Circus Baby rental place to "find his sister" whatever that means.

Mike is not a good person, he's done shitty things, he is a very flawed character which is why I love him as a protagonist. We actively get to watch him want to fix everything that he feels like he caused, even when it's not his fault. William is a direct foil to him because they're being proactive about their situation in completely opposite ways.

Michael wants to heal, heal the town's suffering from his father's actions, bring closure to the spirits, heal himself (accept what happened to his brother), and try to mend what's left of his family, i.e, him and his dad, and soothe his dad's pain. That's the responsibility he's decided he owes to his brother, Elizabeth, his dad, Charlie, and Henry. To stop and let it go.

William, however, wants nothing more than to be angry and hurt. He's not going to listen because he feels the universe owes it to him to inflict pain because of the terrible life he's lived, and the terrible things that happened to him. He wants to fester and he's decided that this is the only thing he can do, nothing will satisfy him. William is the angriest, most restless spirit and he won't let go of that anger.

Michael and William Afton's bond is the heart of the Hurricane AU and it's a big ol' analogy for unconditional love because I'm corny and love those kinds of stories, except this one doesn't have a happy ending because plot twist, Henry isn't dead and is just like William in terms of being very angry and not letting shit go. His method of setting shit on fire doesn't work very well and just made everything worse.

Anyway, I'm very tired, writing this at 3 in the morning

Michael Fun Facts!!

He's bisexual

He has ADHD and a Cluster B personality disorder of some kind, I have to diagnose him later

Very short, thanks to his mom

An animal guy and professional artist

Thanks to his dad, can play guitar extremely well

He's a dad, didn't know until the kid was seventeen though

Mike is, like, sixty, in the FNAF 3 location

Nicknames include: Mike, Mikey, call him Mickey, he'll make you explode, Sweets, Elizabeth-given name: Foxy Locks

Favorite animatronic: still Foxy

[cuellar123]

I remember when my sister-in-law and brother told us all that she was pregnant. When she shared the news, no one could believe it because it would be the first grandchild in the family, and my parents were already eager to be grandparents. When Leon was bored, I thought, “I will not be the spoiled of my dad." With all the attention on the baby me, it was difficult to accustom, but I did it. At this time, my sister married a boy from Japan. She was living in Japan.

With Leon, I learned to change diapers and prepare the baby's bottle to bathe him because her parents have worked. His parents have been working since he was born. Before the year, my sister had been sending a video in which we said, "We are pregnant." We have 4 weeks." I can´t believe it's true. Before she returned to Mexico because of her pregnancy, one more time we shared a room one more time. I was happy, but she stayed with me because we always do everything together. 

I remember when I was sleeping while she was eating tamal in the early morning. She looked like a mouse. But when her baby is born again, it will be a boy. but I want to be a baby girl. My family organized a baby shower, but Hiroki was born three days before the baby shower, and my brother-in-law still hadn't arrived in Mexico. So, it was his welcome party, and we revealed it to the guests, but no one believed that he was already in this world.

Currently, I am the 'ATA' aunt of two children who are born with a one-year difference, and I can't go out with them because everyone wants me to buy things for them. It feels great to be the aunt of two children because I can spoil them like a child and make them mad.But everyone thinks they are my children since most of the time I take care of them, and I always have to hide from them to enjoy my fruit in peace, but I never get away with it.

I call Hiroki 'the Kraken' and Leon 'Hurricane Ramirez' because they never stop misbehaving; I always have to take them out of the bathroom because they get wet.

Once, when I was changing houses, I was arranging my shoes in boxes. Hiro was on my bed, grabbed a stick nearby, and hit me on the head, while at the same time, Leon was painting like crazy with my makeup.They also got sick from their stomachs because Leon reached a bowl of cake mix from the table and they took it to my room, and between the two children, they ate it.

Sometimes, I can't scold them no matter how much I want to; I just can't do it. They know how to manipulate me. That's why I tell my mom, and she does the job.

[walker-extended-universe]

August Fanfiction Masterlist

This is a list of fanfictions I've written that feature August as a main/major character.

Should's and Shouldn'ts- Trevor invites August over to his house one afternoon because he misses him. Things take a turn for the unexpected after August makes a confession.

Walkercest of the Cordaugust variety Series- A series of fics focusing on the Walkercest ship Cordell/August.

Walkercest of the Stellaugust variety Series- A series of fics focusing on the Walkercest ship Stella/August.

What Could Go Wrong?- Stella and August find a spellbook and things go wrong. Part 5 of Walkernatural

Bad School Days- August is still having trouble dealing with The Incident at the ranch. A friend offers to help.

Bonds Broken- August running away because he’s fucking tired of this family

The Proposal- Todd an August have become friends since their escape room funtime. After Ruby comes back and rejects Todd's early prom-posal, August attempts to help Todd feel better. It's what any good friend would do.

Through the Looking Glass- Stella and August experiment with a spell Rowena left for them. This opens a rift into another universe where they meet some freakily familiar characters. Eventually, they find their way back home. Part 9 of Walkernatural. Part 9 of Henry Winchester 'verse

I'm Fine- August gets into some bad habits after he loses his mom.

In the Wake of Hurricane Denise- How is August holding up after the events of 2x12?

Home- Cordell Walker doesn't handle the death of his wife very well. When her case is left cold, he tries to take things into his own hands and finds a world of danger he never expected to fall into but feels drawn to nonetheless. His family is concerned about him and they start makign moves to ensure his children, barely toddlers, are cared for if something happens to him. Upon learning about this, he does the perfectly same thing of running away with them in the middle fo the night.

14 years later, Stella and August Walker have been raised in the hunting lifestyle. Though Cordell tried to keep their lives as normal as possible, there was no keeping them away from the danger of the monster world. When he goes missing on a job, Stella and August do everything in their power to find him. After hitting one dead end too many, they decide to take a long shot and go somewhere they haven't been since that fateful night: Home

Father/Son Bonding Time(?)- And then it hit him. Twyla had clearly been prepared to talk to him. Dad had been expecting her. This wasn’t some chance meeting. It had been planned. Dad invited him out her to dinner, alone, at his favorite food truck, not because he wanted to hang out with his son, but because he wanted August to formally meet Twyla.

Don't Run Away- In which August revealed Stella's lies during the intervention scene in 1x12

A Punishment to Fit the Crime- August doesn't like these women that come around and try to replace his mother.

Desperate Measures- What if August had been taken instead of Liam? A little exploration on how he might have handled that.

The Wayward Boy Returns- Stella and August haven't spoken since he proposed to his gold-digging girlfriend five years ago. Now, he shows up on her doorstep after a divorce

No Means No, 2nd Edition- This is another version of a previously written story in which Ruby raped August in 1x17. This was actually the version I'd started writing first but I ended up going a different direction. I kept the skeleton of this version around though and now I present it to you here. Enjoy.

A Study in Arrogance- 3x02 AU- Stella promises Shannon she can get the money, she just needs a little time. Shannon decides to take August as collateral.

A Special Dinner- Cordell is making a special dinner for his and Emily's anniversary. If only she was coming…..

Shame verse- Omegaverse AU featuring Omega!August

Behind Closed Doors- AU in which Emily groomed August and no one was the wiser, least of all Cordell. Cordell has to process what his wife did to his son under his nose and August has to accept what happened to him.

Parallels- Cordell Walker is finally home after being released by the FBI. His whole family is worried about him but he's a little more worried about August.

Teetering On The Edge- Feeling as though his family doesn’t love him anymore, or even hates him, after everything he’s done, August runs away and plans to kill himself. Cassie sees him sitting on the edge of a bridge and talks him down. She takes him to her place and convinces him to stay with her for a few days (or more) while he gets his mental health in a better place. August is happy for the help, but will he have the strength to confront his family about what happened?

Big Girl Lost- Two "missing scenes" from 3x16. Chapter 1: What happened between August and Sadie before Cordell got home?

Sammy Reborn- After losing his Sammy, Dean finally found him again. He's the only one happy about it though. August Walker is taken in the dead of night, leaving his family scrambling to find him. In the meantime, he has to deal with a delusional man named Dean Winchester who seems to have him confused with his little brother. He's willing to do anything to get back home to his real family but there's only so long he can hold out. Will Cordell be able to find him in time? Or will it be too late?

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?- August has some big news for his family this Thanksgiving

At the Stables- August and Sadie have a horseback riding session

I'm August- In which August Walker comes out

No Means No- August nodded. And for some reason that made him feel dizzy. That was not good. Maybe this had been a bad idea. He clearly wasn’t feeling well. He made to get up and tell her as much but he couldn’t get his limbs to move the way he wanted them to. Or very much at all really. Just enough to shove himself off the couch and onto the patio.

Mixed Feelings- August is a romantic who believes in soulmates, Sadie is the opposite. When they meet, sparks fly and August is very excited about it. Sadie is not.

This Old Song and Dance- In which Sadie is a dancer, August plays the piano, and there's a routine they know all too well. It's a routine they perform every night, even when Sadie isn't onstage.

Skinny Dipping- A heatwave has hit Austin. August and Sadie find a way to cool off

You're Gonna Go Far Kid- August waits in the wings while Sadie gives her first TV interview

Only For You- Being a couple is all about making compromises

Funhouse Mirror- August and Stella are messing around with spells again. August suffers the consequences.

False Smiles and Pretty Lies- James told Walker that his family had to attend the medal ceremony to keep Kevin's guard down and make it easier to catch him. Cordell reluctantly agreed and did his best to prepare his family for it. Unfortunately, they lose track of August during the panic when Grey Flag attacks and Kevin takes the opportunity to use him as leverage in his escape. Now it's up to Cordell to rescue his son and try not to do something to James that will cost him his badge.

I Never Wanted To Leave- What if Cordell never came back from his undercover mission? How would the family handle it? How would Stella and August cope?

And how would the resident ghosts try to fix it?

[bamboo-boned]

Wednesday Night Melody

10/26/22 

 

I've been asking myself lately, “what does my dysphoria feel like?” I don't like that word when it's applied to me at the moment. I question my validity as a trans person. I'm scared of the word, “trans.” I don't like saying it. I think that's why I haven't been able to tell anyone yet. I'm not okay with that word when it applies to me. I want to be. I want to be able to look at myself and say that word and say it proudly. I think it's partially because I still struggle with my bisexuality. 

It was hard enough coming out to those I have so far. I've had partners, men and women both, who never knew. I can hide bisexuality and I can feign heterosexuality. It's not like I'm not used to lying at this point. Being trans though. It's a whole different ballgame. If I try to attain that life, if I try to look and live and express myself the way that I feel inside externally, at some point there isn't any hiding it. There isn't a way to back out at some point. That's what scares me. 

 

But I acknowledged it. I put a word to it for the first time last month. I partook in these things I've hidden for so long. I know people won't see me the way I want them to, but god damn, it is it nice to just sit in my room wearing things that feel normal. That feel right. 

 

There are really nice moments. Like when I find some underwear that fits. Or when I find an outfit that makes me feel feminine. When I can sit in my room alone and wear a dress and not think about anything. I let this person I try to hide from everyone out. She washes over me. Sometimes like a hurricane, sometimes like a storm over a wildfire. It's cleansing. Sometimes I put on a record while like this and I drift away into another life. The moment I hear the pop from the needle drop, I begin to feel whole. I slip into this waking dream, like a movie from another world.

My mom has 3 daughters. My dad had one boy and one girl. 

My name isn't ----. In this life my parents named me Rachel or Emma, after my grandmothers. 

I went to school. In this life I told --- ------ I had crush on him in school. We dated. Maybe we could have been friends before he died. 

I went to school and I went off to a university. I finished bachelor's degree. Hell, I went got my masters. 

I would go on to do what I initially set out to do in school, I'd be a counselor at a rehab. I'd help people get clean and sober, rather than need someone to help me be clean and sober. 

I would be married.

I'd have a husband. 

I'd have gotten pregnant and had kids. 

We'd go on family vacations.

We'd live in a small house in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods.

We'd celebrate holidays, birthdays, we'd endure tragedy, we'd survive them together. 

I'd stare in the mirror and person I'm supposed to be looks back at me. 

She'd be happy. 

 

It’s a high. Euphoric. I could overdose on this feeling. I could die in this moment and I would be completely fine with it. It's funny, what scraps of cloth can do to a person. 

 

The come down is abrupt as I hear the thwip of the needle scratching the matrices of the record as it bounces off the label. The A-Side has ended. I stand up and the dress I wear flows below me. A part of me feels this bittersweet wave wash over me. I feel beautiful for once. I feel normal. I feel like myself. Then the word pops into my head. Pervert. You're a pervert. This is a perverse thing. You are a pervert. I swallow that feeling for now, because in about 30 seconds it’s not going to matter. I flip to the B-Side and drop the needle, and the moment that it hits that piece of plastic I feel instant relief. I ride that high for the next 20 minutes as I drift back into that dream world again. 

That Replacements lyric comes to mind, 

“I’ll be home when I’m sleeping.”

[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.

[ceruleanchillin]

5 Day Stay

| Or, Angel down bad for a week |

Angel x F!Reader

Warnings: language, infidelity, Angst (?), lil bit chili spice at the end

Mon:

Angel felt he was too young to consistently feel so bone-tired, yet that’s how his day had been ending for weeks now. Sometimes it was all he could do to get off his bike and make it to the door, only to have to rest his head against it to prepare to make it to the couch and collapse.

Tonight was one of those nights, and he wanted to be dead to the world until it dragged him back into it.

It was the smell of mixed spices that hit him first. It felt like he was in suspended animation, and slowly being released as different things started to register to him.

His TV was on, someone was rummaging through his kitchen, and music played faintly from his desk. Thinking back to the last time an unwanted guest was in his kitchen, he placed a hand on the holstered knife fastened to his back.

The fridge door closed, and you appeared in the window, eyes focused intently on whatever you were cooking on the stove.

He exhaled, feeling like complete shit. It only spoke to how weary his mind was that he could forget you were staying with him for the next week. Especially after the conversation that led to it.

“I don’t know Angel…really I can afford a motel for a few days.”

“Here? Rusted-through pipes will be the last thing your landlord is worried about when you bring back bedbugs and shit.”

Your eyes had widened at that, but still you brought up the thing that had been chained to your hesitation. “I mean….do you think it’s ok to do this? After we…Nails..Ang-“

He remembered a flash of irritation, more so at himself than you, when you said that. “Yes querida, fuck. If you’re so scared, I most likely won’t even be there the way things are going. Nails is out of town til’ next weekend…”

“Relax Ignacio.” you had cut your eyes at him, and he’d felt his dick jump like it did whenever you gave him attitude. “I’m just not trying to be a problem.”

Your voice calling his name brought him to the present. He caught the last part of your statement, that you didn’t know he’d be back.

“Yeah, we got in earlier than expected.”

“While you’re standing there like a weirdo, let me shame you real quick. How does a man in his thirties still have the kitchen of a frat boy?” You leaned on the sill of the divider. “You’re lucky I already knew you were sad in the kitchen. I had to bring my own tagine.”

He stepped into the kitchen, his stomach coming alive with interest. “One, I don’t know what that is, two, I can’t help it if the kitchen isn’t my preferred room of work.”

He peeked over your shoulder, but the unique pot kept him from seeing what you were making.

“Neither is the bedroom, unless that work is piling up dirty laundry.” you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to your simmering dish.

“Ha ha. Dinner and a show, she does it all folks!” he collapsed at the table, the day catching back up with him. “Should put your ass on the club’s payroll. End the cashflow problem real quick.”

You turned to him, concern etched on your face. “I heard from Hank about that…sorry. I know now isn’t a great time for that at all.”

Things got awkward like they always did when you referenced the recent changes of his life. He wasn’t sad about getting another chance at fatherhood, this one more tangible than the last. However, he wasn’t entirely sold on everything he’d accepted along with it, and he was pretty sure you at least suspected that. It threw the previously comfortable confusion that was your relationship off track when it was touched on.

“No, it’s not.” was all he could manage.

It was quiet for a beat, the simmering of the food and quiet Neo Soul the only sounds.

“Well,” you started, turning off the burner. “At least you don’t have to eat like a ‘we got food at the house’ meme for once.”

He laughed, a genuine and needed laugh. “Ok, you know what? Keep talking about my pantry stocking skills, and I might take it personally.”

The rest of his night went that way. Anytime you and Angel got together, things were just…easy…better. You spent the evening eating in front of the TV (Angel getting all the way to thirds for what turned out to be olive chicken and roasted potatoes), trading jokes, and going over the finer points of Golden Girls. Angel learned you took it very seriously, and mocked you for being “old”.

It wasn’t until you were nodding off, and he was left with his own thoughts, that he realized he hadn’t enjoyed coming home this much since he moved in.

Tues:

Angel had dreamed he’d been back in his childhood home, but as a grown man. There was music coming from his parent’s room, and when he got to the doorway, his mom was at her dressing table. She hummed along to the soulful seventies music and smiled at him from the mirror. She said something, but he couldn’t make it out, and woke up in the frustration.

He jerked up from his position on his stomach, and slowly came to. With a grunt he wiped his hand down his face, glancing at his phone to find it was six in the afternoon.

It then occurred to him the music wasn’t just in his dream, it was coming from his bathroom. He got off the couch and followed the sound.

“Hey coma head.” you grinned at him from where you were doing your makeup.

He shook his head, trying to let go of the last vestiges of the dream, and how eerie the scene before him was.

He focused instead on the nightmare of products and alien looking tools surrounding you.

He kind of liked the mess, even if he couldn’t see the counter anymore.

“Hey hurricane Ulta.”

You made a face that was a cross between being amused and suspicious. “You sleep in your jeans and buy your shirts in pack form. Don’t act like you know what that is.”

He made a face of mock offense. “That’s so classist.”

This time you paused completely in you what you were doing and twisted your body to meet him. “Uh oh…let me find out you’re actually learning something from EZ.”

“Angel Reyes can know something about something, damn.”

You laughed, lowering your hands from where you’d been lining your eyes to avoid a mistake. “I’m only teasing you Angel Reyes.”

“Looks like you plan on teasing more than me. Some clown is gonna get his hopes and tiny dick up for nothing.”

“There’s this new club in the city that Belinda’s getting us into. It’s bad luck to buy your own drinks on the first night at a new place.” you adjusted the bodycon mini-dress for emphasis. “You doing anything?”

“Club shit.” he started picking through the products, sniffing them every so often. “Then I think I’ve got a call with Nails at some point.”

“You think?” you popped his hands when he got too close to the good stuff, or the things you were using currently.

“Yeah..I think.” he shrugged, only realizing how short he sounded when you winced.

He didn’t know why he got so annoyed when she was brought up around you. He wasn’t like that with anyone else, and he knew you were only trying to support his incoming changes.

“Ok..”

Awkward silence settled in before he found the words to break it.

“Why do you wanna know? You want me to be that clown?”

“Never.” you pinched his cheek, tone pure saccharine jest.

He muttered in Spanish, stepping around you to the toilet.

“Angel!” you exclaimed.

“What?! It’s my bathroom, I have to piss.”

“You better never make me angry Reyes, I could end your whole Casanova game with ease."

Wed:

“You holding on a little tight there mami!” Angel called over his shoulder with a laugh. “You said go fast."

“Shut up!” you giggled, but he wasn’t lying.

You’d asked Angel to take you to work on his bike since even though you spent so much time with bikers, you hardly got to ride one. You were going to the same place anyways. He had been all too happy to shake up his commute, but your speed challenge took it over the top.

He didn’t know how you were up so early, he personally felt like the bags under his eyes were like a PEZ dispenser. You’d gotten in at two am, and still got up with him at eight.

He loved watching you in the morning, you managed to be cheerful without being obnoxious, and it worked better than coffee for him.

He loved how much he was learning about you.

As he pulled onto the street beside the cafe you’d asked him to stop at, he felt your arms uncoil from around him. He may have pretended to shift just to make you pause and hold him a few seconds longer, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that.

“I didn’t scream, and I’m not shaking, so you still have to buy my breakfast.” You unclipped your helmet, grinning the whole time.

You looked so pretty to him, with the sun hitting your eyes and hair just right. He could catch you at just the right moment, and you’d look so gorgeous, he struggled to believe you were real.

He cleared his throat, afraid his voice would crack if he didn’t. “Fair enough, come break my pockets then.”

You laughed, squeezing his chin and pointing out his pout. “You don’t even have to tell me once sir, I know my worth.”

Once inside, he trailed after you to the counter, using your head like an arm rest when you reached it. “That’s good.”

“Boy!” You swatted his hand away, and it was his turn to laugh at your adorable pout.

“New bet,” he stepped around you while the customer ahead of you wrapped up. “If I get your entire order just right, you buy lunch.”

“Deal.” you leaned on the counter, eyebrow raised at him in challenge.

Angel knew the best part of his day would be watching your expression go from smug to shocked out of the corner of his eye. He nailed every pastry, the iced coffee, and their preparation with ease.

The simultaneously impressed and amused barista looked to you for confirmation. She got a shocked nod in response.

“I know my worth too mama, so don’t skimp on lunch.”

“Fair enough.” You shook off your shock as you repeated his earlier words and shrugged. “Can’t complain I guess. I trained my work husband too well.”

He scoffed loudly, and the two of you went back to swapping smart ass barbs while he tried to ignore the lingering dip his stomach did when referred to him as “husband”.

Thurs:

Angel was a grown man, with years of grown man experience, yet he was sitting on the edge of his bed feeling like a teenager again.

The end of your stay was nearing, and every time he thought about you going back home, he felt weird. He was pretty sure that’s why he’d been a little snappy and annoyed easily at the club the past couple days. He just wasn’t ready to delve into that too much.

Regardless, he had to admit you had some growing effect over him. All morning, while he should’ve been resting and preparing for a charter visit, he was fighting off hard-ons thanks to you.

“Can I borrow your kitchen for the day Angel?” He mimicked your voice in a nasally mocking tone. “I’ll save you some when I’m done baking.”

He’d thought nothing of it when you asked the night before. Really didn’t even feel like you had to at that point.

He realized why when he saw that the desserts you were making for your friend’s brunch were elaborate as hell. The effort took all your attention, and unfortunately for him, his too.

You were baking a lot more than dessert and didn’t even know it.

Now he was hiding in his room, fighting off arousal he knew wasn’t appropriate. You weren’t his and he wasn’t yours.

That didn’t change the fact that you in a short silk lounge set, singing in French (how the hell did you know French?), doing domestic things in his home, did it for him.

He ran a hand over his hair, still damp from his cold shower, and forced himself to finish getting dressed. He had to be ready to face a room of dangerous bikers and prove his patched in worth. He couldn’t be thinking of weird little fantasies and parallels to his parent’s marriage.

He must’ve zoned out again, because you startled him enough to almost make him hit his wardrobe.

“Oh my god Angel try this! I think I did magic.” You excitedly thrust a red cookie his way.

Angel took the offered treat, and found it was a red velvet cookie. “It’s fucking good mi dulce.”

“Really?” You looked so hopeful, so beautiful, that he would’ve lied if the situation called for it.

“Yes, but you know you kill it in the kitchen.” He turned away to put on the flannel he’d fished out.

Now you were in his personal space, smelling amazing, and all his senses were under attack. He couldn’t trust Angel jr. at the moment.

“Baking is different. It’s a whole thing for me...I go all in.”

“I noticed your little Broadway production in my kitchen.” He kneeled down, pretending to look for his shoes as something to do while you were there.

“Don’t shame me.” You pressed your foot into his back, gently pushing him. “It makes for better results.”

‘shit.’ He cursed mentally at the contact.

Luckily, he heard you turn to leave the room. “Oh, EZ said to tell you to hurry up or pick up your phone.”

He rose up once you were gone and checked his phone. Sure enough, he had several missed calls and texts from Gilly, Coco, and EZ. He cursed aloud this time and finished getting ready, determined not to get distracted again.

Of course, his boys having to physically come in and get him when he did just that destroyed that promise.

Fri:

It had come down to the last night of your stay with him, and what he thought was a favor to a good friend, turned out to be more for his benefit.

The hell with the club seemed so far away when he was home now, and he’d laughed more times that week than he had the previous few months total.

Tonight though… Tonight had him so in his head he didn’t know if he was coming or going.

You, sensing something was going on with him, had invited EZ and Felipe to dinner. He didn’t know how you got the latter to agree, his dad had never even been in his home before, but you did it. It went over a hell of a lot better than the last time they tried it too.

The missteps that reared their head when his family tried to talk to each other at length were mitigated by you. You were the perfect buffer, able to get them to engage with you and then each other.

He saw his family in an unfamiliar, but favorable light. His father was actually enjoying his time with him in his house. He knew that night wouldn’t have happened if not for you.

Now, as he distractedly dried the dishes you’d washed, listening to you hit all of the high notes in Loving You, it hit him.

‘She should be my wife’ the thought came so quick, and was so loud he almost jumped, confused if it came from him or someone else.

“Hey dishwasher-less!” you nudged him with your hip. “Move those hands.”

“Why can’t we be a thing?” he blurted.

You dropped the silverware you’d been washing, eyes wide and focused on him. “Um..excuse m-…what?”

He knew that wasn’t the most tactful way to introduce his thoughts to you, but it was his way. Fuck…he didn’t even understand them fully himself.

“You heard me querida,” he put the dish down on the counter, turning to you. “When I stayed with you that weekend that my head was all fucked up-“

“Angel.” your tone made it a warning, but he kept going. He was never afraid of a challenge.

“I was inside you so much that weekend I forgot that’s not how I came in this world. I can’t believe I’m saying it out loud, but I felt home cause I was with you-”

“Stop it!” you hit the sink, rattling the contents.

“Fuck that!” he shouted back, startling you both. He stayed silent for a moment before speaking in a calmer tone. “Fuck that. Why can’t we talk about it? Why couldn’t we talk about it then?”

You didn’t say anything, but he saw your chest heaving with adrenaline, and realized you were just as affected by the conversation as he was.

“You just decided it didn’t matter and put it in this space we can’t touch now. It’s all fucked up!”

“Because,” you hissed. “If you remember, it was all over that Adelita chick, and I don’t know what kind of hold she has or had over you, but it was deep.”

He cringed at that, and turned his attention to the light fixture over your head, unable to meet your heated gaze.

“Whatever feelings I have for you Angel, I put them away in a place where I can still be your friend and keep things in perspective.”

“Feelings you have for me?” he latched on to the lack of past tense, hopeful.

You inhaled sharply. “You are having a baby and just got engaged. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing..I mean a lot, but nothing to do with this. I know-“

“I know,” you pushed away from the sink and reached up to cup his cheeks. “That you’re scared Angel. You’re scared, because you’re gonna take two steps you’ve never taken before at once, and you’re trying to sabotage it.”

He shook his head, taking your hands from his face and holding them tightly in his own. “No..mi dulce, no. I’ve been struggling with this all week, longer if I’m being honest. Tonight sealed it.”

You snorted humorlessly, looking around the kitchen as if something in the room would help you get through to him. “I cook you some big boy meals, and treat your speakers to some musical taste, and you’re ready for vows?”

“Don’t put this all on me. Tell me you don’t feel it. Right here and now, to my face.”

He watched your expression soften, and let you put one hand back on his face, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Ok, I can’t do that, but I also can’t just fall into a situation with you either.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “We both know we didn’t just fall into anything. We sat here and let it build and didn’t say shit, and now I have to. This week just made it too real not to.”

He placed his forehead to yours, his own hands cupping your face. “Please…”

He watched you have an internal battle by your changing features before you finally leaned into him. The moment you did, his lips were on yours.

He knew it was more than just a kiss a few seconds in. Everything he’d felt that the previous week was alive and confirmed between you too. He could feel you telling him you had moments like his own.

He palmed your thighs under your sundress before grasping them tightly and lifting you up. He placed you on the counter while you two separated for air. Your chests heaved in unison, and neither of you had to say you wanted the other touching you again before it happened.

He gripped your hair, tilting your head back for access to your neck. The smell of vanilla and cocoa butter surrounded him as he worked his mark all over your skin.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you pressed yourself against his jeans.

He hated he couldn’t feel the heat he knew was emitting from your core through the thick material of his jeans, and slid his other hand up your thigh to your panties.

Your entire body twitched when he ran his fingers over you through the thin cloth. It wasn’t just hot it was soaked.

“You need me that bad mami?” he pulled away from your neck, satisfied with his work, and beginning to work at his jeans.

“And quick.” you breathed into his ear, your tone and the sensation making him shudder.

The ache against his jeans didn’t need to be told twice to find its way into your heat. He slid your panties to side and pressed his thumb against you. You jumped, whimpering your need again, and he pulled your panties way from you.

You’d gotten them around one ankle before he was inside of you, and they were no longer your focus.

You clung to each other so tightly there’d be evidence on both of you.

In the quiet, he wondered if your mind was racing with the same thoughts that his was. What now? How do we get this again?

He pressed kisses to your cheek just as he started to move. You inhaled, your nails sliding down his back. Not quite catching the skin, but enough to set him on fire all the same.

He mapped out a rhythm by your whimpers and how you grasped at him until he crafted the right one.

This was the conversation he’d needed. Every thrust from him, every cry from you, every bit of give and take to heighten the other’s pleasure. The two of you were admitting that everything that was between you was deeper, realer than you’d wanted to admit. He loved you, and you loved him, and you were engraving that on one another.

The flirtation, the way you could be yourselves around each other, the heatless jabs. Good friends was always a ruse.

Your face was buried in his neck, and when he felt dampness he knew came from your tears, he hiked your legs higher, moving deeper.

You cried out so loudly it echoed in the kitchen, drowning out the soft crooning of an eighties songstress.

“I know baby, I feel it too.” his voice was choked by the threat of tears of his own.

He’d never been here before. Not with Adelita, not even close with Nails. He was terrified. Terrified for it to end because he never felt so good. Terrified for it to end because it might never happen again.

“Angel..” your voice sounded so small, but it was strong enough to anchor him back with you. “I’m close, I’m so close.”

“Let go,” he encouraged. “Let me have it querida.”

Your body seized up with your release, his name the only thing he caught in your unintelligible babble.

You clenched up repeatedly in the aftershocks, and that drug him over the edge with you, biting your shoulder.

His vision tunneled, pinpricks of pleasure traveling up and down his spine. Your hands smoothed up and down the area, and he realized it was because he was shuddering.

He gripped the counter for support, pulling back slowly. He was searching for a way to ask if he’d changed your mind, but the act hadn’t made words for his thoughts any easier to find.

It didn’t matter, before he could even speak you stopped him. Your eyes were glazed over with tears that had nothing to do with pleasure this time.

“That was all that I can give you Angel. It’s not right, none of this is, but it’s all I can give you.”

AN:

Am I the only one who wishes she had reference photos for their home/club layouts? Lol, it’s such a weird non-factor thing, but still. From memory, I’m pretty sure Angel only has one bedroom though.

No shade, no hate but this was partially inspired by how over Nails Angel looked when she was putting her back into it….🥴

I played with a few canon-timeline things + knocked the dust off my smut writing ability (I’m going under my humiliation rock now, no calls plz)

[holdmeiamscared]

thomas hewitt x reader

in which reader just needs a fucking hug.

if you had told yourself that you’d be in the situation a month ago— you would have laughed until you cried. and yet, here you were, a prisoner in this god forsaken house, all because you were nice.

your mom had always said that your kindness would be what caused you the most trouble— she was right, and you were a fool for thinking any differently. you wished you could hear her tell you she told you so— hell, you’d give anything to hear her voice again, or any voice for that matter.

he was keeping you locked away, for your own safety you’d assume, you’d seen what that phony sheriff had done to your friend— but you pushed that back, locking that thought out in fear you’d throw up what you’d eaten for dinner. you had to admit though, the worst fucking part of it all, of being alone, of locked away was that he never talked. never. you were growing so damn tired of listening to your own voice you could screech— but that would only piss him off, and then you’d be alone.. and that really was the last thing you wanted.

at least he listened. he was good at that. listening to you drone on about your life, what you had planned, stories about your childhood— anything you could think of really. he’d watch you with a curious gaze as you fiddled with a loose string on your shirt, rambling until your throat hurt— anything to fill the dreaded, painfully awkward silence between the two of you.

he fed you, clothed you, protected you— kept you safe and warm and captive. your stomach twisted uncomfortably at the very thought of that word. a captive. a prisoner. you kept it on repeat in your brain— echoing and etching it’s way through— burning and itching, like fire. you couldn’t let yourself forget you were here against your will, worried that if you didn’t remind yourself of it— you’d forget. you were too fond of him already, and sure that if you stopped reminding yourself that you were his prisoner— you’d do something you’d regret.

————

the revving of a chainsaw, followed by blood chilling screaming, and then dead silence that followed was something you’d hate to say you had grown used to— but you had. it made you nauseous, bile burning your throat with each heavy breath. you hated it here. you hated that you were fucking stuck here.

maybe that’s what had changed— or maybe you were delirious from the heat, or the lack of human contact. either way, you just needed a fucking hug. if someone didn’t touch you soon, you were sure you’d lose your mind. you had begun to lose count of the days you had been here, but you knew it was in the double digits, and by god, you missed being hugged, and touched, and talked to, and treated like a human instead of a feral pet.

the heavy sound of his boots hitting the wood of the floor, followed by the creaking of old planks put you on high alert— scurrying off of his bed and down into the little nest of worn blankets you’d made for yourself in the far corner of the room you were forced to share with him.

he stood in the doorway for a moment, all broad, long, and cozy looking. he’d give good hugs— you were sure of that— but you wouldn’t ever find that out for certain — would you? a moment passed before he fully stepped into the room, and you watched with halted breath as he pressed his full weight into the mattress— laying flat on his back, body slumping in a way you could only describe as fucking tired.

your thoughts ran rampant— you shouldn’t do this. a captive, a prisoner, a prisoner, a fucking captive— it wasn’t working anymore, and you found yourself sniffling softly— something you hadn’t done since your first night here with him. you shifted to your feet, moving slowly as to not startle him— he was watching, he was always watching. more cautious and curious than anything. you normally would have been talking by now— had you finally had enough? that thought made him ache— had he broken you?

he startled at the dip of the bed, brow furrowing, body tensing in case you were planning on a confrontation— but he realized by the glassy, forlorn look in your eyes, the slump of defeat in your shoulders, and the wetness on your cheeks that you weren’t planning on attacking, or belittling him.

your chest moved with a deep breath, trying to calm the rush of emotion, but your body shuddered, a sob harsh enough your rib cage rattled pulling from deep in your throat, “w-will you hold me?”

his hands shook. your full body quivers not being missed by his sharp gaze, and he nodded slowly, worried about this being a ploy to catch him off guard— just to twist a knife in his stomach when he wasn’t expecting it— but damn it all, he was willing to risk that at the thought of finally being able to touch you.

you rested your weight on the broadness of his chest, head resting against his sternum, finding comfort in the steady thrum of his heart— faster than it should have been, and then you were nauseous again— tears falling harsher— you shouldn’t find comfort in this, in him. but you do. god, you do. it makes your cry harder, wheezing and clinching on tight to him, fingers digging into his filthy shirt, hands weaving and moving fabric to touch his bare skin— to make sure he’s real, to make sure you aren’t fucking dreaming this all up— part of you wishes you were.

sadness rakes through your body like a hurricane of suppressed emotion— and you’re just trying to find something to hold on to— that something being him. so that’s what you do— you burrow closer, hiding your face, hiding the shame, hiding your tears.

thomas does the only thing he can think of, and with the hands he used to slaughter your friends, to take lives, to butcher— he strokes your hair— he is gentle with you, because he remembers how his momma likes having her hair stroked when she is upset, and you seem unbearably sad. maybe you would share the sentiment.

he cared for you, you realized— and while laying in his arms— curled up tight against the heavy warmth of his body, you realized, that maybe— just maybe, you could learn to love him— it wouldn’t be so bad.

[captainimprobable]

Here’s a very messy first draft of a fic I’m working on! There will be five parts, which I’ll post together on Ao3 once theyre all done.  This is the first part!

I’ll edit this for ao3 but I was too excited about it and wanted to post it here first before I did RIP

~

~

~

There are many things Luz admits she doesn’t understand.  She can’t figure out how cars work, and she’s not so sure about long division.  But, she thinks, as she watches her girlfriend chop up vegetables in the fading light of the setting sun, some things she does understand.  

“How did you get so good at this?” Luz asks, stepping closer to peer over Amity’s shoulder.  Every cut is perfect, each individual piece almost exactly like the one before.  It makes sense.  It is so Amity.

“Don’t get excited,” Amity warns, tipping the vegetables into a pot of boiling water.  “This is all I know how to cook.  I had a chef growing up.”  She blushes brightly, and Luz grins.  Amity blushing has become one of her Top Five Favorite Things, right under Azura and above Hexside.  

Amity herself, of course, is above them all.

“Sorry,” Amity says sheepishly.  “I didn’t mean to sound spoiled or anything, it’s just- my parents don’t cook, and they don’t have time to-”

“Amity.  It’s fine.”  Luz laughs, and Amity’s blush intensifies.  Luz is about to say something about it when Eda bursts into the room with all the subtlety of a hurricane.  “Look what I foooound,” she sings, proudly presenting something extremely dusty and unidentifiable.  Luz and Amity raise their eyebrows in unison.  

“Uh, what is it?” Luz asks.

“It’s a human-” Eda pauses.  “Okay, I’ll admit, I have absolutely no idea what it is.  But it’s cool looking and I like it.” “Another human treasure? Lemme see!”

“Suit yourself,” Eda says, and hands it over.  

The thing is heavier than Luz expected, and she grunts as she puts it down quickly on the kitchen table.

“Dang, Owl Lady, you’ve got strong arms,” she says.  

“I work out,” Eda responds, flexing her muscles.

Amity and Luz look at each other, and then at Eda.  They blink.

“Fine,” Eda says.  “Buzzkills. I don’t work out. You caught me, congratulations.”  She stalks out of the kitchen, muttering something about “dumb kids and their dumb honesty”.

Luz snorts and turns her attention back to the thing on the counter.  “Let’s see what we’ve got here,” she says, and blows the dust off.  Once the cloud clears, the thing begins to take shape, and Luz squeals.  “A record player! With a record on it!  This is amazing! My mom has one of these back home!”

“Record player?” Amity says.  “What does it do?”

Luz grins, always happy to show off her human knowledge.  “I’ll show you,” she says, and sets the pin on the groove of the record.  It’s silent for a moment, but then a slow tune echoes through the room.  There are no words in the song, and Luz has no idea who wrote it, but she’s in awe.

“Wow,” Amity says, echoing Luz’s thoughts.  “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Luz agrees, completely entranced by the melody.  Once the song fades away and the next one starts, she gets an idea.  She regards Amity out of the corner of her eye, gathers her courage, and says “Amity Blight, may I have this dance?”

Surprise flashes across Amity’s face, but she recovers impressively quickly.

“I thought you’d never ask.”  

She reaches out her hand and Luz takes it, gently guiding Amity to the middle of the kitchen.  Amity hesitantly puts her arm around Luz’s waist, pulling her closer, as Luz puts a hand on Amity’s shoulder.  It feels familiar, and when they start swaying around the kitchen, Amity starts to laugh.

“What? What’s so funny? Did I do something?”

“No, no,” Amity says, tightening her hold around Luz’s waist.  “It’s just...this is so different from our first dance together.”

“Our first...oh, you mean Grom!”

Amity takes a step backwards, and Luz follows, trying not to trip over her own feet.  

“Yes I mean Grom!”

They dance in silence for a moment, moonlight shining through the window.  

“Hey,” Luz starts, not sure if she wants the answer to the question she’s about to ask. “Who did you wanna take to Grom, anyway?”

Amity stares blankly at her for a few seconds, and for a moment Luz is worried she said something out of turn.  But then she smiles softly, so softly that Luz’s heart does a funny thing in her chest, and she’s pretty sure that, for a second, she can’t breathe.

“It was you, Luz,” Amity says quietly.  “It was always you.”

Luz stops dancing.  She stops blinking.  She stops breathing.

“Uh, Luz?” Amity says, sounding worried.  “Are you okay?”

Luz blinks, comes back into herself, and says “YOU WERE GOING TO ASK ME TO GROM????”

“Yes? Why is that a surprise? You know I...like you.” Amity blushes again.  They’re still not used to saying these things out loud to each other.  It’s a process.  

This time, Luz blushes too.  “Yeah, but like..that long??? You’ve liked me since Grom???”

“Since before Grom, actually,” Amity admits, looking down at the floor.  “It’s...it’s been a long time.”

Luz’s grip on Amity’s shoulder slackens, then tightens again.”Wow,” she says, breathless.  “Me.  You’ve liked me for months.  You!!!”

Amity giggles.  “Me,” she agrees.  

Luz knows that the smile on her face is sappy, but she can’t help it.  She just likes Amity so much it’s overwhelming sometimes.  

They begin to sway again, and Luz feels like she’s in a trance.  She can’t believe that one person can make her feel this happy.  It’s like magic.

“So,” Amity says, cutting into Luz’s inner monologue, “When was it for you?”

“Huh?”

“When did you start to like me?”  

Amity manages, with what looks like supreme willpower, not to blush this time.  Luz does not manage the same.

“O-oh,” Luz says, thinking back to all the times she made a fool of herself in front of Amity before they’d started dating.  “I don’t know? I mean, I realized it that time you saved my life, but I think I’ve probably liked you for a lot longer than that. Maybe even before Grom.”

“Which time?”

“What?”

“Which time?  I save your life a lot,” Amity smirks.  Luz rolls her eyes.  “Okay, fair,” she says.  “But I mean that time at your parents’ presentation.  Right after you...when you called me “my Luz.”

“Oh, no, you heard that?” Amity looks extremely embarrassed as she leans forward and hides her face in Luz’s shoulder.  Luz tries not to smell her hair.  She fails.

“Of course I heard that!” She says when she’s done.  “You practically screamed it out loud to a room full of strangers!”

“I did, didn’t I? Wow, I was so obvious!”

Luz rubs the back of her neck sheepishly.  “I didn’t notice.”

“What??? How???” Amity asks, picking her head up to look Luz in the eye.  “I was a complete mess in front of you for months! What did you think was happening?”

Luz shrugs.  “I just thought you were cute, that’s all.  In hindsight, though, maybe I should’ve picked up some context clues.”

Amity snorts.  “It’s okay.  You being oblivious saved me a ton of embarrassment.  Until I kissed you on the cheek.  That..uh….that was not planned.”

Luz can’t stop the smile that takes over her face.  She remembers that day well.  She was so focused on finding Phillip’s diary entries and also not making a fool of herself in front of Amity, that she was taken completely by surprise when Amity kissed her.  She’s pretty sure she literally fell to the floor afterwards, overwhelmed with the fact that Amity had just kissed her and suddenly realizing that maybe, just maybe, her crush liked her too.  

“Well I’m glad you did,” she says gently, twirling Amity around once, twice, three times.  “I think it’s time for me to return the favor.”

“What do you-”

Before she can think about it long enough to stop herself, Luz leans in and kisses Amity on the cheek.  

The world freezes.  

Amity looks at her, and she looks at Amity, and Luz’s eyes are so wide, and Amity’s mouth is hanging slightly open, and suddenly Luz is completely, entirely unsure of herself.  Her confidence is gone, and suddenly she can hear the ghost of laughter and “Ew, why would anyone want her?” And she realizes she’s made a horrible mistake.  

“U-um sorry I-” She stutters, but can’t get a sentence out, until finally she manages “I’m gonna leave now.”

She backs up slowly until her back hits the door, and is about to turn the handle when Amity says “Luz, this is your house.”

“Drat,” Luz says, slapping a hand to her face.  “You’re right.”

Amity giggles, hand covering her mouth to stifle her laughter.  She’s bright red but so is Luz, and suddenly Luz is laughing too.

They laugh together for what seems like hours, until finally they manage to subdue themselves, tears in both their eyes.

“Hey,” Amity says softly, once the giggles have stopped.  “Come here.”

Luz complies, stepping around the table and over Ghost, who has an unidentifiable animal in her mouth.  When she finally reaches Amity, she finds herself pulled into a bone crushing hug.  Startled but pleased, she squeezes back, marvelling at the fact that she has the most perfect girl in the world in her arms.  

“Look,” Amity says, still wrapped up in the hug.  “I know we’re both new at this, and it’s kind of scary, but you don’t have to run away every time you kiss me on the cheek or something.  You have nothing to be afraid of, okay? You’re my girlfriend, and I’m not gonna stop liking you.”

Luz sniffles a little and squeezes harder.  “You don’t...you don’t think I’m too much?”

“Luz,” Amity says.  “I could never get enough of you.”  

They stand there like that, swaying slightly in the single stripe of moonlight that comes through the window.  When they part, it’s with a sigh, and a silent promise that they’ll come together again.  

“Thanks,” Luz says, eyes rimmed red.  “You’re a pretty awesome girlfriend.”

Amity smiles.  “I know.” 

Then she shrugs shyly.  “And if you ever want to kiss me again...I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Noted,” Luz says weakly.  She thinks her knees might give out, actually.

When it’s time for Amity to go, Luz walks her to the door, like the gentleman she is.  “Goodnight,” she says, trying to ignore Hooty loudly digesting a mouse.  She doesn’t want to think about where his stomach even is.

“Goodnight,” Amity says.

They smile dumbly at each other, neither wanting to be the first one to leave.  But Amity needs to get home, and the night is moving quickly, so they reluctantly part ways.  Amity turns to wave at Luz when she reaches the end of the Owl House’s property, and Luz waves back, stars in her eyes and a breathless wonder at the fact that this girl, this amazing, brilliant, perfect girl, is hers.  

There are many things Luz doesn’t understand.  

But this, what she and Amity have, the bond she feels growing stronger and stronger every day they spend together; this she does understand.

She closes the door.  She doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring, but she knows that as long as she has Amity by her side, everything will be okay.

[thatshithurted8]

Hurricane Season

Summary: Despite being awoken during the early hours of the morning JJ makes sure to comfort reader when she needs him most.

Prompt 32: “You come into my room at 4am just to cuddle?” Requested by @somekindofsapphic  

Warnings: Mention of hurricanes, storms and death.

Word Count: 1.9k

Every time a hurricane was predicted to make land fall in the Outer Banks you found yourself taking refuge at the Chateau with John B, JJ and your dog, Coast. Kiara and Pope would always help you guys prepare with getting food and boarding up the house, but they would always go back to their houses where they would embrace the storm with their parents. 

JJ on the other hand despised going home so much that he wouldn’t want to be there even if it meant he was protected from a hurricane. Unlike Pope and Kiara’s parents though, JJ’s dad couldn’t give a flying fuck about JJ’s whereabouts and you all felt for him because of that. But that’s where your mom differed from the rest of your friends parents. 

Your mom cared and loved you deeply, but she was a nurse at the local hospital so she had to be there when first responders got there after the storm. With that being said she knew how scared you were of storms and hurricanes in specific. 

So you found yourself engulfed in darkness on the pull out couch in John B’s living room, with Coast laying at your feet. You could hear the storm brewing outside, the wind actually just started to pick up within the past hour or so, waking you up from your already reckless slumber. 

You listen as the wind gets louder and louder and the sound of the heavy rain hitting against the outside of the chateau becomes deafening.

You were already focused on controlling your breathing, but you could feel the panic wash over you. Like you, Coast was also awake and she sensed your discomfort so she gets up, stretches and lays down beside you. 

Appreciatively you pet your brown furred dog and pull her closer to your side for comfort. Luckily enough for you Coast wasn’t scared of storms, in fact she wasn’t phased by them at all she just hated the fact that she couldn’t go outside to pee. If she was afraid of them you don’t know what you would do since you would have to comfort not only yourself, but her as well. 

After a few minutes of distracting yourself with petting Coast the power goes out, leaving you in complete darkness. You let out a whimper as you feel around for your phone on the side table. Once you find it you check the time and see that it was 4:03am. You wondered if JJ or John B were awake as well. Surely they’ve woken up to the loud storm outside. 

You set your phone back down, not wanting to drain the battery considering you didn’t know when the next time you would have power. Coast nudges your hand with her snout, signalling that she wanted you to continue petting her. While you scratch Coast’s head a battle went on in yours. 

You were debating on going to see if JJ was awake or not. Your anxiety was starting to get the best of you and you could feel the panic attack slowly taking over your body. 

Taking deep breaths you try to convince yourself that you were okay and it’s not fair to JJ to intrude on his slumber just because you were scared. However, as much as you wanted your pep talk and convincing to work, it didn’t. Suddenly, something that sounded like a tree falling, crashes onto the ground outside, causing both you and Coast to jump in your spot. 

“Fuck this.” You mutter to yourself, quickly getting up with Coast following behind you. 

JJ stirs around in what used to be Big John’s bed when something outside falls down. Everyone knew that JJ Maybank was a heavy sleeper and could sleep through anything. Although as you open the door to the bedroom causing the wood to squeal against the hinges the blonde stirs around again and ultimately wakes up. It was like his body sensed that you were in his presence and he didn’t want to embarrass himself around you by drooling or something. After all, he has had a giant ass crush on you for as long as he could remember. 

“JJ.” You call out whispering while walking slowly over to the bed with your hands out to find it. 

“Mhmm?” JJ asks rubbing his eyes, trying to locate you in the dark room. 

“I’m really scared can I sleep with you?” You ask however JJ only hears the part where you ask to sleep with him. 

“What time is it?” He asks, ignoring your question. 

“Four.” 

He leans up on one arm and lifts his eyebrow. “You come into my room at 4am just to cuddle?” He asks with a sly smile on his face. 

You stand there biting the inside of your cheek as rain continues to pour down against the chateau. “Well since I’m scared wouldn’t that be part of the deal?” 

“Wait what?” JJ asks sitting up, realizing he must’ve heard you wrong when you first came in. 

“The storm is making me scared and anxious so can I sleep with you?” JJ didn’t even realize that Hurricane Agatha has started her wrath against the Outer Banks until you mentioned it.

For most guys a girl coming into their room at four in the morning because they were scared would make them groan and fall back to sleep. But for JJ he could feel his cheeks flushing at the idea of you coming to him for comfort. Even though he didn’t want you to be scared or upset he couldn’t stop his heart beat from increasing at your simple question. It also made him feel good that someone was coming to him for safety and security. He has always acted like your personal security blanket, always protecting you from things, but it made the butterflies in JJ’s stomach flutter every time you came to him. 

Just as JJ was about to utter out a sleepy ‘yes, of course’ a loud rumble of thunder basically shakes the chateau causing you to jump into the bed with the blue eyed boy. He chuckles at your response to the loud noise and moves over a bit to give you more room before wrapping an arm around you. 

Once JJ looked at your face though he realized it was no laughing matter. From what he could see in the darkly lit room you were scared. 

“Hey it’s okay.” He says softly while bringing you close to his chest. In return you wrap your arms around his slender waist, finally allowing yourself to let your emotions out. 

Coast jumps onto the bed to see if you were okay as you start to whimper and cry into JJ’s chest. “Shhh it’s going to be okay. It’s just some bad weather and everything will fine soon.” JJ coos, resting his large hand on the back of your head and rubbing his thumb softly against your hair. 

JJ knew how scared you were of storms and hurricanes. At times he’s almost certain you have a phobia of them. It made sense for them to make you scared though, after all they were linked to the first traumatic event you’ve ever experienced. 

In 2011 hurricane Irene made land fall in OBX and the destruction was devastating. However, the destruction you saw outside wasn’t as close to the destruction hurricane Irene caused to your life. You remember vividly watching your dad leave your small house in the cut, blowing kisses to you and your mom standing on the porch before he left for work. He was a first responder and that was the last time you ever saw him alive. One storm derailed your entire life even at a young age. 

Your parents were already struggling financially to begin with, since the only source of income your family received was from your dad. Your mom was in school to become a surgeon and you guys were drowning in student debt because of it. However, it was going to be all worth it when your mom finally got her dream job, but that never happened. Once your dad died your mom dropped out of school and settled to be a nurse instead, which was still a good job however, it was still a horrible time in your life. 

As your panic attack takes full strength hiccups and coughs fall out of your mouth. It felt like the dark room was shrinking as your chest contracted and windpipe tightened. “I can’t breathe.” You gasp out while you push yourself away from the boy that loved you more than life itself. Your hand reached up towards your throat and you start to scratch at the delicate skin as if to make a hole so you could finally breathe.

JJ has been your closest friend since you could remember and he knows you like the back of his hand. With that being said he’s been there with you for countless of panic attacks. 

The blonde quickly sits up, disturbing Coast who just laid down at the end of the bed. He grabs your hand with his and brings it down to your side as he hovered over top of you. Your chest continued to heave up and down with tears streaming down your face. 

“Y/N look at me.” JJ says concerned, starring down into your red eyes. You listen to what your best friend had to say and made eye contact with him, but your panic attack continued. 

“Take a deep breath. Follow me.” He says taking a deep breath through his nose then letting it out of his mouth. You repeat what JJ does to the best of your ability, causing JJ to nod his head in encouragement. Not long after, your panic attack finally subsided and you were reeling from trauma you just faced physically and mentally. 

JJ moves the hair that was sticking to your face and drying tears before placing the blanket over top of you and lying down himself. “Thank you J.” You softly mumble out. 

“I’m always here for you.” The blonde simply says then places a kiss on the back of your head. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer when he hears the wind outside to continue to whip and whirl, but you were too scared and mentally drained to react to the sounds you hated. 

After a few moments of neither of you saying anything JJ decides to speak up, not knowing if you were awake or not. “Y/N?” 

“Yea J?” 

“I know storms and hurricanes bring back bad memories for you, but have you ever thought about it in a different perspective?” 

“What do you mean?” You ask pulling yourself closer to JJ’s chest when you hear a loud crack come from outside. Another tree just became another victim of hurricane Agatha. 

“Like what if when ever there’s storms and they get bad just try to think that it’s your dad saying hi to you or blowing kisses to you from where ever he is.” 

JJ wasn’t the type of person to talk about deep and personal stuff, but when it came to you he was an open book and vice versa for you. Although, since JJ was so used to being closed off in that sense he didn’t give the best advice, but what he just said was perfect. 

You’ve never thought about storms in that light, you would only associate them with negative experiences and emotions, but JJ’s simple sentence gave a whole new meaning and positive light to them. Of course his statement wasn’t going to get rid of your fear of storms, but it was a start. 

And in that moment you were so grateful for the blonde and blue eyed boy, more than he would ever know. 

-

Question of the day: Whats your biggest fear?

[resident-leevil-old]

RCW's RE7 CONTINUITY:

RCW: Biohazard

in the re7 continuity of Raccoon City Winters i feel like Mia was more sympathetic towards Eveline considering her and Ethan had strikingly similar upbringings; minimal socializing, constant tests ran on them, the needles.

I feel she was torn between taking Eveline away and staying with the Connections in order to help Ethan and it made her feel like shit the entire time. Especially when she had been lying to Ethan about working with the Connections.

She justifies it in her head, saying it would hurt Ethan more if she told him she had been working in a similar place his father had been working in, for a reason almost the same. She knows it's a shit thing, to lie to him like this, but she really wouldn't be able to stomach the look he would give her, and maybe that's selfish but she hates to see him hurt.

And then Eveline, who was young and only wanted a family ("like Ethan did," her brain yelled at her) to grow up with. Eveline, who smiled up at her even after going through the worst tests imaginable and finds comfort in her presence, like Ethan did, every time. Eveline who cries because she knows she's too dangerous to have a real family, but wants to try- hopes she could anyway, like Ethan did.

Mia considers it, running away with Eveline, back home to Ethan and Kyde and stay as far away from California as they could. She planned it out, the whole situation, down from the moment she got Eveline out of that basically a cell for a room to buying a house under a different name in god-damned Romania if she had to.

She accepts her plan as half-baked but the overwhelming guilt and sympathy in her heart allows her to forget about that.

Then the ship, sprung on her that they would be moving Eveline somewhere. The hurricane, Eveline's freakout, Mia's promises of taking Eveline with her and being her mother, the mold.

That night, before the two of them were knocked out of that ship, Eveline cried in Mia's arms for the destruction she caused, and Mia held her and cried for the feeling of failure weighing on her soul.

And when Mia hits the water, when she starts to fall unconscious, she only thinks of how Eveline said she hated storms before, just like Ethan does.

-

And Mia wakes up at the Baker's, and they tell her they rescued her, she deliriously asked if they also found a young girl, if they found Eveline. They tell her not yet, tell her to rest and they promise they'll help find her little girl. She rests, but wakes up again later, unable to keep her eyes closed. She writes on a paper she found just about everything she knew about Eveline and herself, trying to recollect her thoughts when she noticed them fading.

She falls unconscious again before finishing the paper, and she's unable to defuse Eveline's fear and anger before the Baker's are under her control.

-

The years that pass, Mia spends trying to convince Eveline that they can leave the Baker's and start anew. Eveline refuses, too scared that the Connections will come for them if they leave this house. She compromised with the shots that slowed her aging, why couldn't Mommy compromise with her? Did she hate her? Did she secretly want to abandon her? Whenever Eveline asked the answers were always, "No, no Evie I don't want to abandon you but we can't stay here forever, eventually we'll run out of resources for your shots, I don't want you to die, and you'll die after too long without them."

Eveline is content with it, with dying, if she gets to stay with Mommy the whole time. When she told her that, Mommy cried and apologized to her. Eveline never knew why she kept saying sorry, but she stopped saying she would be okay with dying because Mommy crying made her cry.

As the Baker's become cannibalistic and murderous under Eveline's control, she becomes more prideful of herself. Mia doesn't know what to do, how to stop these people from dying, falls under a state of depression. She tries to talk to Eveline, tries to tell her to stop, though Eveline only tells her that she wants to find her Mom someone to be with since she was so sad all the time. Mia knows its a part of Eveline's powers, but the look of innocence in her eyes breaks her down and she stops opposing.

Eventually, Mia tells Eveline about Ethan. Talks about how Ethan loved her more than anything in the world, laments that she shouldn't have lied to him when she only wanted to help him, tells Eveline she only wanted to leave this house so they could be with him. Eveline listens, asks her if she misses Ethan a lot, latches on to the reason she gave for wanting to leave.

Mia tells Eveline she did, that she missed Ethan more than anything in the world, and before she knew it she was unconscious again.

-

Ethan's arrival sparked something in Eveline's soul. She felt angry, at first that this man was the reason Mom would be willing to risk herself and her freedom to be with. She makes Mom fight him a few times, so angry at him for being the reason her family almost broke apart.

Then she watches him cry. She watches this man sit next to his wife each time they fought and cry, even holding her at the risk of her waking up again and hurting him. Eveline sees a man who loved her Mommy so much he would risk dying to mourn her hurt.

And, the final time Mom falls because of Ethan, he didn't move at all, crying on his knees as he held her in his arms. He hardly looks away from Mom when Jack attacks him and even when he kills him.

Eveline realized, when he woke again, his thoughts now shared with hers due to their new connection through the mold, that he loved Mom just as much as she did. She tests him, makes him fight with Grandmother and Grandfather, watching over him as he stumbled through Lucas' puzzles.

Eveline starts to like this man, who loves her Mom so much he'd died and came back to life with her as the only thing on his mind.

-

They nearly escaped, in that stupid little boat. Eveline cried when they both fell in the water. She hadn't mean to do that, hadn't meant to hit the boat directly. She panicked, pulled them both out of the water. She may be angry at Mom and Dad for nearly leaving her but she didn't want them to die.

She helps Mom remember things she forgot, everything that lead up to this. Mom cried again, and Eveline cries for her too.

She talks to Dad, in his head, and she scared him but he doesn't let that get in the way of talking to her. He shows her kindness, sympathy, tells her he doesn't want her to hurt.

Eveline cries to herself, as Mia frees Ethan and pushes him away, afraid she would hurt him. Eveline doesn't make Mom do anything except sleep, lets her rest for all that these years and this day has troubled her.

She talks to Ethan in person again, cried because he was so much more than nicer than he had to be. Cried because she understood now, why Mom wanted to be with him again, cried because she kept them away from each other for so long. Ethan convinces her to let her control of the house go, and she collapsed into the hug he gave her, so so tired.

-

Ethan held Eveline protectively in his arms when he met Redfield, not letting this child who has been through so, so much out of his sight. He doesn't trust these people, but they're helping Mia despite what she'd done so he held back his hostility.

He refused to let them take Eveline from his arms, she was tired and none of them looked like they knew how to carry a tired child.

They have to do check-ups every month during the first year, but they're allowed to stay together. They have to move to Europe, "Romania, huh?" Mia thinks to herself when she heard it, realizing that she'd gotten her wish- just differently than she expected, and no one could know where they lived but otherwise they would be fine. They keep in contact with Zoe, and Kyde (who doesn't wait to say "I told you so," to Ethan but still shows he's happy Mia was found and well,) throughout the years.

Eveline gets a final shot that was able to stabilize her aging process, and she's able to go with no more needles unless absolutely necessary. Mia tells Ethan everything she had been there for, promising to never keep another secret from him again, and he forgives her (he would do it either way). The three of them live happily in Romania, for all of three years.

And Eveline doesn't tell anyone that Ethan isn't Ethan like he used to be, waits for everyone to notice by themselves. They never do. And Re8 begins.

And that, my friends, is the RE7 Continuity of Raccoon City Winters; Raccoon City Winters: Biohazard!

[poodlejoonas]

Inspired by my BC Fan Week dad!Joonas short: the rest of the guys as uncles

@the-killer-queenie​ just sent me a darling DM with her own ideas of it and now I want to add more: the other members as uncles (and Joonas as a dad). And if you’re cool with it, I included your original DM that inspired it at the end.

Also, perfect timing because there was a discussion of BC dad/uncle headcanons in the Violent Pop server while I was cleaning, so this one’s also for you guys 🥂

Under the read-more for length:

Joonas:

His first reaction when he found out he was going to be a dad was pure fear. He doubted that he would ever be a good one and that he would end up ruining his daughter’s life. While the anxieties lingered (and still do, even with her here), he learned to grow into the idea. He became super protective of his girlfriend, calling every chance he got while he was either in the Netherlands or on tour to make sure that she was comfortable. She got annoyed super fast by how fussy he was, but she understood that he was excited and anxious and only wanted the best for them. He was the one to suggest the name Sohvi and started calling her by it long before she was even born.

Despite finding out about the pregnancy in April, they waited until almost the end of June to make the news public. It was a big all-in-one announcement: a small gender reveal at home with a cake and a letterboard with her birthday and initials (name was kept secret until she arrived). This all conveniently happened before the tour so the crowd went into the show knowing about her. As much as he would have loved to invite his girlfriend to more summer tour shows, he wanted to make sure she wasn’t overexposed to the heat and stress of being in a large crowd. When she does come to one of the shows in Helsinki, he sets her up with an air conditioned room backstage. Every time they were sitting next to each other, he would instinctively hold her belly. Whenever he was at home, he would sing to them so Sohvi could hear his voice. Eventually, she would kick when he started singing, almost like she knew he was there.

Joonas would be a fantastic girl dad! The night before every tour, he lets her paint his nails any color she wants, and he refuses to take it off no matter how messy it is or how chipped it gets. It becomes like a tradition for them, mostly so she can get used to the idea of him being gone for long periods of time. When she can come to local shows, she does the make-up for him and the rest of the guys (the ones who wear it, at least). They play an acoustic version of one of their songs (something like My Heart is a Hurricane) for whenever she can join them on stage; it’s a small break for the ones who aren’t playing and a chance for her to see them perform without noise-cancelling headphones.

He takes super adorable pictures of and with her, and whenever he posts something of her and her mom together, he calls them “his girls.” He would also certainly have her name and her birthday (November 15) in Roman numerals tattooed over his heart. Every year around Christmas time, they take a family weekend vacation to Rovaniemi to visit Santa’s village. In all, he would surprise a lot of people - and himself - by fitting into the role so well and so quickly. He’s not a perfect dad, but he tries his best.

The “responsible” uncles:

Tommi:

Tommi would almost certainly be her favorite uncle. He’s just such a massive teddy bear in general that she loves whenever she can get a hug from him. When they go out as a group, especially to festivals, he carries her around on his shoulders so she can feel tall and see the other bands perform better. I get vibes from him that he’s the best cook out of the group, so whenever he’s on babysitting duty, he makes her the best meals. He likes to wrestle and playfully rough house with her to make her laugh. It’s not uncommon for her to fall asleep while he’s holding her because he’s that comfy to rest on. After the Bass Incident, he became the top candidate for being her godfather.

Olli:

You know, until last week, I thought that Olli would be the best choice for being her godfather, but after the lost bass fiasco I don’t think he can be trusted with a child lol. But he’s still one of the responsible uncles regardless! When she’s super young, sometimes she gets him and her dad confused with each other because their hair and instruments look so similar (see also: this vine). He’s the one who likes to take her out to the park and then get ice cream with her afterwards. He also has zero shame about letting her put a tiara on him and invite him to her tea party, and he plays along with it too. When he’s on babysitting duty, he reads her stories and sometimes narrates them with different voices.

Aleksi:

He’s the chill responsible uncle. He works so often that he rarely ever gets time to hang out with her outside of the studio like the others do, but they spend the most time together while he works. He holds her while he works at his laptop and lets her watch the cool colors and coding scroll across the screen. He’s the first one to volunteer to hold her if Joonas has to go in the other room to record his parts, and typically the first one to volunteer to take care of her last-minute. When she gets a little older, between song editing sessions, he’ll open a fresh file and let her “record” her own songs. Of course, they almost never leave his laptop, but it’s the thought that counts.

The “irresponsible” uncles:

Niko:

Okay, so Niko is one of the “irresponsible” ones but almost certainly a little better than Joel at the job. What puts him in this category is that he swears like a sailor even when she’s in the room because he forgets that kids are sponges and absorb everything they see and hear. He also has no problem throwing some chicken nuggets in the oven and calling it a day, so he needs to be reminded that she has to eat more than that. But he’s still a loving uncle, he just needs someone to help him babysit lol. He lets her play with his hair when they’re hanging out together, and when she gets older, he teaches her how to play the piano. She loves when he sings to her and she’ll request certain songs from him. He’s also the uncle who encourages her to just talk and talk (building up her communication skills) by pretending that they’re gossiping together (“oh really? what did he do next? tell me more!”)

This post is totally Niko, by the way:

Joel:

Joel... love this boy, but he’s without a doubt the least responsible of the uncles. It’s mostly because he can spend maybe an hour and a half maximum with her before he hits a wall of exhaustion and is ready to send her back to her parents. When he’s with others who can help him take care of her, he can hang out with her a little bit longer. He also has no idea how to actually hang out with a child in a kid-friend context. Admittedly, he was the least excited to find out that she was coming because he thought that meant Joonas was going to leave the band. He needed tons of confirmation before he warmed up to the idea of becoming an uncle. But that doesn’t make him a totally bad uncle. He treats her like a member of his own family as well and he’s great at making her laugh. He’s also the first to jump to her or Joonas’ defense on Instagram if tabloids (or someone like That Bitch Archie Cruz) make defamatory comments about them.

The original HC:

[achliegh]

Golden

Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

Beta: @the-most-slytherin-hufflepuff & @punkkkkboi

TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death/suicide, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe

Chapter Songs (listening in order is recommended):

Chapter 16:

Hours after Noelle Landed in Montreal, Thomas and Clay landed in New Orleans. A few hours ago Clay’s parents dropped his truck off at the airport so he could take Thomas around the city to see his favorite places. They didn’t bring much just carry on backpacks, so walking out the door and feeling the heat was what they did next.

“It’s Winter!”

“It’s so warm, I missed it.” Clay sighs happily and grabs the little dangly adjustment strap to Thomas’ bag and starts leading him to where his parents said his truck was following the directions on his phone that his mom typed out. It stayed in daily parking so they didn’t have to go inside the parking garage. Thankfully. Thomas was expecting Clay’s truck to be just like his one in Gryffindor, large bright red and loud, but to his surprise they start walking over to a teal blue old truck. It must have been from the 70’s or something. Thomas stopped a couple feet back just taking in the scene.

Clay, glowing under the sun just in a shirt and jeans standing next to a light blue truck making this all seem like a picture on one of those tiny calendars with old cars on them. The concrete around them was a bit off but he didn’t mind.

“What? Something wrong?” Clay looks at him from the other side of the truck after finding his keys in his bag and tossing it into the bed of the truck. “You can toss your bag in the back if you want, there isn’t a ton of room in the front.”

“I was just looking at something pretty is all.” Thomas acts all nonchalant as he tosses his bag in the back next to Clay’s and climbs in the now unlocked vehicle. Clay gets in on the driver's side and gives him a confused look, turning his head in the direction of where Thomas was just looking.

“All I see are cars, was there a cool one I missed?” He looks back at Thomas only to find his boyfriend a good inch from his face. He feels his cheeks heating up and hopes Thomas can’t tell. “What?”

“I was staring at you, Stupid.” Clay feels his cheeks get even more red and glares at Thomas a bit. Thomas has definitely stuck to his words recently in telling Clay he is ‘Pretty’ and ‘Beautiful’ all the time but Clay still doesn’t know how to react. Recently it has been smacking Thomas upside the head… then usually smooching him but that's besides the point. He has grown up his whole life being criticized for how he looks, then suddenly girls were throwing themselves at him and calling him ‘Hot’ and ‘Sexy’ but never the things Thomas or Noelle says.

It makes him feel vulnerable when they say stuff like that.

“Shut up.” Clay gives him a quick kiss and goes to pull away but Thomas holds him by his shirt to deepen the kiss, Clay doesn’t even try to fight against it. He smiles and kisses him more sweetly before they actually pull away. “I’m hungry, let's go eat!” He smiles a bit as Thomas laughs and buckles up, pulling out of the parking lot he starts to drive further into the heart of the city. Thomas watches all the old and new buildings mix together to make a wonderful blend of modern and historical.

It was so amazing, beautiful and fun.

He notices the buildings are getting more off the ground and raises an eyebrow, he goes to ask Clay what the houses are doing on stilts but the NOLA Native beats him to the punch.

“They are for when it floods during storms. Like hurricanes and flash floods, we have a flood wall as well but they don’t always hold up.” Clay has put on his dark wire framed sunglasses, driving with one hand on the wheel and his other elbow resting on the open window seal of the car, wind blowing through his hair. Just looking so in his element. “We are headed towards the harbor because they have the best seafood boil restaurants. My favorite is Mama Junes but Leo’s is Olive and Otto’s. So we tend to fight about where we want to go.” Clay glances over to Thomas who is just soaking everything in. Looking relaxed and calm.

They pull into the small broken concrete parking lot and park right in front. There are old buildings lining the narrow sidewalk just feet away from the docks. The sidewalk was poorly taken care of but it added character. Clay hop out of the truck and wanders over to Thomas side and opens the door bowing to him.

“Your highness.” Then he trips him on the way out making him stumble causing Clay to laugh hard enough he has to lean against the truck so he doesn’t fall over. Thomas rolls his eyes smiling and closes the door. Looking out at the docks he notices all the people doing their jobs and wonders what it would be like to be on a massive ship. He is knocked out of his thoughts by being hit in the side of the head by a pen.

“Where did you even get a pen!?” Thomas picks up the pen from the ground and starts chasing Clay around the truck for a good few minutes before he finally catches him from behind and wraps his arms around his waist picking him up, swinging him around to the other side of him, both laughing uncontrollably. Thomas' stomach lets them know that it senses food is nearby by rumbling loudly.

“That was weird I could feel your stomach growling, we should go eat before the fishermen get off work for the night.” Clay turns around in Thomas arms and just looks over his face for a moment, running his fingertips over the side of his face. He loves Thomas…

He should tell him soon and Noelle, of course Noelle. She is everything, beautiful, smart, sarcastic, and treats him like a real person. Clay didn’t know if he was ever going to date another woman after Ashley, hell, he didn’t even know if he would ever get away from Ashley. But he never expected to get so lucky. He never in a million years ever expected to be loved like two people.

Well, he hopes they love him.

They pull away after just looking at each other for a solid thirty seconds before Clay leads Thomas down the street a bit to a restaurant that looks straight out of the 60’s. Thomas was picking up a theme of stuff Clay likes… the theme is old. Doesn’t help that he and Noelle are older than the southerner either. They get a table, order food, and people just keep coming up to the table to talk to Clay like old friends. Men, women, old and young everyone wanted to talk to him.

When their food does show up it is something called a ‘seafood boil’. Thomas has heard of it before but always thought it was boiled right in front of you, which it is not. It also shows up in a plastic bag for some reason. Clay teaches him how to crack crab properly, only ending in one thumb being cut open by the sharp shell. Whose thumb?

Clayton London Bruss’ and he was annoyed about it.

They finish up eating and paying, Clay gives the young waitress a 50% tip because he can and wants to. They head out the door full and happy, walking past a group of old women who are playing poker at one of the tables out front.

“Well if it isn’t Mr. Bruss himself! Long time no see, Sugar.” The woman the farthest away from Clay smiles at him and Thomas is worried this is going to go bad. “Looking mighty handsome there young man, be careful one of these days I’m gonna leave my husband for you.”

“Mrs. Bell! You can’t say stuff like that!” He laughs and walks over to give her a kiss on the cheek, giving Thomas time to take a good look at her. She was an older looking black woman who has definitely lived a full life, she was wearing a lot of blush and eyeshadow but her ruby red lipstick is what really stood out. Especially when she gave Clay a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m old, I can say what I want, within reason. Now tell me where you have been these last few months! We miss you and Leo on Fridays.”

“You here to stay for a while before you take off and get yourself hurt at those rodeos?” The woman across from Mrs. Bell spoke up, she was a white heavy set woman with a shirt that has two hurricanes on the boobs of her shirt that say ‘Lily’ and ‘Katrina’. He doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“I assure you Miss Lila, I am only here for a day or maybe two.”

“Who is this hunk that with you Clayton, I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on him.” Clay smiles brightly and walks back over to Thomas’ side. Ignoring the hungry stares pointed in Thomas' direction by all four women.

“Sorry but he is off limits.” All the women make a mock sound of disappointment. “He’s my boyfriend.” They are stunned for a moment before they all gasp in delight and congratulate them.

“You always knew how to pick them, I always thought Your friend Leo and you would end up together. But I am so happy for you.” Mrs. Bell smiles at them.

“Everyone always thought Leo and I would get together but honestly, he's not my type.” Clay winks at the ladies who all giggle as they walk past, saying goodbye to one another. The ladies pick up their game from where they left off. Thomas was still in shock. Those elderly ladies.. Congratulated them! He was not expecting that. He was expecting to be chased off with a purse or something. Then again, Clay does seem rather close to them.

“How do you know them?” Thomas looks at Clay who is saying hello to the people he knows that pass them on the way to the restaurant. He apparently knows everyone.

“Well, they have a poker tournament every Friday at Mama June’s so Leo and I would volunteer there for fun. Other people would work to get paid but we never needed the money, instead we were the two who would lose on purpose just to give the people their money. Most people who go to the tournaments are on the poorer side of town and we always tried to give back. So that's what we did. We would bet obscene amounts of money just to make sure people could pay their rent or bills or do whatever they do to relieve stress after a long week of working.” Thomas stopped walking, Clay didn’t notice for a few steps and then turned but to look. The sun was sinking down behind him and it made him glow. Thomas has known he has loved Clay for a while now but Noelle and him had a plan to tell Clay together. But at this very moment in time, his heart was so full of adoration he couldn’t help himself.

“I love you.”

Noelle watched, she watched the entire interaction her father had with Leo. She knew it wasn’t going to be good. She had listened to his insult Leo while she was in the kitchen with her mother and honestly it made her feel sick with anger. Leo was exactly what they wanted for Logan. Yet, they brush him off because of something stupid. She was pissed, helping her mother get ingredients out for dinner but decided she didn’t want to help. She was exhausted mentally and physically. So she decided to go take a nap, walking out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her childhood room.

The biggest bedroom in the house. It was painted seafoam green because that was her favorite color in secondary school, posters of her favorite bands and pictures of her friends all over the walls. Little origami birds made by her best friend hang from fishing line over her king sized bed with pristine crisp white matching bedspread, pillows and sheets. Her full length mirror was next to her large white desk with a lamp that cost forty dollars on it. Her bean bag chairs of varying sizes and colors on the corner next to her TV and PlayStation.

She never noticed how spoiled she was. But being in this room and then thinking about her sisters and Logan’s room, it made her ears ring with guilt. She started going to therapy after she got out of the house because she didn’t understand why she would just be consumed by guilt or sadness whenever she was around Logan. They never had a good relationship when they were younger fighting all the time, Noelle just saying really nasty things that she regrets and now they are pretty much each other's best friends. Her therapist told her that it was because her father was a narcissist and raised her to believe she was better than all her siblings but as she grew older she knew that it was wrong.

After that appointment she called Logan to apologize for everything over the phone, he was confused but still listened and let her get everything off her chest. Then he invited her and their sisters to family skate. There is where she met Thomas, she was uncomfortable around him for a while but she couldn’t understand why. Then it hit her.

Her father would speak poorly of any person of color any chance he got… and she believed him when he said all those terrible things. Things that should never be said. So she erased everything he ever said from her morals and continued to hang out with Thomas, when he asked her out it was a no brainer to say yes.

Her father wasn’t happy but it's not his life to live, she paced up and down her dorm on many nights when she should have been studying worrying about what her dad would say but in the end she understood that none of it mattered… By then she knew she was in love.

Months later she started going to the Godric University in Gryffindor to continue her masters degree she told her parents it was to keep an eye on Logan, she moved in with Thomas but never told her parents. Logan was ecstatic. She hadn’t seen him that happy in… well, when their dad told him he was proud of Logan for getting drafted and “doing something with his life”. It stung but Logan couldn’t stop smiling.

Then there was Clay. Stupid, Charming, Challenging, Beautiful Clay.

He waltzed into their lives like he was meant to. Stumbling once but never stopping. She wasn’t expecting to get a text from a random number saying “Hi, My name is Clayton and I have been talking to Thomas over the phone for a few months. He mentioned he had a girlfriend but I think we have started flirting and I wanted to let you know, because I know Thomas talks about you all the time and is madly in love with you. I just wanted to let you know that… I think I have caught feelings for him and if you would like me to stop talking to him I will.”

It scared her at first not answering the message for days, letting it hang over her like a storm cloud, Thomas had never mentioned an interest in the same sex before and she was worried she would lose him. So they talked about it, Thomas showed her the messages willingly and hadn’t noticed the flirting until she pointed it out. She started messaging Clay. They got on really well and before she knew it, he was all her and Thomas talked about.

They both realized they liked him, together.

Meeting him in person for the first time was intimidating because how do you balance a relationship already formed and stable, to a relationship with a new person at the same time? Would they get jealous? Would they fight? Would they end up splitting up?

But instead, Clay made them stronger, happier. They were happy before but sometimes it felt as though something was missing. Noelle didn’t really know or care about Polyamrous relationships until Logan started talking to her about how it feels to love two people.

“It hurts sometimes but it is also something I can’t live without. One being wild and free and the other grounded and calm, sometimes they switch or we all switch in dynamics but… I wouldn’t trade either of them for the world. It's the most I’ve ever loved and been loved in my life.” and she wanted that as well but never thought she could do it.

Then it happened, she felt like she was on the edge of a cliff ready to dive off at any minute but she was worried she would regret it. She eventually jumped, landing in the water below of safety and love, never looking back. She never would.

Her and Thomas told each other they loved one another on the same day at the same time. A day she would never forget. They were stuck in traffic arguing about something stupid, probably about schedules because that was their main issue always missing each other on the way out the door, they stopped for a moment. Noelle was still fuming but Thomas was calm, he was always calm, he put his hand on her leg and she looked at him. They held eye contact for a few seconds before they said at the same time.

“I love you.”

Clay was stunned. He stared at Thomas letting the words he just spoke sink in. He never expected to be told that by someone other than his parents, Leo, Reg and Eloise. His heart suddenly started aching and his throat became tight as he felt a drop of something on his cheek. Looking up to see if it was raining he only saw a clear blue sky beginning to tint purple. Then he felt a strong arm wrap around his waist and a hand cup his cheek, turning his head to meet those soft dark brown eyes.

“Is it raining?” Thomas smiled a bit at him and wiped his cheek.

“You’re crying. Are you okay?”

“You love me?” Thomas smiles so bright, so calm and so lovingly at him that it makes him feel like he is about to burst with emotions.

“Yes, I do.” Clay puts his hands over his own overworking heart and squeezes.

“Why?” Thomas is a bit taken back by this question, his expression changes a bit to concern for a moment. Wiping away another tear that has fallen.

“Because, you make me happy. You are caring, sweet, kind and…” Clay squeezes his eyes shut listening to Thomas list off things about himself that he couldn’t believe were true. “You are beautiful.” Clay lets out a strangled sound from his throat and turns to bury his face in Thomas’ chest hoping he could hide. “You are so so amazing Clayton, I just wish I could show you what I see, what Noelle sees too.” Oh god, they have talked about being in love with Clay and he didn’t even know! Noelle wasn’t with them but it felt as though she was everywhere. She was in the blue of the ocean, the sound of it hitting the shore. The beauty of the city just so alive yet caring. She was everywhere and not there at the same time.

“Noelle loves me too?”

“Yes, but don’t tell her I confessed for her. She will kill me.” This makes both of them chuckle. Clay pulls away enough to look Thomas in the eyes once more and he says back.

“I love you.”

Judy was waiting by the door, the food for dinner was in the oven staying warm, Garland was outside on the porch smoking a cigarette waiting for the boys to arrive. It would be any minute now. Clay says they just ate but Judy isn’t one to let her guests get hungry. She remembers Thomas from when the team was down at the Knut’s ranch for a week. She remembers him being polite and helping her move the chair around the table to make sure everyone would fit for the meals.

He was also a very good looking man, he was tall, dark and handsome as Clay would say. She never in a million years would have thought that that would be the man Clay ended up with. There was also Noelle who she spoke with when some of the team was at the bar, she was so very sweet and funny as well. But again, never someone she thought Clayton would end up with.

She saw the dust down the driveway and knew the boys were moments away, Clayton knows she doesn’t like him driving at night. She remembers when Clay was just a young little boy, coming home after driving in the dark crying because he almost hit a possum. He was always emotional. She knows people like to take advantage of his kindness and use it against him, his vulnerability showed everyone he has ever met his flaws.

She can only hope that her son is being treated well up north. She prays they aren’t like Ashley.

The truck pulls up, parking in his normal spot across from the door, hopping out of the truck Judy watches as her son and Thomas link hands as they walk towards the door. Garland stands up slowly, his back and hips have been bothering him as he gets older, shaking Thomas hand after stubbing out his cigarette he leads them inside.

“Ma!” Clay runs over to hug her and lifts her off the ground making her laugh, he seems to be in a wonderful mood. “I missed you.” He starts sniffing the air and making his way towards the kitchen knowing his favorite is somewhere to be found. He was always reminding her of her puppy. Judy places her hands on her hips and shakes her head at him. She looks at Thomas and notices the absolutely love sick face he has on as he watches Clayton leave the room. She smiles. That was something she only ever read about in her romance novels, she wonders if Garland ever looks at her that way.

“Hello Thomas, it's good to see you again.” She watches as he smiles at her and extends his hand for her to shake, she playfully swats his hand away and pulls him into a tight hug. It takes him a minute to hug back but when he does it is tight. Clayton was in good hands.

“Long time no see.” He smiles at her as they pull away, a bit pink in the face. “You look stunning as ever, I might add.”

“Stop hitting on my mom! You’re gonna make my dad jealous.” Clay smiles at Thomas from the doorway of the kitchen with an oven mitt on one hand holding a large bowl of what looks like red beans and rice. Something he always tries to replicate at home but can never get it right. A spoon on the other hand and eating straight from the bowl. Judy laughs for a second.

“Clayton, please use a plate. How many times have I told you that you can’t just eat from the bowl.” Judy takes the towel from over her shoulder and takes the bowl from him, walking in the kitchen. A few minutes later they all sat around the table eating and chatting.

“I think I’m going to bring Noelle down for the two weeks we are back here before we leave for rodeo this summer.” Clay talks with his mouth full and Thomas rolls his eyes a bit. Smiling. Sharing a look with Judy.

“Clayton, have I taught you no table manners over the years.” Judy smiles at him and Garland snorts.

“Nope!” He laughs but moves to the side so Judy can’t smack his arm. “Okay, okay. You have but this is who I am mother goose. I can’t change it.”

Garland actually laughs at this. Thomas has noticed that Garland is a rather soft spoken man, old with a round beer gut but still jolly. Kinda like Santa with the beard, but he doesn’t think Santa wears work overalls. Thomas also notices a bisexual flag pin on his old beat up hat. That must be the pin Clay talks about sneaking onto his dad's hat that he ‘never noticed’ Thomas suspects he did notice. But wants to support his son in any way he can. That makes Thomas feel so happy that he can’t explain it.

Later in the evening before the sun has fully set but the stars are out and bright, plus there is a full moon tonight lighting up the area with ease, Clay had excused himself to the restroom to clean the lipstick off his face while Garland and Thomas went outside to chat.

“Has Clayton told you anything about his last relationship?” Thomas shakes his head no watching as Garland sits down in an old rocking chair and lights a cigarette. Offering one to Thomas. He declines. “Well, she got him into a lot of trouble. Being the Sheriff daughter and all. Plus she had a temper and if I’m being honest I don’t think she ever actually liked Clayton.” He takes a drag and Thomas furrows his brow listening intently. “She only dated him for status, he was one other the only people targeted by the sheriff and he is black so she thought of him more as a chess piece to her rebellion than anything. She is pregnant now and I have a terrible feeling that…” Garland shakes his head, deciding not to tell Thomas what his theory is.

Clay walks out the door and finds them chatting.

“Not giving him the shovel talk are ya, Pa?” He smiles at Thomas and puts out his hand for him to take. “I’m gonna take him on a tractor ride because he has never been before.”

“I wasn't giving him no shovel talk but I am telling him he best respect you.” Clay smiles at his dad and nods. “Go on! I’m not keeping you from counting the cattle.”

“Ha Ha.” Clay rolls his eyes and drags Thomas over to the old looking tractor sitting by the entrance to the gate to the pasture. “Come on! There is somewhere I want to show you!” Clay got them settled, the tractor wasn't very large and it was old so he sat on Thomas’ lap as he started driving in the pasture.

“Comfy?”

“You are a very nice cushion.” Clay smiles as Thomas scoffs and wraps his arms around his waist pressing the side of his head to Clay back. He was having a great time but he was getting a bit uncomfortable from the old seat… and Clay’s ass bouncing up and down on his lap. The drive from a bit before his hard on became noticeable.

“Thomas… are you hard?” Clay can feel his cheeks heating up as he feels Thomas dick under him, ever since Thomas told him he loves him he has been wanting so have some passionate lovemaking… not necessarily on a tractor though. “Please don’t tell me tractors are you new kink.”

Thomas laughs into Clay back and smooths his hands down Clay's abdomen to rest on the top of his thighs. “Maybe not tractors but you bouncing in my lap sure does get me going.” He laughs as Clay pulls off into a grove. Trees surrounding a pond or lake, just a body of water. Wildflowers everywhere, not blooming but he could still smell them. Clay turns the tractor off and stands up doing his best to turn around to face Thomas and not trip on the petals.

“Want to do something about it? We are in a place that Leo and I call ‘Secret’ so we might as well.” Clay straddles Thomas, his arms resting on his shoulders as their faces are just inches apart, only the light of the moon is making them visible to each other. Thomas wastes no time gripping Clay ass and pulling him in for a ferocious kiss. They made out for a while, Thomas smirking into the kiss every once in a while from when he grabs Clay’s ass making him gasp a bit. Normally Clay was very pliant when kissing, very submissive and soft, today he was fighting Thomas for dominance over the kiss and it was incredible.

Thomas felt Clay’s hand slowly fall from his shoulder down to his waistband, unbuttoning his pants with one hand and unzipping them. Thomas rarely ever wore jeans but he felt it was appropriate for meeting parents. Clay ran his finger up and down the bit of Thomas’ underwear that was just behind where the zipper was, teasing him. Feeling his breath hitch Clay smirks, pulling away from the kiss.

“You gonna fuck me or do I have to do it myself?” Clay barley finished the sentence before Thomas somehow maneuvered him so he was on his knees on the tractor seat, resting his chest over the backrest making an ‘oof’ when his diaphragm hit the rest. “Hand me my phone.”

“Think you are gonna get bored?” Thomas raises a questioning eyebrow but hands Clay his phone from the cup holder.

“No… just thought Noelle would Like a video of us.” He smiles looking back at Thomas with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Thomas is stunned for a moment, suddenly whipping out his own phone and pulling up snapchat.

“You’re so smart.” Clay’s smile goes from mischievous to soft in a second, just before Thomas yanks down his pants. “Wait… We don’t have any lube.”

“Check my front pocket, I’ve been carrying it around all day.” Clay is poking around on his phone looking rather uninterested but below the surface he was the most excited he has been in a long time, his dream was to have someone love him, fuck him, and want him in Secret. It’s finally happening.

Thomas reaches into Clay's front pocket, placing a couple small kisses on his back as he does, pulling out a packet of lube he is a bit worried. “Is this gonna be enough to prep you and fuck you?” Clay doesn't answer, just whistling as he kicks his feet a bit, then Thomas sees it, a glint in the moonlight. He looks down and notices… Clay was wearing a plug. He loudly groaned and pressed his forehead to Clay's back. “You’re gonna kill me!” Clay laughs a bit.

“I actually would rather keep you alive for now.”

“For now!?” Clay laughs again.

“As long as I’m alive at least.” Thomas smiles and shakes his head, slowly pulling the plug from Clay. He watches the screen of his lover's phone how his face looks tense but relaxed at the same time. Thomas pulls his own pants down his thighs and tears open the packet of lube with his teeth and pours it onto his cock. Clay zooms in on him.

After spreading the lube on himself he wipes the extra off on Clay’s shirt who is about to protest but gasps as Thomas pushes into him in one smooth glide, not moving just waiting for Clay to adjust. Holding his shirt between his teeth Thomas opens his phone and starts recording with the flash as he starts moving in and out of Clay, slow but deep. Clay’s own recording is on his front facing camera on his face with flash, he actually forgets he is holding his phone for a moment and closes his eyes just enjoying the jolts of pleasure through his body. His phone dips a bit so it isn’t on his face anymore and Thomas stops moving altogether.

“Phone Clayton.” Clay swallows because Thomas never calls him by his full name unless he is in trouble, he fixes the angle without complaining and is rewarded with the deepest thrust yet. Moaning loudly he pushes back onto Thomas a bit and feels him start to speed up. Punching sounds out of him as his diaphragm hits the seat and Thomas’ cock knocks the wind out of him. He is making sure to put on a show as he starts sending the videos to the groupchat of him, Thomas and Noelle.

Thomas’ video also start sending, he is making sure the angle in the video is right to see him fucking clay, sometimes pulling out slow and fucking in fast. Sometimes pulling out fast and pushing in slow. He was taking Clay apart in ways he didn’t know possible.

Clay was getting close, after his third video to Noelle he starts getting shaky, he eyes are rolling back and his mouth is constantly slack. He is used to Thomas tossing out degrading shit when they fuck, and he loves it, but tonight Thomas was completely silent and it made Clay realize just how loud he is. Thomas drives a good three more hard thrusts right into Clay's prostate and then on the fourth he says pressing on it and grinds into it causing tears to fall from Clay’s eyes for the second time today. It sends Clay over the edge, cumming harder than he has in a while and that says a lot because he usually cums hard when he is with his partners.

Clay clenches around Thomas as he starts cumming and it sends him over the edge as well, sending the last video he leans forward and grips Clay's hips tightly as his body tenses. Once he is finished he slowly pulls out, neither of them being a fan of over stimulation, they both wince a bit.

“We don’t have anything to clean up with.” Thomas is thinking about using his shirt but that might be obvious to the parents.

“You could.. Put the plug back in, then use the dirty rag in the bottom of the cup holder for the seat.” Clay isn’t looking at Thomas, he probably thinks it's weird that Clay wants the plug back in. “Just… Just til we get back home.” Clay's face is burning with how embarrassed he is. Thomas thinks for a moment feeling his own face heat up, Clay wants everything he just put in him to stay in him… it was extremely hot but he didn’t know if that's how Clay saw it, taking the plug from his hand that was holding his phone, he help it between his ring and middle finger to make sure they didn’t lose it. He gulps down all his excitement that is threatening to make him hard again and watches closely as he uses his free hand to pull Clay open again. He slowly inserts the plug back into his boyfriend and lets out a shaky breath. How is he supposed to talk to Judy if he knows Clay is walking around with his baby juice still in him.

Oh god.

Clay slowly sits up and rolls his shoulders out, they are a bit stiff. Thomas wraps his arms around Clay's middle after they both pull up their pants and wipe off the seat, Clay’s head falls back on his shoulder, smiling sleepily.

“Hey,” Thomas pokes Clay’s cheek with his nose in a way of telling him he wants a kiss, turning his head Clay gives him a sweet chaste kiss smiling when they rub their noses for a moment. “I love you.” Clay turns around in the seat clumsily, just about falling off but thankful Thomas catches him by his belt loops and pulls him back onto the seat both laughing wildly. Smashing their lips together they are still laughing playfully biting each other's lips and noses.

“I love you too.”

Noelle woke up from her nap in one of her bigger fluffier bean bag chairs, it held her and probably would hold Thomas as well. Her phone was going nuts, sixteen snapchat notifications from Clay and Thomas. She sighs happily, still having an hour until dinner she was excited to talk to her boys, opening her app she clicks on that little purple square and it's a video of Clay's face, but then it zooms in on Thomas… lubing himself up. Sitting up a bit too fast and making herself dizzy, thanks anemia, she starts watching closer. Watching all the videos in full she is incredibly hot and uncomfortable, she curses as she tries to take a screenshot of Clay’s face and accidently closes her phone.

She watches closely at all of the videos, Thomas’ of his cock fucking Clay and Clay’s reaction to this on his own videos. She scrambles to her bag to pull out the gift Clay had gotten her from a fucking tiktok video. It was a rose toy, the first time she used it she came in a minute and a half, crying from how good it was at the same time. She decided to take a video of herself getting off to them… they would appreciate that.

Stripping out of everything except for the hoodie Thomas gave her over a year ago she gets to work. Setting the phone up on the fancy footboard of her bed she gets a bit camera shy, sitting there for a moment thinking about how bad she wishes she was with them. She also was nervous to use the rose on her own because it was really powerful and she didn’t know if she could actually keep it on herself long enough to actually finish.

Then she starts thinking about how Clay and Thomas will react to the video, definitely would get them going again and she would love to hear or maybe even see what they did. She is starting to think she is a bit of a voyeur… She take a deep breath and starts the video, She awkwardly waves at the camera, noticing how her hair is poking out of her hood over her head and she laughs, taking a deep breath she holds down the button on the rose for three seconds and she feels it turn on, buzzing in her hand. She spreads her legs and places the rose onto herself, instantly she knocks her head back on her headboard. Putting her free hand over her mouth to keep her from making noise she scrunches her brows and squeezes her eyes shut. Pressing harder she feels her legs start to shake and her abs clenching. Her toes start to curl and her eyes roll back as she already starts to fall off the edge, already being so turned on and the power of the rose being too much she cums taking the rose off her and curling forward as she shakes, shivering violently. She is breathing hard and feels around for her phone. Stopping the video she sends it to them with a little heart emoji. She looks at the time and smiles as she still has twenty minutes till dinner, she cleans up and gets dressed in something a bit nicer. Her face is still red and glowy but she doesn’t mind. She gets a notification and it's from Thomas in the chat, three drooling emojis and

‘I love you’.

Later on in the night after Judy and Garland have gone to bed and Thomas was on his phone just scrolling on tiktok, Clay got him addicted, the man himself walks into the room with arms full of snacks, placing them on the table in his room. His room was the size of the living room in the apartment, it had two red walls and two white. It seems like Clay has never been one for monogamy in any sense of the word. It had a large king size bed, on a fancy mahogany bed frame with fancy sheets and bedspread that don’t match in the slightest. A walk in closet that was full of clothes and trophies along with a gaming system and boxes with names on them full of little trinkets that Clay has found. Leo and Eloise's boxes are the only boxes left in there because Thomas, Noelle and Reg have all taken their boxes with them. Judy and Garland have a room full of things Clay has collected for them over his whole life.

“Did you get cleaned out? I want to make sure we pack the plug for home, I think we could have some good fun with that.” Thomas moves to the edge of the bed to sit with his feet touching the ground, about to get up to get some pretzel sticks. Clay had gone quiet, he was just chatting about how he was upset that his favorite heifer was sold and his parents forgot to tell him.

“Ummm… yeah.” Thomas senses something is off and motions for Clay to come over to him with his finger, Clay shuffles over to him between his legs, Thomas rests his hands on Clay hips and looks up at him. Clay is looking anywhere but him.

“Clay, what's wrong?” Clay sighs and looks down, Thomas ducks his head a bit to look Clay in the eyes, he looks worried. This made Thomas worry as well.

“I just- it's embarrassing.”

“What's embarrassing?” Clay starts to fidget, pressing the tips of his fingers in between his other fingers. Thomas takes his hands and gives them a squeeze.

“I still have the plug in… because I want you in me. Always.” Clay feels his cheeks heat up and he is waiting for Thomas to get grossed out but instead Thomas smiles at him.

“I don’t think that’s embarrassing, I think that's actually pretty hot.” Clay looks deep into Thomas eyes before moving onto the rest of his face just to see if he is lying, he realizes he is being truthful and tackles him back onto the bed. They eventually stop rolling with Clay on top of Thomas, they are both only in their boxers so there wasn’t much between them. Clay grinds down on Thomas as he feels him getting hard. Thomas goes to put his hands on Clay's hips but is stopped short, Clay pins his hands above his head smirking down at him.

“I’m in charge tonight, keep your hands here. I’m gonna undress us.” Clay shimmies down the shocked Thomas’ body, yanking his boxers off and tossing them over his shoulder, doing the same with his own. He lays down and slowly takes the plug out of himself after scurrying over to get the lube causing Thomas to laugh.

“You’re so cute.” Thomas lays there buzzing with excitement, He jumps a bit when the cold lube hits his way to hard cock and makes a sound of offense when Clay snickers at him. Swinging his leg over Thomas and not even pausing as he sinks down on him. Humming happily. Thomas can’t help it when he goes to move his hands again but Clay pins them back to the bed.

“You should learn to- listen” Clay is moving his hips not even stopping to take a breath. Thomas was groaning under him. Clay has not ridden him yet and it is so different, Thomas was definitely not in control and Clay was so hot being so bossy. Noelle is teaching him things. He was the one gasping and begging for more and Clay was the one giving yet receiving at the same time. He was in his own state, yeah Thomas could put him into a submissive mood with just a simple gesture but he was enjoying this. Clay eventually lets go of his hands but Thomas keeps them there as he watches Clay just focus on fucking himself. His arms stretched over his head, one coming down to glide down his chest and to tug his own neglected cock every once in a while but he was dragging this out because he was in control.

Eventually Clay takes one of Thomas' hands and moves it to his dick, Thomas starts to jerk him off causing his rhythm to stutter. He was moaning and his head was falling back, Thomas started meeting his thrusts and he groaned. He was getting close, he was about to tell Thomas this when he suddenly felt a heat filling him up, his eyes snapped open and he saw Thomas’ mouth open and his head tipped back.

He just came… before Clay did! That never happens!

The feeling of Thomas cumming in him, and the thought that Clay made him come first for the first time ever. He spurts onto Thomas’ stomach, flopping forward and putting all his weight onto Thomas.

“We” Clay was still catching his breath as Thomas kissed all over his face, sweaty and breathing hard he smiled. “We can clean up, but I want you in me when we fall asleep.” Thomas’ heart soared at the thought, this new kink of Clay’s was quite nice, not gonna lie. They clean up and snuggle into bed in a spoon position, Thomas hard and in Clay as he falls asleep, driving him mad!

After Thomas is positive Clay is asleep and he has gone soft he pulls out and rolls over so his back to Clay and calls Noelle. A couple of rings and she answers sounding groggy.

“Noelle! So much just happened! Clay has a fucking warming kink! A WARMING KINK!” He whispers yells as she snorts at him but tells him to go on. “He just pinned me to the bed after having a plug in after we fucked on the tractor! He fucked himself on me! I Came BEFORE him!”

“And I missed all this just to see my dad kick Leo out of the house! That’s dumb! You guys better do it again when I’m home because I was to see that! Anyways I need to rest because tomorrow will be long and boring and tense. Goodnight I love you.”

“Good luck and Goodnight Sugar Tits.” Noelle laughs at him.

“I love you too.”

[collecting-stories]

Stormy Weather - JJ Maybank

Request: could you possibly do something similar to the story where jj is afraid of the storm but switch it so jj comforts the girl instead?

A/N: I threw in a CHUD reference because my favorite thing about JJ is that we have the same taste in movies. 

Outer Banks Masterlist

☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎ ☂︎

“What was that?” You asked, jumping at the sudden screeching noise that rang through from JJ’s phone. He grabbed it from the coffee table, nearly yanking the charger out of the wall in his haste, and slammed his thumb against the side to quiet the device.  

“It’s just my phone,” He promised as the noise abruptly stopped. The ringing continued in your ears as he unlocked the phone to read the notification, “storm warning I think?”

“Storm warning?” Realistically, you knew that it was a matter of hours, maybe minutes, until Agatha touched ground but you were still hoping that something would verve her off-course. Send her down to Georgia or Florida. You’d settle for South Carolina at this point.  

“Yeah. It says-”

“No. Don’t tell me what it says.”

JJ reached for your bare thigh, his warm hand coming down on the skin and rubbing as soothingly as possible. “It’s okay, it’s not for Kildare County yet.”  

“Yet?” You nearly shrieked at the word. JJ knew you hated storms, you had explained on multiple occasions how bad your anxiety got during storms and he tried, he really, really, tried, to be considerate and thoughtful but sometimes he just ended up sticking his foot in his mouth.  

“Hey, you’re fine.” JJ tried to point out as you got up off the couch and crossed the living room to the large bay window. The sky was already starting to get dark outside and you couldn’t tell if it was from the hour or the storm. Clouds blocked any view of the sun and the wind was starting to pick up. Soon it would rain and then the storm would start.

“I’m not fine JJ. There’s a hurricane coming. I know that. What if it hits here? What if it rips a tree out of the ground and throws it on top of the house? Then what?” You questioned, listing one of a dozen scenerios that were playing out in your head.  

“Babe, you need to-”

“Do not tell me to relax.”

JJ got up and crossed the room, hands fitting their place on your shoulders as he tried to steer you back toward the couch. “I was gonna say that you need to move away from the window. That isn’t gonna help you feel better.”

“I hate storms.”  

“I know.”

“And I hate weather alerts. Why do they have to alarm like that?” You took a deep breath, “what did it say?”

“It wasn’t for our county.” JJ replied.

“JJ, what did it say?”

“Flood watch. And severe storm moving inward.” He admitted.  

“Oh my god.”

“Hey, come on, come with me. Away from the window.” He pulled on your shoulders just enough to get your feet moving again as he finally walked you to the couch.

“JJ-”

“You don’t need to see the storm, that’s not helping you. Just sit on the couch and let me do everything else.” JJ replied, sitting you down on the couch. He grabbed his phone and started to push the coffee table out of the way.  

“What are you doing?”  

“You’ll see. And you’ll feel better, I promise.”

“I hate storms.” You paled, leaning back against the cushions and looking up at him.

“I know.”  

“I hate hurricane season.”  

“I know that too.” JJ said. He stopped rearranging the furniture and leaned over to kiss you, soft lips pressed against yours before he pulled away, “it’ll be okay.”

“You shouldn’t have to babysit me either. I know John B asked you to surf the surge with him. You should be out having fun not sitting in the house with me.” You had been feeling guilty about calling JJ to come over ever since you had heard John B in the background of the call bitch that they were supposed to surf when Agatha hit. JJ had chosen you over his friend though, coming over and condemning himself to a night of calming you down as you freaked over an uncontrollable storm.  

“There is no where I would rather be than right here with you in the house okay?” JJ promised, “who gives a shit about surfing the surge.”  

“You’re a very good liar.” You teased, watching him continue to haul the kitchen chairs and table into the living room. When he got close you reached your arms out for him and he let you hug him, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.  

“It’s cause I’m not lying. Now let me go so I can get stuff together.”  

“Okay.”  

“You’ll be okay, I’m right here.” He reiterated as he left the living room for your bedroom down the hall.  

“Can you talk to me while you’re getting stuff?” You called, knowing the house was too quiet to distract you from the storm without constant chatter.  

“What do you want me to talk to you about?” He called down the hall. He was currently stripping the blankets and pillows off your bed, trying to hold them all in both arms so that he didn’t have to make more than one trip.  

“I don’t know...anything.”  

“I went to queen village this morning to get bait with Pope and I was getting ice and the guy that works there, you know the one who hates me?” He questioned, pausing as the comforter slipped from his arms.  

“He hates you because you stole from him like four times.” You reminded him, leaning back against the arm of the couch and stretching to lay down.  

“He can’t prove it.”

“I don’t understand why he still lets you in the store.”

“Because he can’t prove it.” JJ repeated. “Anyway, I’m getting ice right and he tells me that the ice cup costs money!”  

“Yeah, it always does. That’s why I bring my own water bottle when we go there.” You replied as he came in and deposited the blankets and pillows on a chair.  

“Whose side are you on?”  

“Yours, obviously. So what happened?” You asked as he left down the hall again.  

“So I’m getting ice and he tells me the cup costs money so I said ‘but the ice is free?’ and he says ‘ice is free’. So I made a little pocket with my shirt, like so,” JJ lifts the hem of his shirt up to fold over so he can demonstrate the pocket for you. “and I emptied the cup into my pocket and he told me that the ice costs money!”  

You laughed, easily imagining your boyfriend trying to hold a cupful of ice in his shirt to avoid paying, “then what?”  

“Then I said that he was being a bitch because it doesn’t cost shit and he just said so!” JJ grabbed your arm, “come over here.”

“What are you doing?” you asked as you let him guide you over to one of the wing chairs your mom had inherited.  

“Constructing a fort. Sit.” JJ instructed, sitting you down and going back to his story, “so I tell him he’s a bitch and he said he would call the cops if I didn’t leave the store! You imagine him ringing Peterkin or Shoupe just cause I wanted some ice! It should be free!”  

“It should be but it isn’t. You know that guy is a stickler, why argue?”

“Because I’m right and he’s a douche!” JJ replied, obviously still heated over the whole ordeal.  

“I know I asked you to tell me a story but I’m thinking that maybe this wasn’t the story I wanted you to tell me.” You laughed, getting up to hold the sheet in place as he clipped it to the chair. He had pushed the table against the couch and thrown the comforter over it like a roof. Now he had the chairs lined up with their backs to each other, forming the tunnel.  

You moved onto the next part of the fort, grabbing for the sheet as thunder clapped outside and you jumped, suddenly aware again that the fort and the story were all just fancy distractions meant to draw your attention away from the outside. Before you could abandon the task to flock to the window JJ was there beside you, pressed against your back as his arms wrapped around you and he kissed your shoulder.  

“We’re okay.”  

“It sounds really bad out there.” You mentioned, looking to the closed up windows.  

“We’re okay.” He repeated, “we’re safe.” He moved his hands to cover yours, stepping away enough that he was no longer embracing you. “I’ll do this, you make popcorn.”  

“I thought I was supposed to be relaxing?”  

“And you will after you make popcorn. You make it better than me!” He insisted, pushing you toward the kitchen.  

“Okay but then relaxing. This storm is-“  

“We’ll be fine, I’m here. There’s nothing to worry about.” JJ called after you as you walked into the kitchen and grabbed the sauce pan to start popcorn. You were certain you were in for a creature feature and you thought maybe seeing Shockma or CHUD or some other monster flick would help ease the worries you had about the outdoors. Maybe JJ was on to something after all.  

“I didn’t tell you the end of the story!” He exclaimed suddenly, appearing in the doorway. “So-“

-

Taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @tragicmisfits @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @poguestyleskye @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @lavenderxraindrops@gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @hvitost @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie@mirjanak @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @celestialmaybank @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects @99sxuxii @oh-annaa @katiaw2 @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @justkeepdreamingswift @allie-mcginn @pcterparxer @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee@crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @jolomez @timotaychalabae

[apolloloki97]

"Solid as Stone" Ian Gallagher x Mickey Milkovich

Summary: What if when Monica came back, Ian went to find Mandy that day, but found Mickey. Instead of going right to the store for a hookup, Ian runs away distraught after not finding his best friend. Mickey can't help but follow and comfort the redhead he has clearly fallen for.

Or when Ian is freaking out, Mickey is there to comfort him.

Word Count: 2679

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Stone" by Jaymes Young

Note: This is just a bit of an AU what if kind of thing. I just liked it and I love comforting and soft Mickey and I know that day he could tell that Ian was torn.

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Monica was back and Ian didn’t know how to deal with any of it.

As soon as she rolled back into town, Ian felt as if he was suffocating and he had to get out. He didn’t even care if Terry was home at that moment, he needed to see Mandy.

His thoughts kept flicking to Mickey but he knew that regardless of the kind of situation they were in, Mickey would throttle him before he even considered offering Ian a comforting hand. Mickey had been very clear about the nature of their relationship if you could even call it that. Ian knew that there was more to them just random hookups, but he didn’t have time to unpack any of it at the moment.

Mandy had to be the one and he needed her now.

Ian arrived at the front of the Milkovich house and barrelled up the steps, his breathing still labored. His fist made contact with the wooden door, frantically begging someone to open up. It took a moment before the front door was wrenched open and it wasn’t the Milkovich sibling Ian had wanted to see right then, but one he was always wishing to see no matter what. Mickey, who had a cigarette in his mouth, seemed surprised at Ian’s frantic look. “Gallagher?” he asked.

“Mandy, is she here?” Ian breathed out, trying to see behind Mickey and into the house.

“What?”

“Is Mandy here?” Ian asked again, his breathing still sporadic. “I need to see her.” Mickey frowned as he took in the state of Ian as the younger boy seemed to be running off pure anxiety. Something was definitely wrong with him and it surprised Mickey as he realized he was incredibly concerned about Ian Gallagher. However, after all the time he had spent around the kid, he had come to pick up on all of Ian’s idiosyncrasies.

“She’s not here,” Mickey told him, glancing over his shoulder where Terry was passed out on the couch. “She went away with Iggy for a couple of days.” Ian let out a breath, still very jumpy, as he looked back and forth, trying to figure out what he was going to do. “Gallagher, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he rushed out as he glanced behind him, almost as if he expected Monica to be running after him, but the street remained silent. “I… I gotta go,” he stammered before nodding to himself, turning around, and half-stumbling down the steps. Mickey watched after him for a few seconds, still very confused at Ian’s behaviors. Ian shuffled out into the street and then Mickey nearly jumped out of his skin as a car screeched to a halt right in front of the redhead. Honking blared through the neighborhood as the man behind the wheel cursed at Ian who was raising his hands in apologies.

As soon as Ian was out of the street, the car sped off, leaving Ian to stare at it for only a second before he moved to run down an alley in between the houses, still somewhat out of it. Mickey glanced back inside his house for a second before swearing, “Fucking Gallagher.” Grabbing his coat, he shut the door behind him and took off after the redhead.

It didn’t take long for Mickey to pick up on Ian’s trail as the kid had the loudest footsteps on the Southside. Mickey kept telling himself that the only reason he was doing this was that he wanted to know if Ian was on something and if he could get a hit. However, behind the denial, he knew the truth. He did care about Gallagher and he could tell Ian was going through something.

It was only another block that Mickey finally found him. Ian was on the ground, his back against the wall of the empty alleyway and he was breathing harder than he was when he had shown up on Mickey’s porch. Slowly, Mickey approached him, keeping an eye on the redhead’s hands. He knew Ian well enough to know that the kid could punch just as well as anyone on the Southside and he wasn’t looking forward to being on the other side of one of those freckled fists if he startled him.

“Gallagher?” Mickey tried, but Ian remained frozen, his eyes only on the cold asphalt. “Gallagher,” he tried again, but still, Ian remained oblivious to his presence. With a sigh, Mickey ran a hand through his hair before finally stepping right into the other boy’s view. “Ian?” he asked, softer this time. Ian’s breath stuttered for a second before his eyes flicked to the worried blue ones above him.

“What do you want?” Ian asked and while the words sent a dagger to Mickey’s heart, it was a valid question. Why had he followed him? Ian had no reason to trust that Mickey Milkovich cared for him. Mickey hated that he had led him to believe that he was only using him for sex, but he understood. Mickey was never one for affection, but it wasn’t as if he had any role models to learn from. Colin had tried to somewhat raise his younger siblings, but there was only so much he could do. Mickey was on his own in this department, but he was hoping Ian could be the beginning of his effort to show the compassion he clearly felt.

“What happened?” Mickey asked, finally crouching down to get on Ian’s level. The boy in front of him looked frailer than Mickey had ever seen him. The Gallaghers were known to be tough sons of bitches, but everyone had their breaking point, Mickey supposed.

“My mom,” Ian said. “My mom came home and just fucked it all up.” Mickey nodded, understanding immediately. If you knew about the Gallaghers and especially if you knew about Frank, you knew about Monica. Terry hated the woman and Mickey finally could see why. If the way Ian was acting was evidence of how her kids felt when she came back, she definitely should have stayed gone.

“Hurricane Monica,” Mickey simply said. Ian looked at him in surprise. Mickey sank to the ground next to Ian, their shoulders almost touching. “Fiona’s mentioned her a few times at the Alibi, Frank, too. I think we all get the picture enough to know she ain’t exactly mother of the fucking year.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ian said and Mickey was glad to hear that his breathing was sounding a little better. Ian let his head fall back to rest on the bricks behind him. “She always does this, Mickey,” Ian began and Mickey remained quiet, just letting Ian talk. “She comes into town and makes it seem like she’s going to stay. Debbie and Carl don’t deserve that shit.”

“Neither do you,” Mickey said automatically. Ian’s eyes flickered to Mickey’s who was just staring in front of him, his hands playing with the cigarette he still held.

“She’s my mom,” Ian tried to rationalize.

“So?” Mickey said, finally looking at him again. “Frank is your dad and he’s a piece of shit. Terry is my dad and he’s...he’s… fuck he’s the fucking worse.” Ian could hear the hesitancy in Mickey’s voice. Everyone knew how horrible Terry was, but Ian was starting to think there was more to the racist asshole than nobody else knew. “My father hates me,” Mickey finally continued. “He hates me and he doesn’t even know that…”

“That you hook up with guys?” Ian offered, not wanting to push Mickey by slapping the “gay” label on him. He had learned his lesson with that before.

“He’d kill me if he knew,” Mickey said. “And if I had the chance to get the hell out of dodge to be away from him, I would. I don’t care if they’re our parents, they don’t owe us shit if they’ve never been parents, you know?” Ian was quiet for a minute before he nodded, letting out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know what to do, Mick,” Ian said, casually dropping the nickname he had been trying out for a while. If it was any other time, Mickey would have made a comment about it, but he just enjoyed the rush that went through him at Ian saying his name.

“What do you want to do?” Mickey asked. “Cause that’s all up to you, man.”

“I want her to get the fuck out,” Ian said. “If she’s leaving again, it’s gonna be on our terms this time, not hers.” Ian struggled to keep his hands still and his emotions in check. The last thing he wanted to do was cry in front of Mickey. This was why he needed Mandy.

However, Mickey Milkovich surprised him as he always did.

Tattooed fingers suddenly covered freckled ones and Ian’s hand was enveloped in a warm and firm grip. Ian looked up at Mickey who was looking at him with actual concern.

“Don’t let her ruin you,” Mickey said firmly.

“She’s already done that,” Ian said, trying not to focus too much on the hand in his.

“Says who, huh?” Mickey countered. “Who says you’re fucking ruined? You’re not. You’re…” Mickey trailed off for a second. His eyes flickered from Ian’s lips and then back to his face. “You’re damn solid, Gallagher. A fucking tower of stone, so don’t think that some woman can just come back and fuck with you just because she’s your blood. Blood don’t mean shit when it comes to family anyways.”

Ian was looking at him with wonder in his eyes. He had never seen this side of Mickey and he was already mourning the fact that he may never again for a while once they left that alley. In case he was right, Ian clutched onto Mickey’s hand tighter, letting him feel the other boy’s pulse beneath his fingers.

“Thanks,” he breathed, almost afraid to speak any louder in case it shattered whatever peace they had built.

“Still wish Mandy was here instead?” Mickey asked and there was no malice behind it.

“Absolutely not,” Ian admitted as he glanced down at Mickey’s mouth. They were silent for a moment before Ian asked about something Mickey had just said. “Would you really leave to get away from Terry?”

“I wouldn’t go far,” Mickey admitted, looking at him through hooded eyes. “I could never go too far from you, could I? Who’d run after you when you’re going out of your fucking mind?” Ian smiled, trying not to laugh.

“I don’t know, I’m sure I could find someone,” he said and then boldly continued, “maybe Kash has a friend around his age.”

That did it.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Mickey growled as he grabbed onto Ian’s neck and slammed his lips against the other boy's mouth. Ian reacted immediately, tugging Mickey closer to him. Mickey’s heart was slamming in his chest and he knew it was risky to kiss Ian out in the open, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He had been wanting to kiss him since the first time he had seen Ian smile. It wasn’t until they had sex for the first time that that need to kiss him had intensified tenfold. Mickey grabbed at Ian’s coat, trying to make the distance between them nonexistent.

When Ian slipped his tongue into Mickey’s mouth, Mickey was done for. He could never go back to just having sex after this. This was...indescribable and he needed it all. Mickey was as inexperienced as it got when it came to kissing men, but Ian seemed to be a master according to Milkovich. Ian ran his hands up Mickey’s arms and then up to his neck where his large hands took hold of Mickey’s face as he continued to devour the other boy’s mouth.

Eventually, they both needed to breathe and Mickey was the first to pull back, though he didn’t go far. “That was…” Ian began, his breathing heavy but this time for a completely different reason.

“Long overdue,” Mickey finished, his breath matching pace with Ian’s. “I didn’t mean to do that like this. You know in a shithole,” he said, gesturing to the disgusting alley.

“Our whole neighborhood is a shithole,” Ian pointed out causing Mickey to smile slightly. Ian couldn’t help himself as he pressed another kiss to Mickey’s lips before leaning back again. “Don’t think I’m not going to take advantage of being allowed to do that now.”

“Who says this ain’t a one-time thing, firecrotch?” Mickey asked, raising one of his very expressive eyebrows.

“Me,” Ian said simply and Mickey rolled his eyes, but didn’t move away from Ian. His expression then turned concerned once again.

“Feeling better?” Mickey asked and Ian nodded.

“Getting there,” Ian admitted, referring back to his Monica meltdown. “You helped quite a bit,” he said cheekily and Mickey just snorted. “Thanks, Mick,” Ian said and Mickey could hear all the sincerity behind his words. Mickey nodded and then sat back beside Ian, their shoulders pressed together as if they were afraid to not be touching each other.

“Don’t think you can’t come to me when you’re in trouble, Gallagher,” Mickey said. “I ain’t gonna fucking turn you away. Not you.” Ian nodded again and then leaned his head on Mickey’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to go home,” Ian admitted. Mickey leaned into Ian and nodded.

“Me either,” said Mickey as he thought about his father back on their worn-out couch.

“Monica has to go,” Ian whispered.

“I could make that happen, you know?” Mickey said casually. “I still have that uncle down at the foundry.” Ian jabbed him in the ribs, but Mickey knew he was smiling.

“No thanks,” Ian said with a sigh. “Murder wouldn’t look good on you.”

“Please,” Mickey scoffed, “everything looks good on me.”

“And off, too,” Ian added and that got Mickey’s attention. Ian was looking up at him and when Mickey met his eyes, he could see just a hint of mischief in his green eyes.

“Are you coming onto me, Gallagher,” Mickey said.

“Always,” Ian said as his hands pushed into Mickey’s dark hair.

“I ain’t havin’ you get on me in some back alley,” Mickey said. “I have standards, asshole.”

“Then it’s a good thing I have keys to the store,” Ian said with a lower voice. Mickey chewed on that thought for a second before jumping to his feet and dragging Ian with him.

“You are a fucking menace,” Mickey whispered to Ian who just beamed at him, and then Ian’s smile turned softer.

“So, I’m solid huh?” Ian asked, looking at Mickey who wasn’t running away for once.

“As stone,” Mickey agreed. “You’re gonna be just fine, Red. Monica issues or not, you,” he said, poking Ian in the chest, “are gonna be fine.” Ian could have cried then, but he settled on grabbing Mickey by his coat and kissing him hard. Mickey kissed him back, still trying to get used to the feel, but he figured he’d get the hang of it soon.

Ian pulled back first this time and smiled at Mickey, grateful that he had been the Milkovich sibling to answer the damn door. “Thanks,” he whispered.

“You already said that,” Mickey reminded him.

“And I’ll keep saying it, dumbass,” Ian teased and then began walking backward, gesturing to Mickey to follow him.

Mickey just smiled and jogged to catch up with Ian. As the two of them headed to the store, Mickey forced himself to watch where he was going because all he could focus on was that Ian was back to being Ian and he, Mickey, had helped bring that smile back. Cautiously, he took Ian’s hand for just a fraction of a second before letting go. It was brief, but Ian knew what it meant. Sure, he was solid, unmoving, but to Mickey, Ian was his rock, the one that kept him grounded when everything else was trying to pull him away and if he’d let him, Mickey also wanted to be that for Ian.