#since it was a topic that hit way too close to home yesterday I was like wait what

[philsmeatylegss]

One thing about me is I get really into internet drama always a few weeks after it’s relevant

[monzamash]

to be loved — carlos sainz

carlos sainz x you — “i can take care of you. you won't need anyone but me.” requested by @dancininseptember masterlist

The short stroll from your office to the apartment never really bothered you. In fact, you typically enjoyed the fresh air and the chance to enjoy the city you loved. But it was early February; rain was threatening the Spanish skies and the frost bitten breeze stung your already tear-filled eyes. It was a crappy end to an even shittier week, your energy wasted on people who didn’t deserve it.

You practically flung yourself through the door of the apartment and shed all remnants of the day – coat, beanie and scarf, all strewn haphazardly, and in that order, on the floor of your small entryway. It took every ounce of energy you had to kick off your heavy boots, each one hitting the wall much harder than you intended. Maybe it was an unconscious way for you to let out frustration, the scuff marks on the white wall a stark reminder of your last straw.

The smell of fresh bread and bolognese sauce hit you as you slunk down the hallway, your tummy grumbling on instinct. You hadn’t eaten since yesterday, a terrible habit you had fallen into lately and Carlos had noticed. He was home more during the cooler months, easily picking up on your little habits that both endeared and worried him. So he made sure, while he was close to you, that you came home to a warm meal every night – because looking after you was his calling in life.

“That smells incredible.”

Carlos briefly glanced over his shoulder and gave you a bright smile before turning down the stove and grabbing a washcloth to clean his hands. You loved him like this; soft and relaxed, in his element. The kitchen was his playground and you remember the sigh of relief that left your lungs when he told you he loved to cook on your first date, because you weren’t particularly gifted when it came to the pots and pans.

“Hope you’re hungry,” He sang, circling the island in the middle of the kitchen to say a proper hello to his beautiful girlfriend, “How was your day?”

A rigid sigh fell from your lips as you fell into his arms, the loving embrace triggering tears to spring to your eyes for the third time today. Carlos held you tight and brushed his hands down your back, comforting you through the sobs wracking your aching body.

“Ay, mi amor,” He soothed, “Breathe for me please.”

Carlos guided you through a couple of deep breaths, chests rising and falling together in synchronicity until your sobs subsided, air finally filling your lungs again. A tight squeeze around your waist brought you back to the man holding you in his arms, worried eyes searching yours for a sign that you were okay as you pulled back and gave him a soft smile.

“I’m okay, I’m sorry.” You sniffled, head shaking.

Carlos tutted as he thumbed away the trail of tears from your face, “Do not say sorry, my love. Talk to me…”

Anger replaced sadness as you told him about how your sister had completely disregarded your feelings for the millionth time, accusing you of only caring about yourself while she’s all alone and stressed about wedding planning. Carlos has managed to get you to sit up on the counter beside him while he finished dinner, but not before pouring you a glass of red wine to nurse while you purged all the negativity from your day.

“She called me a bitch and then uninvited us from the wedding, which by the way I didn’t want to go too to begin with,” You huffed, hands animatedly flying around while he tried to keep up with the drama.

“And all I said to her was that work has been stressful and that us trying for a baby hadn’t been… fruitful, I guess. She flipped out when I said that because her dickhead fiancé doesn’t want kids and she thinks she can change his mind…”

You took a sip of wine and noticed Carlos' eyes rolling like they always did when the topic of your sister came up. He was as sick of her shit as you were, unapologetically scoffing at her selfishness. Making you feel bad when all you needed was someone to confide in was one thing, but lashing out on you was something he couldn’t stand by and watch. He knew he couldn’t do anything right now; maybe he would make a stern phone call tomorrow once the dust had settled.

So instead of getting upset, he put down the wooden spoon coated in the most delicious sauce you had ever tasted and nestled himself between your swinging legs. His warm chocolate eyes stared into your soul as he planted his palms on your thighs, tethering himself to you.

“You know I can take care of you, mi vida,” He said, voice deep and barely above a whisper, “No matter the problem, you won't need anyone but me, I promise.” 

For the first time in weeks, you felt your heart slow down and return to a normal rhythm as Carlos pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. You softly moaned in unison and gripped the grey shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders, pulling him in closer – not that he had any plan on going anywhere.

No, all he wanted was for his girl to feel heard and to be loved because all he needed was you.

a/n — loved writing carlos again. inbox detox is still open !!

[messylustt]

݁   𓂃 ៸៸៸ …and taste — rafe cameron + reader ( outer banks ) : after he finally gets to taste you he wishes you hadn’t run away. lucky for him a dinner is being held at the cameron’s.

contents : jealous!rafe. possessive!rafe. rafe being slightly obsessed with reader. virgin reader. slight innocence kink. unprotected sex. wc 3.9k.

pt one pt two

“come on, dear, we’re leaving now.” your mother’s voice rouses you from your book. your brows furrow as you eye her almost fancy dress.

“where are we going?” you ask, sitting up.

“to the cameron’s, i told you this.” she replies, turning to leave your room.

you freeze. what?

a few weeks ago you vaguely remember your parents mentioning a dinner. you didn't realise it was this soon. no. god. this was the worst timing.

your cheeks warm at the memory of rafe, and what he had done. you place your hands against your cheeks in an attempt to cool your face, as you quickly stand.

you couldn’t see him. you weren't prepared to see him this soon. what had happened in the kitchen was only two days ago. you didn’t know where you stood, and part of you didn’t want to. you thought you would have time to prepare a whole speech where you would point out how sarah would feel if her best friend and brother were getting it on.

or, part of you hoped, that rafe just…forgot, and saw you as another girl. and then the other part wished that you weren't just some girl. but that was certainly wishful thinking.

you quickly rummage through your clothes, your pyjamas not ideal for a dinner, as you hear your mum call for you downstairs.

arriving at the cameron’s made your heart thump against your chest. you’d never been nervous walking into this house, but then again rafe had never kissed you before now. what if he wasn’t home? again, wishful thinking.

you greet ward and rose with a smile, as sarah bolts down the stairs to give you a hug. you didn’t dare look around for rafe, as you let sarah bring you into the dining room.

“you're not gonna believe what happened yesterday!” sarah excitedly says to you, but your focus is annoyingly dragged to the boy walking in through the other entry. you immediately stiffen, as you stare at sarah. you won’t look at him if you don’t have to.

what you didn’t see was the way that rafe’s eyes found you immediately, staring at you with the same intensity that you're using on sarah.

he had also forgotten about this dinner, though his reaction to it was far different than yours. of course he was nervous, you hadn’t seen each other since that night. but his want to see you overrode most of his other feelings.

you were all soon taking a seat, not missing the way rafe found one directly opposite you. this way you’d have to look at him, even if by accident. you curse under your breath but maintain a smile, as you stare at the food on your plate.

chatter filled the room, as your parents and theirs talked about too many topics to keep up with. you kept your gaze on sarah, as she explained her adventures over the past few days. you’d always lived a kook life, so hearing how much fun the pogues got up to almost made you feel jealous.

as you place a forkful of food in your mouth you suddenly feel a brush against your foot. you choke, realising exactly who did that. you place your hand against your chest as your coughing gains the attention of the parents.

“you alright, sweetie?” rose asks.

you quickly nod, trying to smile, while hitting your chest. “yeah, i’m fine, thanks.”

you hear a faint snort as you whip your head to rafe for the first time that night. you shoot him a small glare, to which he only smirks in return.

“so, y/n, have any boys caught your attention?” ward asks you, as you break eye contact with rafe.

“uh,” you begin as rose cuts in.

“ward,” she scolds, before looking at me. “he just means that you’ve grown into a beautiful young lady, i’m sure boys have taken a liking.”

you smile, as you spare a fleeting glance to rafe. he’s watching you closely, as if he wants to know the answer just as much as rose and ward.

“well, there has been this boy.” your mum speaks up, as you shoot her a look. “what—toby seems like such a sweet boy.”

rafe was intently watching the conversation, though his bites began to grow a little more aggressive as the name toby left your mother’s lips.

‘sweet boy.’ he had to hold back a scoff. she didn’t see the way that kid eyed her daughter with a look that contradicted the word ‘sweet’.

of course he was very familiar with that look, that always seemed to be directed at you. the difference is that toby didn’t deserve to look at you like that, and in all honesty rafe probably didn’t either, but that didn’t seem to be enough motivation to look away.

he had touched you, kissed you, and tasted you. and god, did he want to continue. to get you into his bed whenever he saw fit, to see you laid across his sheets for him.

he bit into his fork, the metal scraping against his teeth as he eyed you across from him. you had only met his eyes once, and he planned to have you staring at him, and only him for the rest of the night…maybe somewhere more isolated.

“yeah, he’s nice.” you smile at the adults. you had said that to rafe when he had asked if you liked him. Which made rafe realise that toby was barely competition. that’s all you thought of him, and that made him grin.

“well, y/n, if that boy isn’t right for you, then just know that rafe, sarah and wheezie’s cousin is quite a catch.” ward laughs proudly.

you chuckle awkwardly. the last thing you wanted was to get in with this family where rafe could see you way more often.

you hear rafe clear his throat, earning the table’s attention. “did you know that johnny was caught robbing a store recently?” rafe speaks innocently as Ward’s expression falls. “plus i’m sure y/n wouldn’t exactly catch his eye.” rafe is leant back against his chair, his arms crossed.

you meet his gaze again with a scowl, while rafe tilts his head. “oh, i’m not sure i exactly want a cameron staring at me anyway.” you smile, as rafe’s eyes narrow.

“but imagine y/n a part of the family.” rose says with a thoughtful smile as she sips her cocktail.

rafe doesn’t shift his gaze from you as you eye up his silent challenge. “no cameron has caught my eye i’m afraid, besides sarah of course.” you shift your gaze to sarah who chuckles, giving you a nudge. “yeah,” she smiles. “y/n’s off limits.” she speaks playfully.

you glance back at rafe to see his gaze has hardened.

bullshit, rafe thinks. he has done more than just ‘catch your eye’.

he tongues his cheek as he watches you eat more of your food. the way your lips wrapped around the for—

he has to look away for a moment, remembering his and your family still sitting at the table. this dinner was going on forever, and his patience was wearing thin.

“alright, i need to tell y/n something, so we’re heading upstairs.” sarah says quickly, as she takes her last mouthful of food.

you're then dragged up and out of your seat, continuing up the stairs to sarah’s room. rafe watches you go, glaring at sarah’s grip on your arm.

sarah had shared the rest of her adventures with the pogues to you, as you both ended up laughing on her bed. it was late when sarah got called downstairs.

“feel free to take a shower.” sarah says to you, as she darts out the door.

you take up the offer, feeling sweaty from your previous mountains of nerves.

you're quick out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your body, as your wet hair hits your cheeks. you had forgotten to grab some of sarah’s clothes to change into. you slipped out the bathroom door, cursing under your breath at your stupidity.

you walk into the hallway, the towel wrapped tight around your chest as you step quietly, not wanting to wake anyone who had decided to sleep.

then you felt a hand grab your upper arm, yanking you into a room. you gasp, your heart jumping as the door shuts. the room has dim lighting but you're quick to make out a sweatshirt on the bed that looks awfully familiar. too big for wheezie and not sarah’s style.

rafe’s.

shit. you spin to face the door as you catch sight of Rafe standing there, his eyes narrowed in a glare.

“off limits?” rafe reiterates sarah’s mock sentence. he steps forward as you slightly shuffle back, your hand gripping your towel with a force that’s making your knuckles turn white. rafe reaches out, hitting your chin up as he brushes your damp hair away from your cheek. “you're off limits, alright.” he whisper-hisses, making your body stiffen. “just not to me.”

you gulp as he grabs your neck, pulling you forward. his breath hits your face, successfully making it heat up. his large hand brushes your neck, nearly winding around your entire throat.

“rafe—”

he cuts you off. “you're off limits to people like toby, or johnny, or even sarah.” his tone is dark, almost threatening, but then his almost soft eyes contradict to a point that makes your head spin. “off limits to any guy who looks at you.”

“rafe, what are you doing?” you ask, drawing the towel higher. rafe catches this, his eyes shooting down to your covered chest. he gulps, staring at the remaining water droplets left on your skin, dotted around your collarbone. his breathing picks up as he meets your gaze again.

he then smiles, a little too innocently. “you lie a lot, did you know that?” rafe steps closer, making you shuffle back. he takes another large step as your thighs hit his bed. you curse yourself for backing up in this direction. “you lied about not liking a cameron.”

you shake your head. “i like sarah.”

“not how you like me.” rafe speaks cockily.

“you're far too proud for your own good, rafe.” you say, trying to stand straighter, showcasing some form of dominance in your losing situation. rafe just looks amused, which pisses you off more.

“we kissed once—” you begin, but rafe immediately cuts in.

“oh, we did more than just kiss.”

you shut your eyes, trying to forbid the memory to fill your brain. you feel rafe tilt your chin up, his warm breath hitting your nose. he then leans down to your ear, your eyes still shut, as if that will shut him out. “and i plan to more than just eat you out.” he whispers, before biting your earlobe.

you gasp, eyes shooting open as he pushes you onto the bed. he towers over you, resting his knee in between your legs, that you want to close desperately.

“rafe—”

“shh, pretty girl, i just want to make you feel good.” he breathes, his eyes devouring you hungrily. you still had the towel covering you, but you didn’t think that would last much longer. in response to your thought you bring it closer to your chest. rafe smirks, watching you try to hold onto your modesty.

cute, he thinks to himself.

his finger raises to tantalisingly skim across your skin right by the top of your towel. he then lets his hand drift down to the bottom of your towel. drawing it up your thigh as you try to close your legs, forgetting that his knee sits between. you clench around it, gasping as he moves his leg higher, bringing your towel up with it.

cold air hits your pussy making you shiver. rafe’s hand moves up your thigh. you try to move away on instinct, but rafe pushes his knee higher, his jean material rubbing along your clit. a whimper escapes you, and rafe’s eyes dart to yours, smiling. “oh, you like that?” he teases, his expression looking almost as desperate as yours.

“would you ever let toby touch you like this?” he asks, sweetly at first. but when you stay silent, he raises his hand to clench around your neck, tightening only a fraction. “no. you wouldn’t.” he hisses out. “say it.”

“rafe—”

“not my name. you have plenty of time to scream it. i want to hear you say who is allowed to touch you.” rafe demands, and you squirm under him, his jean-clad knee still pressed against you.

“n-no one.” you say, to which he shakes his head.

“wrong.” he leans down to bite your neck, making you jolt. “try again.”

“i’m not going to say you.” you try to stay defiant, knowing how wrong this is. you didn’t want to think of what sarah would say.

“no?” rafe chuckles mockingly. his bite then turns to a kiss, spreading them all across your jaw and cheek. He reaches your mouth, hovering. both of your chests are heaving against each other. “do you want to leave?”

your eyes continue to dart between his eyes and lips.

“i’ll tell ya what.” rafe begins, staying extremely close to your lips. “if you aren’t wet, i’ll let you leave. but if you are…well…” he smiles. your eyes are wide as you watch him. you lean further into the bed, his warm breath making your mind foggy. rafe follows your lips, grabbing your jaw and holding you still. “and there’s only one way to find out.”

rafe reaches down, abandoning your jaw to reach your pussy. his fingers hover over before one pushes inside you. you shut your eyes, your breathing turning erratic. you hear rafe groan in praise as he feels your dripping deception.

“oh god.” you mutter as you feel a second finger push in.

“well, would you look at that?” rafe taunts, now placing a kiss to your cheek as your back slightly arches against his fingers. “you're dripping.” he whisper-groans.

your breathing stutters as he continues to pull in and out.

rafe watches your expression as he fingers you, all self control slipping when a small noise escapes your mouth. he leans closer, pressing his lips against yours, wanting to swallow your sounds.

as he picks up the pace you're practically panting in his mouth as he laps at your tongue. his need for you is growing, as he tries not to grind on your leg, his position nearly straddling one of your thighs.

you draw close, your eyes nearly rolling, when he pulls away. you feel embarrassed by the sound of desperation that leaves you. but rafe is ecstatic to hear it.

“why did you?...” you pant, catching his gaze.

“‘cause i need to fucking taste more of you. i didn’t have time that night, before you ran off.” he grips your towel, your eyes widening as he rips it away, tossing it somewhere in his room. he pauses, staring at your naked tits, gulping. you try to cover up, but rafe is quick to grab your wrists, pinning them to the bed, and leaving you open for him. his breathing is heavy as takes your wrists into one hand, bringing the other to circle around your nipple.

you shiver, and he practically moans as he takes your entire breast in his hand, massaging it. he looks dazed as he watches his hand enjoy you.

he then leans down to your other breast, licking a circle over your nipple, making you gasp. he loved the way you couldn't swallow down the noises that left you, he wanted to hear more.

he fully took your nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking. you moaned, as both your nipples hardened against his rough tongue and hand.

he got more aggressive and desperate as he bit and sucked on your nipple, while circling the other with his finger. you're nearly writhing under him as pleasure shoots through you.

christ, you think to yourself.

“now you can’t run away from me.” rafe speaks against your skin, before raising his head to hover over your lips. “ever.” he kisses you with passion, as he presses himself further against you. you gasp into the kiss as you feel him hard against your hip. he groans as you shuffle against his cock. his grip tightens around your wrists, breaking the kiss.

“don’t do that unless you're actually going to do something about it.” he breathlessly speaks, his voice almost edging submission. you’d never heard him pleading. ever.

you kiss him, making him whimper as you shift again. rafe grabs your hips, trying to get you to stop, but you manage to move, swinging your leg around him.

he’s now lying under you, as you straddle him. rafe’s eyes are wide and blown out with lust. you reach for the buttons of his shirt, feeling it unfair that you're naked while he stays clothed.

rafe’s breathing stutters as your hand grazes his chest, pulling his shirt back. rafe raises on his elbows, helping you get the shirt over his shoulders, but as you pull it down rafe can’t resist and kisses you.

he’s wanted this for so long and here you are undressing him. he groans against your lips, nearly biting your tongue as he pushes into you. “rafe—” you try against his persistent mouth, as you fiddle with getting the shirt completely off.

“i just—” rafe cuts himself off as he harshly breathes. “you look so pretty trying to undress me.”

you lean back. “i don’t have to—”

but rafe cuts you short by hastily undoing his belt, pulling it out of the loops, all while he kisses your collarbone, multitasking extremely fast that it makes your head spin.

he grabs your hips pulling you harshly down into him, as you place your hands on his shoulders, gripping hard. his jeans are unbuttoned but not off, his shirt gone somewhere by your towel. he desperately moves your hips against him, making you both moan. the raw feeling of his jean material and cold metal of the button and zipper against your throbbing clit is making your breathing choppy. it’s nearly painful with how turned on you are.

“oh, fuck.” rafe’s eyes are rolling, his grip on your hips tightening to the point of bruising. he then grabs your jaw, resuming his dominant attitude. “tell me only i get to feel you.”

you open your mouth, panting from the grinding. rafe brings you closer to his lips, breathing past them. “tell me.”

you choke out. “only you.”

“can what?” he juts his hips up into you.

“f—feel me.” you gasp.

rafe smirks against your lips. “good girl.” he then flips you both, so that your back is against the bed again. he pulls his jeans and boxers off, before pulling you closer to him by your thighs. he leans down to your ear, keeping his grip on your thighs. “is this your first time?”

you shakily nod, catching as rafe’s eyes darken. “shit.” he breathes, kissing your jaw. “i’m gonna make you feel so…good…yeah?”

you nod in response, not trusting your words. rafe swirls his finger along your clit, making sure you're wet enough. “then let me hear your sweet voice, loud and clear.”

“but sarah—” you begin, only just remembering that she was in the house. was she wondering where you were?

“nobody is going to stop me from finally making you mine.” he darkly breathed. “i’ve always wanted to taste you, taint you, train you—” you choke a gasp as he wraps your legs around his hips. “i’m so glad i get to be your first...” he grins before kissing you. he pushes you further into the bed before widening your legs. he slowly pushes the tip past you. you stiffen at the foreign feeling, but rafe continues to place tender kisses to your cheek and jaw. he slowly pushes further in. the pain makes your brows furrow as your breathing shallows out. but rafe stays still until you’ve gotten used to his size. he watches as your forehead smooths out and pleasure takes over.

he begins to move, earning a whine from you. he growls as his eyes roll. he pulls in and out, picking up the pace to a continuous rhythm. he leans down to your ear, smirking. “...and your last.” he whispers possessively. you can’t link his words to his previous ones before he’s thrusting harder into you. you try to stay quiet, not wanting the family to know. god, were your parents still downstairs?

“come on, pretty girl, i like hearing you speak. even if it’s just incoherent moaning.”

in response you moan, as his pace picks up to one almost animalistic. “fuck.” He breathes.

both your highs are drawing close, as rafe nearly becomes a whimpering mess above you. he’s trying so hard to keep control of his dominance, but when it came to you all control flew out the window. he breathes your name against your lips before he kisses you, but the kiss soon turns into you both just groaning into each other. the crescendo of your orgasm is approaching as your grip on rafe’s neck and shoulders dig in, nearly breaking skin.

“rafe.” you whimper, keeping his lips to yours.

“that’s it.” rafe praises, feeling his own orgasm approaching. he uses his finger to draw circles on your clit making you choke a groan. god, did it feel good.

your orgasm crashes into you as your head tilts back. “god.” you moan. rafe pulls out, his own pleasure spilling over your stomach. he hadn’t meant to, but he just had to stay inside you until the last second.

“shit.” rafe heaved as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. you both panted as your highs drew to a close.

you don’t notice as rafe got up, to then come back with a fresh towel from his adjoining bathroom. you sit up on your elbows, still dazed and slightly lightheaded. rafe is quick to clean you up, before your reaching for your clothes.

but just as you're about to pull your shirt over your head, rafe reappears with grey sweatpants hanging around his hips, probably just having cleaned himself up. he catches you, quickly taking the shirt out of your grasp and throwing it back to the floor, as he grabs your cheeks and pulls you in for a kiss.

“rafe—” you try, but he just smiles in response, drawing you closer by your waist.

“and where are you going?” he prys.

“i left sarah. she’s probably wondering—”

rafe shakes his head. “no, no. you're with me now, and i plan to keep you for the rest of the night.”

you hold down a smile, as you get out of his hold reaching for the door handle, but rafe quickly wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back. “i meant what i said. you're not running away.”

you shake your head with a slight chuckle. “i just feel bad—”

“you’ve spent plenty of time with sarah. you owe me time, now.” rafe cuts in, tilting your chin up. “and i’d love to see you trapped in my sheets.”

at this rate rafe’s arms were glued to you, and you didn’t think he'd ever let go.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[ichorai]

ties that bind ; nanami kento ; october 26th.

pairing ; nanami kento x reader

drabble synopsis ; nanami shows up to work smelling like you, and gojo has quite a keen sense of smell.

themes ; fluff, slice of life, established relationship (married)

warnings / includes ; more domestic vibes, nanami's Tired guys someone give him a vacation

series masterlist.

26th october, 2016

Nanami was having a long morning. Granted, the clock hadn’t even hit 9 AM yet, but he was already feeling particularly exhausted. 

Possible reasons included, but were not limited to: the local bakery he usually went to for breakfast was out of his favorite kind of almond croissants, the vending machine that held his precious coffee outside of the school was out of order, forcing him to go forgo caffeine for the day, Principal Yaga informed him of an influx of village curses he needed to take care of since the school was currently short-handed on staff, and, finally, Gojo would just not stop pestering him. 

The lanky, white-haired colleague of Nanami’s started off by sending roughly a dozen memes about a trendy topic he really had no interest in whatsoever. Then, when Gojo realized that Nanami had muted his messages when he no longer kept responding with: “Stop sending me these during work hours”, he took it upon himself to barge into his office and languidly splay himself across the couch situated opposite his desk and chair. 

Perhaps the only saving grace of this morning, Nanami recalled, was waking up next to you—a sight he’d been blessed with for over a year now. You were still asleep when his alarm buzzed, though you mumbled something groggy and unintelligible under your breath. Knowing that you had a tiring day yesterday, your husband let you sleep for another five minutes while he slipped out from beneath the comforters to wash up. When he returned, you had curled up on his side of the bed, nose smothered into his pillow to inhale his scent. Nanami’s hand reached out to brush stray hairs away from your face, still slackened with sleepiness, but your eyes were cracked open into narrow slits.

“Hey, honey,” he whispered, voice soft as ever. “We’ve got work soon. Do you want me to drop you off?”

You worked at a local university quite close to home. Though curses weren’t particularly attracted to you, what with your easy-going and admiringly-positive demeanor, where you worked was a breeding ground for negative emotions. Stressed students and impatient professors always had universities crawling with curses of all sorts. Nanami never liked the idea of you working in such an environment.

“I think I’ll call in sick today,” you mumbled back, pushing yourself to sit up against the headboard with a lethargic wince. “I have a terrible headache… I think I might be coming down with a cold. I’ve just got to reschedule today’s lecture with the students for another day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, brows kinking with worry as he moved to sit down next to you. “Do you need me to pick up anything for you from the pharmacy?”

“I’ll be okay,” you told him in a reassuring manner. A bright, but tired smile made its way onto your face when the back of his hand rested over your forehead to feel your temperature. He frowned in concern and pulled away—you were much warmer than usual. 

Then, he dipped forward to press a chaste, but loving kiss right over your temple. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll make you some tea.”

“You should be getting to work, Kento—”

He made a dismissive noise, and got up to go fix you the warm drink, squeezing in some honey and lemon in case you had a sore throat, too. A few minutes later, he came back with the steaming mug, and a pack of unopened paracetamol he fetched from the kitchen drawers. 

“Take one now, and another by lunchtime if you’re still feeling unwell,” he told you, his sharp features displaying nothing but raw concern. 

“Yes, doc,” you said with a slight laugh and a salute. “I’ll be okay, honey, really. It’s just a little cold, but thank you for the tea. Now you go and get ready for work.”

Kento pursed his lips, kissed your head again, and rose from your side to go change into his professional attire. Even after all this time, he could feel a warm flush settling over his cheeks when you whistled in appreciation from the bed, clutching the mug of tea in between your palms with a grin. 

“You look so handsome, Kento.” 

“It’s the same thing I always wear.”

“My point stands,” you said, voice rife with mirth. He shot you a soft, appreciative smile.

In his haste to get ready and rush off to work, he accidentally spritzed himself with your perfume rather than his usual cologne. He didn’t mind all that much, anyway, because that meant he’d be able to smell you all day long, and hurried to gather the rest of his things. 

“I love you, please send me a message if you need anything,” he said just as he was about to leave, thumb brushing just beneath your jaw. 

“I will,” you reassured, one hand lifting away from the mug to take hold of his palm and tug the appendage upwards so you could kiss the inside of his wrist, right over his pulse. “Have a good day at work, hon.”

God, he loved you more than anything. 

Now, with Nanami’s mind both burdened with thoughts of you being sick, and stressed over the new wave of village curses Yaga asked him to take care of, he hadn’t even noticed Gojo suddenly right at his side rather than ridiculously spreading out over the office’s couch.

“Ooh, Nanamin,” he said the fond nickname in a crude, high-pitched tone, and over-exaggerated sniffing at Nanami’s suit, “Who is this I’m smelling on you? Are you seeing someone behind my back?”

Nanami’s left eye twitched behind his spectacles. It was a relatively easy choice he made not to tell anyone at work about you. He very much preferred to keep work and personal life separate. 

“It’s my new perfume,” Nanami bluntly said, expression remaining unamused. 

“I didn’t take you for a floral-note kind of man,” Gojo crooned in response with a roguish grin. If he thought that Nanami was lying at all, he betrayed no signs of such. “I love it! What brand is it? Where’d you get it?”

“Get out of my office, Gojo.”

The blind-folded man snickered and rubbed his hands together. Nanami’s evident irritation only seemed to egg him on. “Didn’t Yaga tell you? I’m coming with you today! Apparently there’s been reports of a special-grade curse there. You’re going to need my help, you know.” Gojo prodded at Nanami’s biceps.

Nanami’s lips pinched tightly. “Perfect,” he gritted out. 

It was only nine in the morning, but he already couldn’t wait to get back home to you.

[an-aura-about-you]

November 7th, 2013

The Thread of the Idol

From the Files of the STP

Jon has been tasked with finding a vision of the future in today's entry:

“Yesterday I saw the Body of the Bridgekeeper engulfed in flame, and I saw the Bridge created by one-third. Tomorrow I saw the Soul of the Bridgekeeper reduced to ash, and I saw the Bridge created by two-thirds. Today, the Mind of the Bridgekeeper shall meet with its destiny, and I shall see the Bridge extend between the realms, and the many children of the King shall leap and dance and sing praise in His name, for great is His wisdom and His benevolence.”

Jonathan Sims groans and rubs his temples, shutting his eyes to the Book of the Bridge. He’s never cared for the Books of CHZO, both for the horrible events they predict and Jack Frehorn’s writing choices. But preferred reading material or not, they hold vital information regarding CHZO and the entities tied to him, and Jon needs information.

In the nearly 20 years since Trilby learned his place in their holy books, he has been studying anything he can find on the prophecies written by CHZO’s followers, desperately looking for any way to stop their plans. But sometimes those choices play right into a prophecy, that they can happen specifically because the person in it is trying to avoid it.

(Jon’s made a nice little side career writing songs about the very topic, though even he has his limits when it comes to writing songs about work. The idea of a concept album featuring Yog Sogoth hits a little too close for comfort. He’s pretty sure CHZO is the only one actually out there. But he also gets the feeling that, in this situation, calling the wrong number still might result in something picking up the phone.)

As it is, while Frehorn’s prophecies give them information on the predicted outcome, Trilby would still like the specifics. And honestly, Jon can’t blame him. If he had found a wooden idol that housed the souls of two people whose existence is now nothing but pain upon both themselves and others, sealed it up in a metal box with a message not to open it under any circumstances, launched it into space, and then read a prophecy saying it’s destined to be opened anyway? Well, the truth of the matter is Jon doesn’t have to be the one to do it to want to know who was foolish enough to ignore such a warning. It only makes sense that Trilby would request a vision of the future from the Ministry of Occultism. Now it’s just a matter of finding the path to get to it.

He considers his main leads, none of them terribly promising. The Bridgekeeper, whose soul is in the idol, seems like the obvious choice. But he is a dangerous wraith and might use the opportunity to possess Jon. The Prince, whose soul is the wood of the idol, is another option. But he has the mind to hunt, and Jon has no desire to become his prey. Trilby, who has had direct contact with the idol, might be the best option available to him. But using the thread of someone Jon knows personally carries the risk of learning more about his own future than he should or might want.

He closes the book. No matter how carefully he goes about it, he’s going to be tapping into knowledge that’s dangerous for humans to have. Knowing the future is something a lot of people wish they could do but don’t know how to properly handle or recover from once they actually see it, even if it’s not a future they figure in. There’s also the near-certain exposure to CHZO, who can’t properly be conceptualized without pain since that is what he is. Even if he’s successful, he’ll likely need a couple of days off to properly recuperate.

He spies a cup of tea just as it’s set down beside him, and he looks up to find Martin standing there. He smiles in unexpected relief.

Martin had insisted on joining him at home when he takes his days off. While Jon initially said he didn’t have to go out of his way to do that, that them living together is enough of a balm to soothe him, Jon’s appreciation for Martin’s choice is growing as the time for it draws nearer.

Jon reaches to take Martin’s hand, gives it a squeeze, and then kisses the back. “Thank you, love.”

Martin squeezes his hand back. “’Course. Just don’t spill it on the books, yeah? I’m technically the librarian.” He then looks at the cover. “Oh, Frehorn’s bullshit? Never mind, I’m sure we’ve got another copy of that.”

Jon laughs and lets go to pick up his tea. “Horrible sadomasochist of a man that he was, I’m afraid his prophecies amount to a bit more than bullshit, making him as useful a resource for my purposes as any down here.” He takes a sip and follows it up with a sigh of appreciation. “God. What did this office even do before you came here?”

“Relied on a shitty instant coffee machine from what I heard,” Martin answers. “When Trilby found out I was the one responsible for his first proper cappuccino in he doesn’t even remember how long, he looked at me like I was the second coming of Christ.”

Jon gives him another warm chuckle and takes his hand again, keeping him close as he drinks.

Martin halfheartedly tugs like he’s going to pull away with a chuckle of his own. “Jon, I do have a job besides bringing you tea, love.”

“Hmm,” Jon hums before finally letting go. “Alright. Wouldn’t want you to have to wait up for me.”

“Oh, wait,” Martin says, cupping Jon’s cheek and leaning down for a brief kiss.

Jon gladly kisses back, leaning up to meet him. When they part, he asks, “See you at home?”

“Of course,” Martin answers with one more quick kiss before he pulls away.

“I love you,” Jon says by way of farewell before Martin goes too far.

Martin looks over his shoulder at him, his smile brightening his face as if falling in love for the first time all over again. “I love you, too,” he returns. “Don’t work too late, alright? I know you’ll find what you’re looking for when the time is right.”

Jon watches as he leaves, holding that image of Martin’s lovestruck look in his mind. It’s not the first time Jon’s seen it, not by a long shot as Martin chided him years ago when they first started dating, but he never gets tired of it. Considering their lackluster first meeting, he’s wondering how he ever got to be so lucky.

He shakes his head a little and forces himself to focus. Right. He has a job to do. He gets back to the book and resumes his search. He can’t just hope for a divine strike of intuition to suddenly give him the vision he needs. Hell, even Jack Frehorn had to work for his prophecies, however gruesome the “work” was.

He pauses when that thought comes to him. If Frehorn’s prophecies really are true, then he saw what Jon’s looking for to some degree.

Can it really be that simple?

Even if it doesn’t actually lead anywhere, it’s worth a try. Just in case.

-

Jon heads to the Artefact Storage desk. “Sasha, could I sign out Frehorn’s Blade?”

Sasha looks up from her work. “Really? Frehorn’s Blade? Care to explain how you intend to use it?” she asks.

“I have no intention of using it for its created purpose. I plan to use it as a tool to divine the future.”

“Technically, that is its created purpose,” Sasha points out.

“Oh good lord. By non-fatal means,” Jon specifies. “All I want to do is hold it. But if you have any other artefacts that belonged to Jack Frehorn, then that could potentially work instead.”

“I don’t think we do short of breaking into one of the Order’s compounds. But if all you want to do is hold it, that’s fine. We still have to make a record, and you’d have to hold it on the premises, but you can do that without the full sign out sheet.”

Jon grabs a pen for the paperwork. It’s good enough for his purposes.

While Sasha retrieves the knife, Jon works towards a meditative state, opening himself to the possibilities thrumming through time and the universe. Set aside the linear experience of time and see it from the outside, the past and the future collapsing together and meeting in the present. Time is just something humans must abide by, something Jon has to step out of if he hopes to find the vision Trilby wants.

Sasha brings out a sleek black case and opens it up. Frehorn’s Blade waits inside, still immaculate in spite of centuries of killing. The sharp, serrated knife gleams in the dim light. The most unusual part is the tip, which has two longer teeth compared to the shorter ones that run along the length.

“Like a key,” Jon thinks as he delicately picks it up.

And the thoughts trickle in, slow and heavy and collecting deep down in his mind.

“Just use the key and leave by the door.”

-

“Jon?” Sasha calls, shaking him out of his vision.

When Jon returns to himself, he finds he’s still holding Frehorn’s Blade in one hand but has his other on his throat hammering the pulse that he found in the door. He pulls back, surprised at how much pressure he had put there, surprised he didn’t accidentally choke himself.

He places Frehorn’s Blade back in its case and says, “I’ve found what I need for Trilby’s request.”

-

Jon comes back to his own senses, leaving Malcolm’s in the 24th century where they belong. Or tries to, anyway. He takes a deep, shaky breath and asks Trilby, “Will that suffice?”

Trilby nods, likewise trembling as he gets to his feet. “Yes, that will do. Thank you, Jon.”

-

Jon walks the last stretch home on his own, not entirely sure if he wants the time and space but not entirely sure he would have liked it had he accepted Claire’s offer to see him to his flat. Martin had gone home ahead of him to get dinner started, both of them just expecting another one of Jon’s Typical Late Nights instead of actually finding the vision today. Claire sent a text to let Martin know what was up, so he’ll be waiting when Jon gets there.

There are enough people around that he’s not alone enough to be afraid, but he’s alone enough to try removing the thoughts that aren’t his. To try to get back to Earth’s gravity instead of floating above the ground, thin threads keeping him from wandering off.

Jon can smell dinner in the oven when he gets in, and his feet feel a little more solid on the floor. Then he hears Martin on the phone, can hear him wrapping up the call as he steps inside.

“Oh, sorry Tim, I have to go. Jon’s home,” Martin explains. He gives Tim one of those sighs that would be exasperated if it wasn’t so tempered by fondness. “I’ll see about coaxing Jon out for drinks soon, but it’s not a good night tonight. ...No, just a long work day, just need to crash at home. I’ll text you later. Bye.” He hangs up and puts his phone in his pocket. “Hello, love.”

And before Jon could say a word, Martin opens an arm to him, ready to provide a hug but giving Jon the freedom to approach or not. Jon has absolutely no intention to refuse, but he does pause for a breath of a moment, taking in that Martin both anticipated what he wants and offered it as a choice. He wraps his arms around Martin’s middle and crushes himself to him as tight as he can.

“Oh!” Martin lets out, a little taken by surprise at the strength of Jon’s hug. He returns the embrace and holds him just as tightly. “I’m right here, Jon.”

Jon nods into Martin’s chest, grateful beyond words. After a moment of quiet, he says, “I feel like my mind is still hurtling through space.”

Martin rubs his back like trying to provide a massage standing up. “It’s okay. You’re here with me now. We have time to let the rest of you catch up to that.”

Jon nods again, just letting himself breathe. It’s times like this, oddly enough, where Jon can kind of understand people who experience physical attraction. He may not care for the mechanics, have no desire to enact it, but being held by the person you love? Being so close to them and only wanting to be closer so the last barriers that make you two different human beings are gone for a time? An intimacy that touches a person Body, Mind, and Soul? Jon can understand that as Martin draws his fingers down his back, not clawing or scratching but pressing hard enough to leave wonderful trails of release in their wake. He places his hands on Martin’s shoulders and kneads there the way a cat might.

Martin presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ve got you, love,” he tells him.

At some point, Martin guides him to the couch. Jon gladly leans into him, sighing as he adjusts his embrace to snuggle into Martin’s side and feeling him move to match. A deep, grounding peace falls upon him, gentle as the night, and the longer they sit it finally feels like he’s in the present.

“Better?” Martin asks, his voice carrying a bit of a laugh.

“Much,” Jon answers, muffled with his face half-buried in Martin’s chest.

“Good.” Martin lightly runs his hand up and down Jon’s back, and Jon melts under it like butter under a hot knife.

Maybe he should stop thinking about knives. But Jon is able to let the thought go, a surprising feat for him. It always seems easier with Martin here. Everything seems easier with Martin here. He could stay like this forever.

Jon takes a very deep breath when that last thought hits him. It isn’t panicked, though it is a little daunting to realize the full scope of it in a single moment. Much like before, when he was confronted with a distant future, linear time doesn’t seem to matter as much. But in this case, it takes the form of an everpresent, that strange unshakable truth that while now will constantly change it will forever be now, and he wants to be with Martin and wants to be for Martin what Martin is for him as long as he has a now.

When he puts that in its proper social context, that he wants to marry Martin, the idea fits into everything like a puzzle finally complete. A giddy joy not unlike what he first felt when they started dating simmers in him, and he knows at some point it will boil over and he’ll likely blurt out a proposal when it does. He’s half-tempted to do it now, and the main thing holding him back is that he had been specifically warned that seeing visions of the future can prompt some people to rush into big decisions. But it’s alright. It is always now, after all. And right now, he’s here with Martin.

Jon takes Martin’s other hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles, “Make you a cuppa tea?”

“Jon, I’m supposed to be taking off to take care of you,” Martin protests instead of answers.

Jon just squeezes his arms around him a little and says, “I know, but sometimes taking care of me includes me doing things. Things like making you a cuppa tea. Or I can make a pot of tea so I have some, too.” He shrugs a little, trying to minimize the tidal wave of love he has for Martin. “Sometimes it feels good to do something normal.”

“Guess I can’t argue with that,” Martin agrees. “Now that I’m not at the cafe, it does feel good to take a break and make some tea.”

Jon looks up at him and smiles. It’s not even about Martin agreeing.

Martin must take it that way, though, because he says, “Okay, you can make me a cuppa tea. But can I join you in the kitchenette while you do?”

“I never did get to use the espresso machine on my one day working for you,” Jon says even as he gets up, tracing his fingers along Martin’s arm and taking his hand.

“And I wasn’t going to let you unless you worked at the shop for a good three months minimum,” Martin says, giving Jon’s hand a squeeze as he follows him.

“I’m surprised I lasted a day,” Jon admits as he turns on the electric kettle Martin brought when he moved in.

“You were cheating, weren’t you?” Martin asks.

“Only a little,” Jon admits. “If you just focus on what they’re about to say, it’s not as bad. What kind of tea do you want, love?”

And the two hold hands as they dance their pas de deux of kitchenette navigation, moving to the rhythm of an evening making tea and the song of humming to shared heartbeats and tender kisses.

[automatismoateo]

how does “god’s love” lead to kicking me out in the cold?? via /r/atheism

how does “god’s love” lead to kicking me out in the cold??

sorry, i just don’t get the pipeline here. i’m 17, still a minor, living under my parents’ roof. after i had a major breakdown a few months ago and needed treatment for my mental health, my treatment team basically told my parents “you can’t keep forcing her to go to church every week unless you want her to stay like this, also she’s an atheist” and we came to the “agreement” that i would only have to watch part of a service from our church online once every 2 weeks. i say “agreement” cause its not like i could say no or ask for anything else?? i agreed to nothing !

yesterday the sermon was on a topic that pissed me off and really hit somewhere i’ve been trying to heal (abandonment) so first i was just on my phone to distract myself. my father scolded me a couple times and said through gritted teeth “put the phone down” so i kinda just had to sit there and deal. i cried. after the sermon i asked if i could leave since i was upset because i did the jesus-y part and the rest is prayers i don’t do anyway. my mom was like “oh are u upset?” (no shit???) but this set off my father.

he said “cut the crap, this is the agreement we made” and i said “yep, and i sat through the sermon like we agreed i’d do” so he said “you’re not getting a PENNY from me for college if you don’t go to church once a month.” and i said “ok, and i will. i won’t believe a word of it” and he said “look now you’re making us miss the important part, the prayers” and i said “u can still pray? i wasn’t going to anyway” and he started to yell so i stood up to go to my room, but he said “you know what, yeah, get out of here. get out of my house” and so i went for the door instead, putting on my brother’s shoes because they were on the way. i can’t remember what he was yelling but i said to myself at some point “this house is a fucking nightmare” which i’m sure he heard. the main thing i remember is right before i left he yelled “I HOPE YOU ENJOY BURNING IN HELL.” and “THAT’S WHERE YOU’RE GOING, HELL. HOPE YOU LIKE IT” to which i yelled back (for the first time in my life let me add, i have never risen my voice at either of my parents) “I WILL AS LONG AS YOU WON’T BE THERE” and i left. called my friend and asked her to pick me up after i walked for a while, it’s like 40°F here and i was in shorts and a t-shirt so i was getting cold. she took me back to her place. her mom is a cop and is close friends with mine, so after a little bit her mom made me go back with her and made sure i got inside my house okay. i told my mom i didn’t want to talk to her at the moment when she greeted me like i’d just come home from work. she didn’t say a word while her husband screamed at her daughter about how he hopes she enjoys eternal suffering, which is “what she deserves,” and didn’t argue or come after me when i was told to leave. so i was a bit too upset for a conversation.

i don’t get where in his mind this equates to love. there’s no proof that a god exists but he has a daughter in the flesh, yet he’s willing to throw her out because she asked to leave the room to… perpetuate god’s love? god must be a dick if this is how he wants his children to act.

Submitted April 24, 2023 at 12:22PM by well-yes-but-no (From Reddit https://ift.tt/DBn7Vh3)

[rafescoke]

hiiiii!!

Can I please request a rafe x reader based on that song need to know by doja cat.

Basically the reader heard rumors about the rafe’s and he’s past with his ex. Basically all saying how he was a 10/10 on bed. The reader is furious but sad and quickly confronts the rafe. You can choose the ending. Smut or fluff ending!!

Also pls post the rafe x reader, jj fic with the 19 chapters plsssss!!!! I beg you!

Need To Know ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

#Part 1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: The reader confronts Rafe about his past

Warnings: Straight smut, hella angst, substance, swearing, Rafe being a total dick

A/N: this one shot’s too long but i hope you will love it. i poured all my love into this however this isn’t my best work and im sorry!! 

p.s, i’m always open for requests <3

“Hey! thanks for coming,” Topper smiled, hugging Rafe’s side before kissing (Y/N)’s cheeks. He ushered them both to the middle of the ongoing party, to the centre where all of Rafe’s friends were hanging out. 

(Y/N) is never a fan of parties, especially the ones that she will have to tug on Rafe’s collars for them to finally enjoy the night alone. However, she passed up the chance of watching netflix with her partner tonight to go to Topper’s birthday party, since, it was, well, Topper’s celebration. 

If it had not been for Topper, she wouldn’t even bat an eye to this party, especially when she knows the amount of girls silently crushing on her boyfriend of 6 months now. Rafe’s incredibly handsome, with his hair messily parted and his blue eyes shining everytime they’re exposed to the glowing sunlight of Obx. . .  (Y/N) couldn’t justify why he would even choose her. 

“What are you thinking?” Rafe playfully groaned, pulling his girlfriend’s waist near him. His fingers played with the hem of her dress, giggling when she hissed, swatting his hands away. “Seriously. You’ve been quiet since we got out of the car.”

“I just don’t like the attention’s you’re getting tonight,” she sighed, rolling her eyes when Rafe poked her, an amused expression plastered on his face. “I shouldn’t have told you that. Now you’re this proud prick.”

Rafe laughed, throwing his head back, his hands still around her waist. She waited for him to regain his posture before kissing his cheeks. 

“Go and find Topper. I know you want to kiss him.”

“Not as much as I want to kiss you,” Rafe replied, laughing again when (Y/N) stuck her tongue out at him before walking away to go and get some drinks for herself. In truth, Rafe doesn’t understand why she would feel so inferior towards other girls; she’s simply the most beautiful girl he’ve ever laid his eyes on. No one can ever compare to (Y/N), and that’s for sure.

(Y/N) muttered a thanks when someone handed her a beer, standing on her toes to search for her friends. When she couldn’t see any of them, she began making her way towards Rafe and Topper. She decided that instead of waiting alone in the resting area of the club while everybody else is socialising, she would rather listen to whatever Rafe and his friends were conversing, knowing that somehow she’ll find something interesting in the discussion.

That was when she bumped into a figure, causing the person to drop the drink they were holding onto her front dress. (Y/N) groaned, not liking how she was already ruining the branded new dress she bought with Rafe. The smell of strong alcohol wafted into her nostrils, causing her to scrunch her nose.

“Watch where you’re going,” the person said, and  (Y/N) rolled her eyes before finally leaving the scene, not wanting to stir any unnecessary drama. She knows it will always end up dirty and Rafe will have to calm her down in the car. 

(Y/N) pushed her way through the swarm of sweaty bodies as the dress reeked with alcohol clung onto her body, and she momentarily regretted her choice of wearing a skin tight short sequin dress to a club where dropping drinks on someone is just something that is bound to happen.

She sighed when she finally reached the bathroom, quickly washing her stains with the cheap toilet paper. It left some white bits on her dress when she finally removed them, and she groaned again before washing the fabric under the running water. Her day was going totally bad, and she dreamed of the night she could’ve spent with Rafe if only Topper wasn’t born on yesterday’s date 19 years ago. 

“That’s what I’m saying!” a loud voice shrieked, followed by group of shrill laughs. “God, I really wish I’m still with him.”

(Y/N) raised her brows at the familiar voice, but thought none of it. Topper wouldn’t invite Rafe’s ex, he knows what she did to him. There was no way she was allowed to be in the private part of the club, unless someone had brought her as their plus one. 

(Y/N) shook her head at the thought, trying to focus on the stains that seemed to be making everything hard for her.

“He has this habit of running his fingers through his hair when he’s receiving head,” the voice continued, and  (Y/N) stopped in her tracks.

That’s exactly Rafe. Whoever the voice was, she was talking about Rafe. Rafe has this habit of running his long fingers through his hair while he’s whimpering, and it always drives (Y/N) crazy. 

She thought nothing of it, thinking about the possibility of another guy doing the same thing. It’s a common thing anyways; she wasn’t going to pull the crazy jealous girlfriend card that night.

She turned to pull another tissue paper, her ears still intently listening to the group of friends who seemed to not mind receiving any attention from their bold topic. 

“Now he’s with that (Y/L/N) girl. I honestly don’t get why he would be with her. Oh and-” the voice squealed, “Do you know that Rafe called me when they were talking?” 

What?

“What?” her friends asked in disbelief, and  (Y/N) didn’t move a muscle. She pressed her back against the tiled walls, listening close. Her heartbeat beat faster, and she could feel her head getting lighter.

“Yes! It was like, the first month they started getting close? He told me he couldn’t get over me and that he tried everything including finding me in her.”

(Y/N) felt the walls closing in, and quickly got to her feet to splash some water onto her face. She felt like dying right then and right there, but she knew she had to at least hear more to, now identified, Rafe’s ex girlfriend.

“He drove to my house and we just talked, you know. . . and then he told me something, and I refused. He got mad, I guess, and we fought like always, and he left me to be with that girl until today. Kinda sucks to be her, you know? Like the second choice kind of thing?” she continued, an amused tone lacing in her voice.

At that point,  (Y/N) had heard enough. She walked towards the exit as fast as her heels could take her, not stopping to stay goodbye to her now approaching friends. She could feel her hot tears crashing down, but she didn’t feel like crying in the club and having random strangers coming up to her to soothe her down.

When the night breeze hit her square on the face as she finaly exited the suffocating club, she let out the hardest cry ever as she tried to find any available taxis through her tears. There were none, seeing that it was only 9 p.m. and people had just starting to arrive, so she decided to walk to nowhere until she finds any yellow vehicle.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” a voice called out from behind her, and she turned when a hand pulled her shoulder. “What the fuck? Are you okay? Where’s Rafe?”

“Kelce, I’m not feeling good. I just want to go home, okay? Please, oh my god. I can’t do this right now,” she cried, covering her eyes with her palm. Kelce pulled her into a side hug, allowing her tears on his new t-shirt. When she finally soothed down, he tried to find an answer in her face again.

“What happened?”

“I can’t tell you now, I just-” she took a deep breath, “I just can’t. Can you um, call a Uber for me, please? My phone’s with Rafe.”

“What? Why would your phone-” he sighed, taking out his own phone. “Borrow my phone. It’s safer this way. Call a Uber, get home, and don’t do anything stupid. Okay?”

(Y/N) nodded, kissing Kelce’s cheeks before ordering a Uber, waiting by the sidewalk impatiently. She was scared Rafe would come out to look for her, and she didn’t feel like talking to him. 

She felt like shooting him in his ribs until he’s begging for her to stop. 

When she got home, her fingers trembling and her dress now ruined, she stripped out of her clothes and got under her covers. Her mother tried asking her about why she had come home earlier than expected with a running mascara and a smudged lipstick, but decided to let it pass when she didn’t answer, knowing that something has indeed happened. 

She felt like screaming. She had trusted him so much, and he was even the first guy to take her virginity. Now she felt disgusted, thinking about how she had allowed herself to the sweet words he had given her before.

She couldn’t ignore the memory of the night she first experienced sex with him, and the whole sweet care he had provided after.

It was Friday the 13th, and Rafe decided it will be a good night to watch some type of a horror movie.  (Y/N) agreed, being a fan of horror, but until one point, she was bored with the super-slow plot and boring characters. 

She played with Rafe’s fingers, intertwining them with hers, before she got an idea midway of the female character’s scream that echoed throughout her bedroom. 

“Rafe,” she said, and Rafe hummed in response. His eyes were fixated to the screen, not paying any attention to her. She whined, “Rafe. . .”

“Yeah?” He finally looked down to her, and laughed when he saw the face she gave him. “What the hell is wrong with you? The best part’s coming up. Watch it, the guy’s going to- fuck.”

(Y/N) had slipped her hand into his basketball shorts, teasing the outline of his v-line. Rafe’s breath shuddered, and he grabbed her hands before things escalate.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He grunted.

“I just wanna try something,” she replied innocently, and Rafe swore he felt like his heart stopping right then and right there. She was that sweet girl, and he has never saw this side of her.

“Can I?” she asked, and with a tiny nod, she continued her movements as Rafe’s eyes stayed glued on the television screen, though his mind was already on cloud nine. 

She was so good, and Rafe couldn’t explain the feeling inside of him when he watched her palmed him, her mouth slightly open and her hair falling down to her shoulders. Rafe felt like attacking every inch of her, wanting to give anything that she desired. 

“Stop,” he said, closing his eyes. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum from just your hands.”

“I want you to,” she said, and Rafe cursed. He liked, scratch that, he loved and is obsessed with the way she did anything to him, with her innocent eyes and her teasing smile. He felt like fucking her numb every single time she purposely brushed her hands against his buldge in the restaurant or bumping her bottoms against him when playing golf.

And when she would deny her actions, god, he felt like giving his all to her until she couldn’t walk.

“Rafe,” she said again, with that gint in her eyes. She leaned onto him, and he shievered when he felt her lips brushing with his earlobes. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

Rafe groaned, not wanting to look her in the eyes, afraid that he would do things he will regret the next morning. He felt her fingers around his chin, forcing him to look at her. 

“Please.”

“You told me you wanted to wait,” he said softly.

“I’m done waiting,” she had said, and that was enough for Rafe to crash his lips against her soft ones, pushing her lightly to her queen sized bed. He felt her hands playing with the hem of his shorts, and being an impatience fuck like his dad, he guided her hands to his already hard penis, craving for her touch.

“Fuck,” he groaned, closing his eyes to the euphoric feeling starting to form in the pit of his stomach. His fingers fumbled with her shorts, trying to untie the waistband, and grunted when he couldn’t gues the knot.

(Y/N) giggled, untying the ribbon, sliding her shorts to the edge of her bed as Rafe waited with his eyes staring at her hands eagerly, like a prey waiting to attack. 

Once her shorts were off, Rafe didn’t waste anymore time to place kisses from her stomach down to the sides of her aching core.  (Y/N) couldn’t take it anymore, after so many nights of trying to picture this exact moment in her head whilst fingering herself, pretending like it has been Rafe’s fingers instead of herself, she wanted to feel him around her so bad. 

“Please, Rafe,” she begged, looking at him with the innocent eyes again. She moaned when he inserted his fingers in her, pleasuring her the way pornstars would from the many porn videos his cousin had taught him to watch since he was 10 before.

“Oh my god,” she screamed, not able to comprehend the strange feeling in her stomach. She tried to close her legs, only for Rafe to gripped them apart tightly, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Do that again and I’ll leave you hanging.”

It was the way he had said that that left  (Y/N) all red, pushing herself against him to reach her end. She felt a sudden feeling approaching, and gripped Rafe’s wrist to tell him. 

Rafe laughed when she had came around his dingers, feeling her juice soaking up his fingers and her bedsheet.  (Y/N) sighed, still heaving from her high, making a mental note in her head to love this other side of Rafe Cameron.

“Suck,” he said, placing his two soaked fingers in front of her face and watched her as she sucked on them like a little girl who’s licking off a lollipop that her mother had bought for her. He felt like cumming just from the sight of her face.

“I want you inside me,” she had said again, and Rafe groaned to look away, not wanting to be a regret she had made the next morning. He looked at her again when she sat on his lap, looking at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Please?” she whispered, and before he knew it, she licked his ear to the the side of his lip before placing a soft peck on his lips.

Rafe has never removed his basketball shorts as fast as he did that night, not even when he had felt an animal crawling in his pants in the pet shop when he was 8 that resulted Sarah into having a laughing fit when they found out that a hamster had gotten into his pants.

He positioned himself in front of her slit, waiting for any new demands for him to stop now that she had changed her mind. But there was nothing, only  (Y/N) demanding for him, and without wasting any more time, he slowly slided into her, strecthing her hole.

He grunted when she felt her closing in, knowing that if she kept doing that, he’ll finish straight away.  (Y/N) screamed as he fucked her with a quick pace, causing him to quickly pull her head close to him to whisper into her ear.

“Shut up, princess. Don’t want mummy and daddy to wake up, do we?”

(Y/N) shook her head, wanting to reach her end soon. She moaned against her mattress, smelling Rafe’s scent from it, and liking the way he would whimper when he hit her g-spot.

“I’m so close, baby, fuck-” he cursed, his pace getting sloppier. His fingers with his cold rings intertwined with hers as he slammed into her for good measure, and pulling out to aim on her face as she tried to regain her breath.

(Y/N)  felt a shot of hot load landing on her face as she finally looked up to him, his sweaty chest heaving from the ungodly practice they just did. Rafe groaned, feeling himself getting hard again from the sight of her with his load all over her, and quickly turned away to grab a clean towel to clean her up.

That night, with a soft lullaby playing from  (Y/N)’s record player that Rafe had bought for her in Italy, he ran his fingers through her hair as she snuggled close, watching the moonlight brightened the ocean.

Rafe sighed, now wrapping his arms around her, forcing himself to not touch her breast in any way. “I’m sorry if it wasn’t what you had pictured in your mind.”

“Are you kidding?” she turned to face him, “God, Rafe. That’s exactly how I wanted it with you.”

Rafe chuckled and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, “God. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Riing! Riing!

(Y/N) wiped her tears with her fingers before pressing on the green button, bringing the phone to her ears when she saw Topper’s name. She decided that he deserved an explanation after she had ran off from his birthday party.

“Tops?”

“Hey, baby, you didn’t pick up my call. I have to use Topper’s phone but, um-”  (Y/N) heard the crowd sang happy birthday, “But um, are you okay? Kelce told me you were crying and I-”

“I’m fine. You should sing happy birthday to Topper.”

“I’ll be there in a bit,” he said to a voice in the background, and tried to talk to her again. “What is it, baby? The line’s kinda shitty here. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Okay. I know you’re not. Can you please tell me what happened?”

“It’s nothing, Rafe. Go and enjoy yourself.”

“God,  (Y/N), don’t pull this shit on me,” he sighed, and she waited until the background noise lessen. “Okay, I’m at the smoking area. Can you please tell me what happened?”

“You used me.”

“I’m - what?” he asked, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I heard her talking about how you drove to see her and you told her that you tried finding her in me,” she finaly confessed, her voice breaking. A tear slowly rolled down her red cheeks and she quickly wiped them away.

“Baby, it’s not how it sounds like.”

“Then what is it?” she yelled, clutching onto Kelce’s phone like it was her life support. “Fuck, Rafe, I gave you my everything.”

“Baby, I swear, it’s just-”  

(Y/N) waited for him to finish his sentence, and sucked in a breath when she heard the voice that had caused her this misery.

“Rafe! What are you doing here?”

“Fuck,  (Y/N), I’ll come by to your house, okay? Please, don’t do anything stupid, I’m coming back home-”

(Y/N) pressed the end call, letting go of the breath she was holding before finally throwing her head back against the pillow. 

#Part 2

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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.

[alwaysmarveling]

Balloons

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Warnings: cursing, arguing, and Clint (since he seems to be a sensitive topic for some of you)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Natasha surprises you with balloons. What do you get for her in return?

A/N: It can get a little confusing, so just for clarification, a single dash (-) indicates a flashback, and three dashes (---) means a skip forward in time. Also, this takes place during the Snap.

“Hey, I’ll be back in a couple of days, okay?” Natasha barely looked up from her computer screen, but she heard your murmurs, going so far as to lean into your touch as you pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

If you didn’t love her, you would’ve scrunched your nose, judged her for what must’ve been days without taking a shower. Instead, your brow furrowed slightly as you leaned over her, allowing your arms to drape over her torso, your hands clasping together at the center of her chest.

“Take care of yourself, okay? No more peanut butter sandwiches.” That elicited a groan from your wife. Her eyes remained on the monitor in front of her, but she still sunk into your embrace, her body almost on autopilot once she felt the familiar contact. “Promise me, Nat. I’ve left enough meals for the next two weeks in the fridge. All you have to do is microwave them.” A low sound left her mouth—maybe it was an “okay” or an “alright,” you really couldn’t tell—but you knew that was all you were getting from her at the moment. So, with a sigh, you brushed a quick kiss to her cheek and pushed yourself to stand straight.

“I love you, Nat.” It was only then that she turned around, finally allowing you to see the sparkle in her eyes that, more so now than ever, she reserved only for you.

“I love you too, malysh. Be safe. And call me if you need anything.”

“So you’re saying I can call and ask for you?” The redhead chuckled, leaning out of her chair to grab you by the hands. Once you were standing in between her legs, one of her hands trailed up to your cheek before pulling you down to kiss her.

“Anytime, malyshka, anytime,” she murmured, her lips brushing against yours as she spoke.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, yeah?” Natasha nodded at you. The last thing you saw as you walked out the door was her characteristic smirk, the sly wave of her slender fingers, and the way her body was slumped against the chair, another sign that betrayed just how long she had gone without sleep. You had to succeed at this, for her.

---

It was pouring when you found him. You don’t think you would’ve seen him if it weren’t for the neon signs, their reflections against the growing number of puddles lighting up the street. But you didn’t need to see him to find him; the yelling and clashing of swords were enough to tell you where he was.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was gruff. It was clear he didn’t want to see you.

“I’m here to bring someone back.” He had yet to turn around, and yet you could still hear him scoff despite his turned back and the patter of rain.

“Then keep looking.” You rolled your eyes before clearing your throat and straightening up. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to see your growing assertion, but you’d make sure he heard it.

“I’m here to bring you back.”

“Don’t you have a wife to be getting back to?” You almost flinched at his words.

“How funny, I wasn’t sure if you even knew we got married.” Yes, Clint was your friend, but you didn’t forget the way Nat’s eyes shined with hurt when she looked in the crowd at her wedding and noticed that her best friend wasn’t there. It was just another thing that made her doubt what she was doing, wonder if she was a monster for moving on while everyone else suffered. You almost lost her that day, having to get Steve to pause the ceremony as you took her off to the side, desperate to make her stay.

-

“Nat, every day I wake up I think of all the people that we lost, just like that. But you’re still here, and I can’t lose you too. And if wanting to hold onto the one good thing I have left in the world makes me a monster, then-” She had pulled you close, kissed you through the tears that ran down her cheeks.

“You could never be a monster, my love.” Your foreheads pressed together as she whispered, allowing you to see the crystal droplets, physical evidence of the internal struggle she felt every day.

“And neither can you. Marry me?” She simply nodded, and you thought you couldn’t have been happier, more relieved.

But she proved you wrong only minutes later when she read her vows out to you, her eyes only leaving the crumpled paper to look at you, to make sure you were still there, as she tried to make her true feelings known. Her voice was nothing more than a whisper—you were sure you were the only one who could hear her, but that was more than okay with you—as she told you, “You told me I’m the only good thing you have left in the world, but you are my world. If I lose you, I’ve lost the world. It doesn’t matter how many other planets there are, how many galaxies exist outside of our own. There’s nothing after you.”

You pulled her into a searing kiss, not caring that Steve had yet to tell you to kiss your bride.

You were married. You were hers, and she was yours.

-

And he missed it. Clint missed one of the most important days in his best friend’s life. He still hadn’t responded when you spoke up again. You were bringing him back no matter what. Because she needed you to.

You got him to come back with you. You honestly weren’t too sure how you’d done it; maybe he was just too tired to argue anymore. But it didn’t matter because the two of you were getting in a Quinjet and going back to Natasha.

It took less than twenty minutes for you guys to be off in the air. You set the aircraft on autopilot and left the seat, heading back to put away your things.

“I will admit, I thought we’d be moving a little faster.” Your head cocked to the side at Clint’s words, not quite understanding what he meant.

“Trust me, we’re going as fast as we can. We should be there in a couple of hours.” You were almost out of earshot when he spoke again, but his words caught your attention as if he had screamed them at you.

“What’d you get her for the anniversary?”

“Wha- what do you mean? What’s today’s date?” And as Clint sighed with a shake of his head, you felt your heart sinking in your chest. He didn’t need to answer. You thought back to yesterday’s phone call and you knew exactly where you’d messed up.

-

“Hello? Nat? What are you doing awake? It’s late, you should be asleep.” There was a pause over the phone, and at first, you thought she’d hung up.

“I, um, I just wanted to check in on you.” It wasn’t so much the fact that she called or her words as it was her dejected tone that grabbed your attention, immediately made you concerned.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? Do you need me to come back?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” she quickly reassured you. “Just… you sure you’re not forgetting anything?” You scanned the supplies you’d laid out on the dresser. A weapon or two, a couple of toiletries, only the necessities. But nothing was missing.

“No, I think I have everything. Why? Did you see something at home?” Another pause. And, still, you chalked it up to bad connection, or maybe the fact that it was late for her, she must’ve been tired.

“No, you didn’t leave anything at home.” You took one last glance at your things before nodding and launching into your plan for how you were going to get Clint back. She wasn’t as excited as you thought she would’ve been, but you never caught it. Even when you ended the call and all she gave you was a quiet goodbye, you never caught it.

-

You entered the compound with a crash, scrambling to find Natasha. It was nighttime when you got back, the lights automatically turning on one by one as you ran through each of the rooms, each of them full of furniture but devoid of life.

First, you reached the kitchen. Natasha hadn’t put away the candles, the wicks drowning in wax as if nobody had bothered to blow them out. One plate of food—which was much fancier than any of the meals you had left for Nat in the fridge—lay untouched on the counter, and you knew that, if you dared to open the fridge, there’d be another plate waiting for you.

Next, you made your way into the living room. A vase of roses sat on the coffee table, but one of them was already wilted, a petal threatening to fall off if you so much as looked at it for too long. A small bunch of heart balloons hovered in the corner. The shadows fell on them in just the right way it seemed, with them looking more like they were threatening to chase after you rather than welcome you home.

You went to your bedroom next. You doubted she would’ve been in there, but some small part of you hoped that you and Clint were wrong; you hadn’t actually missed anything, and Natasha somehow pulled herself away from her work to grab a few hours of sleep. But it wasn’t your wife on the bed. Instead, an unfamiliar yet friendly-looking teddy bear sat on the comforter, the card next to it standing upright. And though every part of you yelled at you not to open it, you did.

It was storebought, but that wasn’t what affected you. What finally broke the dam, made the tears stream down your cheeks, was the brief message she’d written on the inside.

“I know I haven’t been the best wife lately, but you are still my world. The sun, moon, stars, it’s all you, malyshka. It always will be. Happy anniversary.”

It was only then that you set off for the one place you were sure Natasha would be.

---

The smell hit you before you even entered her office. Then, you heard the somewhat incoherent grumbles, each word charged with more anger and sorrow than the last. And so it was more to your horror than surprise when you found her still at her desk, her head in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other.

“Natty…” A flash of red filled your vision as her head whipped up to see you, but you weren’t sure if the color came from her cheeks or her hair.

“Oh, so you still remember my name?”

“Natty, please, I’m so sorry. I was so hun-” At first, your wife seemed slightly surprised, as if she wasn’t expecting you to apologize. Or maybe she wasn’t expecting you to know what you were apologizing for.

“Don’t you dare call me that right now, Y/N.” If her order didn’t sting, her use of your actual name definitely did. But you pushed away those feelings; right now, it was about her, the way it should’ve been about her yesterday.

“Natasha, let me explain. I was so focused on Clint, on the things we had to get done here. The dates really meant nothing to me.” Her flinches were delayed, slightly sluggish, but they nevertheless hurt to see.

“So the date of our wedding means nothing to you? I got you balloons, Y/N, I got you fucking balloons.” You flinched, but it wasn’t at the sound of the vodka bottle slamming down on the desk or at her words. It was at the words she’d told you on your six month anniversary of dating, the day she’d surprised you with a dinner at a three Michelin star restaurant and a night in a five-star hotel, a luxury you’d never experienced before and never thought you’d have in your life, let alone while you were on the run from the US federal government. But, you’d had to remind yourself as Natasha pulled you into the hotel room with a giggle, this was the world’s best spy you were dating. Of course, if anyone was capable of pulling this off, it was her. 

-

“What are those?” you’d gasped, the glint of the dim lamplight on the mylar catching your attention.

“I got you balloons,” she’d chuckled as she pulled you into her embrace. “I love you so fucking much that I got you balloons. God, I’m such a sap.” You met her lips in a sweet kiss before pulling her closer, if that was even possible.

“You’re my sap.” Nat pressed another kiss to the corner of your mouth, loving the way it curved upwards in a grin. Loving the fact that she made it do that.

“Well, duh, you think I’m going to go out and get balloons for Tony?” You simply giggled, the champagne the two of you had enjoyed earlier that evening only strengthening the joy that bubbled in you. “No. Never. Only for you, detka.” She had punctuated each sentence with a kiss, each one being on a different spot on your face.

“You got me balloons,” you finally whispered, meeting her eyes.

“I got you balloons,” the blonde agreed. You loved the way the green orbs captured your own gaze; you could bathe in the love they held for you.

-

But at this moment, you felt yourself drowning in the sorrow filling her eyes, the fact that she wasn’t crying being one piece of dignity you couldn’t maintain no matter how hard you tried.

“Nat,” you slowly stepped closer to her, your footsteps being the only sound filling the room during the pause. “That’s not what I meant. I just meant I barely processed what day it was at all. The only thing I was focusing on was getting Clint back.” A small part of you knew that Natasha was far too hurt and drunk to be reasoned with at the moment, but you still tried. And the rejection hurt just as much as if you hadn’t been expecting it.

“You don’t love me.” You were by her side in an instant, quick to refute her point.

“That’s not true at a-”

“You don’t love me! Just admit it, Y/N. You don’t love me.”

“Natasha, please-” Your vision was so clouded by tears you could barely make out your surroundings, but the anguish on your wife’s face was somehow clearer than it had been all night.

“You only love me when it benefits you! God, how was I so foolish to believe you could ever love me back in the same way I love you?” And though you tried to stop her, pleaded with her to just listen to you for a second, she never even hesitated for a second, the remaining vodka threatening to spill out out of the bottle with how she swung it in the air. Her insecurities from your relationship, the ones you had spent night after night reassuring her of, were coming out in full force, each word thrown out of her mouth being another punch to your gut.

But it was her last sentence that made you almost double over in pain; the way she looked at you, eyes glassy and her lower lip wobbling, the way she spoke, her voice airy and broken, the way her face was contorted, as if something had broken inside of her. Maybe something had.

“Did I really make you feel safe, or did I just help you not to feel alone?”

-

You knew she was standing outside of your room well before she knocked. Well, you knew someone was standing outside of your room.

Sure, you weren’t expecting the normally-closed off assassin to be the one who entered when you let out a measly “come in,” but you were too wrapped up in your grief to care.

“Wanda made dinner.”

“I don’t want it.” You didn’t have to turn your head to know how she was standing, feet shoulder-width apart and arms crossed over her chest. And maybe, if you cared, you would’ve been scared, but for all you were concerned she could come running full speed at you with widow’s bites in her hand and you wouldn’t even flinch. Maybe you’d welcome it.

“It’s not a negotiation. You’re coming to dinner. You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I’m not hungry.” At first, Natasha didn’t respond. You thought you were safe. She’d turn around, close the door behind her, and you’d be alone once again, the way you should’ve been. The way you always should be. But instead, you heard her approaching footsteps and felt the mattress sink as she perched herself on the edge of your bed.

“You deserve to eat, Y/N. Just because you made a mistake-”

“A mistake is forgetting your phone at home, Nat. I got people killed. I deserve to die.” Natasha paused for a moment, and you felt the weight of her hand as she rested it on your ankle.

“You’re not the first of us to do that. Do you think we deserve to die too?” Anger and frustration swelled in your chest at her words. Of course they didn’t deserve to die; how could you agree to that? But she didn’t understand, you were different because you were you.

You hated the way she trapped you with simple logic, wanting to scream and yell for her to get out. But she was the woman of your dreams, so you stayed silent. She’d leave eventually. They all did. Or maybe you just made them leave, who knows?

But she was there 5 minutes later, 10 minutes later, 15. Half an hour passed and she was still sitting there, her posture just as perfect as when she first sat down.

Another half an hour passed before Natasha sighed, the corner of the mattress lifting. But she didn’t leave the room. Instead, she rounded the bed and sat down next to you, hands folded in her lap and her back against the headboard.

“You’re not going to leave?” you finally asked.

“No.”

“Why?” You hated the way it came out cracked and broken. You were the one who messed up; why were you also the one falling apart?

“Because you deserve to be forgiven. And you don’t deserve to be alone. I’ll stay until you realize that.” It amazed you how she said it so matter-of-factly, how she said it as if it was painfully obvious.

“Then it looks like you’re going to be staying the night.”

“Good thing I wore my pajamas.” It wasn’t until she said that that you finally turned around to look at her. Why was she wearing her pajamas?

“You knew I wasn’t coming out.”

“I had a feeling.” Her shrug was nonchalant, but the way she picked at her fingers suggested she was more nervous than she was trying to let on.

“Why are you here, Tasha?”

“Because I care,” was her answer, spoken softly yet firmly, as if she was challenging you to oppose her. But you let her.

You let her slide down, lay her arm over you. You let her lay a kiss on your forehead, hold you while you slept, fend off the screams of the departed so your dreams didn’t turn into nightmares. And just before you finally dozed off, getting the rest you’d been deprived of for days, you murmured something so quiet she could barely hear it. She’d never forget it.

“Ever since I joined the Avengers, I’m always waiting for someone to leave. Someone getting hurt, getting killed. They’ll leave one way or another and I won’t be able to get them back. I’m always on edge. But you make me feel safe, I think.”

-

“Tasha, you know that’s not true at all. Please,” you tried walking towards her again with one trembling hand outstretched, just to get her to put down the bottle, just to pull her into your arms as you tried to physically show her just how much you really did love her, just to do anything.

She backed away.

It hit you then; you weren’t going to get her back. Not now, at least. Nothing you could say, nothing you could do, could get her to listen to you at this moment.

“Just leave me alone,” she whispered, as if she could read your mind. You always thought the two of you were connected in some way. Maybe she could tell what you were thinking.

But it seemed the connection stopped there. She couldn’t understand how your feet were glued to the floor, how your heart stopped for the umpteenth time that hour, how your eyes scoured any and every part of her for want of some sign that things would be okay. She gave you nothing but a renewed hardening of her gaze, as if she had just remembered her days as one of the world’s most formidable assassins.

“Fine. I’ll leave.” And just like that, she was gone. It didn’t matter that she almost stumbled over the leg of a chair, or how you got an extra strong whiff of vodka as she passed by. What mattered was that she was gone.

---

Natasha got you balloons, filled you with joy and love as if you were a child at the center of attention during their birthday party. And you, distracted by all the other decorations that surrounded you, had let them go, the strings slipping out of your grip and floating to unreachable heights.

You had let her go.

-----

🏷 : @vancityfire13 @007giu

[baecvlt]

Stalker Nagito Komaeda x Milf!Reader

this was requested via my twitter:

“Hey! i’ve seen your works and I’m in love. Can I request smut where a stalker Nagito Komaeda becomes obsessed with a milf reader who moves into the neighborhood who’s like a dom in bed and ya know just large bust and taller than him. Thank youuu🤍”

a/n: ofc. but I have my own idea of a dom which i’ll use involving certain things (heed warnings)

warnings: he is so obviously a virgin in this, degradation, slight masochism, asphyxiation, spit, also Nagito calls the reader mommy (side note: nagito is in his early 20s in this, he lives alone. age of reader isn’t specified BUT I say she’s in her late 20s/early 30s)

• • •

It was a bright day...which Nagito despised. It was summer. He hated the sun, hated the mosquitoes, and the unnecessary humidity. It was days like these he wishes he was back at his university dorm. The A/C, the tall tree covering his window and blocking the sun...it was perfect. Hell, he didn’t even hate classes. Yet, he couldn’t live in the dorms forever. When it came time to buy a home, he stupidly did so in fall, moved in during the winter.

Well, no shit the home seemed perfect then. It wasn’t fucking summer. His A/C decided to break, his windows has a great view of the sun, and most of his friends were out of town (all except Hajime, but Hajime is fucking boring and a bummer). Nagito sat on his couch, watching reruns of old tv shows. He took a sip from his nearby glass (cold water), suddenly hearing sounds of what appeared to be a loading van. He looked outside his window.

A moving van?

Right, that one old man who lived there passed away. Freak accident, by the way. Oh well, may he rest in peace. Meanwhile, Nagito was being himself and trying to see who it was. Pretty much, the dude was being nosy. He saw another car pull up. That must’ve been the family’s car. Out jumped 3 kids, what appeared to be 2 girls and 1 boy. An adult stepped out. Nagito decided he’d get a better look at the situation. He put on his shirt, black jeans, and his green hood.

He was “going for a walk”.

Without being noticed, he made his way to the other side of the street. It was a woman, she was taking boxes out of the truck. The minute Nagito saw her it was if he was stricken by Cupid’s arrow. She was tall and beautiful. Her skin complimented her hair and her legs, he couldn’t take his eyes off them. Her breasts...he needed to stop—

“Hi!”

She was in front of him, a warm and inviting smile on her face. “H-Hi,” he muttered. She didn’t hear him well, so it helped that he waved. “I’m new in the neighborhood. We just moved in,” she added, putting the box down. She stuck her hand out, going for a handshake. He shook her hand, her warm hand against his cold ones. Why are his hands always cold? “I see,” he responded, getting his shit together,“I’m Nagito Komaeda. I live across the street”. She introduced herself and complimented his house.

“What a lovely home. I hope the neighborhood is just as lovely”

“It should be. It’s pretty quiet. There’s not many families here. Say, can I help you pack?”

“You’re too sweet! I’d really appreciate it”

He helped take all the boxes in her home, helping load a couch too, and help with other large objects. They finished in 9 hours, taking a majority of the day. “Thanks for helping out, Nagito”. She made a lemonade, handing him a glass.

“Don’t mention it! Also, thank you”

One of the kids ran in the living room where they sat on the couch. He gasped when he saw Nagito. “Mommy! That man looks dead!!!”. Nagito smiled, but his mom was not amused. “Michael! Apologize..”. The kid kept smiling and said,“Sorry!”. He ran to another room. “I’m so sorry,” she muttered. Nagito shook his head.

“Hey, I’m rather malnourished”

“Ha. On an unrelated topic, are you hungry? I could make us something”

“Oh, I shouldn’t linger any longer. I wouldn’t want to disturb your husband”

She laughed. “I know you mean no harm, but I’m not married,” she added. “Oh,” Nagito muttered,“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean it in any way”. She shook her head and reassured him it was fine. “Sit, Nagito,” she pulled out a chair,“I’m not letting you refuse having dinner with us. Especially since you were such help”. She rubbed his back before heading back into the kitchen to begin cooking.

She made him a bowl of pasta, adding chicken on the side. Nagito was quite happy. He hadn’t eaten a good meal in so long. Her kids didn’t eat at the table, but on the counter. Meanwhile, she ate with Nagito. Just as Nagito thought he couldn’t grow fonder of her, he did just that. All she did was let him talk about himself.

“Jesus, I’m sorry about your parents? How are you keeping yourself afloat with university and expenses?”

“Academic scholarships”

“Wow, you’re such a smart boy”

The way she phrased it made him flustered. “Thank you for the meal, ma’am,” he muttered,“I haven’t eaten like this in who knows how long”. She smiled tenderly, picking up his empty plate. “Seconds?”. He shook his head.

“No, thank you. I’m already so full”

“I’m glad. You know, there’s always a meal for you in store if you can do me a favor”

“What’s that?”

“My oldest daughter has her final test this week. You think you can help her study? I’ll make you a nice, warm meal every time you come over”

Nagito thought about it. He would also have time around her. Plus, she wasn’t a bad cook. “Of course, I look forward to it,” he told her. “Lovely”. He got up and excused himself to go home. “It was nice having you over, Nagito,” she said softly. He could tell she was getting sleepy. When people are tired, Nagito has noticed that their tone is rather sheepish. She walked him to the door, ruffling his hair playfully and he blushed. “Goodnight, neighbor”.

“Goodnight, you”

Before he left, she stopped him and handed him a paper: (xxx) xxx-xxxx ♡

“Call me when you get home so I have your number saved. Then, I can call you when my daughter, Vanessa, needs help. Take care, okay?”

He nodded.

She closed the door, his thoughts racing on his way home. He picked up some things about her, things she didn’t even tell him. He went home and opened a notebook, writing all of it down. He called her and she answered, her voice as sweet as when he left (only sleepier). “Hello?”. His breath was heavy without realizing it as he spoke. “H-Hey, you told me to call you,” he breathed,“It’s Nagito...Komaeda”

“Oh, hey, angel! I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“What? No, it’s all good— why’d you think so?”

“You sound like you need to catch your breath, but anyway, thanks for calling me. I’ve saved your number now”

“Oh, great! Well, if that’s all, I’ll let you go to bed now”

“It was. Goodnight, Nagito”

“G-Goodnight”

He hung up, flustered more than ever as he continued to jot down his thoughts on paper. The next day, he woke up at 6am to wait in his car. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but he couldn’t help it. At around 7:41am, his front neighbor and kids headed for their car. Nagito, who had taken a light nap in the driver’s seat, was awoken by the car starting. He waited for the car to drive away just slightly past his house to start his own car, slowly tailing behind her.

He dropped her kids off at the nearby elementary. She got off, kissed them on their forehead (all minus the eldest, who walked swiftly through the gates). Seeing how she cared for them made Nagito feel bad, but all he did was brush that feeling off. Next, he followed her through her daily. As he did, his notes from last night echoed through his mind, adding new detail.

“She works at an office not everyday She doesn’t have allergies but is sensitive to dust Red seems to be her favorite color but always in a darker shade Her daughter is around 10 years old She isn’t vegan but enjoys almond milk Maybe has an issues with abandonment but I can’t assume that either She buys many apples but not the same amount of bananas at the store so maybe she only eats the bananas—”

Just more to add to his notebook.

He got home before she did, writing down what he had learned. His phone rang about an hour later of him getting home. He picked it up,“Hello?”. “Nagito, hi!”. It was her. He started having a mini-panic attack, because why would she be calling him? “H-Hey, how are you?”

“I’m doing alright. I was wondering if you could come over and tutor Vanessa”

Oh, thank god.

“Yes, of course. I’ll be down there right now”

“Great. See you then!”

He was relieved, heading to her home happily. He knocked on the door. When she opened it, she did so with the same warm smile as yesterday. “Thank you for coming over,” she said,“She’s in her room”. Nagito nodded, freezing when she grabbed his hand and took him to the room. Her touch was so soft, noted. They got to the room, where a girl was reading a book on a desk. “Nessa?”. The girl turned around.

“Nagito is going to be here for a few hours to help you out with homework and studying. He’s really smart, so pay attention and be respectful”

“Okay, mom”

She nodded, squeezing Nagito’s shoulder before leaving. Nagito approached the girl, she took her things out. Before he could speak, she stopped him. “Please don’t call me ‘Nessa’,” she whispered,“It’s bad enough my mom does, but not you, Please”.

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t planning on referring to you at all”

“Bastard”

“Nessa”

“I guess I walked right into that one”

Nagito laughed, grabbing a chair and sitting next to her. Her work wasn’t what he expected. Is this what they’re teaching kids now? He could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen this type of stuff until he hit middle school. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t do, but damn. All in all, tutoring went well. Vanessa actually learned something today. “Good job!,” he said. “Thank you,” she smiled and hugged him,“I felt so stupid”.

“Hey, its okay not to understand things”

Her mom walked in. “Dinner’s ready”. Vanessa got up and went to the kitchen. “How’d it go?,” she asked Nagito. “Went well, she gets the math now,” he answered. She smiled, thanking him for his help and asking him to join them for dinner. He’d be foolish not to, so he accepted the invite.

Fish tacos were served tonight with rice and beans, another lemonade made. It was different than anything Nagito had ever had, but that doesn’t equate to bad. He actually enjoyed the meal. The kids sat at the main table today, much more respectful than yesterday. “Michael how was school?”. He put a thumbs up, getting back to eating. “And Adrianna?”. She looked up from her meal and shrugged. “What’s wrong?”.

“I’m tired, but class was okay”

“Oh, okay. When you’re done, just take a quick shower and get to bed”

“Thanks”

Nagito thought it was endearing. Seeing how understanding and loving she was, it was refreshing. The kids all eventually left, Nagito finishing his meal. “Did you like it?”. He looked at her, nodding. “Great! Seconds?”.

“Full again. I don’t usually eat, but your food is always so good”

“Oh, you’re just saying things...”

“No, really! Thank you”

He said his goodbyes to the family, walking back home. It was as if he was falling for this woman more and more everyday. He went to sleep, this time dreaming of her. He never dreams, but this time he dreamt she was on her knees for him. Then, nothing else. It was as if his dream teased him.

The next morning, he woke up to some knocking on the door. He looked at the time. 8:23am. He put on a pair of jeans and his shirt, walking to his door. He opened it and there she stood, wearing a black dress and red heels. He assumed she had work and needed a favor before going. “Good morning,” he said.

“Were you following me yesterday?”

Shit.

“I, uh...,” he didn’t know what to answer. He was indeed following her yesterday. He also liked her, so if he straight up said that he was to following her, it’d ruin things. His face was glowing a shade of pink to a slight red as he thought of the right answer. He was still stumbling over his words. “I think it’s kinda cute,” she added. The fuck? “Huh?”. She pushed him inside the house, closing and locking the door behind him. “When a boy follows someone around, it’s because he wants something,” she added, but her tone was so sultry,“Well, Nagito—”. She pushed him onto the couch, leaning in front of him with her hands on his chest.

“—What do you want?”

None of what was happening felt real. Nagito couldn’t find the words to express what exactly he wanted. This was the first time he’d ever been in a situation like this, it wasn’t a bad one either. He began to panic when she straddled him. “Could it be that you wanted me?,” she asked. He frantically nodded and she laughed as she locked her lips with his. He gasped against her lips, kissing back. She slowly trailed her kisses down to his neck, cupping his jaw while grinding on his lap. Nagito moaned, his shaky hands grabbing her ass. She grabbed his hands and put them away from her. “It’s cute that you’re getting this carried away”.

“I’m sorry”

“No time to apologize. Get on your knees for mommy”

Nagito was about to lose his mind when she said that, but he obeyed. Her presence was domineering as he stood on his knees against his carpeted floor. She spread her legs, noticing Nagito desperately trying to get a look. Her red heel stopped him, stepping on his head lightly. “Am I teasing you?,” she asked,“It’s okay to be honest”.

“Y-You are, but its okay. I want to be teased by you”

“You’re adorable,” she took her heel off his head,“Let’s go to your room”.

He practically ran to his bed. He sat and waited patiently. She entered the room, heading to his bed. She began to take off his shirt, admiring his frame. She then unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. He kicked them off and sat down. She sat next to him. “Give me your hands”. She held them, frowning slightly. “Boo, they’re so cold,” she teased,“I’ll warm them up for you”. Carefully, she grabbed his left hand, putting his middle and ring finger in her mouth. She licked to his fingertips, leaving him tense and speechless. She stopped and smiled at him.

“This is your first time, isn’t it?”

He nodded shyly. “Don’t be shy,” she said,“I’m going to guide you, but I’m also going to have my fun”. He gulped, nodded. She stood up and removed her dress. She wore a lacy black bra and panties. She brought his hands to her breasts, allowing him to fondle them. They were huge in his hands. “You like them, baby?”. “Y-Yes,” he muttered,“Can you, uh, take....the bra off?”. He was ashamed when asking, he felt desperate. She smiled and nodded, unhooking it and allowing the bra to fall to the ground. He gasped at the sight of her tits, grabbing them. She straddled him.

“Do you know what to do with them?”

He nodded, rubbing one and sucking the other. She moaned sweetly, grinding on his lap. He popped his mouth off them. That was when she took the opportunity to knock him onto the bed. She began to make out with him, shoving his tongue down her throat. They lay sideways. Her hand was on his neck, slightly choking him. He couldn’t resist but try to grind on her lap. She laughed. “Look at you,” she mocked,“Humping my leg like a desperate little puppy”. She didn’t let him speak, sitting up and pushing him back down. “I’m going to give you what you want,” she whispered in his ear,“Take your cock out”.

He was nervous as he did, hands shaky. She blushed a bit at his size. “It’s so big,” she said, straddling him,“I’m going to have my way with it”. “Please, do what you want to me,” he begged,“Abuse me, please”. She didn’t speak, sinking down on it. Nagito gasped, she was extremely wet. She began to bring her hips up and land straight down on it, repeatedly. She put her hands around his throat, now being rougher. Nagito gasped for air, grabbing her hands.

That was a mistake.

“Hands down,” she ordered, striking him across the face. “Sorr-”. He was slapped once again. “Only speak when you’re spoken to”. He nodded as his stomach began to cave in. His cock twitched each time she slapped him, making her moan. She leaned forward, capturing his earlobe between her teeth. He winced, his hands tangling in the sheets. He felt as though his entire body was blushing.

“You’re so sensitive there”

She teased him, kissing the skin and nibbling. His hips involuntarily snapped upward, making her whine. “You’re so desperate, baby,” she laughed,“it’s so cute”. He could feel her warmth running along his cock. He bit into his hand, trying to stop himself from cumming inside her. It worked, but she didn’t like him doing that. She grabbed his hands and kissed them.

“Don’t hurt yourself, put them right here”

She placed them on her boobs. He watched them bounce up and down, grabbing them gently. His rather large hands seemed small on her tits. He was extremely flushed. He took them off her and placed them on her hips. “Open your mouth”. He lay back more and did as he was told. She leaned forward, grabbing his jaw again as she spit into it and kissed him. He moaned when she did, his urges getting the best to him and thrusting upward. He hit her cervix every time, causing her to produce the sweetest and sluttiest of moans. Her walls tightened around him and now he was whining. “Are you gonna cum, honeybun?,” she asked.

“Y-Yes..”

“Where do you wanna cum?”

“I wanna cum...everywhere. I want it. I want it so bad. I wanna cum inside and on your tits, on your ass, y-your face..mouth. Please let me cum, mommy”

She motivated him, riding him harder. “Come on, Nagito,” she whispered,“Cum for mommy. Cum all the way inside her”. He lost his mind after that, groaning as he shot his load(s) inside her. He was still inside her as he tried catching his breath. She rubbed his chest, shushing him. “Good boy, you did so well,” she cooed,“Such a good boy.” He was covering his face, embarrassed and still hard. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?,” she asked. He shook his head, thinking,“Not rough enough”. He whined when she got off, revealing he was still erect. She noticed.

“You wanna go again, baby? Kids don’t leave school till 2:30. We have time for an extra fuck”

“C-Can I?”

“Yes, dummy”

She let Nagito choose how to fuck her. He wanted missionary, mostly because he craved intimacy and she did not disappoint. She kissed and praised him, telling him he was good. She held onto him the whole time and cuddled him afterwards. Nagito felt so special, he felt loved. “I can come over when I don’t have work,” she said,“Would you like that?”.

“I’d love that actually”

“You make me happy, Nagito. I could stay here and cuddle all day”

“I feel so lucky”

He yawned, looking at the clock. “Its 10,” he told her. She nuzzled his chest, humming. “Mmmm, let’s take a small nap,” she whispered,“Okay?”. “Okay”. He kissed the top of her head and held her to him, slowly joining her in slumber.

[watchmegetobsessed]

TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part Four (Harry Styles)

a/n: happy TLABL day!! can’t believe we are already on part 4! im not sure if part 5 will be the last part, im still very much writing the rest so we’ll see! thank you so much for all the love you’ve been showing the series, i love reading your reactions! feedback is very much appreciated this time as well!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 11k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

You wake up feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck or at least consumed a whole bottle of tequila. Your head is pounding and it’s probably with all the crying and stress, so you are quick to take some pills to ease the pain. Sitting on the edge of your bed you stare ahead of you blankly, trying to gain power to start the day.

Though today is Sunday, so you are not working, you’re still worried to face Harry after whatever it was that happened last night. What were you thinking, kissing your boss out of the blue? And what was he thinking kissing you for the second time? It kind of feels like a dream, but you know it really did happen.

You try to stay in your room as long as possible, avoiding to face Harry, but soon enough you can’t postpone it any longer, because you are starving. Peeking out of your room you hear voices coming from downstairs and as you reach the stairs you recognize not just Harry’s and Izzy’s voice, but Niall’s as well.

Arriving downstairs you see Niall and Izzy sitting on the stools at the kitchen island while Harry is cleaning the dishes after their breakfast probably. He is wearing a pair of light-washed jeans and a black hoodie, the sleeves bunched around his elbows. He looks so casual and yet just looking at him makes your heart skip a beat. You are in some big trouble.

Niall spots you first and he perks up waving in your way happily.

“Good morning, Y/N!” he beams, his accent sounds so comforting in such a stressful moment, for some reason.

“Hi, good morning,” you breathe out. Harry turns around, his eyes fall on you and a shiver runs down your spine. He just looked at you and you already want to run away and hide in your room a little longer.

“Morning,” he greets you with a nod before turning back to the sink to finish the dishes.

“Daddy and Uncle Niall are taking me to the park! We are picking Yara up too!” Izzy shares the news with you excitedly.

“Oh, that sounds great!” you smile at her, giving her cheek a gentle pinch before moving to the fridge.

“Do you want to come?” she invites you and your eyes immediately flicker over to Harry who looks at you the exact same time, making your stomach drop right away.

“Um, I have some work to do, maybe some other time,” you smile at Izzy, grabbing yourself a yoghurt and a banana before shutting the fridge closed.

“So how was yesterday?” Niall asks and you freeze. Does he know what happened? Did Harry tell him about last night?

Niall sees your frightened look to which he shoots you a confused one.

“The wedding, Harry told me earlier you had a wedding yesterday.”

“Oh, it went… fine,” you nod shortly, peeking at Harry who is now staring down at his feet awkwardly. This was starting to get painfully ridiculous, the two of you dancing around each other, pretending like you weren’t down each other’s throats just a few hours prior.

“Alright, let’s leave, we need to pick Yara up in twenty,” Harry claps his hands. Izzy jumps off the stool and takes Niall’s hand as they all head out of the house. “We’ll probably have lunch somewhere and then go grocery shopping, so we’ll be away for a while,” he informs you without looking your way before leaving without even waiting for any reaction from you.

Yeah, this was straight up the most awkward conversation you’ve had in a long time.

“Here, Izzy. Play some games on my phone!” Niall passes his phone to her with a sweet smile, but Harry smacks his bicep.

“What are you doing? She has enough screen time already!”

“Yeah, but I needed her to be busy so I can ask you what the fuck was that in the house.”

Harry curls his lips into his mouth, his eyes glued to the road ahead of him as he tries to come up with a good answer, but he knows he could never fool his best friend.

“Don’t stop, even if she is busy with the phone,” Harry scolds him, glancing at Izzy through the mirror, but she doesn’t seem to be listening to them. Niall rolls his eyes, but lets his words uncommented. “Besides, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh, you exactly know it. You and Y/N were like scared little bunnies around each other. She looked like she was about to faint any moment when you looked at her.”

“Maybe she was just tired,” he shrugs, but Niall laughs at his weak attempt to fool him.

“Now tell me the real reason, I know something happened.”

Harry chews on his bottom lip, debating whether he should come clean or not, but he knows Niall won’t leave him until he finally tells him so he is not left with many choices.

“We kissed.”

“What?!” Niall snaps, a little louder than Harry expected, his voice makes him flinch. “Sorry, that was a little too dramatic, but what the fuck? Why were you keeping this from me?!”

“Because I knew this is how you’d react,” Harry mumbles under his breath. “And… I don’t think it will ever happen again.”

“What do you mean?”

“The whole thing was a mess,” Harry sighs. “She came home late, pretty upset because she met with her ex at the wedding.”

“The one that cheated on her?”

“Mhm. The dude was an asshole and… she was crying in the kitchen when I came down. We sat on the couch, talked, I tried to calm her down and all that and then… she kissed me.”

“Wait, she kissed you? Wow, she’s got balls!” Niall laughs.

“Yeah, but it was, like, really short and she pulled back, shocked at herself for doing it. I think it was just all the emotions that got her a little confused. But then she tried to apologize and… and I kissed her.”

“What?! Oh my God!” Niall’s mind is blown and he doesn’t even tries to hide his excitement hearing the news about last night. “Was there tongue?”

“Jesus, Niall!” Harry scowls. “I’m not sharing the details with you.”

“Okay, but was it like a solid, short kiss or you guys went right at it?”

Harry doesn’t answer, but it tells enough about the situation and Niall can’t help but whistle as he claps his hands.

“Stop acting like a horny teenager, Niall,” Harry growls rolling his eyes at his friend.

“So you guys snogged, what’s the matter with that?”

“It got awkward. We just pulled back and I think we both were pretty shocked about it and… she just stood up and said that she is going to bed. End of story. And then you were there in the morning, so… yeah.”

“Tell me why the hell we are heading to a playdate then when you should be talking to her?” Niall asks, arching an eyebrow at Harry.

“There’s not much to talk about. It just happened in the heat of the moment, that’s all,” Harry shrugs, but deep down he knows it’s a blatant lie. At least on his side.

Unlike you, who fell asleep right away, Harry spent about an hour lying in his bed wide awake, not able to think about anything else but your lips on his. He replayed the whole thing in his head about a million times, he was starting to feel ashamed of it, but he just couldn’t stop.

Your abrupt leaving left him puzzled and he thought long and hard about why you felt the need to run away. The only thing that made sense to him is that you regretted it the moment it happened, that it really did just happen in the heat of the moment so Harry thought it’s best to act like it didn’t even happen.

“Please don’t be an ass and just… talk to her. We both know we can never know for sure what a woman thinks about. You can’t just assume and think that your assumption is one hundred percent right.”

“I find it funny that you’re such an expert in this stuff, but you haven’t had a stable relationship since like, we finished college,” Harry scoffs as he takes the corner and starts driving down the street to Yara’s moms’ house.

“Me not having a relationship doesn’t mean that I’m not good at them. It’s a choice,” Niall smirks.

“Yeah, whatever.”

“But back to the topic, you wanted to kiss her, right?”

“I mean, yeah? It kinda threw me off as well, but it was… nice.”

“Please don’t refer to a kiss as nice again,” Niall gags, but Harry just chuckles at him. “A kiss is hot, passionate, pant tighteni—“

“Okay, that’s enough!” Harry cuts him, earning a cackle from him.

“Just talk to her, don’t be a pussy.”

“I really do need better friends,” Harry mumbles under his breath as he pulls up to the driveway.

You really didn’t feel like staying home alone in that big ass house so you invited yourself over for an early dinner to your mom’s. You haven’t been over since the little fiasco with Trevor so you thought it might be a good idea to spend some time with them. Trevor said they’ve been trying to keep the fighting down to the minimum and not let it turn into a screaming match, so your speech worked after all.

It’s past three o’clock when you leave, no sign of Harry or Izzy and you feel like they won’t be back for a while either, so you lock everything up and head out.

You have a genuinely good time. It’s obvious that your mom feels guilty about her past behavior and is trying to lure you into forgiving her, though you already did that. But you’re happy your little speech worked. At least Trevor can have his peace now.

After dinner your mom disappears in her room and then returns with a nicely wrapped box and you sigh, rolling your eyes.

“Mom, I told you I don’t need gifts.” You give her a look. Your birthday is coming up next week, but you were never the kind to celebrate. You never felt comfortable with all the attention and fuss birthdays come with, so you’ve always liked to keep it down. These past years you didn’t even ask for anything, though your parents never listened and this year doesn’t seem like an exception either.

“Oh hush. You can’t expect me not to celebrate my baby!” she shakes her head, sitting back to the dining table. “And besides, I didn’t pay a dollar for it,” she then adds and now you’re curious what she got you.

Removing the lid of the box you peek inside and your lips immediately part as you see the stack of polaroids inside.

“I know how much you like old photos and when we sold Grandma’s house back in August, I found these in my old room. I got a polaroid camera for graduation, just in time to take tons of pictures of you,” she explains with a soft chuckle as you start going through the pictures from when you were born and the next few years. Whenever you are done looking at a photo you hand it to Trevor so he can take a look at them too.

“Are you sure you don’t want to keep these, mom?” you ask glancing up at her over the stack.

“I took out a few for myself,” she admits with a sneaky smile. “You can have the rest, I know how much you love these stuff.”

“Thank you, mom,” you smile at her, hugging her from the side, feeling touched by this gift.

It’s nearing eight when you arrive back home, the lights are still up and if you had to guess you’d say that Harry is trying to tire Izzy out enough to put to bed, as usual. Walking in, your guess is proven right, the TV is on in the living room while Harry is sitting on the couch, Izzy all over him in her pink pajamas, playing around with his hair like she always does.

“Hi Y/N!” she calls out happily when she spots you.

“Hi Sunshine, did you have a good time today?” you ask with a soft smile.

“I did! And guess what!”

“What?”

“Yara invited me over for a sleepover!” she beams, clearly ecstatic about the invitation.

“That’s amazing!”

“What’s that?” she curiously asks pointing at the gift box in your hands. Harry turns to see you, his eyes falling on the box as well.

“Oh, it’s a gift I got from my mom,” you explain, stepping closer.

“Is it your birthday?” she questions, knitting her eyebrows together.

“No, not yet. But it will be next week,” you admit with a soft chuckle.

“Really? Are you having a birthday party?” she gasps, getting way too excited already. Harry eyes you without a word, holding Izzy by her hips so she is not losing her balance standing on the cushion of the couch.

“I’m not, sorry. I don’t like having birthday parties,” you pout at her apologetically.

“Oh, okay. Can I see what you got from your mom?”

“Izzy, don’t be nosy,” Harry warns her, but you just smile at the curious girl.

“Sure,” you nod, joining them on the couch. You sit on the opposite end than where Harry is, Izzy in the middle as she watches the box in awe. You set it down to the cushion and take the lid off, revealing the stack of photos.

“What are these?”

“They are called polaroids. They are old pictures, taken with a special camera that kind of prints the picture out right away,” you explain to her as she takes the first photo from the top, a picture of your mom holding you as a newborn. She was so young, practically a child herself, yet her pride was undeniable, it shone all over her face.  You spot Harry looking at the picture as well over Izzy’s shoulder, still keeping his silence.

“Who are these people?”

“That’s my mom and that’s me as a baby. And… this is my dad,” you hold up another photo that features your dad.

“They really were young when they had you,” Harry speaks up for the first time, surprised by the photos.

“Yeah, they were.”

“What are you going to do with them?” Izzy questions, dropping the photo back into the box as she leans back to lie on Harry’s chest.

“Not sure yet. I might make an album from them,” you shrug. “I really like polaroids, I love that they are one of a kind.”

Izzy nods, though you’re not sure she understood what you meant by that. Fidgeting with her fingers she pushes down a yawn and Harry takes that as a good sign.

“Alright, time for bed, Love. Say good night to Y/N.” He picks her up as he stands from the couch. Izzy waves at you smiling with tired eyes.

“Night-night, Y/N,” she singsongs as Harry carries her towards the stairs.

Putting the pictures back into the box you head into your bedroom too, feeling like the time when you and Harry talk about what happened yesterday will never come. It’s pretty clear that he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, so you’ll just let it slip. It happened just in the heat of the moment, didn’t mean a thing, you better forget about it.

After a speedy shower you are getting ready to just go to bed, read some and have a relaxing evening, something you didn’t have the luck to have the day before. But right as you’re about to make yourself comfortable in bed, there’s a knock on your door.

“Hey,” you breathe out as you open it and find Harry standing in the hallway.

“I hope you weren’t sleeping already.”

“No. Come on in,” you invite him inside and he walks in. As he awkwardly stops in the middle of the room you realize he hasn’t even been in here since you’ve moved in. He takes a look around, examining what you’ve done with the room and you feel thankful you decided to put your laundry away just yesterday, so no dirty underwear is littering the floor anywhere.

“How can I help you?” you ask with a soft smile.

“I, erm… I just wanted to clear some things,” he starts, clearly feeling nervous about the conversation and that makes the two of you for sure. Nodding you let him know that you’re waiting for him to carry on. “What happened yesterday…” he starts and your breath gets caught in your throat. “You were very emotional, a lot happened and it was a very confusing moment probably for the both of us. I really like working with you, I’m very happy with the way you’ve been taking care of Izzy and I would hate to ruin it with anything.”

You can feel your stomach dropping even though you were bracing yourself for this version of the situation. It was very likely that Harry would want to keep things professional, like before, but it still makes you feel like shit.

“I’m sorry for stepping over some boundaries, but I really hope that… we can put it behind us and that we can move on.”

He is using his business tone. It’s the same tone he used with Sarah and his assistants and now he is using it to talk about the kiss that happened between the two of you.

“Sure,” you answer quietly nodding. “Moving on sounds… great,” you nod, forcing a smile to your face, but it couldn’t be more fake.

Harry nods as he runs his tongue over his lips, looking around a little awkwardly now that it’s been discussed.

“Alright, then… good night, Y/N,” he nods in your way before heading towards the door.

“Good night, Harry,” you mumble after him as he walks out and closes the door behind him.

As soon as you are on your own, you let out a shaky breath, falling to your bed, lips trembling as you try to even make out what you’re feeling. Because part of you is glad he didn’t make a fuss about it and you didn’t lose your job, that’s great news. But another part, which is vehemently bigger than the first one is upset and sad and… disappointed?

You were hoping it meant something for him, you wanted him to want it, to feel the same craving for you as you feel towards him, because you haven’t really stopped thinking about what his lips felt like against yours, what it was like when his fingers dug into your thigh, how it sent a shiver down your spine when his tongue met yours.

But this conversation just made it awfully clear that he wants nothing to do with you. And it hurts probably more than it should.

 Harry doesn’t get too far from your door when he feels the all too familiar pain in his chest he has been forced to live with these past over three years. It’s like something is gripping his heart and lungs in his chest so tight, even breathing is a hard task.

Rushing into his bedroom he closes the door behind him and slides down to the floor as the tears flood from his eyes. The past twenty-four hours have been rough on him, the guilt has been growing immensely since he let himself slip and give in for his desires and eventually kiss you.

It’s not that he didn’t want it. Because he’d be lying if he said it meant nothing to him and that he hasn’t been craving it these past weeks.

But his guilt, this evil little voice in the back of his head wouldn’t let him enjoy it even the slightest.

How dare you kiss another woman after your wife? Are you insane? You don’t deserve to feel this way with anyone else. Not when you were the reason your wife ended up dead!

Heartbreaking sobs escape from his chest as he pushes himself up from the floor and heads into the bathroom. He strips out of his clothes leaving them all in a pile on the marble tiled floor before he steps into the shower and lets the hot water pour down on him, almost burning his skin, but he doesn’t change the temperature, as if he was trying to punish himself. His salty tears mix with the water as he stands still, chest heaving as his vivid memories from that night come crashing down on him all at once.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment now? Really?” Harry sighed at his wife when she failed to answer his question about the whereabouts of his sweatpants. Maggie sat on the bed with the recent maternity book she’d been reading these past days, not even paying her husband a look at his question.

“Mags, for fuck’s sake, I’m not in the mood to play this game right now,” Harry sighed in defeat. Maggie looked up at him, closed the book slowly and put it aside to the bedside table.

“So the question of expanding our family is just a game to you?” she asked calmly, but her anger and disappointment in her husband was soaking through her tone.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“No, you are not talking about anything, because you refuse to have a fucking conversation with me!” she retorted, letting all her bottled up anger out that’d been boiling inside her.

“I already told you that I can’t think about having another baby right now. Izzy is only six, I’m in the middle of a huge project, I don’t have the capacity to think about having another baby, Maggie. I thought I made it clear, why are you still onto me then?”

“Because it’s not something we can put aside for too long! I don’t want to have another baby when I’m in my mid-thirties, but if we go with your plan, we won’t even have another one!” Maggie jumped to her feet, pacing the floor back and forth next to their bed as Harry stood with his hands on his hips, getting irritated that they were fighting over the same thing again.

“I never said we can’t have another baby, but why can’t we wait a little? When Izzy is older and more independent? Do you have any idea how hard it is to take care of a baby and a toddler? It’s a fucking nightmare!” Harry growled rolling his eyes.

“So our family is just a pain in the ass for you?” Maggie questioned, folding her arms on her chest and she was really getting on Harry’s nerves, twisting his words completely.

“That’s not what I said!” he snapped. “All I’m asking for is you to be a little patient and give me some time!”

“I don’t have time, Harry! I want it as soon as possible!”

“Why are you so fucking difficult?” Harry groaned, running his hands through his hair. “Why can’t you wait just… one year at least? Is that too much to ask?”

“And is it too much to ask to focus on your family? We are supposed to come first!” she turned it back around and Harry was not having the dirty games she was playing, putting all the blame on him when she could have been a little more understanding as well. He was feeling like his opinion was put aside and didn’t matter at all.

“You do come first, you don’t have the right to question that.” Harry pointed at Maggie, his blood practically boiling at this point.

“Then why do I feel like work is always more important to you?”

“What are you talking about? You know I’m home as much as I can, but we still need the fucking money, Maggie! Or how do you plan on paying the bills of this fucking mansion?!”

“I don’t need a mansion! I just need my family and that’s all!” she argued, but Harry rolled his eyes at her.

“Well you seem to enjoy this mansion a lot when you sit by the pool and watch movies in the fucking movie theater in your own home!” he snapped back feistily. “Stop acting like I don’t do shit for our family when I work my ass off to provide the best possible life. And all I’m asking for in return is some fucking time before we bring another baby into the picture!”

“You are so fucking unbelievable,” Maggie shook her head as she marched past him, walking away from the fight that just grinded his gears even more.

Just as Harry was about to go after her, he heard the faint crying through the baby monitor. Groaning he headed into Izzy’s room and as he took her out of her crib, he heard the front door open and shut.

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry, did we wake you up?” he cooed, hugging the crying little girl to his chest who clung onto him immediately. Even at such a young age, Izzy was already a daddy’s little girl.

Soon her cries died down to just little hiccups as Harry soothed her, patting her bum and back gently as he moved around the room. Holding Izzy in one arm he grabbed his phone with his free hand and typed a message to his wife.

Harry: Where did you go?!

Maggie: I’m going over to my sister’s. Don’t wait up, might get home late.

Harry couldn’t help but roll his eyes. She called him out for running away from the conversation, but when they were finally talking about it she just decided to disappear when it didn’t head in the direction she wanted, seeking comfort at her sister, as always.

He managed to lull Izzy back to sleep, putting her back to her crib before going back to the bedroom. As time passed by and he calmed down more and more he wished Maggie was home so they could talk about it without jumping at each other’s throat. There had to be a compromising way to solve the situation that would be fine for the both of them.

Harry: Please come home and let’s talk about it.

Maggie: So you can bite my head off again?!

Harry: Mags, please. You have to understand my point of view too!

Maggie: I understand it, but I don’t agree with it. And you don’t seem to understand mine…

Harry: I do, but there are more things to consider. Please come home, I don’t want to have this conversation over the phone!

Maggie: Okay, I’m heading home now.

Harry put his phone down to the nightstand with a long sigh, already tired from everything that happened that day and he knew this conversation would be a hard one too, but they needed to be on the same page when it came to their family.

It was late getting late and Harry grew a little more restless with each passing moment. Paisley, Maggie’s sister lived about thirty minutes away from them and it’d been forty minutes since she sent her last text. At first he figured she maybe stayed and talked for a little longer with Paisley, or stopped for some fast food which he knew she liked so much whenever she was upset, but when an entire hour passed by he was getting worried.

He kept sending her texts that didn’t even get delivered and when he tried to call it went straight to her voicemail. Harry was losing his shit so he decided to call Paisley to see if she knew anything about her.

“She hasn’t arrived home yet?” she asked, clearly surprised.

“No, and she is not answering my calls and texts. When did she leave from yours?”

“A long time ago. Almost right away when you texted her to go home.”

“Fuck,” Harry breathed out, anxiously pacing the floor as he held the phone to his ear. “Okay, can you please call your parents in case she went there for whatever reason? I’ll try her friends.”

“Yeah, sure. Let me know if you got a hold of her,” Paisley told him before they ended the call.

Harry was scrolling through his contacts, trying to decide who Maggie would go to first in this situation and just as he was about to call the first person, his phone started ringing with an unknown number.

“Hello?” he answered the call unsurely, his heart beating fast in his chest as he stood in the middle of the room.

“Mr. Harry Styles?” a male voice asked on the other end.

“Yes, it’s me. Who am I speaking to?”

“I’m Officer Field speaking. You were listed as the emergency contact for your wife, Margaret Linn Styles.”

Blood rushed out of Harry’s face faster than he could even process what was happening. He stood completely frozen, his hands were getting clammy as he started sweating as if he just ran the marathon.

“What happened?” he asked weakly, barely even finding his own voice.

“Mr. Styles, I have bad news…”

Harry makes his way down to the entertainment room, walking like a zombie, only thinking about the bottle of vodka that sits in the minibar down there. Following his skin burning shower he tried to go to bed, but his head was starting to spin from everything that’s been swirling in his mind and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it if he didn’t numb himself somehow. Unfortunately, his only way of doing it has been drinking, nothing seemed to help him the way alcohol did and though he knew he should never solve any of his problems with drinking, he still couldn’t help himself sometimes. When the pain was growing immensely, taking over his whole body, he chose the easiest way to get rid of the guilt or at least stop himself from… feeling.

Grabbing the bottle from the mini fridge he snatches himself a glass as well, not drinking straight from the bottle at least, and plopping himself down to the couch he pours a generous glass, drinking it without any chaser.

He winces as the alcohol burns down his throat, but at least it’s a different kind of pain, that takes the focus away from the one he is feeling in his chest.

One glass chases the other and since he is not particularly used to the heavy drinking, he is more like the ‘let’s nurse this pint for an hour’ type of guy, the raw vodka kicks in pretty quickly.

 But he is not the only one who can’t fall asleep tonight.

You tried everything in your power to end your misery and finally fall asleep, but your mind and body was plotting against you and made you toss and turn until you couldn’t take it any longer. Making a good cup of tea seemed like a good idea, so you headed down the kitchen.

As you round the corner after the stairs and you’re about to walk into the kitchen, you notice how the lights are on down in the entertainment room. You stop in your tracks and try to think back if anyone was there before you went upstairs, but you don’t think it was the case.

You figure since there are only two adults living in the house, it must be Harry down there and right now, facing him doesn’t sound like a good idea, so you decide to leave him be, but that’s when you hear the voice of some kind of glass breaking, followed by a heavy accented cursing and it changes your mind right away.

“Harry?” you softly call out as you walk down the stairs, not sure what to expect down there. He is crouching down, his back in your direction as he is trying to get the pieces of the broken glass up from the floor, but he is too disoriented to succeed in the task and it’s obvious that an injury is deemed to happen sooner or later.

“Harry, you’re gonna cut yourself!” you warn him, and walking over to him you pull him up from his squatting position and when he looks at you is when you realize that he is drunk out of his mind.

“Y/N, oh shit, did I—Did I wake you up?” he slurs, knitting his eyebrows together as he tries to focus his vision on you.

“You didn’t, but let me just—Why don’t you sit down for a moment while I clean this up, huh?” you suggest, pulling him towards the couch, making him sit. He falls to the cushion like dead weight, letting out a tired sigh while you rush to get a broom and a dustpan to get rid of the broken glass on the floor as fast as possible before someone cuts themselves.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he breathes out closing his eyes.

“It’s okay. I’ll just clean it up quickly,” you assure him, getting down to business.

“Not about the g-glass. Well, about that as well…”

“Then why are you sorry?” you ask, as you sweep the shards onto the dustpan and throw them into the closest trashcan.

“About being… a pain in the ass,” he hiccups.

“You are not a pain in the ass,” you chuckle softly as you sit beside him.

“I am. I fucked things up,” he nods with a painful expression all over his handsome face.

“What do you mean?” You know you shouldn’t make him talk in this state, but you can’t help your curiosity. It seems like drunkenness makes his tongue run wild and you are desperate for the tiniest crumble of information about what’s going on in his head.

“I just… I kissed you,” he breathes out, his eyes popping open, but he is staring at the ceiling, not you.

“And?” you ask, trying to act cool, though your pulse is rapidly increasing.

“And I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Oh.” You lick your lips and try not to show how much that hurt. But even drunk, Harry notices the disappointment in your tone. His glassy eyes snap over to you and his face falls right away.

“That’s not how I mean it!” he gasps, reaching for your hand and you’re surprised by the sudden physical touch, but it feels kind of nice, so you let him hold your hand between his arm palms. “It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it, because fucking hell, it was amazing!” he bluntly tells you and you can already feel the heat crawling up your neck.

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“Then why did you tell me all of that in my room just earlier now?”

Harry pulls his hands back and moves his arms across his face, covering his eyes as he slides down the couch, his legs spreading out in front of him. He lets out a shaky whimper and seeing him like this worries you a lot. Harry is always in control, he has never let him fall apart like this before.

“Because… I don’t deserve to feel this way,” he confesses, confusing you even more. What is he talking about?

“Why wouldn’t you?”

He shakes his head under his arms, biting into his bottom lip as he inhales deeply, like he is trying to keep something inside, something you shouldn’t know about, but now you are desperate to find it out.

“I’m a fucking mess,” he breathes out, letting his arms fall to his sides, but he keeps his eyes closed, shutting you out in a way. “I don’t deserve to have these feelings,” he repeats again and it appears he is more likely talking to himself, rather than to you.

“Harry, what are you talking about?”

“I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you, because if I did, you’d never be able to look at me again.”

Now he is crying. Tears are rolling down his cheeks and his lips are trembling and you’ve never seen him in such a vulnerable state and quite frankly, it scares you. You knew him to be a strong and stable man, but now he resembles a frightened little boy, so lost in this big world.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not that bad, Harry.”

“It is,” he winces, as if it’s causing him physical pain to even talk about it.

“Harry…” You breathe out and moving closer you place a hand on his knee, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. He turns to face you, his eyes all watered and glistening, he looks so heartbroken, it almost pains you as well.

“Promise me you won’t see me as a monster,” he whispers.

“I-I promise,” you nod, already bearing yourself for the worst, judging from the look on his face.

Taking a deep breath he looks around, as if he is making sure no one else is listening. Then his eyes fall down to his hands in his lap, he fidgets with his fingers, his tongue running along his pink lips before he takes a deep breath and speaks up again.

“Maggie’s death… It was all my fault. I fucking… killed my own wife.”

His voice dies down at the end of the sentence, staring into the void, completely zoned out as you sit beside him, shocked at his words. This was not exactly what you were expecting him to say. Harry starts sobbing again, the hot tears running down his cheeks as he starts crying and panic sets in you. He is so out of his own world, you have no idea what’s happening to him. Rushing over to the mini fridge, you grab a water for him, thinking it might help him at least after all the alcohol he has consumed.

“Here, drink some water,” you softly tell him, taking the cap off as you hand him the bottle. He takes it with a shaky hand and raising it to his trembling lips he takes a few small sips. “Harry, what do you mean it was your fault?” you ask, knowing well you probably shouldn’t push it, but you can’t just ignore what he said.

“Exactly what I said,” he sobs shaking his head vigorously. “It was all my fault, I was a fucking coward and that’s why she died! I could have stopped her! I should have gone after her!”

He is not answering you, not entirely. He is speaking thoughts that have been planted in his head a long time ago and they seem to be on repeat whenever he is feeling down. As much as you want to get more details out of him, he needs to rest, especially because he is working in the morning.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed, H,” you tell him as you stand up and reach out for him to help him to his unsteady feet. It turns out to be a little harder than you expected, but you manage to get him up from his sitting position, and throwing one of his arms over your shoulders you start to walk him up towards his bedroom.

“You fucking hate me now, don’t you?” he slurs, his other hand reaching out towards the wall to steady himself a little more.

“I don’t hate you, Harry.”

“But you think I’m a monster, right?”

“I’m not sure I know enough to think anything about you. This is a conversation we should have when you’re sober,” you suggest and he huffs.

“M’sorry for getting drunk in the middle of the night.”

“It’s alright. But I think you’ll have a mean headache in the morning,” you tease him as you finally reach the upstairs and head down the hallway towards his room.

“You’re a fucking angel, Y/N. You know that?” He just keeps talking and talking and you find it funny how different he is from his reserved and quiet self in this state.

“Am I?”

“Yeah. You are. You are so good to my daughter and to me as well… I really don’t get why your fucker ex cheated on you,” he huffs and you can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips. “What was his name? Kyle?”

“Keith,” you correct him.

“That fucker, Keith!” he spats making you laugh as you push his bedroom’s door open and walk him inside finally. “I bet he had a small dick.”

“Why does that matter,” you chuckle, making him sit on the edge of the bed.

“Because guys with small dicks are always out of touch with themselves. They think they are just better than everyone for some reason.”

“Do you have any scientific research to prove that?” you tease him as you push him down, tugging him under the covers, like a little kid.

“No, I just… know shit,” he sighs, his eyes falling closed the moment his head rests on the pillow.

“Alright. You can tell me more about what else you know when you’re sober. Now get some sleep, because you have work in the morning.”

You make sure he lies on his side as he hums his response. Reaching down you brush his messy curls out of his forehead as he breathes out harshly through his nose, probably about to fall asleep any moment.

Tapping on the screen of his phone on the nightstand you make sure that he has set up his alarm and you see the little alarm clock icon at the top bar so you are just about to walk out when you turn back around.

Seeing how he pushed so many things down inside of him, you’re not convinced he’ll be willing to give you the answers you are looking for. You’re afraid he might talk himself out and give you some kind of bullshit answer, so reaching for his phone you sneakily take his thumb and open the device, all whilst he doesn’t even move an inch.

Scrolling through his contacts you find Niall’s number and send it over to yourself before deleting the message so you leave no trail behind. You set the phone back to his nightstand and head out finally, going to bed as well, right after sending Niall a quick message.

Y/N: Hi! It’s Y/N, I got your number from Harry’s phone. Can you come by sometime tomorrow? I need to talk to you about something.

When you come down in the morning it’s pretty obvious that even though Harry had his alarm on, he snoozed one too many times and now he is in a rush, trying to get everything done and leave on time.

“Good morning,” you greet him and Izzy upon walking into the kitchen. Harry’s head snaps up from the half-made breakfast in front of him and judging by his expression, he more or less remembers what happened last night. “Rough morning?” you ask teasing him to ease the tension.

“Uh, yeah. Woke up a little late,” he nods, finishing up Izzy’s sandwich just the way she likes, without the crust on before handing it over to her. Izzy grabs the plate and marches over to the dining table, quietly munching on her food while Harry quickly tries to make himself a coffee, but he is a hot mess, still in his night clothes when he is supposed to leave in about ten minutes.

“I’ll make you the coffee, go and get changed,” you offer, taking over the machine.

“Oh, thank you,” he nods and for a change, he doesn’t try to argue with you, he just disappears upstairs.

You make his coffee just as he likes and leave it on the counter for him before joining Izzy at the table with your own breakfast. She is babbling about how excited she is for her piano lesson today, because she’s been practicing a lot lately. When Harry appears again he is dressed for work, but still looks a little disoriented.

“Hey,” you softly say as you join him in the kitchen.

“Hey, thank you for the coffee,” he nods, moving around the kitchen.

“No problem. How are you feeling?” you ask, hoping you’re not crossing any boundaries. Harry opens his mouth to answer, but then closes, probably not sure how much he should share, though he didn’t have too much problem with that last night.

“I’m… A little hangover, but I’m… fine,” he nods shortly. “Y/N, about last night, I—“

“We can talk about it later, okay? Don’t stress about it.” You give him a reassuring smile and you can tell he is sort of relieved he doesn’t have to have this conversation right in this moment.

“Thank you.”

“No worries. And I’ll clean up in the kitchen, don’t be late,” you smile at him warmly. You can tell he wants to protest, but he also knows he is running late so he doesn’t have much choice.

“Thank you, I’ll… see you later.”

Storming over to Izzy he presses a kiss to her forehead before grabbing all his stuff and leaving.

Niall texts you back not long after breakfast that he is free to drop by when Izzy is having her piano lesson. You carry on with the morning as usual, trying your best not to dwell on everything that happened last night.

Just as Rosaline and Izzy get settled for the lesson you hear a car pulling up outside and a few moments later the doorbell rings through the house.

“Let’s get one thing straight, is it a booty call?” Niall questions right away as you let him inside.

“It’s good to see you again,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him.

“So no sex is gonna be involved?” he smirks and you know he is just teasing you.

“No, sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, you can never disappoint me, darling,” he winks at you before walking into the kitchen to serve himself a drink. “So why did you need to see me so desperately?”

“Well, I know I shouldn’t be discussing this with you first, but I feel like I need to know some basic information that Harry might not give me so I thought you could help me out.” Niall nods as he pours himself some soda and joins you at the kitchen island, sitting on the stool next to you. “I uhh—I need to ask how much Harry shared with you about… about me—and, um what—“

“Save the stuttering, I know you two kissed,” Niall cuts you off and you breathe out in relief that you don’t have to be the one breaking him the news.

“Oh, okay,” you nod with an awkward smile. “Yeah, so that happened. And last night he and I had this conversation how we should just keep our relationship professional and all that. We both went our own way but then later I found Harry down in the entertainment room, drunk and basically having a meltdown of some sort.”

“How drunk was he?” Niall asks, knitting his eyebrows together.

“Pretty drunk. He broke a glass and he was… crying and talking about a lot of stuff.” Niall takes your words in as he inhales deeply, just nodding for you to continue. “He started telling me how sorry he was for fucking things up and he was a mess, like a huge fucking mess. Then he told me about how he shouldn’t be feeling the way he does, because he doesn’t deserve it…”

“Jesus…” Niall shakes his head, probably already knowing where this is heading.

“And then he told me that his wife’s death was his fault. That was… pretty intense.”

“I can imagine.”

“I know I have to talk to him about it, but I’m really afraid he might shake it off, but it seems like he is having some serious issues and I wouldn’t want things to get out of hands. That’s why I thought I would talk to you, maybe you know what to do or how to approach him with such a sensitive subject.”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s nice of you for being so considerate,” Niall nods, scratching his chin. “Alright, I’ll tell you what I know, but please also let him tell you if he decides to share it with you.” You nod and turn all your attention to him. “I didn’t find this out until about two months after Maggie’s death, but apparently, the night she died they had a fight. Maggie had been nagging Harry to have another baby, but he wanted to wait a little longer, until Izzy is older so they don’t have two babies at the same time. Harry said they had another big fight about it, said some pretty nasty things to each other before Maggie just stormed out to go over to her sister’s. She made it there, but… never made it back home.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the thought of how devastating it must have been, losing your partner after an intense fight without ever making up.

“Understandably, Harry completely lost his shit. For weeks he was barely functioning and we all knew he was grieving, but we didn’t know that he was blaming himself for what happened. When he wasn’t getting any better we somehow convinced him to go to therapy which luckily helped him immensely, but he stopped going a while ago. I thought he got things straight in his head about this whole Maggie situation, but I guess he is still hung up on that.”

“What about the drinking, did that happen a lot?”

“Not that I know of. I mean, yeah, he got wasted quite a few times, but only at the beginning. I don’t think you should be afraid that he might turn into an alcoholic. I think he is just really struggling right now because of the conflict he is having because of you.”

“Because of me?”

“Yeah, he is clearly very confused about his feelings for you and he has convinced himself he shouldn’t feel this way towards anyone ever, but then you came,” he chuckles softly giving you a knowing look.

“Niall, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” you breathe out, worry and fear slowly taking over your judgment.

“First and foremost just… be patient with him, okay? This is genuinely the first time he has taken an interest in anyone since Maggie and I think he has already taken some big steps, which is a good sign. Try to talk to him and be open, but don’t push him. I know it can be really annoying when he keeps things, but let him tell you everything at his own pace.”

You nod, understanding the importance of not rushing Harry into anything. Just because you want to get over the awkwardness of the current situation, you can’t push him over his own boundaries.

“Okay, I’ll try to do that,” you nod taking a deep breath. “Thank you, Niall.”

“Oh, and don’t let him give you the ‘you work for me, we shouldn’t be doing this’ bullshit alright? He’ll try to make it out to be some kind of business, but it’s not. He needs to get himself out there and I genuinely think you’re the right person to help him with that.”

His words touch you and you’re not even sure how to react. Niall is clearly someone who stands close to Harry and if he thinks that you and him should give it a try, that must mean something. You can only hope that Harry will come around and think the same at one point.

Izzy gets a little fussy by the end of the day and it takes a lot of persuading to get her to bed in the evening. Harry arrived back home on his usual time and because it’s been such a hot day outside, he took her out to the pool. The problem with that is that Izzy never wants to get out of the water, so when Harry said it’s time for dinner she threw a bit of a tantrum as Harry brought her inside and her mood didn’t get any better later either.

You spent most of your night in the living room just watching TV and working on your laptop, updating your schedule for the upcoming weeks and doing some editing. Harry stays upstairs with Izzy for a long time when her bedtime comes and you figure she is still a little moody, but then you eventually hear his footsteps approaching. Harry pads his way into the living room and joins you on the couch. When you glance over at him you know he is trying to find a way to start the conversation you both know you need to have, so you put your laptop aside and turn your attention towards him.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry about last night. I’m honestly so terribly ashamed you had to… see me like that,” he starts, clearly nervous to bring it all up.

“It’s fine, happens to everyone,” you assure him and it’s the genuine truth.

“It’s not a regular occurrence, really. I usually know my limits and try to stay within them. I’m really sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“Harry, don’t worry about it,” you tell him again with a warm smile. “We can get past it. I think what we really should talk about is… what you said. Do you remember what we talked about?” you carefully ask.

“I do…” he nods, awkward diverting his eyes away from you. “I’m sorry I told you all that in that state, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to just pour it all on you so suddenly.”

“It’s alright.” “No, it’s not,” he protests shaking his head. “I dropped a bomb on you because I couldn’t deal with my own problems the right way, and it’s not okay. So please, just… accept my apology.”

“Okay, I accept it,” you nod.

“And about the whole thing with… What I told you about Maggie…”

“Just know that you don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to. I’m happy to listen whenever you are ready to, but I’m not trying to push you.”

“I know and thank you for that, but I feel like… I owe you an explanation,” he admits and you nod, happy that he is willing to talk instead of closing himself off entirely. “The day Maggie died, we got into this huge fight and she ran off to her sister. It was… a whole mess, we both said things we clearly didn’t mean and I texted her, tried to get her to come home so we could talk things out. That’s when… she was on her way home when it happened and… I still feel like it was my fault.” His voice dies down at the end, just like it did last night when he was talking about her. It clearly left a deep scar on him that’s still not entirely healed and you can’t blame him.

“Everyone keeps telling me that it wasn’t, that it was just all one big coincidence, but all I can think about is that she would still be here if we didn’t get into the fight and I didn’t piss her off so much she felt the need to leave.”

“There was no way for you to see what would happen, Harry. It’s not like you did it on purpose, you had no power over the drunk driver or where Maggie chose to drive home. It really was a coincidence.”

“I know, I mean… I understand, but somehow, my mind keeps telling me that it was my fault.”

“Have you thought about… getting professional help?” you ask, trying to be polite and cautious on the topic.

“Actually, I just called my therapist today to see if… she can fit me in for some sessions,” he admits and you’re surprised at how great he is dealing with the matter. “I feel like I might need some guidance again, before things get out of my hands.”

“That’s great! It really is good to go a bit ahead of problems.”

“Yeah. About us…” he exhales nervously, his eyes meeting yours and you can tell this is the part that’s got him the most anxious. You take this as your queue to take over the conversation.

“Harry, I’m going to be honest with you,” you start and he nods, chewing on his bottom lip. “I… I have feelings for you. You haven’t been the only one making realizations,” you add with a soft chuckle, that brings a smile to his lips as well. “I know that the situation is not quite ideal, but it’s not impossible. But I just want you to be honest with me, do you have feelings for me?”

The conflict is clearer than daylight in his eyes as he is trying to figure out what to say and you really hope he isn’t gonna try to mask his feelings.

“I do,” he then admits and it’s like a giant rock has been lifted off your chest and shoulders. “It’s just… I’m not sure how to deal with it.”

“That’s alright,” you tell him. “Let’s just… take it slow. We’re not in a rush, we obviously have a lot to figure out and that’s completely fine. The pace is completely up to you, I know that you need to get a lot of things straight in your head and I can wait, okay? I’m not going anywhere, I really like where we are now and… I just hope that we can move this forward whenever you feel comfortable with it.”

Harry stares back at you for a moment like you’re some alien creature. Like what you just said wasn’t normal or even human and that’s quite heartbreaking, because somewhere along the way he managed to convince himself that he is not worthy of the most basic decency.

“I-I can’t ask you to wait around while I figure my shit out, that’s not—“

“You’re not asking me, Harry,” you smile at him softly. “This is my decision.”

His eyes are shifting between yours and he is most likely looking for any sign of doubt or qualm, but there’s none, you genuinely meant everything you said.

“So, where does this leave us?” he then asks and you shrug your shoulders.

“Everything goes on like it used to and… whenever you are ready to take a step, just… let me know.”

You can tell he is filled with questions, but he just nods with a weak smile and leaves it at that. This will be a bumpy ride, but at least you are more or less on the same page now.

You haven’t been a big fan of birthday celebrations. You just never understood the big fuss about it, throwing a party for surviving another year? Seems a little weird. This is why you never treated this day any different.

The morning starts off as usual, only that you wake up to a few texts from friends and family, wishing you a happy birthday. Your mom has sent you a whole damn paragraph about how you made her life complete and it wouldn’t be the same without you in it. She does that every time, gets a little too sentimental about it, but you guess it’s because it reminds her of getting old herself as well, which is a sensitive topic in her book these days.

It’s a Sunday, so a day off for you. Coming downstairs you find Izzy and Harry sitting at the dining table, already having their breakfast as usual, but when she sees you, she jumps in her seat in excitement.

“Good morning, Y/N!” she beams with a wide smile, buzzing more than she usually does.

“Morning, Sunshine. Slept well?” you ask as you pour yourself some cereal and join them at the table. Izzy nods and then peeks at her father as if she is trying to hide something with him from you.

“Daddy, can we do it now?” she asks in a whisper, but it’s not quiet enough for you to not hear it.

Your eyes lock with Harry’s over the table and the butterflies in your stomach start dancing around right away when you see the tiny smirk tugging on his lips.

It’s been almost an entire week since your conversation with him and things finally seem to get in place for now. Harry had his first session with his therapist on Wednesday and though you can tell he is still trying to find his own boundaries, he doesn’t worry as much about the situation as he probably did before. He isn’t walking on eggshells around you, unsure how to act. More or less it’s the same as it was before the kiss, but there are tiny little things that still make it different. Stolen glances, lingering touches and sweet smiles are making your days more colorful now and it’s gotten you all giddy and… happy.

“What are you two plotting, huh?” you ask, pointing at them with your spoon before digging into the cereal. Izzy glances at Harry one last time and when he nods shortly, she turns to you and throws her arms in the air.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” she cheers as Harry reaches over to the chair next to him and pulls up a box from under the table, handing it over to Izzy so she could give it to you. “This is for you!”

“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything!” you gasp, truly surprised by the gift. You were not expecting it at all.

“It’s not a birthday without gifts!” she giggles excitedly as she hands the box over. You push your cereal bowl to the side and set the gift to the table in front of you. “Open it!” she urges you, her little hands curled into fists as she watches your every move, as if it was her who just got a present.

Your eyes meet Harry’s green ones over the table once more and he is watching you with a small smile, probably enjoying that he could surprise you.

You pull on the bow on the top and then carefully take the wrapping paper off until the box is revealed underneath and you gas as soon as you realize what this is.

“Oh my God!” you breathe out in disbelief as you take a better look at the gift. Harry didn’t just get you something, he actually listened to what you were saying and remembered that you’re a big fan of oldschool cameras and you have a special love for polaroids. And now, in front of you in the box is your very own polaroid camera, something you’ve been really wanting to buy for yourself for a long time, but you just never got around to actually do it.

“Do you like it? Daddy said you’d really like it!” Izzy asks with big eyes, watching your reaction.

“Oh, I love it!” you breathe out, feeling all mushy and melted from the gesture. Izzy climbs over to your lap, hugging your neck. You wrap your arms around her in a bone crushing hug and you’re so thankful for having them both in your life.

Izzy sits on your lap as you get the camera out of the box and figure out how to work it. She then hops off your lap and poses for the first ever picture taken with your new favorite camera.

“But it’s blank!” she furrows her eyebrows when the photo comes out.

“Because you have to wait for it to develop. It’ll show up in a few minutes,” you smile, setting the photo down on the table.

Izzy sits in her seat, excitedly waiting for the photo to develop and in the meanwhile you join Harry in the kitchen where he is washing the dishes. He spots you and turns the tap off, turning to face you as he dries his hands off.

“You shouldn’t have gotten me anything,” you tell him softly, but really feel touched by the gesture.

“No, but I wanted to. Do you really like it?”

“I love it!” you chuckle in disbelief. How could he think you wouldn’t like it?!

You move forward, aiming for a hug out of instinct but then stop yourself, not wanting to cross any boundaries, but Harry notices the motion and for your surprise, he wraps you in a warm hug on his own. You melt against his hard chest, your nose buried into his shoulder as your arms circle around his waist.

When you lean back, you both keep your arms around each other, eyes meeting and you realize just how close you are to each other. Without even knowing, your gaze flickers down to his lips and you’re dying to kiss him, to feel them again, but you don’t move, wanting to keep your word about letting him set the pace.

But what you didn’t expect is Harry leaning down and capturing your lips in a sweet, innocent kiss. It’s so different from the last time, that was a hot mess, but this one… this is light as a feather but still makes your stomach somersault as you taste his lips, cupping his face in your hands.

“Daddy! I’m thirsty!” Izzy calls out from outside and it kind of ends the moment. Harry pulls back and when you look at him you see that his eyes are still closed. They flutter open a moment later, finding your gaze and you look for any kind of regret or fear in them, but they are nothing but shiny.

“Just a moment, baby!” he answers her, a small smile tugging on his lips as he leans down and pecks the corner of your mouth again before his hands fall from your waist. “Happy birthday, Y/N,” he breathes out before grabbing a bottled water and heading back to Izzy.

You bring your fingertips to your tingling lips as you take a moment to really process what just happened and you can’t push down the smile that spreads across your face. Harry finally took the first step and now you can’t wait to see what’s coming next.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter thirty-five

Welcome to the shitshow! Remember that I love y’all <3

Warnings: arguing, fighting, tension, angst

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Thirty-Five: I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you

The tearful phone call with your mom lasts for nearly four hours.

“I just don’t know what to do,” you admit. “I don’t want to leave the BAU.”

“I know, honey.”

“And I’m not going to,” you say firmly, wiping your cheeks on the back of your hand. “I didn’t let Trevor stop me from accepting that job with the BCI, I’m not letting this stop me from staying in the BAU. I’m better than that.”

“I know, baby.”

“And I want Aaron, I do, but if it’s at this cost, then I…” You don’t even want to say it out loud.

“Have you talked to him?” Your mom asks gently.

You shake your head. “Haley surprised him at the office earlier with Jack, so I’m sure he’s hanging out with Jack for the rest of the day. He might spend the night, too.”

“Hm,” your mom sighs. “Is he trying to get back together with her?”

“Not that I know of.” You pause. “I don’t think he is. I know him, he’d…he’d tell me if they were, right? Or if she had asked about it?”

“I want to say that he would, honey, but I don’t know. I’ve seen the way he looks at you and I know he loves you, but…”

“But what?”

“Marriage…” Your mom sighs. “When you marry someone, especially as young as the two of them were, the bond is different. Add a child into the mix and it’s…it’s hard to let go of.” She pauses. “I never told you this, but letting go of your father was the hardest decision I ever had to make.”

“You told me it was the easiest.”

“Because I had to tell myself that. If I told myself anything else, I wouldn’t have had the courage to leave. I had to convince myself I could do it, and that meant letting you know that I could. I didn’t want you to think our independence should be held hostage from us.”

“So you’re saying…”

“I’m saying, I know you love him, and I know he loves you. But you’re still young. And whatever your future looks like, as long as it has the best version of you, then it’s enough. Everything else will sort itself out. But you have to be there and be the best you before everything else can fall into place around you.”

+++

When you head into the BAU the next day, you go straight to Hotch’s office. You don’t stop at your desk, or Morgan’s when he calls out to you (though you do wave at him, and Emily too).

“Come in,” Hotch announces after hearing a knock, unaware that it’s you.

“Hey,” you say to get his attention. “Can we talk?”

Immediately, he stands, rounding his desk to gather you in his arms. “Hey, of course. I’m so sorry I couldn’t call you last night.”

“It’s okay,” you pause to accept his kiss. “I was on the phone with my mom for a while anyway.”

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Yes and no,” you exhale nervously, stepping out of his arms, needing to ground yourself. “That’s why I came straight here.”

“Okay…” He steps over and shuts the door, gesturing for you to continue.

“When I was called into Strauss’s office yesterday, it wasn’t about being back. It wasn’t routine. It was because she knows about us.”

“I know.”

You freeze, mouth open and ready to speak, but you shut it slowly, processing his words. “What do you mean you know?”

“I talked with her yesterday before I left.”

“And you didn’t think to text me about it yesterday?”

Aaron watches you carefully. “If I recall correctly, you didn’t tell me the real reason Strauss talked to you either.”

“Because Haley was here with Jack!” You argue. “I wasn’t going to bring that up in front of them.”

“Okay, I understand.”

“What did Strauss talk to you about?” You ask, not wanting to stay near the topic of Haley for too long. “Was it just about her knowing about us?”

Aaron looks like he doesn’t want to answer, but you stare him down until he does. “Yes. And she asked if you had been…inappropriately pushing yourself onto me.”

“What?”

“I told her you had done nothing like that whatsoever,” he says quickly and firmly, wanting you to hear him. “But she did ask that your behavior be monitored for the time being.”

“For the— Hotch, are you kidding me? Don’t tell me you agreed to that?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You could’ve told her that our relationship is mutually consensual and none of her business.”

He gives you a look because you both know he couldn’t tell Strauss it’s “none of her business,” but you still wish he had. You could certainly never say something like that to her, but he could almost definitely get away with it. You’d be surprised if he hasn’t said something similar to Strauss before this.

“I didn’t want to confirm anything about us and risk your termination as an agent in the bureau.”

“Well, thank you for your concern, but Strauss very politely told me yesterday that I need to pick a transfer before she forces me out of here.”

“What?”

“She talked to me about transferring the entire time,” you cry. “She told me I’m young, I don’t need to go to extreme lengths to prove myself and better my skillset.”

“It’s true, you don’t.”

“She thinks I’m sleeping with you to do exactly that.”

Aaron sighs heavily. “I told her that you’re not.”

“She’s not going to believe it. She obviously didn’t believe you since my behavior is now going to be monitored like I’m a fucking child.”

“I know it’s not ideal,” Hotch says. “And I wish I didn’t have to agree with her. But if these are some small prices we have to pay, then…we have to pay them.”

It sounds good. In theory. It sounds right.

But it’s wrong.

“No,” you shake your head. “Because they’re not prices that we’re paying. It’s all coming down on me. And I can’t do that. I can’t.”

“Y/N…” He hates that you feel this way, and part of him knows you’re right.

“I know we said we would wait before telling Strauss, but that was before she found out. She already knows now, so why don’t we go to her ourselves and tell her how serious we are?”

You thought he’d be all for this idea. But he shakes his head.

“It isn’t that simple.” He pauses. “She also mentioned others overhearing our…less than appropriate comments to one another.”

“You mean yours.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hotch, I told you before we even started any of this that we needed to stay professional. Your good girl comments here and there surely weren’t peak professionalism.”

“If it’s been making you uncomfortable, why haven’t you stopped me?”

“Because I wasn’t uncomfortable,” you cry. “I never was, and I never am around you. I knew we were pushing it, but I didn’t think about stopping.”

“Okay,” he nods. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known better.”

“It’s fine—”

“No, Y/N, as unit chief, I should’ve known better.”

“Okay…” You raise your eyebrows, waiting for him to keep going. “Okay?”

“I think it would be best if you and I take a step back from our relationship until this all settles down.”

You blink. “What?”

“I knew since the beginning that something like this could happen,” he pauses. “And I’ve worried for a while now that our relationship is too…inappropriate.” Pause. “That it’s putting a strain on the team and our jobs.”

“How long is a while?” You ask. And when he doesn’t reply, you demand an answer. “Hotch. How long have you been thinking like this?”

“Since the night you were shot,” he admits quietly, “and we almost lost you.”

“Since…” You cut yourself off out of sheer disbelief. “You’re telling me you’ve been thinking like this for…for the past six months?”

“Y/N—”

“All this time we’ve been together, and you’ve just been waiting to break up with me.”

“I want to be with you, but our jobs…”

“And if I transfer somewhere else? What then?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t want you to sacrifice your job here for our relationship.”

“And if I do?”

He says nothing.

You figure that’s enough of an answer.

“Do you need me for anything today?” You ask. “For work.”

“No,” he murmurs.

“I’ll be going home, then,” you say. “Have a good rest of your day.”

+++

Down in the bullpen, Morgan, Emily, and Garcia have been watching your conversation with Hotch unfold through the cracks in the blinds of his office. He didn’t close them all the way, so Spencer has been able to lip read.

But as soon as Spencer realized the conversation wasn’t going anywhere good, he stopped.

When you open the door to Hotch’s office, you’re not surprised at all to find the team staring up at you. You ignore eye contact with every single one of them as you skip down the steps, heading straight for the glass doors.

Hotch stands in the doorway of his office, watching you go, watching Garcia and Emily run after you.

Standing outside the elevator, shaking with frustration, and holding back your tears as hard as you can, refusing to cry here.

“Okay, what just happened?” Pen asks, and you almost don’t hear her because you can barely see straight anyway.

“Nothing,” you mutter. “Or—I don’t know. I don’t actually know what just happened to me. God, can this thing hurry up?” You press the call button a few more times.

“It didn’t look like nothing,” Emily replies.

“It looked like—Wait.” Pen stops, her eyes wide. “Did you—”

Finally, the elevator doors open.

“Did you break up?” Emily finishes, sadness all over her face.

“I don’t know,” you reply, stepping inside the elevator. “Ask him, I guess.”

You reach over and almost press the ground floor, but at the last second, you hit Strauss’s floor number.

You wave sadly at Pen and Emily, and as the doors close, you catch a glimpse of Hotch standing at the glass doors.

I can always return to the BAU someday, you tell yourself. Maybe this is a sign that I’m needed somewhere else.

After Aaron sees the elevator doors close, he knows right then that he’s lost you.

Next chapter

[waitimcomingtoo]

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter five rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!reader

Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

“Why are you in such a mood?” Ned asked his best friend as they walked to their college campus. Peter had been grumpy all morning and Ned was quick to notice. He usually showed up at Ned’s door exhausted but eager to share the adventures from the night before, but he seemed defeated today.

“I got my ass beat last night.” Peter grumbled as he shouldered his backpack.

“By who?” Ned wondered.

“I don’t even know.” Peter sighed. “I think it was some kind of alien.”

“What’d it look like?” Ned asked. It wasn’t uncommon for Ned to ask a million questions after being told something Spider-Man related. After all, he was the guy in the chair.

“Like nothing I’ve ever seen before.” Peter said swallowed and tried to push the previous night from his mind. He’d rather focus on this morning, and the moment he had shared with you. Peter felt such a strong connection to you, and he would’ve stayed on that rooftop all day if he could.

“Describe it to me.” Ned pleaded, tearing Peter from his thoughts.

“I don’t know. It was like eight feet tall, black, and bald. And it was super veiny.” Peter grimaced while Ned’s eyes widened.

“Oh my God. You fought Shaquille O’Neal?” Ned gasped.

“Keep your voice down. I did not fight Shaquille O’Neal.” Peter whispered harshly. Ned always seemed one step away from blowing Peters cover. Peter gave bashful smiles to the passing students who gave him weird looks upon hearing Ned’s words.

“Terry Crews?” Ned continued. Peter rolled his eyes at his best friend and starting walking to class.

“No. This is serious.” Peter said, his voice heavy with annoyance.

“I know it’s serious. You got beat up by The Rock.” Ned remarked. Peter fidgeted with the strings on his backpack, still bothered knowing he was beaten so easily by Venom.

“The Rock is Samoan, not black.” Peter corrected.

“I know. But I heard “bald” and I just automatically envisioned The Rock.” Ned defended.

“There’s another thing. It had this huge, gaping mouth with rows and rows of teeth. I keep thinking about it.” Peter shivered. “It came so close to me. And its tongue was super long. It was like a cracked out frog.”

“So a ninja turtle? You got beat up by a ninja turtle?” Ned gawked.

“It wasn’t a ninja turtle.” Peter snapped. “ It was black, remember?”

“So an emo ninja turtle.” Ned deadpanned.

“It kept saying “we”. “ Peter remembered.

“What do you mean?”

“There was only one of them, but they only referred to themself as “we” as if there were multiple of them.” Peter explained.

“Do you think there could be more? Like an alien army or something?” Ned asked incredulously. Peter hadn’t even thought about that.

“Maybe. I remember something else, it’s name was Venom.” Peter recalled. He distinctly remembered those words coming out of the creatures mouth.

“Venom?” Ned repeated, clearly finding it cool.

“Yeah. And I told it my name. I used my regular voice too.” Peter realized. He usually disguised his voice when speaking, but he had been so scared that he forgot to. It haunted him knowing the creature now knew who he was and he wondered if it knew both of his identities.

“Wow. This is so cool. Not cool for you, because you might die. But this is super cool for me.” Ned smiled as he envisioned what Venom might look like.

“Thanks, ned. Actually, wait.” Peter stopped in his tracks. “One more thing happened.”

“What?” Ned whispered as they approached their class.

“Venom was about to eat me but then it started talking to itself. It sounded maybe like it was having a conversation with someone? I’m not sure, I could only hear one side of it.” Peter explained. “It put me down, well it threw me down, and let me go. But before it left, it said something about a girl. I don’t really remember. I was too focused on catching my breath.”

“Catching your breath? Were you running?”

“No. It choked me.” Peter told him as he lightly touched his neck.

“Kinky.” Ned smirked as he took a seat next to Peter in their class.

“That’s gross.” Peter stifled a laugh. “Did I tell you about this morning with Y/N?”

“No. Tell me.” Ned said. He wasn’t disappointed in the change of topic. He was glad Peter had moved on on from Liz, finally. Peter recounted the discussion he had with you that morning, barely getting through it without blushing and laughing at certain parts.

“I really like her, Ned. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. She’s so amazing. I barely know her, but I can tell already. I want to know everything about her. I want to hear her full story. And most of all, I want to be a part of that story.” Peter declared but frowned suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” Ned asked.

“After our talk, we just kinda sat there staring at each other for a while.” Peter began. “She kinda leaned in, and I did too, but then this seagull flew by and scared us half to death. We laughed about it but the moment was gone.”

“So you almost kissed her?” Ned smiled. “Why is that upsetting you?”

“Because what if that was our chance and I blew it?” Peter feared. “What if that seagull was a sign from above that I was in way over my head? Like God was asking me who I was to think I could just kiss the most perfect girl in the world? She’s so cool, Ned. Way too cool for me. She’s already had a boyfriend and I’ve never even kissed anyone.”

“If it’s meant to happen, it will happen.” Ned assured him.

“Or, the same thing that happened with Liz will happen.” Peter argued. “I won’t tell her how I feel and then she’ll be gone forever.”

“Then don’t let that happen.” Ned reasoned. “Tell Y/N how you feel. Do it tonight, before you go on patrol. And if she doesn’t feel the same, then at least you’ll know. Isn’t it better to know?”

“When did you become such a love expert?” Peter teased as the professor walked into the room.

“Since I started dating Betty. She’s opened my eyes to what love really is.” Ned shrugged. “Tell her tonight. Then tell me how it goes. I’m here for you either way.”

Peter nodded and gave Ned a thankful smile before turning his attention to the professor.

On his walk home from campus, Peter spotted you walking down the sideways. Ned’s words of encouragement rang in his ears and he made a brash decision.

“Hey, Y/N, wait up!” Peter called after you, making you turn around.

“Hey Parker. How was kindergarten?” You teased him.

“Alright alright. Majoring in chemical engineering is hardly kindergarten. And I’m only one year younger than you.” Peter reminded you. “I don’t want you to have a heart attack on me, grandma.”

“Watch it, sonny.” You kept with the joke. “I’ll hit you with my purse and then say something mildly racist.”

“Just like my grandma.” Peter laughed in amusement. “We’re gross. And not funny.”

“We really are.” You scrunched your nose. “Couple of gross ass orphans.”

Peter laughed again, feeling comfortable enough with you to joke about a tragic situation.

“Look, Y/N, I really enjoyed our talk this morning. I really enjoyed all our talks so far actually. I guess I just like talking to you. ” Peter began. He looked nervous all the sudden, like he lost his stamina. You raised your eyebrows hopefully, as there were only so many ways this conversation could go.

“I like talking to you too, Peter.” You said honestly, hoping he’d continue. Hoping he’d ask that question. Your answer seemed to give Peter the confidence he needed to go on.

“Really? Um, that’s great cause I really like talking to you too. I already said that. Oh god. I’m crashing. I-“ he began to flail and you calmed him down by taking a few steps closer. You were almost touching at that point. He stopped talking immediately and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Is there someone you wanted to ask me, Peter?” You asked slowly as you looked at him through your eyelashes.

Damn. He was tall too.

“Yes, actually. I, um, will you…would you maybe want to-“

“Hiya kids!” A gravely voice came from the front stairs of your apartment, completely cutting Peter off. Peter looked up and angrily rolled his eyes.

“Don’t look now. It’s Henry.” Peter grumbled. Henry was the creepy neighbor with the foot fetish.

“Oh Dear God.” Peter said in a low voice.

“What?” You panicked when you saw Peters expression change.

“You’re wearing flip flops.” He pointed at your black painted toes and you felt the color drain from your face.

“Run!” He whispered harshly. You bolted into your apartment and Peter ran into his. Once inside, Peter blew out an angry breath. He had been interrupted twice in one day when trying to talk to you, and he worried that it was a sign.

Back at the apartment, you sat on your bed with headphones in. You were prepping for your interview with Cletus Kasady by writing down some questions you wanted to ask him. It was hard figuring out what to ask a serial killer. You looked at your notepad and sighed. All you had written down was “but why tho?” in sloppy handwriting. You tore out the page, crumbled it up, and threw it at the trash can. When you went to write something else down, you noticed the paper ball still stuck to your hand. You shook your hand but it still wouldn’t come off.

“What the hell?” You grumbled as you shook your hand.

“Oh. This might be our fault.” Venom said suddenly.

“What might be your fault?” You asked as you continued to shake the paper off your hand, but to no avail.

“We sort of went inside Spider-Man when we were talking to him yesterday.” Venom said timidly and the paper ball dropped from your hand.

“What?” You demanded and Venom went silent.

“Come out here.” You said, like an owner to a dog.

“We’d rather stay inside.” Venom said softly.

“Get out here now. You need to explain yourself young lady.” You said sternly. Venom slowly manifested and looked at you with sad eyes.

“I’m 600 million years old, by the way.” Venom added. “You can’t call me young lady.”

“What do you mean you went inside Spider-Man?” You ignored her comment.

“When we were choking him we put one of our tendrils inside him and swirled around.” Venom explained. “He didn’t even feel it. We did though. He’s very squishy on the inside.”

“You…what?” You didn’t even know where to start. “How does that explain the paper sticking to me?”

“We think we absorbed his powers.” Venom said. “We used to watch videos of him on YouTube after you went to bed. He can stick to walls and stuff. We think that’s why the paper ball stuck to you.”

“Since when can we absorb powers?” You wondered as you looked at your hands.

“We never had a host before. We don’t really know how it works.” Venom reminded you. “But back on Klyntar, our home planet, the Grandmaster used to tell us we could absorb the powers of superhuman beings. Judging by your newfound stickiness, we think it worked.”

“What else can Spider-Man do?” You asked. “Since you’re such a big fan.”

“He can shoot webs out of his wrists. And he can return lost dogs.” Venom answered, sounding a little annoyed.

“Do you have something against Spider-Man?” You chuckled a little at her tone.

“We hate what he did last night. He thought we were the bad guy, and he let the real bad guy get away. He judged us before he had the full story. We’re not a bad guy.” Venom defended. You were surprised to hear how passionate she was about this and gave her a soft smile.

“Let’s not worry about Spider-Man right now. I want to test out our new abilities. Let’s rock and roll, baby.” You cheered, complete with rock and roll hands. The second you touched your middle finger and ring finger to your palm, a black, web-like tendril shot out from your wrist and stuck to the ceiling. You stared at the web with a gaping mouth, weakly shaking your wrist to see if it would stay attached.

It did.

“Maybe that’s one of our new abilities.” Venom said. You looked back and forth between her and the gooey web coming out of your wrist.

“Oh my God! What’s happening?” You screamed. You took your fingers off your palm and the web retracted back into your wrist. Looking at your wrist incredulously, you made the rock and roll hand again and the same web shot out from your wrist. This time, it grabbed the ceiling fan.

“V-Venom?” You asked. You didn’t know what to say.

“Try to aim it at something.” She suggested. You aimed your wrist and the lamp across the room and touched your fingers to your palm. The black web shot across the room and grabbed onto the lamp. You quickly yanked your arm back to pull the lamp towards yourself. The lamp flew across the room, smashed you in the face, and left you with a bloody nose.

“Ow.” You cried, gingerly touching your nose.

“We see this as a absolutely win.” Venom cheered. You shot her a look and went to get cleaned up.

After about a week of practice, and very little work on your questions for Cletus, you had a better handle on your webbing ability. Of course, the week also consisted of long talks with Peter on the roof, late patrols of New York, the occasional run in with a criminal, late night FaceTime calls with Peter, and beating the shit out of Spider-Man, twice. Venom eventually grew bored of using the new powers around the house, so it was time for the final test.

You stood at the rooftop ledge and looked down, talking a deep breath to calm your nerves.

“It’s a long way down.” You commented.

“Yep.” Venom replied in your head.

“We could die.” You added.

“Yep.”

“Ready?”

“We’re ready.” Venom grinned as you transformed. You stepped off the ledge and fell freely for a while, screaming the whole way down.

“Stop being a little bitch! Shoot a web!” Venom yelled. You aimed a web at a building and began to swing. You were too close to the ground and ended up knocking over a bunch of tables at an outdoor restaurant. People ran away in fear while others took out their cameras and recorded.

“We’re not here to hurt you! Peace and love!” Venom shouted as you continued to swing through the steers of New York. People began to cheer upon hearing your words.

“Do you hear that, Y/N? People are cheering. They love us.” Venom said happily.

“I love us too.” You replied. You were even happier than she was. You knew how much it hurt Venom to be seen as a monster, it was why she hated being called a parasite. You also knew it was why she hated Spider-Man. He was praised for stopping bad guys while Venom was seen as one of the bad guys he needed to stop.

“Hey, what is that thing?” A man called from the street. Venom stopped swinging and landed on the street. You proudly turned to the crowd of people, a massive grin on your face. There it was, our favorite question.

“We…are Venom.” Venom growled. People took pictures and videos of you from a distance.

“You can come closer. We won’t hurt you.” Venom assured the crowd.

“Are you like the anti Spider-Man?” Someone asked.

“Spider-Man is a joke. He can’t protect this city like we can. We are no Spider-Man. We are Venom.” Venom roared. A few people took a step back and you began to feel uneasy.

“Hey, King Kong. I want a word with you.” A sassy voice quipped from the crowd. A man in yellow sunglasses and a suit stepped forward, and you bet your ass you recognized him.

“My name is Tony Stark. Heard of me? Of course you have. Would you mind coming back to my tower with me?” He asked, but it felt more like a demand. The people in the crowd slowly dispersed and soon, you stood there alone with Tony.

“Be nice. Say yes.” You told Venom.

“Who is this guy?” She asked out loud.

“I just said my name.” Tony said, slightly annoyed.

“He’s a really famous inventor. I’ll explain later. Just follow him please.” You begged. Venom gave Tony a once over and followed him to a limo.

“Yea, you’re gonna ride up top big guy.” Tony said, patting the roof of the car.

“Girl.” Venom growled. Tony looked surprised.

“My apologies ma’am.” He raised surprised eyebrows. You rode on top of his car all the way to his tower, wondering what he could possibly want with you.

The inside of his tower was huge. Tony lead you to a lab that was bigger than yours and Peters apartments combined.

“I’ve seen videos of you on YouTube. Seems like you and Spider-Man aren’t the best of friends.” Tony remarked as he pulled out an iPad.

“We will crush his bones and snort them like cocaine.” Venom growled. Tony was just as surprised to hear that as you were.

“Now that’s a visual.” Tony smirked. “I’ll have you know, Spider-Man is a friend of mine. He’s not your biggest fan either but from what I’ve seen, you’ve done this city some good since you’ve been here. How long has that been?”

“Two weeks.” Venom answered.

“I thought so. I’d never seen you before then. And since your arrival, petty crime has dropped significantly in Queens. Criminals are too scared of getting eaten to do anything. Don’t get me wrong, I love Spider-Man and I’ll kill you if you tell him that, but no one fears him. He gets the job done, but there’s always another job to do. With you, on the other hand, your mere presence is preventing crime before it even happens.” Tony smiled to himself, like he was just given a new toy. “You’re scary, is what I’m trying to say. But you’re a good guy. It’s rare. I want it to stay that way. I want you on my team.”

“Team?”

“We’re called the Avengers. We had a bit of a falling out but the name still stands.” Tony waved his hand. “We fight bad guys together. Really, really bad guys. I think you could us some good. Plus, you’ll be taken care of for life and we’ll only call you in for serious threats. But I need a few things from you first.”

“Like what?”

“Your story.” He pointed a finger at you. “How does a giant, anthropomorphic alien wind up in New York City?”

“It’s a long story.” Venom answered.

“We can trust this man, Venom.” You told her telepathically. “I’m gonna come out okay?” Venom hesitated and Tony looked impatient to know more.

“Are you sure?” She asked you. Tony looked confused.

“Am I sure?” He pointed to himself.

“Not you.” She said. Tony looked around for who else Venom could be talking to and found no one.

“I’m sure.” You decided. “This guy is one of the good guys. We can trust him. I promise. I’m coming out.”

You slowly transformed back into yourself in front of Tonys wide eyes. Venom stayed in her snake-like form and rested on your neck.

“Hello, Mr. Stark. My name is Y/N L/N.” You shyly introduced yourself. “This is Venom. We want to help.”

Tony’s face shifted from shocked to impressed as he looked you over.

“I gotta say, I did not except someone like you to be inside that scary monster.” Tony chuckled.

“We’re not a monster, Mr. Stark. We want to help people.” You reminded him.

“I can see that.” Tony nodded. “That’s why I’ve been developing you a suit.”

“When did you do that?” You wondered. “We just met.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve been designing it while you talked. I want you to have it incase you and Venom get separated. That way, you’ll be protected until you’re back together.” Tony explained as he showed you his ipad. Sure enough, it had a drawing of a suit on it.

“I’ll get started right away. I just need a little piece of Venom. If I make the suit using her skin, you’ll have the total protection you need.” You looked at Venom for consent, who nodded and extended a tendril towards Tony. He quickly snipped a piece off and put it in a container.

“When will the suit be ready? A few months?” You asked as Tony tapped the container. Tony stopped looking at the container and laughed.

“Y/N, I’m a genius inventor. Go get lunch. It’ll be ready when you’re done.” He said.

And he wasn’t kidding. An hour and a half later, Tony presented you with a suit. You ran my fingers over it slowly, not wanted to disturb a single thing. You looked at it in awe, completely speechless at what he had created.

“Go on, try it on.” He shrugged casually. You grinned from ear to ear before rushing to the bathroom to put it on. You came out soon enough with tears in you eyes.

“You like it?” Tony asked. You looked at your covered hands in amazement. The suit was jet black, like Venom was, and hugged your body like a second skin. There was a big white spider symbol on the front, the complete opposite of Spider-Mans small black one. You figured it was a nod to being called the anti Spider-Man and it was perfect.

“Well?” Tony was still waiting for an answer. You looked up at him just as a few tears fell down you cheeks.

“We didn’t celebrate my birthday growing up because it was the anniversary of my moms death. I used to be so upset every year.” You blurted. Tony looked like he didn’t know what to say and you couldn’t blame him. That was something deeply personal and you had only just met him.

“What I’m trying to say is, I get it now.” You explained. “All those missed birthdays were for a reason. I didn’t get gifts those days because I’m getting the ultimate gift right now. This is the most amazing thing I could’ve asked for. I cannot thank you enough Mr. Stark. I’ll never take it off.”

“You can’t take it off anyway.” Tony told you. “When you don’t want to wear it, it absorbs back into your skin like Venom does. And it’s equipped with Venoms essential abilities. It’s bullet proof, knife proof, taser proof, spork proof and so on. And you can still shoot your webby things. You just won’t have super strength, super speed, or that Venus flytrap mouth of yours.”

You tested it out and shot a web towards his desk. You grabbed a pen and caught it with ease, then looked at Tony for approval.

“That’s the best I could do. It’s no Iron Man suit but it’ll suffice.” Tony said casually. You couldn’t take it anymore and rushed towards him to hug him tightly.

“Thank you.” You said into his chest. Tony patted your back awkwardly and you let go.

“It’s nothing. You can thank me by not eating Spider-Man. I know he’s annoying but he doesn’t mean any harm. Now go forth and do good.” Tony requested.

You swung back to the apartment and landed on the roof. You turned back into yourself and made your way down the steps to your floor. After this mornings conversation with Peter and the incredible suit from Mr. Stark, you were having a great day. For the first time in years, you couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

[crescentsteel]

Burns

pairing: Suna  x f!reader genre: fluff with slight angst (childhood friends to lovers) wc: 3.8k summary: you planned to confess to Suna on Valentines day. Unfortunately for you, he finds the holiday stupid.

[a/n]

Did this in one sitting, brain went zoom zoom

Not really comfortable writing for Inarizaki for some reason. Suna and Miya twins stans, don’t come for me. 

Thank you @tokyosdawn​, @luvnami​, @fayeiparis​ (my ride or die ily) for the betaread. 

ngl. I almost wrote smut after the fluff 

Happy Valentines Day! 🖤

This is it. This is the day. 

You’re finally going to confess to Suna. 

You have been close friends for so long, and for the whole duration of it, you have tried your utter best to feel only as such. 

You became friends with the rest of the Inarikazi team because you were always present in every game, with you being the loudest person to cheer for Suna leading everyone to pester him until he introduced you to them. Knowing Suna, he wasn’t fazed by his team’s persistent request and never mentioned to you that the team wanted to meet you. 

It had been Atsumu that day who approached you during lunch break saying that Suna asked him to ask you to attend their practice after class. 

You’ve been asking him non-stop if he can come watch them practice but he strictly prohibited you from going to the gym at all, so you were thrilled that he finally let you watch.. only to find him unpleasantly surprised that you were there. 

Apparently, the whole team thought you were dating. As much as you wish you were, you could only agree with Suna when he said you were just a long-time friend. 

But that changes today. Hopefully. 

You already know what confessing to him means, and you’re not ready to lose Suna as a friend in case this doesn’t work out. However, with the  both of you being third years already, it was now or never. You keep asking him what his plans after graduation are and he’s infuriatingly very consistent with his answer - a shrug and an apathetic ‘dunno.’

While you’re not ready to lose your friendship, you’re probably going to after high school — which is why you spent almost all of your allowance to buy ingredients to make homemade chocolate. It’s not actually that it’s expensive — you wasted so much ingredients making them that you ended up having enough for only three pieces. 

But you’re satisfied because they were of three different designs. Three cute fox-shaped chocolates of different colors. They weren’t perfect but you tailored them according to Suna’s taste - just mildly sweet so he can actually enjoy it.

You smile into the February air. 

You really aren’t sure about his feelings for you, but you know that you’re special to him. 

You’re his only female friend and despite his aloofness, he actually spends time with you outside of school. It was you who he spent New Year’s with. He celebrates your birthday even if you know he’s not really into that kind of stuff. He walks you home when you stay late from club activities. 

Being his friend since elementary school, you know he’s not the kind of guy to be nice to someone just for the sake of being nice. 

So instead of dreading for your confession, you’re actually excited. 

On your way to your first class, the chaotic twins block your path with a mischievous grin from both of them, except Atsumu’s way too obvious and upfront about it. 

“So, y/n. Anything for me?” Atsumu asks as he cocks an eyebrow at you. 

“Why would she give you any, idiot?” Osamu glares at Atsumu before turning to you with a smirk that makes you wary for some reason. “When she’s obviously giving them to Suna,” he adds.

You try to not look affected at his spot-on statement, but shit, you can already feel your heartbeat just a bit faster. Are you that obvious?

“Don’t you have hoards of shit from other girls? Why the hell are you ganging up on me?” you ask instead of answering Osamu’s speculation. 

“I want to show them to Suna during practice. His pretty little childhood friend givin’ me homemade chocolates,” Atsumu teases animatedly. 

Your eyes widen from what he said. “Wait, how did you know they were homemade?” 

The two give each other meaningful looks before Osamu leans down a bit on you. “So there really are chocolates, huh?”

You go rigid when you realize you’ve exposed yourself to these two. Shit, they’re going to tease you non-stop about this. Worse, they might tell Suna before you even get the chance to do it yourself. 

“Those are some burns on your hands, y/n. Have you treated those properly?” Atsumu eyes your hand that accidentally touched the hot pan yesterday. You tug the sleeves of your uniform lower to cover the purple-pinkish marks. 

“I’m going to be late for class, bye,” you abruptly bid goodbye and hurriedly escape from the two. God knows what else they’ll get from you if you stay longer. 

--

You erase your encounter with the twins from this morning. You can’t buckle down now. You worked hard for this day, both in body and in spirit. You’ve already had more than a fair share of doubts and second thoughts up until last night when you successfully pushed any cynicism away. 

You won’t back down, especially when Suna is just a seat away from you now. 

“Got any chocolates yet?” You prod at the topic as you put away your used cutleries. 

“Yea,” he answers lazily. “It’s so dumb.”

“What is?” you ask with a frown.

“Valentines,” he deadpans.  “Atsumu’s gonna get a fucking diabetes from the amount of chocolates he took from me because I was about to throw them away.”

You try to not let it get to you and breathe steadily to strengthen your resolve. You’re special to Suna. Surely, he won’t treat yours like that.

“What’s more idiotic is confessing this day,” he rambles on. “If a person really likes someone, why wait for Valentines to say it?” He asks rhetorically while putting away his own finished lunch. 

You feel your stomach lurch, like riding down a rollercoaster at full speed unexpectedly. You try your best to mold your face into an impassive expression to not give anything away.

On the inside though, you’re a mess. Your head feels too loud and the air feels too heavy. You want to close your eyes and disappear.

Then he looks at you. “What about you? Did you give chocolates to anyone?”

You vaguely hear his question. You feel like you’re in a bubble and every sound is muffled -- your classmates chattering, the chairs scraping against the floor, the laughter all around you feels distant.

You planned to give him the chocolates you worked so hard on, but definitely not anymore. He hit two things right (Or wrong? Who knows anymore.) on the marks and right now, you do feel idiotic for trying so hard. 

You should’ve known better. Of course, he’d find it stupid! He’s never the person to be all excited with events like this. What were you even thinking, spending all that money and effort when he obviously thinks the whole thing is a farce?

Did you really think this was going to go well? That he’d accept your chocolates and everything would be fine and you would go on as friends? In hindsight, there is never going to be a way out of this where you win. It is a stupid idea, and you’re stupid for even thinking about it.

‘Dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb,’ you chant in your head. 

“Y/n?”

You flinch and find him staring at you, waiting for your answer. His golden eyes are studying your face carefully. You think you see a little bit of concern there but you brush it off.

“Oh no,” you laugh hesitantly. “No way I’d waste my time on some boy on the very rare chance that he actually likes me back, pfft.” Your laugh turns ironic and bitter. “Like you said, it’s just a dumb holiday,” you respond with a forced smile.

“Anyways, I have to go back now. Later, Rin.” You quickly stand up and head to a comfort room because you feel like shit and you need to cry it out before your classes start again, else you’d be tearing up during lecture.

“Wait.” He grips your hand firmly, adding salt to the injury as you wince when he presses the burn you got from yesterday.

“Ow!”

He’s startled by your sudden reaction, but doesn’t say anything. 

He loosens his hold and moves his grip to your wrist as he pushes up the sleeve of your uniform, revealing the burn on your hand along with small others on your arm. 

“What happened to you?” he asks with muted concern while his eyes are trained on your arm, fingers gently skimming over the burns.

You aggressively retrieve your arm and pull your sleeve back down while you come up with a lie, “Oka-san needed help in the kitchen yesterday.”

He furrows his eyebrows with suspicion. “Why? Everyone knows you’re useless in the kitchen.”

Yeah, but you wanted to do something for him, and the burns would have been worth it if he at least accepted the chocolates you worked so hard on. 

“Honestly, I don’t even know.” You try to laugh it off, but you’re losing it already, so you just give him a quick wave with whatever smile you can muster and saunter away from him. 

After a pathetic sobbing session in one of the cubicles, you make your way back to your classroom looking as normal as you possibly can. 

Thank goodness it’s Valentines. You’re not the only girl with eyes puffy from rejection. 

“Hey.” You feel a hand on your shoulder and solely from his voice, you can tell it’s Osamu. “You okay?” 

Maybe it would’ve been better if you had fallen for Osamu instead. Despite being always teased by him and Atsumu, he’s actually a nice likeable guy. Unlike Suna. 

God, why did it have to be Suna Rintarou?

“Come with me,” you say without looking at Osamu and drag him with you back to your classroom. 

“Uhh, okay.” He sounds unsure but he goes with you anyway. 

You ask him to wait for you just by the doorway of your classroom and grab the stupid box of chocolates you made from your bag. 

You practically shove it to him when you get back to where he is. “Happy Valentines, ‘Samu,” you greet with a dead expression. 

Osamu gapes at you then at the box in hand, an expression of disbelief spreading across his face. 

“Weren’t you asking for chocolates this morning?” 

“That was ‘Tsumu. Also,” he looks closely at the box. “It says ‘Rin.’

You immediately rip out the wrapper where you wrote Suna’s nickname and tuck the crumpled paper in your pocket.

“There. It doesn’t anymore,” you announce passively.

Osamu scratches his head with discomfort. “I can’t accept this, y/n. I can give it to Suna if you want,” he offers kindly.

“Miya Osamu. Either you accept it or I’m throwing it away right now.” Your voice is dead serious and so are you. If Osamu won’t accept it, it’s going to the trash where Suna would’ve tossed it in as well. 

“Okay, okay!” He surrenders with panic and opens the box slowly. 

“Holy sh-,” he clears his throat. “I mean, wow. These are so cute, the cutest I’ve received today,” he comments appreciatively before returning his gaze at you. “You sure about this, y/n?”

You nod, more convinced now that you saw his reactions towards it. “Yeah. I figured I’d want to give them to someone who’s going to actually like them.”

The soft ring of the bell alerts you that your next class is about to start. 

“Thanks Osamu,” you utter with a grateful smile before sauntering back to your classroom. 

--

“Oy ‘Samu, why are these chocolates so cute? How the hell can I eat these?” Tsumu whines.

“You shithead, those are mine!” Osamu rushes to where his twin and grabs the box protectively.

Suna just watches the two and silently waits for another fight to erupt.

“You’d just taste them and give them to me anyways. What’s the deal?” Atsumu asks with a frown.

“If you must know, ‘Tsumu. Y/n gave this to me,” Osamu announces with a condescending grin as Astumu gawks at him in disbelief. “No fucking way, you stinking liar,” Atsumu retorts.

Suna looks at the tiny box Osamu is holding and agrees with Atsumu. There is no way you’d give those to Osamu. You said so yourself this morning.

‘No way I’d waste my time on some boy on the very rare chance that he actually likes me back.’

Did you lie to him and made some for Osamu? Do you like Osamu?

Suna’s mind wanders back to the burns on your hand and arms and how your mom ‘supposedly’ asked you to help out in the kitchen. He knows something is off. You’re never asked to help out with anything that involves cooking, so why did you lie about it?

So what is going on? There’s just no way in hell you like Osamu. Not once have you mentioned liking his teammate enough for you to  venture into the ‘horrors of the kitchen’ (as you put it). And more importantly, why Osamu?

It is true that Suna doesn’t give a shit whether or not  he gets a mountain load of chocolates on this superficial holiday. He’s not eating them. 

However, he’d make an exception only if they come from you. He wouldn’t mind if they’re just store-bought ones as long as they’re from you. 

So why the fuck would you go to the troubles of making them for Osamu and not him? You can’t possibly like Osamu. He won’t allow it.

He marches to where the twins are and turns to Osamu. “Did y/n really give you that?”

Both the twins face him and while Osamu looks pensive, Atsumu wears a shit-eating grin. “Aww, Suna. Are you jealous that your beloved y/n gave us chocolates?”

“‘Tsumu, shut up for the love of God. And she didn’t give it to us. She gave it to me.” Osamu pulls the box closer to him possessively which ticks Suna off even more. 

“Did she say why?” Suna tries to sound calm despite the stupid jealousy bubbling up the pit of his stomach. 

“Obviously because-” Atsumu starts, but Osamu grabs his twin’s face with one hand to halt his babbling as he sighs to face Suna. 

“Actually, the box had your name in it,” Osamu admits. “She just ripped it out and said she’d rather give it to someone who’ll appreciate it.”

“-mmmmff Samu!” Atsumu successfully removes Osamu’s hand. “You shouldn’t have told him that! Do you realize that y/n didn’t want him to know?”

“Duh! Of course, I know. But I really can’t accept chocolates that’re supposed to be for another guy,” Osamu sighs before handing Suna the box. 

He opens it and sees the fuss Tsumu was making about it. They really are cute and are obviously made with care and precision. If someone else had told him that you made these, he wouldn’t have believed them.

But there’s something about the chocolates that he can’t ignore. 

“Why are there bites on the two pieces?” He asks as he lifts his gaze up from the chocolates. 

Atsumu puts his hands behind his head and starts whistling as he avoids Suna’s gaze while Osamu smiles apologetically. 

“Sorry, I wanted to see if they taste as good as they look,” Osamu confesses. As for Atsumu, Suna can already tell that the piss-haired setter just couldn’t help himself despite receiving so many already.

“They’re a bit bland, Suna. Tell y/n she needs to improve her baking skills,” Atsumu comments shamelessly which makes Suna scowl at Atsumu’s ungrateful ass. The fact that you made something look edible is already something commendable.

“They’re okay. Just needs a bit more sweetness,” Osamu backs his twin up.

He brings the remaining chocolate that’s still untouched to his mouth.

“What are you two talking about? It tastes perfectly fine,” he states truthfully. It’s just the right amount of sweetness that he’s able to finish it despite not really being a fan of chocolates. 

Osamu laughs softly before speaking. “She really did make them for you, Suna.”

--

That night, you toss and turn in your bed while trying to keep your focus on the movie you played. As entertaining as it is, you can’t fully enjoy it with constantly wanting to smash your head against the wall of your room.

For a good while, you really thought everything would go smoothly and that by the end of today, you and Suna would be more than just friends. 

Maybe today is a sign that you shouldn’t push it anymore. Suna said so himself: if someone likes a person, they don’t need the holiday to confess.

So why hasn’t he?

The answer is clear as day and you wish you were blind to see it, but you aren’t. 

There had been too many chances for you two to move your relationship forward, but not once had he shown a sign that he wanted to. 

He doesn’t like you like that. It’s just you and your delusional head. He doesn’t love you the way you love him. Even with the cute, romantic scene playing before you, you start tearing up. 

You grab one of your pillows and bury your face in it, effectively silencing the sob and stopping the tears that are coming as you remember your folly attempt to confess today. 

You should’ve been satisfied with the comfort of your friendship. If you hadn’t been so greedy, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt like this. 

You hear a text alert from your phone. You open it and see a text from the source of your misery.

‘Come out’

You don’t want to. Tomorrow you can be back to normal around him, but not tonight.

You hurriedly respond with a lie.

‘Went out zzz’

You throw your phone somewhere on your bed and lie down with your pillow still squeezed between your arms while you space out at nothing.

Your thirst brings you back to your senses so you stand up and get to the kitchen. When you come back to your room, you almost scream when you see Suna sitting slouching on your bed. 

“What the heck, Rin?! How did you get here?” 

“Your mother let me in. Why are you even asking obvious questions?”

You massage your temples as you plan to tell your mom later not to just let anyone in your room even though it’s someone she knows. You might be childhood friends but you’re no longer kids. He can’t just pop in and out of your room anymore like he used to.

“Why are you even here? I said I was out.”

“Your lights are open, dumbass,” he answers, to which you respond with a sigh.

“Didn’t it occur to you that I don’t want to see you?” 

He stands up from your bed and although his expression doesn’t change, you feel alarmed from how he’s towering over you without saying anything.

“W-what?” Your stutter betrays your attempt to sound fine.

“Why the fuck would you give Osamu chocolates that are supposed to be mine?” 

You gawk at him. He isn’t supposed to know that. That bastard, Osamu! You don’t have a prepared excuse for this kind of confrontation. 

“What’s it to you even? You would’ve thrown them away anyways,” you snap back with an accusatory tone.

“Not if they’re from you,” he discloses as his usually austere eyes soften up, holding your gaze. You feel like you’re about to melt.

You feel your heart beat wildly against your chest. Not long ago you had said that you didn’t want to see him, but now that he’s here, you don’t feel like moving. You don’t feel like going anywhere. Everything could be on fire around you but you’d still stay by his side.

But… this is not right. Did you already know? He doesn’t love you back.

You try to turn away to hide the gnawing pain in your chest, but he’s faster. He grabs your arm to pull you closer. When he dips down to claim your lips while his arms snake around your waist, you melt within his hold. 

His lips are so warm and uncharacteristically tender as he moves them intricately against yours, causing you to place both hands against his chest to feel him even more, to feel that he is real and not just a dream induced by how badly you yearn for him.

He pulls away a bit and finds a bewildered look on your face that just makes you look adorable. There had been many times when he thought about doing this, especially whenever you’re staring into nothingness with parted lips as if coaxing him to fuck everything else and just cross the boundary of your platonic relationship.

But to be honest, he didn’t like the complications of being in a romantic relationship with you when you already have this comfortable friendship. At the end of the day, he knows you have him and he has you. 

Yet, he absolutely despises the idea that you might have liked someone else. He’s never felt any resentment towards his teammates, not even to Astsumu who’s a fucking handful most of the time.

Only today.

Only when he saw that box of chocolates in Osamu’s hands that he realized that he didn’t want to share you with anyone.

It was selfish of him, wanting to keep you to himself but not really doing anything to actually make it happen.

That changes tonight. 

He removes one hand from your waist to hold your hand that’s resting on his chest.

“I love you, y/n.”

You blink twice at him, evidently surprised with his confession, but immediately recover when you look down and giggle softly. 

When you look back at him again, your eyes are a mixture of content and mirth. “I thought you said it’s idiotic to confess on Valentines Day,” you remind him with a wide smile.

His loving stare becomes a cold glare when you point out what he had said this morning. He didn’t plan to do it today. He just couldn’t wait until tomorrow, thereby forgetting that he had actually told you that. Although, he still believes people shouldn’t wait for the holiday to confess, it just so happened that today is when he decided to do it.

“Fine. I take it back,” he says out of petty spite.

“I’m kidding!” you respond defensively before intertwining his fingers with yours. “Actually, I was about to confess earlier, but you said the stuff about Valentines being dumb.”

“It still is,” he says, undeterred. In his defense, he really hadn’t been expecting you would. 

“Right. Yet, here we are,” you state as a matter of fact as you grip his hand tighter.

“Can you answer the damn confession already?” he asks exasperatedly which makes you laugh out loud. 

You settle down with an affectionate smile. “Yes, Rin. I love you too.”

He loses his stern expression as he takes your hand to his mouth and kisses it, rubbing the minor burn with his thumb, a reminder that he does appreciate what you did for him. 

“Happy Valentines, I guess,” he says before he goes for your lips again.

mlist of other stuff I wrote

taglist (those crossed out can’t be tagged)

@ameliaxo @suikrem @akaashisslave @tsumurai  @babythotshq @loving-unicorns106 @flairlust @geektastic84​ @anaiss97 @hqbeesun @megatron-1199 @lovershaikyuu

[cowboyjen68]

hey jen! content warning- this is gonna be long and ranty and about a pretty nasty (verbal) fight i got into with my mom

i'm a 17 year old lesbian living with my 50 year old conservative mom. she knows i'm queer but she doesn't know i don't like men at all- i'm pretty sure she thinks im bisexual. anyways, we've managed to kind of avoid the topic of my sexuality so we can avoid arguments. ground rules at home are no girlfriends (i can have a boyfriend though), no pride flags/pride ANYTHING, no watching lgbt movies or reading lgbt books, you get the idea. it's annoying but i'm moving out in a year so i'm just swallowing my pride (no pun intended) until then.

well last night we got into an argument. we were in the car trying to talk about our schedules so i could figure things out for my new job and she kept interrupting me and i got really annoyed so i said in a raised voice "can you please just listen to me?" and she BLEW up. now before you read this next part you have to understand a few things. 1- me and my mom are very close. i don't talk to her about my personal life but we share music and movie taste and we spend a lot of time together cooking, doing our nails, and watching movies. 2-my mom is very very mentally ill. she's been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, anxiety, and ocd and she refuses to get treated for any of it. i know this isn't an excuse for her actions, but it's an explanation. basically, she started screaming at me (in front of my 5 y old sister) that i'm a disrespectful brat and a bad daughter. she said everything wrong with my sister (she has some yelling problems) is my fault and all i do is make life difficult and she wishes i would just move out. she's done this stuff before but she said a few things different that hit deep and really really hurt me. when we got home i ran upstairs to my room and just stayed in there crying for two hours. a bit later, she comes into my room and tells me i need to learn how to admit when i'm wrong and i need to apologize to her. for the rest of the night i just didn't talk to her and stayed in my room. this morning i woke up to her playing salsa like normal and pretending nothing happened. she always does this after arguments, but it feels so wrong because of the severity of her words yesterday. she came into my room to hand me a gift with a note on top saying

"no argument, disagreement, misunderstanding, "yell-fest" or anything at all could ever change or stop the fact that i love you so much! you deserve everything good and more. i will always be on your side ♥️"

yeah. i don't really know what to do or how to feel and i don't know if you can help me but i really need some advice on how to handle this. stuff like this keeps happening more and more and i don't want our relationship to fall apart because i get offended over something she says in a fit of rage. sorry if this was too long or it bothered you in any way, and thank you for reading

It is super hard when someone you love is mentally ill. In theory mental illness is a reason and not an excuse. In theory we can love someone and not have to lower our boundaries to be mentally or (physically) abused by people.

That is all true when we can walk away, but the reality is we are not always given that option. Since she is your parent and you need at least a year to finish school, get a savings, paperwork in order, planning etc, you do not have the luxury of setting down boundaries and sticking to them.

Even relatively mentally healthy adults can and do say things that are hurtful and many of them deal with their regret but sort of bushing it off, giving a peace offering and hoping it does not come up. Admitting wrong and apologizing is super hard for lots of grown ups. It means admitting fault and because she knows she hurt you it is virtually impossible for her to say she is sorry without having to process that fact.

As a parent I know when I hurt my kids with words said in mistake or anger it is super hard to admit that. To allow that feeling to sit in my brain and to verbalize my regret. I do and can but it took time and practice.

By the sounds of it, she will likely not be open to therapy with you to learn some communication tools. If you have a school counselor or the ability to get therapy please do so, even if just for yourself. Lots of therapist are working on line now so it is easier to access. Some schools will facilitate therapy.

You need to keep in mind that you are leaving within a year. A doable goal. Use your energy to plan. Make sure you have access to your birth certificate, social security card, insurance, taxes, etc. If you have a car get it in your name. If you have a cell phone make sure you have access to switch the account. 

Work on your independence so when you are able to you can break loose. The less you rely on your mom the more you can work on a healthy relationship with her because you can set boundaries, speak your mind and garner respect without fear of loosing your housing or safety. 

Lastly I am sorry you are going through this. Know it is no fault of your own and you don’t deserve such harsh treatment. Her words come from mental illness and inability to communicate her emotions in an appropriate manner, but knowing the cause does not make it any easier.  I am glad you reached out, even if just for the chance to vent and to hear that you are worth more than the treatment you are receiving. 

[sashi-ya]

Vampire!Law or werewolf!Law?

Hi, hi! I used to be obsessed with vampires back then. Never seen/read Twilight, though. But still. I didn't know if you wanted something NSFW, so I included some, not that explicit just in case. I hope you like it ♥. I loved the prompt so I'd probably be extending this story, perhaps with more OS someday!.

Vampire! Law x Reader.

Countryside town AU. No gender description. Everybody is 18+. No spoilers. TW: Blood. Slightly hurted animals. Kind of blood play. Soft NSFW. WC: 4.4K AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31552169

Drawing done using a base from: deviantart.com/shadow-bases

It’s a cold night, puffs of steamy air coming out from your mouth as you quickly walk to your parents’ house. The moon shines in between foggy clouds that cover a dark sky. You regret the moment when you accepted going out, plus everything around seems a little threatening. You are used to the city you were living in until now, and somehow forgot the feeling of living in your hometown. But, your old friends wanted to see you, and you couldn’t just say no.

The old town you were born in seemed to have never evolved. Since the day you left your parents’ house and moved to campus in the big city, the town has preserved its own style, the same houses, the same old shops.

Reddish dried leaves crunches under your feet, and some crickets sing in the dark. You grab your phone just to check the hour. 00:00. You are a little bit tired; you’ve been driving the whole day to get there, but even though you were exhausted your old friends insisted on celebrating your comeback to the nest.

You are about to get to your house, when a sudden noise creeps the hell out of you, but you realize it’s just a cute white cat. “Hello kitty, you scared me!”, you say as the little cat comes purring. You crouch and pet it, after all it was too cute to not play with it.

“Bepo… Bepo… where the hell are you?”, you hear a man’s voice that comes closer. “Are you Bepo?”, you ask the little kitten and try to see what his collar says. “Bepo!!, there you are!”, a young man says with a gravelly voice.

“Oh, excuse me!”, you tell him as he comes closer to grab the white ball of fur. “Oh no, it's ok! I was about to go to sleep and I was looking for him. Did you scare her/him/they, Bepo?”, he says, approaching you, bending down and petting the kitten’s head.

The clouds move allowing the moonshine to bathe his face, revealing refined face features. A straight but snub nose, white pale skin, black spiky hair that ends up with sideburns, a goatee, and intense grey eyes with very dark circles were his main features. He was the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life so you stay caught on his face for a little while.

A cold breeze blows your hair and somehow a chill runs through your spine, as you hear the sound of wind chimes dancing along on the front porch of a wooden house. “Do you live in this town? I haven’t seen you before… I mean, I’m kind of new into town though…” he says to you with a smile while lifting the cat on his slender, pale and tattooed hands.

You stand up and say “Oh, uhm...I’ve recently graduated so I came back to my parents’ house to work with them, I used to live here, though”. “Oh, I see! Nice to meet you! My name is Law”, he says while extending his hand to you. You hesitate for a second, but then you say “Nice to meet you Law, I’m Y/n”. You shake hands, and realize how cold his skin is, almost as if he was somehow… dead?.

The encounter is disrupted by your dad, who got worried of you not arriving at home and opened the door to see if you were coming. “Y/n! there you are!. Oh, hello young man!, How are you?”, your father says from the front porch. “Goodnight Mr. Y/sn, everything alright! What about you and your wife?” Law says waving at your dad. “She’s inside a little worried for her pancake, that I see you’ve already met!”, your dad tells him while laughing. “Dad… I’m ok, go inside, I’ll be there in a minute”, you say to him, embarrassed.

“Nice to meet you, Law. Have a good night”, you say petting the little cat. “Have a goodnight too, Y/n-ya. I hope I could see you again”, Law says, giving you a side smirk. You nod and walk away.

You flop onto your bed, tired, exhausted. You close your eyes, total darkness until… his eyes… Those crystal grey eyes are the only thing you can see, and then they turn to yellow. And you wake up with a big gasp to the smell of blood.

“What the fuck was that?”, you say, agitated. An orangey sun ray filters from the windows of your teenage years room and hits directly your face. You block the sun with your arm realizing soon it was already morning and today you start working on your old family farm as a vet.

“Good morning little pancakes!!”, your dad greets you, as well as your little brother. Your mum is cooking those delicious breakfasts you used to have when you were younger and you sit on the table, pleased and filled with your family’s love.

The day passes with you meeting all the animals on the farm, you even have to take care of a wounded horse. “Don’t worry Violet, it’s just a little blood, but your leg will be fine”, you say to a black spotted mare that has been jumping on the field and somehow hurt his leg.

At noon, your childhood best friend sends a text telling you that tonight you two should go to “Shambles Bar'' - the one and only bar that has ever been there since you were born - to have fun since it’s Friday. You agree, not because you were a fan of partying but because you missed those old days before you left for uni.

“Leeeeet’s go party like the old timeeees, babeee” your best friend shouts at you while jumping on your bed. “hahaha stop it, you are going to break the bed!!”. You both laugh, get ready and head out.

You pass next to Law’s house and try to see if he is at home, but it seems as if no one is there. “Oi, do you know Law?” you say pointing with your thumb to his house. “Law?”, your best friend asks confused, and continues, “You mean the vampire guy who lives there?, yeah. Why?”. “Vampire guy? what do you mean?” you ask, half confused, half curious. “Haha, the guys call him like this. I mean, have you seen how pale he is? and those dark circles? He looks like he is dead. Plus no one has seen him during the daytime. Ever. But how do you know him?”, she tells you. “Oh, yesterday, his cat, Bepo, came to me. He was looking for the kitty and we happened to talk”, you tell her with a tone that tries to downplay the topic. “Oh, I see. To be honest I don’t even know what he does for a living so I don’t have any more info. Maybe Luffy or Zoro know him, you can ask them tonight”, she says. “Yeah, maybe”, you say and change the topic.

A few drinks after and you and your friends are already dancing to the sound of country music and the humble light system of the old bar, when the same image of those eyes of your dreams flashes before your eyes and a sudden smell of blood hits your nose. You stand still for a moment, scared. “Babe, what is it?”, asks Nami, one of your friends there. “Uh.. n- nothing”, you say confused and keep dancing.

A few seconds later, someone is touching your shoulder from behind. Your friends stand still for a moment with a subtle scared expression, but the touch of that hand felt warm for you, even as if some type of power was running through all of your body.

“Y/n-ya?”, a well-known voice calls you, and you turn around. There he was, Law, “the vampire guy” as your friends call him. “L-Law?”, you say slowly smiling when you see his pale face. “What a coincidence, huh?. I mean the town is not that big…”, he says, and you finish his sentence with a “yeah, and this is the only bar…”. You both laugh and for some seconds your eyes are fixed onto each other’s.

“Oi, Torao! you wanna drink with us?” says Zoro, inviting Law to our table. “Yeah, thanks, Zoro-ya”, he tells him. You all sit and ask waiter Beca to bring you another round of drinks. Law sits next to you.

Sanji, another friend of yours, asks you “You two already know each other?”. “Kind of”, you say laughing a little blushed. “Y/n-ya met Bepo, first!” Law tells your blond friend, laughing.

An old song you and your friends used to dance as “your song” starts playing on the jukebox and you run to the dance floor. You can’t help but gaze at where Law is just to see if he is watching you dance. And he does, he is looking at you, with a smile on his pretty face. Your cheeks turn to red, but you are way grown up to act like a teenager, and decide to invite him to dance. You are driven somehow to him, you don’t really know why, but you are.

“Law, do you wanna dance?”, you tell him, extending your arm as you were calling him to the dancefloor. “You too guys, come here!!” Nami shouts to your friends.

Law stands up and walks to you. Smiling, he incorporates to the circle and starts dancing. He doesn’t dance well, but you just don’t care, you either after all.

A slow song starts to play, romantic also. Robin, another of your friends, tells you that the song is called “I Hear a Symphony”, and that Law should dance with you. You look at her, widening your eyes trying to tell her to stop, but Law grabs one of your hands and tells you “May I have this dance?”. You giggle a little, I mean why is he talking like a prince?, but then you just let yourself go and accept his offer.

The pale guy puts his other hand over your waist and you two start dancing to that pretty melody. For a moment you feel as if you were dancing into a castle, like in another century.

Interlocking your eyes, you start to think that coming back to your hometown wasn’t that bad and somehow you feel as if everything around you disappears. For an instant you believe to see his eyes change colors, from that crystalline grey to an intense brilliant yellowish color, but this time you don’t get scared. You feel attracted more and more to him, as if something invisible was pulling you towards him.

The touch of his hands feels cold, really cold, just like the first time… “is it because it’s almost winter?”, you think. Law is looking at your lips, neck, and something on his expression shows as if he was willing to devour you. And frankly, you too… you lost yourself looking at his mouth, he has it barely open. He has prominent canines that show through the little space in between his lips, and you remember your friend's words “the vampire guy” ...

The slow music is over, and now pop blasts on the bar. The couples part and you all come back to your table. It’s already 2 am, and you all feel exhausted from working all day - except Law, who seems to be really energetic -.

“Well, my dear friends, I’m not a teenager anymore, I think I’m coming back home now”, you inform your friends, to which some of them reply protesting and the others supporting the motion.

“If you want to, I can walk you home. I mean, we are neighbors”, tells you Law. Something inside you says “oh no darling, you are going fast”, but your mouth simply slips a “Oh, thank you, that’d be fine”.

You grab your coat, and head to the door followed by your deadly crush. None of you two say a word the first few steps. Tonight, is even colder than yesterday, but your cheeks are so red, full of blood that you don’t seem to notice the freezing breeze. “He is going to think I’m desperate, like he is the hottest guy I’ve ever met, but still… calm down Y/N”, you say to yourself, while walking thinking about what to say to break the ice.

“The moon looks pretty tonight, doesn’t it?”, he says to you, timidly. You look up to the sky and contemplate a big full moon with reddish tints on its hue. “Oh, I think it is the eclipse they were talking about on tv last night… the “red moon” ...”, you say, but got interrupted by Law, “Yeah, a “blood moon””. The way he said that, felt almost as threatening, but you look at him, and there he is, smiling at you with a friendly face.

You remember you still don’t know shit about him, so you ask him, “Oi, Nami told me you moved into town a few months ago, what did it bring you here?”. He stops for a moment, looking at the ground, but then sketching out a fake smile he tells you, “I got bored from the city, so I moved into the countryside… but to be honest I came mainly because I heard that pumpkin pies here are delicious”. You look at him, because that sounded like a terrible lie but you chose to believe it and when you were about to ask him about what he does for a living, he interrupts you, “Well, it looks like we are already home”. “Oh, yeah, I haven’t noticed, ha-ha”, you say, a little bit annoyed because you wanted to ask him more questions, but mainly sad because the walk was over.

“So… goodnight”, you say to him while fidgeting back and forth with your feet. “Goodnight…” he says. You are both facing each other, and you nor Law are moving. He got his eyes fixed on your lips, and you wish he would just kiss you.

Slowly, little by little, Law approaches his face to yours, closer, closer, until... he stops himself violently. You get scared, but you don’t move a single muscle. “Why… why you… why do you smell like blood?”, he says gasping.

“W-What?”, you ask him confusedly backing up. “You, you smell like blood… have you… your arm…”, he says, snatching your forearm. Suddenly, you remember this morning, you cured Violet, and some blood got spilled on your forearm but you washed the area and took a bath right before going out. “How did you know?”, you ask him.

He remains silent, trying to calm down. “I’m… I’m sorry I have a really sensitive nose”, he says and continues, “Why don’t you go to sleep, we can talk tomorrow, it’s pretty late now. Goodnight”. He says and runs to his house.

You are left there, and for a moment you just can’t process what just happened. “What the fuck, Law?”, you think. A cold shiver on your back announces to you, you should go back home and go to bed. There was no point in staying there.

You snuggle on your bed, still trying to understand but the exhaustion your body felt wins and you fall asleep. Again, those eyes, the smell of blood, the cold touch, you can see, smell, feel it all… “Y/n! pancake!!! wake up!!!”, you hear your dad shouting at you. You open your eyes violently, “What??? What happened dad??”. “The cattle, some… something attacked them…”, he says horrified. “What?” ...

You get dressed and run to the cowshed. A poor steer lays there, he has been attacked by some kind of animal… with fangs, and the poor thing looks like he has lost some blood. Luckily he was still alive, so you helped him instantly.

“Pancakes, what are those wounds on the neck the animal has?”, your dad asks. “To be honest, dad, I don’t know. It looks like some kind of animal has bitten the steer, but didn’t eat it… it looks like… has drunk some of his blood…”, you say to your dad astonished even more than him. “But, what kind of animal could do such a thing?”, he inquiries. “The only ones that could do it are the Desmodontinae, or vampire bats… but they are not typical in this hemisphere…

The incident quickly spread and everyone in town was talking about it. Luckily the animal recovered in a few hours, as the wounds weren’t that bad.

You can’t stop thinking about Law, and quickly you forget about the animal incident. He has been on your mind all morning, “why did he run away?” ... That afternoon you decide to go see if Law is at home, you really need to ask him about last night… Plus, deep inside you are a little bit annoyed, you wanted him to kiss you…

You ring the bell of the wooden house, but there is no answer. Since the blinds were all shut down, you think that he must be at work.

Suddenly little Bepo appears meowing from the backyard. “Hi Bepo!! Is your daddy at home?”, you ask the little cat while ruffling his head fur. The cat rubs on your leg and then walks back to the backyard, so you decide to follow him.

If Law isn’t at home you could perhaps take a look at his patio. You are curious and he represented a mystery you wanted to decode, really bad.

At first you think you’ve seen someone looking at you from one of the windows of the house, but you thought it was just your imagination. You trespass private property.

The patio showed nothing but a bucket on one of the corners, next to an old mossy bench. You follow Bepo, and as you are approaching the metal pail that has something red inside, your phone rings. “God damn!!”, you jump scared. The phone screen shows an unknown number calling, “That’s weird”, you say and pick up. “Hello?”, “Hi!, Y/n-ya, it’s me, Law. I’m sorry to bother you but I wanted to apologize about last night”. Law… LAW! You realize you are still in his yard so you quickly leave the place and start walking home. “Don’t worry, I guess it must be a little intimidating to be with someone that smells like… blood”, you say. A silence takes the call but then Law simply laughs -again, a fake laugh- and tells you that he will call you later to compensate you for last night. You agree and say goodbye.

You close the door behind you leaning over it, gasping. Your heart races. What if he knows you’ve been stalking his house…? “I’m such a creep”, you say to yourself, and go to your room.

You spend the afternoon in your backyard with your mum, October is about to end so the fall season is at its peak. Maple leaves fall from a big tree next to your porch and garnish the patio with its coppery colors.

That night, your parents and brother were invited to a party in the next town, so they won’t come back until the next day. After a hot meal you go to sleep. You haven’t received any messages from Law yet and you wonder if you should text him or just let him do it first. You finally decide that he should be texting you first, so you snuggle in bed and close your eyes. For the third night in a row, you dream with those eyes, with the smell of blood. But, this time it's so intense that you awake instantly in the middle of the night. “Again?”, you say while brushing your hand over your eyes.

Suddenly you hear something knocking on your window… “Law?!”, you say, gasping. He mimics something similar to an “open please”. Your bed is next to the window so you are still sitting there in your pjs, so you stretch to open the window.

“What are you doing here?”, you ask him while helping him to enter. Law sits on the bed and tells you, whispering “I’m sorry, I was missing you, I really, really needed to see you… plus I told you I wanted to compensate for yesterday”.

A subtle light from the moon illuminates half of your faces, and you are speechless. “So, this is how he plans to compensate for running away last night? He is on my bed… he looks so sexy… damn”, you think. But Law starts acting innocently, and begins to ask you about the trophies on your shelves.

You tell him about how good you were at volleyball when you were in high school, and he tells you that he was too. “Where did you take that picture?”, he asks, pointing to an old photo you had pinned on the cork board. “This one?” you say, and when you grab it the side of the paper cuts your finger softly but enough to make some blood sprout. “Ouch!”, you say and you are about to take your finger to your mouth when Law grabs your wrist violently. “L-Law?!! What are you doing?”, you tell him, scared trying to unfasten from his hand. Law doesn’t speak, he starts to tremble, he is breathing fast, he is squeezing your wrist.

“Let me go, Law!” you say, but he doesn’t hear. He is somehow focused on perhaps staying still, trying to avoid something. He suddenly looks at you, his expression resembles a beast, beads of sweat run through his temples. His eyes change from grey to a bright yellow, his pupils dilate. His prominent canines are now true fangs.

Law is salivating, his veins are now visible on his forehead, you can see how his blood pumps faster. You can’t understand what the hell is going on, but for some reason you don’t scream. You concentrate on his eyes, you are able to see a remaining humanity in them, so you are far from scared.

He lets go of your hand, and kneels on the floor. Law is panting soundly; he is fighting against himself. “Calm down”, you say to him. He looks up to you, with tears in his eyes, still emitting guttural sounds. He is surprised to see how your face doesn’t show terror, nor contempt. You don’t know why, but you are even more attracted to him, dangerously attracted. You were willing to let him drink your blood if he wanted to…

With a smirk on your face, you say to him, “Blood is what you want, huh?”. He opens his mouth, and a pair of sharp fangs are shown. He shakes his head, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he needs you. “I trust you; I know you won’t hurt me. You can drink from me”, you offer him. You know he is able to stop, and somehow everything makes sense. The poor animal this morning, he has just drunk a little blood but didn’t inflict mortal wounds to it. If he was that considerate to an animal, he will probably be with you too. -Or that is what you wanted to believe-.

He swallows, and still trembles and without any warning he pounces on you. Your back hits your bed and he's over you. He fixes his eyes on yours and asks you, "are you sure about this?". "Uhum", you nod. You are so desperate for him, that you probably consider yourself a beast more than him.

Law buries his fingers on your cheeks, and violently moves your head to the side, exposing your neck. You feel a few drops of saliva that falls into your skin from his mouth, and see how he approaches your neck.

He bites you, but even if it hurts, he is drinking your blood from your carotid so subtly, so carefully. A few seconds later, he stops. Some of your warm blood runs from the wound onto your bed.

"T-Thank you…" he says, planting a soft kiss over the little holes on your skin, caressing your hair. "You are welcome", you say, almost naturally as if being bitten by some kind of beast was something you always do.

But suddenly, you start to experience some kind of pressure on your chest, and breathing becomes difficult. Your eyes roll back, and you feel different. You look at him, trying to understand what is going on, and he simply brushes his tattooed hands over your face. "Don't worry, it's normal. You are not going to turn into… me. But, a little bit of me runs through your veins now…". He says, brushing his hand over his mouth trying to clean the mess your vital fluid has left on his lips.

You are not worried about becoming into a vampire or whatever the hell he is, but because you are experiencing a strong need to touch him, to kiss him, to fuck him. "Kiss me", you command him.

He looks at you, still settled over your body and your lips meet. His tongue invades your mouth, and you can taste the metallic rests of your blood on his mouth.

Without separating your mouths helps you take off your white -blood stained- shirt and then you do the same with him. His torso shows a big design inked on his skin, and a few wounds.

His fangs subtly scrape your skin, from your neck, to your chest, lower through your stomach. He spreads your legs with his strong arms, and softly but enough to leave some marks, bites the skin of your inner thighs. The feeling of those fangs softly ripping the first layers of your skin made yourself squirm in pleasure.

His yellow eyes fix on yours, and now he is devouring your sex. You throw your head back and surrender to his skilled tongue movements. What follows next is an extremely hard pounding session, that leaves you trembling, exhausted, sore… but satisfied.

Since then, every night you let him slowly drink you up, drop by drop, giving to him a bit of your life every time. Your eyes slowly changed colors, first a little patch of yellow, then half of your right iris…

A deadly, dangerous attraction, that won’t last forever… or maybe, if you decide to let everything aside and turn into a full vampire like him… who knows? maybe your obsessive love for him would end up changing your life… forever. ♥