#the expression on the person next to me's face as he rolled the dice and realized he had lost

[therealnotta]

Had the wildest dream

Okay, so the backstory is that I was part of this massive group of immortals. Hundreds of people. We had all been around for so long that we couldn't remember a time when we were able to die, and the world had fallen into shambles, leaving only us and our super cool, technologically advanced floating cities. With so much time, we had been able to devise a way to live on our own, even with the rest of humanity gone.

And we HATED IT. Hated, hated, hated it. Nothing new to do but what you make up, and we had already made up everything we could think of. So, someone spent their countless years of experience and knowledge finding a way that they could die.

And they did! It worked! We could be at rest and join our mortal loved ones who had gone before us! But it felt... anticlimactic, and after being immortal for so long you tend to get a flair for the dramatic, so we couldn't just up and die. No, we had to make an event of it.

What we settled on was a game, which is what the dream actually was; everything else was just an understanding I had of what had already happened. It was a dice game, relatively simple, but that made it better; there wasn't much you could do to bribe or lie or cheat your way out of it. Everyone was dressed in their finest, and there was some way you could lose on your turn; if you did, you'd go off and die.

There were only seventeen of us left, and we were starting to get nervous. Of course, you wanted to be the last one. The honor of being the last person who ever lived? Yeah, that was right up our alley. But actually, what about the garden? What about the birds? What about the beautiful sculptures that we would never see again? It was late into the night, and we would never see the sun, and it was all starting to be less appealing. But all of our friends were gone, now. People we thought we could never lose. And would it hurt? We couldn't exactly ask the people who had gone before. And what if it didn't work, what if we were still aware, just not physically alive?

I woke up feeling annoyed, because I wanted to know how it resolved. If I could choose, it'd be that the machine was just a sort of teleporter, and the real purpose of it was to remind us that even here, at the end of the world, there's still more left to do. I'd just feel too bad about the people I watched, mildly terrified, get up from their seat and leave the room. Because they couldn't back out now.

[cordyce]

BY YOUR HANDS ALONE

neteyam sully x gn!reader

notes: this is silly & overtly fluffy & all over the place if i am completely honest rn. neteyam is a little flustered & probably ooc. sorry :’)

"there you are."

"here i am," you mirror back instantly, hardly sparing a glance up at the far too familiar voice as your fingers continue to work at chopping up some vegetables. it's a busy day—a momentous day. there is no time to waste.

"let me help," neteyam offers, already making moves to steal your knife from you as he steps to your side.

but you weave it away from his grasp, nudge him back with your shoulder and point the knife at him as you address him. "aht, don't think so," you differ, then continue your slicing. "besides, don't you have your own tasks to get to, mr. mighty warrior?"

days like this require a lot of preparation; everyone chipping in and doing their part so that it all gets done and runs smoothly. if even one person slacks off, it could cause a rift in sanctified plans. and that simply wouldn’t do. no, it would not.

"i have completed all of them, actually," he retorts, but he shrivels when you narrow your eyes up at him. "okay, almost all of them."

you scoff, let your pupils meet your sockets with a roll as you pry the truth out of him. of course, one of the most important days of the year and it is now that neteyam chooses to have an irresponsible whim. you aren’t sure what you’re gonna do with him.

"your mother will have your tail if she finds one thing out of place for tonight, you know this." it isn't necessarily a warning, but there is some tip-off in your tone. "you must get everything done."

neteyam hums, leans his hip against the raised wood that you are using as a makeshift counter. he says nothing, simply watches you. takes into account how you dice up the vegetables in front of you diligently before sliding them to the side with your knife and moving onto the next ones. his stare is driving you crazy—no one works well under pressure, after all.

it causes you to have a slight blunder; a misstep. you cut a pattern a tad too fast and send a slice of root tumbling towards the ground. neteyam's instincts are superb, quick, and he catches it before it hits the dirt. mumbling a thank you under your breath as he places it back on the tray, you find the heir before you still not making a move to speak.

you aren't sure why it unnerves you so.

"what do you have left to complete?" it's not the question you want to ask, but 'what the hell do you keep staring at?' doesn't sound quite as nice. so you settle on it.

you take a pause, a breath, to turn to him. throughout the years you have seen the eldest sully child wear many expressions. ones tainted by smiles, irritation, pride, devotion—but this one has you tipping your head in the most peculiar way.

because timidness is not something you think you've ever seen don the strong features of neteyam sully.

he carries himself with such an air of confidence; shoulders pressed back and chin held high—not arrogant, but undaunted. he does not shift gaze unless he is avoiding scoldings and he does not suck in his cheek unless he is fighting frustration. so, you wonder, what could possibly have his face contorted in such a reticent manner. if you did not know any better, you’d almost call his demeanor a rendition of shy. but that seems rather uncharacteristic of him, doesn’t it?

"ah—are you sure you don't need help with that?" he's deflecting, brushing off your inquiry like he hasn't heard it. and you can't decide whether you find that amusing or concerning.

he's making way for your knife again and you twist your arm to hold it out of his reach behind you. you eye him carefully, flit your gaze all around him to pick up on anything that you can that would explain his behavior.

"tell me." it's not an order, you aren't demanding, but neteyam nods his head like he's respondent of such.

"my father told me i needed a, uhm," he stutters, licks his lips, like he's tripping over his own tongue. and it's undeniable the way you see his ears twitch. "for the celebration tonight. i need a.."

"a what, neteyam?" you press, cock your brow up at him. you don't think you've ever seen him like this. never witnessed him so.. "you need a what?"

"a.. date."

so fidgety.

"a date?" you repeat with widening eyes.

"no, no not a—not a date really but i need someone for the—“

"the staining ceremony.” you finish for him, continue his sentence because with all his blubbering you aren’t sure he’ll ever spit it out.

he nods curtly.

the celebration tonight is for all the young warriors who have proved themselves throughout the calendar year as being strong willed and great protectors of the clan. neteyam, of course, is one of them. has been since he earned the right to be titled as such. so perhaps it should have clicked in your head that he’d be searching for a partner for the staining ceremony portion of the night.

but a part of you—if you’re being completely honest with yourself—just figured he had one already. events like this take weeks of planning; most warriors find their artisan a fortnight in advance. because it cannot just be anyone.

the partner one chooses for the staining ceremony must be someone with whom they feel a connection. some of the older warriors choose their mates. some of the youngest choose their mother or father. some settle for siblings. others, in brazen acts of outstretched hands, choose a mate unbonded; one who they harbor feelings for but have yet to seal such in the eyes of Eywa.

you cannot lie and say you had not pondered over who neteyam’s choice would be. a part of you thought he would pick kiri—they have always been so close and she has been his partner for such ceremony before. but, you are not deaf to the murmurs of your village, you are not ignorant of what has been passed from mouth to ear of all that will listen. there have been other… prospects who have been suggested to neteyam for this special commemoration.

your name has not been among them.

“well,” you continue, tear your eyes away from him and get back to the task at hand. there is no need to dwell on such things and fall behind. you have just one more batch of greens after this to prepare then you will be done and can walk away from all this. “if you’re here to ask my opinion on who your choice should be, i’m not sure i will prove to be much help.”

a shut down; a cut off. you’d like this conversation to be over as soon as possible because it’s making your fingers itch. you’re offering him a gateway to close the topic off.

but he doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“no,” he chuckles, now, and you can tell he’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. it’s breathy; like he’s punched it out of his chest and finally broken past the barrier of whatever flusteredness had him trapped before. “that’s not why i came to find you.”

“if it’s to convince kiri to sacrifice herself to do it for you again this year, i’m not game for that either.” you don’t understand why his laughter leaves you agitated, why this whole situation has caused an odd twisting in your gut.

“that won’t be necessary,” he disputes, “i do not need kiri to be my partner this year.”

your fingers fumble, your slicing stutters. “oh?” and you want to kick yourself for how your voice hitches. you clear your throat, bite the corner of your lip that neteyam can’t see. “convince some other poor soul to do it for you? is it zuy’nik? i know she presented you a kill from her hunt recently.”

neteyam hums. “no. i have not chosen zuy’nik.”

you grip your knife harder, focus carefully on the blade as you chop down on a bundle of leaves. your throat is dry, your heart is thundering. you feel silly.

“sënuul, then?” you question, do your best to sound as disinterested as possible even though your chest is burning to know who could be lucky enough to have been picked by the heir himself. “i hear many young warriors wish for her. they say she has delicate hands.”

your hands—in contrast—have grown tense; your chops near erratic. being this worked up over a man who is not your mate seems so futile, so nonsensical. if your mother were here to see you now she’d call you childish.

but is it so childish to want things your heart yearns for?

“while that may be true,” neteyam agrees with the sentiment, and that makes your stomach lurch, “it is not sënuul either.”

“then who is it? who could you possibly—“

a hand covering yours has you cutting yourself off. neteyam’s palm melds over your knuckles; stops your unsafe cutting and stills your wrist’s movements. before you can even bring yourself to look at him, calloused fingers are hooking around your chin. swiveling your head around, you have no choice but to meet his gaze. and it is not averting, not twinkling with tepidness like it was before. you think, for a moment, that’s because he’s passed the feeling onto you.

“i do not wish for any other partner in this clan.” and his voice does not waver, does not stumble, now. you swallow as you listen. “i came here to ask if you would do me the honors, for tonight.”

your tongue feels like cotton; the fuzz of it floating to your brain to make everything go static. this is.. not what you had expected.

you had expected to follow neytiri’s orders for preparing the food for the meals that would be shared. you had expected to dress yourself in the ceremonial clothing and jewelry you keep for these special occasions. you had expected to stand around the edges of the circle during the opening dance, serve food to the elders, and sit with a content tight smile as you watched kiri declare neteyam’s war paint for the third year in a row before the true celebration began.

you had not expected yourself to be standing face to face with neteyam, ears twitching embarrassingly sporadic, as he asks you to join him in one of the most intimate and important events of a warrior’s life.

and you suppose you can use that element of surprise as the reason why you find yourself a tad bit speechless while you nod dumbly. a wide grin cracks across his face, curves up his cheeks as he lets out another breathy laugh.

“thank you,” he murmurs, and he still hasn’t let go of your chin. “i was worried i would not get the chance to ask you in time. i was pushing it, but i tried to get all my other duties done as fast as i could.”

now that, the mention of time, finally knocks you out of your little lovesick trance.

“hey, wait,” you huff, shove at his chest lightly with your free hand. “you should have asked me sooner! i should have already had your stain pattern planned out, and—and now i have to go get all of your paints and i didn’t factor in the time for that. you’re terrible!”

“ah, i’m not terrible. i am sure you can just wing it,” he waves off, simpers like this is funny.

“wing it?” you gape at him. because he genuinely cannot be serious. “this will be your war paint pattern for the rest of the year. if it’s bad then you will be stuck with it. you want me just to wing that?!”

“why not? i have faith in you, i’ve put myself into your hands.” and it’s meant to playful, you know this, but the way he’s looking at you proves his words hold their full weight regardless. “don’t be mad at me.”

“oh, i’m mad,” you retort, brush him away as you get back to slicing because now you really do not have the time for distractions. “i cannot believe you have waited until last minute.”

“would you like me to ask someone else?” he queries, and you whip your head over to level him with a glare. “i mean, i am sure sënuul would be honored to be the partner of the future olo’eyktan.”

“you know, i liked you better when you were sputtering and nervous,” you spit back, retract your attention once again. “terrible. truly terrible.”

“ah, do not be mad at me,” he levels again, “what can i do to have you forgive me?”

“nothing. you will never be forgiven.” with no hesitation, but also no malice. your bite holds no venom, and your cheeks are still warm. such hypocrisy you spew.

“nothing?” he questions, and you don’t even have to see his face to know he is smiling. there he is again; the neteyam who holds his chin up high and taunts his brother into mindless games to prove his worth. you admire this neteyam; love this neteyam.

this neteyam grabs your face and tugs you forward before you can think of another mindless rebuttal to spout.

the kiss is light but fervent, and if you were a poetic person you might just say that his lips taste like future promises you already intend to keep. the fight drains from your body and you find no urge to bring it back. this neteyam seems to know how to quell you, how to dispel your frustration and wipe away your grievances like fogged up glass. so easy, so effortlessly.

he pulls away languidly, breath puffing against your lips. "forgive me?" he asks again, and you find yourself nodding before he even finishes the question.

he turns your head to peck your cheek then drops his hands to finally successfully steal the knife still held in yours. you tip your head, blinking through the daze to inquire what he's doing.

"i can finish that, you know."

"i know," he answers, then flashes you a crooked grin that has your stomach twisting in a way far different than before. "but don't you think you should start planning how you want to trail your hands over me?"

and, oh. part of you wants to hit him for that. but part of you wants to tug him in by the neckpiece he dons and get him to shut up by an alternative method.

as you reach forward to run your hand ever so heedlessly up his chest, a faux illusion of planning your mapping, you think you might just settle on the latter.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

[bewitchedfeathers]

"I would love to read Steve wearing a feather boa as a "character decision" at the D&D session after he first sees Eddie's big messy snz 👀👀👀 and maybe Eddie denying he's allergic to it? Aaaaa 🙈"

Thank you for this awesome request! And your patience in me filling it! I hope you like it! Also I added sneeze kink Steve for fun.

Please only reblog if you're a kink blog but likes from main blogs are welcome! ❤️

—-

It was Robin's fault really. Or that was the story he was sticking to if anyone asked. The teens had started their own short campaign run by Eddie. Robin had let him know that everyone was going to try to dress up in someway that represented their character and as a Kenku (bird person) fighter Steve wore a feather boa.

It definitely had nothing to do with the fact that Eddie had buried his face in a feather filled pillow on Steve's couch and pulled away with a loud messy sneeze, very unlike his usual stifled triples.

Steve had even asked if he was allergic and he'd waved him off saying no, so Steve figured maybe he'd see a sneeze or two during the session, enjoy the view and move on.

Turns out Eddie was a fucking liar.

—--

Steve arrived last to find Eddie and Nancy in a heated, but lighthearted debate. Eddie had a wild grin on his lips and Nancy had a stubborn gleam to her eyes that Steve was familiar with.

He met Robin’s eyes and they shared a look of commiseration over their respective crushes and how they would probably leave together after this to whine about them. He sat across from Robin and next to the DM screen where Eddie would be sitting.

Eddie and Nancy broke apart and Eddie’s gaze swung to Steve and caught on his feather boa. His eyes went wide for a moment before a mask of lazy amusement fell over his face.

“I like your new look, Stevie,” he said with a smirk.

Steve tossed one end of the feather boa over his shoulder and looked at Eddie through his lashes. He thought he saw a quick wince when the gesture sent a few bits of feather up into the air. “Thanks. I’m trying something new,” he said with a shit eating grin.

“Alright, less flirting, more tracking down the evil wizard,” Nancy cuts in, cutting through the tension as she pulls out her dice bag and character sheet. Robin giggles behind her hand and Steve shoots her a look of betrayal that just makes her laugh harder.

Eddie settles behind his DM screen and into his seat, shuffling some papers and giving his nose a rough rub with his sleeve. “Alright, adventurers. Your party now stands…”

Eddie reminds them where they left off in the woods trying to track down the evil wizard that had kidnapped their NPC companion last game. Steve is enthralled by Eddie’s storytelling, as usual, but he starts to get a little distracted as Eddie’s speech starts to become broken up by sniffles. When the three players are debating their next action he sees Eddie massaging his nose between two fingers turning it a lovely pink.

Steve nods distractedly as Robin and Nancy continue to discuss what they want to do. They reach an agreement while Steve is shooting surreptitious glances towards Eddie’s nose.

“We unlock the dungeon door with the skeleton key and step inside,” Nancy announces, startling Steve out of his reverie as Eddie drops his hand away from his nose. Eddie’s expression stretches into a wide grin.

“From the shadows down near the end of the dungeon hallway emerges a Beholder! Snf. Roll initiative,” he says with a dramatic wave of his hand as he pulls out a miniature from behind his DM screen.

As they roll and figure out turn order Eddie’s sniffling increases and he rubs a knuckle under his nose. And then his head bobs down behind his screen with three stifled sneezes. “Hhh’hh’KNxt….Hn’tssht…Tshxt..snf.” Steve nearly rolls his dice straight off the table he’s so distracted by it. Robin and Nancy are oblivious as they strategize quietly together.

Nancy starts by casting a spell that misses and then it’s the monster’s turn. “The beholder’s many eyes begin to…to glow and a burst of-huh–TSSHT…scuse me," he rubs his index finger under his nose before continuing, "A burst of colorful light emerges and shoots out towards Sir Stephen and Rhiannon. Roll a…hh..SNF a wisdom saving throw. Hh’KSSH-uh. snfsnf.” Eddie's cheeks look a little pink and he brushes his hair back out of his face as he sniffles.

“Bless you,” Nancy said with a little frown of concern as the other two rolled. Steve was trying not to squirm in his seat at how hot Eddie was struggling with what seemed like a persistent tickle in his nose.

“Thanks,” Eddie responded quietly as he gave his nose a rough rub with his sleeve.

“16.” “13.”

“Sir Stephen just manages to dodge out of the way of the ray of light but…huh…” Eddie presses a finger under his nose, lashes fluttering as he tries to fight off another sneeze and then fails. “Hh’GSSHHeww…hh’hh’ISHHuhh….fuck…”

“Bless you,” Nancy says as Robin chimes in with an, “Are you okay?”

Steve watches mesmerized as Eddie fails to stifle and lets out two wet sneezes over his curled fist. Eddie nods in answer to Robin’s concern but his breath is already wavering again as he stands from his seat and stumbles out of the room with two more barely stifled sneezes. “Hhh’TSHXT….ITSHkt!”

Steve tosses his boa aside and darts after him. He catches Eddie just outside the bathroom bracing one hand on the door frame as he pinches his nose between to fingers and harshly stifles three more sneezes. “Hhhh’tkxt-ntsht-ihkkt…” He lets out a soft exhale afterwards and blinks open watery eyes.

“Shit, Bless you, Eddie,” Steve murmurs guiltily, “Let me help.” He presses a hand to Eddie’s lower back and guides him into the bathroom bringing him a box of tissues and wetting a wash cloth for his eyes.

“Thanks, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs as he settles on the closed toilet lid, looking embarrassed but not enough to turn Steve away. He takes the tissues and wipes at his hand and nose, but the touch of the tissues makes his nostrils flutter with irritation and then he he’s heaving in a deep breath.

“Huhhhh’ESSHHewww….Hih’hh’DJSHhhew…..IESSHHuhh…Hhh’MPHhhtshoo…ngh..”

“Bless you,” Steve gets out with his voice rough with arousal. He clears his throat, trying to sound normal. “Are you alright, Eddie?”

“Snfff. Umb yeah. I didn’t thindk it would…Hh’TSSHhh…it would get this bad. I just didn’t wandt to ruin the f-fun. Snfsndfff.” Eddie paused to blow his nose and grimaced at the sound it made. Steve tried to think of calculus to make sure his pants didn’t get any tighter.

“Eddie…” Steve murmured softly chastising, “You being comfortable is more important than anything else. Was it the feathers?” He asked despite knowing the answer, wanting to coax Eddie into admitting it.

“Yeah. Hh’TSSHh. I’m allergic to them,” he said blush spreading to his ears as he looked down towards the tissue box balanced on his knees. Eddie wipes his nose with the used tissues and then tosses them into the wastebasket.

“Bless you. I promise I wouldn’t have brought it if I’d known,” Steve said unable to explain that he’d known it might make him sneeze but not that it would bother him this much.

Eddie shoots him an amused look. "Snfff. I know, Steve. It's Sndff ndot your fault. Snfsnfsnf. Hh…"

Eddie’s hand hovers below his brow pinches and his lips part with a sneezy expression. Steve snags a tissue and presses it into Eddie’s hand and then nudges Eddie’s hand up to his face just in time for Eddie to sneeze.

“Hhh’ISSH*ieww*...hh’ESSHew-Issh-ISSH-IGSHHuhhh….” Steve shivers with pleasure as a bit of spray escapes and catches his arm before Eddie manages to clamp the tissue to his face. Eddie blows his nose to interrupt another wavering breath and then sighs with relief when the tickle abates.

“Bless you, Eddie. Want me to grab you some allergy meds?”

“Snff. I probably should, thanks Steve,” Eddie agrees with a bashful expression. It’s cute how he seems embarrassed by his allergies, it makes Steve want to bundle him up and also–he cuts off the thought before it can send anymore blood to between his legs.

Steve made quick work of grabbing some pills from the medicine cabinet upstairs and a glass of water. Eddie had made use of the washcloth Steve had forgotten about and his eyes looked a little less red.

After Eddie took them with a quick swallow of water he fiddled with the water glass between his palms. “I meant it by the way. Thank you. Iknow my sneezing gets a little…gross when my allergies get going like that,”he said with a little grimace.

Steve tried to keep a poker face that didn’t let on how hot he found Eddie’s ‘gross’ allergies. “It’s not gross, drama queen. Just some sneezing. But did you want to wrap up for the day, finish another time?”

“No way. I’ll be fine,” he immediately protested. “Maybe just stash the feather boa somewhere else?”

Steve let out a huff of laughter. “Of course, Eds. I’ll make sure not to bring it out with you around.” No matter how much he wanted to.

“Good idea,” Eddie said with a self deprecating grin. He rose to his feet with a clap of his hands. “Now. Back to fighting the Beholder.”

.......

Thank you for reading! ❤️ Comments, likes and reblogs are so appreciated. And I'm open for Stranger Things requests!

(Snz Fic Masterlist)

[dreamsclock]

🐸 hi sparrow

hiiiiii charlie :D have some dnd dsmp au i wrote idk how dnd works but i had a cool idea for this fic and then never continued it. here is something to make you giggle

“Welcome home, Tommy. Welcome back! Welcome– Welcome back to exile!”

Tommy’s breath stutters. “You’re– You’re not–” The words register with him, click in his mind. “This isn’t– This isn’t fucking home, Dream, don’t–”

“Knew I’d see you back here eventually!” The masked man saunters closer. When Tommy looks closer, he’s favoring his left leg, the right one dragging just a little. “Not like– I mean, you’ve got anywhere else to go, right? Like…” The older pauses, tilting his head. Dread runs down Tommy’s spine. “I mean, this is where you belong. This is where your real home is.”

“No it’s fucking not!” 

“Oh yeah?” The masked man cocks his head. “Look around, Tommy! Look around! There’s nobody else here, just the two of us. Just like old times. You’ve got nobody outside of me, Tommy. Of course this is your home.”

“You’re a sick fucking monster, Dream,” Tommy hisses, backing away, heart pounding in his chest. “And I have– I have friends, alright, I have so many fuckin’ friends, just–”

“Then why are none of them here?”

Tommy has no answer to that. A laugh builds up in Dream’s chest, mean, thin, as the younger stumbles against a break in the ground, almost falling over. 

“Don’t you miss exile, Tommy?” Dream continues. “Don’t you miss how close we used to be? Me and you, we were… I dunno, we were like best friends! That’s why you’re back, right?” The Axe of Peace glints in his hands, and he chuckles. “You’re not back for the axe. You’re back because you miss home.”

“Can I roll for a trauma response?”

The tension in the call shatters like ice. From his little office room, Wilbur buries his head dramatically in his hands while Dream splutters in amusement. From the groans and complaints from the others in the call, Tommy doesn’t need to look at the other cameras to tell his other friends are feeling similar ways. 

“Roll for trauma?” Dream wheezes. “Haven’t you been playing him traumatized this whole time? Why do you need to roll now?”

“No, no, no,” Tommy says airily, “that wasn’t trauma. That was just a little taste of the trauma. I like to keep my characters spicy, Dream.”

“And by spicy you mean messed up.”

“Yup.” Popping the last syllable, grinning like a madman, Tommy glances towards the screen, giving his best puppy-dog expression to the Dungeon Master. “What do you say, king? Roll for trauma?”

The Dungeon Master, the only person with their camera off, laughs. “You can roll a memory check,” they suggest in amusement, “see how badly exile affects your character. That’s like trauma, right?”

Flinging himself back in his chair, Tommy slides down it, expression shifting from pleading to pained. “You know I have low stats for memory,” he complains, “can’t trauma come under… I dunno, like, fuckin’– dexterity, or something?”

“Make him roll for a survival check,” Tubbo chirps over the call, and Tommy can hear the grin in his voice, “just because he’s being difficult.”

The call resounds in laughter. Tommy sits up straighter in indignation. “Now hang on–”

“Make him roll survival, make him roll survival,” Sapnap says excitedly. 

George snorts. “Yeah, great idea. Start working on a new character sheet, Tommy, you’re going to need him next session.”

“I’m not really gonna need a survival check, am I?” Tommy pouts. “C’mon, Wil– Yeah, Wil, you’ll back me up, right?”

He locks eyes with Wilbur. Wilbur Soot, ex-Dungeon Master of the Dream SMP campaign, experienced D&D player, master of the die and evil mastermind, smiles back at him.

“Roll the dice, Tommy,” he says unsympathetically, and Tommy groans.

“This is so dumb,” he whines, picking up the dice, “I mean, it’s gonna be fuckin’ fine, but it’s just a waste of–”

He stops. He stares at the face of the die incredulously. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

The call erupts with laughter.

“What’d you get?” Tubbo goads. “Are you gone? Are you actually dead?”

“There’s no way– There’s no way,” Dream giggles, barely able to get the words out, “Tommy, tell– tell us the number. Tell us the number. Are you alive?”

“You guys are fuckin’ dumb!” Tommy mutters viciously, holding the die up. The face reflects back a single dot. Everybody present finds it far more comical than Tommy himself, who sinks down in his seat, dismayed. “I did it as a joke, it was just a joke– C’mon, you can’t be serious, this isn’t real, right? This isn’t canon?”

“Dream,” the DM says, “roll to hit. How are you gonna kill him?”

“I–” Dream’s wheezes are overtaking his words. “I just rolled a natural twenty.”

Wilbur is crying in the call. Sapnap’s raucous laughter drowns out most other people. Quackity has slid off his chair from laughter. Slowly, Tommy feels his lips begin to quirk upwards. 

“Roll for damage?” The DM is chuckling, and the chuckles only turn into a full blown laugh when Dream turns his camera to his die, which shows maximum damage. “Oh, God. Okay–”

“I use healing,” Tommy complains, “I eat bread and throw a pearl.”

“I slam my axe into Tommy’s back while he’s trying to heal,” Dream turns his camera back around to his face, wiping his eyes, “and he just drops dead, right– right there, on the ground, before he can enderpearl away. Boom, story over. I win.”

There are various boos and laughs from the call. Tommy buries his face in his hands to hide the mirth on his face. “What the hell, man.”

“Oh, God,” Techno drawls, “what’re people gonna do without the main character? They might actually have to start acknowledgin’ every character is their own main character and a side character in everyone else’s, oh no.”

“Techno, oh my god,” Philza gasps, and Tommy can see the tears of laughter in his eyes, “Tommy, mate, what’s your move?”

“No, don’t worry.” The DM – Tommy’s knight in shining armour, the love of Tommy’s life, the apple of Tommy’s eye, the beauty in Tommy’s beholder, et cetera – clears their throat. “Don’t worry, I was kidding. Tommy, your character doesn’t actually die. You’re fine.”

George boos.

“We’ll get to you, George,” the DM snickers, “you might have to roll survival checks yourself. Your whole storyline with XD isn’t looking so good for your character.”

“I’m ready,” George says, dramatically, “I’ve had my death planned out since I made him.”

Sapnap splutters. “Dude. That’s so sick. Poor character-George.”

“He’s an idiot,” real-George shrugs, “and he sleeps a lot.”

“Oh, so people deserve to die because they sleep, now?” Quackity asks. When Tommy looks at his camera, he’s giving George a deadly smile. “Okay, so how about when you slept through our last session–”

“Quackity, you’re so violent–”

“Guys!” Tommy yells. “I am about to die in the game and in real life. Pull yourselves together, Jesus Christ. Let me have my fifteen seconds of fuckin’ fame.”

“Whatever.” George rolls his eyes haughtily. “Proceed with your little ghost character. TommyGhost. GhostInnit.”

Ignoring George’s mocking with a dignified air, Tommy sniffs. “DM?”

“Right.” The DM chuckles, and from their black screen, there’s the rustle of notes being flipped. “So, Tommy and Dream are facing off..."

[youngpettyqueen]

Kiss roulette: A romantic kiss (and whatever other kisses you feel like adding) for Charles/Hawkeye.

alright we've got romantic kiss and (rolls dice) 30! which is... kiss to the palm of the hand! aka perfect roll to drive me specifically insane

"I swear I'm gonna be arthritic by the time I'm 35," Hawkeye complains as he tosses his coat over onto his cot. His cot which he ignores, instead dropping down to take a seat beside Charles on his, "Damn this cold..." He mutters, bundling in on Charles' personal space.

Charles sits up from removing his boots. "You certainly complain like an arthritic old man," He replies drily. He notices Hawkeye is rubbing at his right wrist again, though, his expression drawn into a grimace, "Is that still bothering you?" He asks.

Hawkeye nods. "It's been killing me since yesterday," He admits, "Think I did one 12 hour shift too many, and this deep freeze doesn't help." He flexes his fingers with a wince.

Charles can sympathize- there are days he feels like his hands might go ahead and fall right off. "Here," He holds a hand out to him, "Let me."

Hawkeye gives him his hand, apparently in an agreeable mood. He usually is when they're alone- less prying eyes, especially with the tarps down to protect against the cold giving the added bonus of nobody being able to just look into the tent. Charles is quietly glad for it, since it means Hawkeye can bundle up against him and share his body heat.

He gently rubs Hawkeye's wrist, and the reaction is immediate. Hawkeye sinks against him with a quiet groan, all but melting into a puddle against his side. Charles allows himself a private smile, holding Hawkeye's hand close to his chest as he massages the stiffness out of the joint.

"Charles." He mumbles, a bit muffled as he's squished his cheek right up against Charles' shoulder.

"Hm?" Charles hums, focused on his task.

"You could make a guy believe in Heaven." Hawkeye informs him.

Charles chuckles at that. "It's just as I've always said. I do one thing," He brings Hawkeye's hand up closer to his face, "I do it very well. And then," He presses a kiss to Hawkeye's palm, smiles at the second little groan that earns him, "I move on."

Hawkeye turns his face up to look at him. "Where were you thinking of moving on to?" He asks, big, eager grin on his face.

Charles replies by showing him- ducking down and pressing his next kiss to Hawkeye's lips.

They have an hour before BJ's post-OP shift is over. Better make the most of it.

[heheidks]

mike S1 analysis (kinda)

this isn't a character analysis, its regarding the framing of mike after the events of the upside down.

so i was rewatching S1 for the hundredth time (as one does looking for byler crumbs) and something struck me.

i was on the last few mins of ep8 and i noticed something that was worth telling y'all. or maybe its just that i'm skin deep in delusion lol. also this is LONG.

background : isolated shots of people in a group setting are always used to indicate a deeper connection of that person with the object/person of focus in that particular scene.

thinking about how we got isolated shots of mike like this (when will was found) :

mike was the focus of this shot

then we were shown this as the camera zoomed in on mike (telling us that we're seeing his perspective)

then these infamous shots. the duffers had no reason to highlight mike's eagerness here (other than indicating the fact that mike and will have a very tender relationship diff than the others because we already know that the party love each other very much)

now I know this shot doesn't have mike in it but STILL we are told through that "Mike laughs". they all were jumping with excitement and were laughing so WHY HIGHLIGHT ONLY MIKE?

we see mike again when they've all shared hugs and here if you pay attention his expression says a lot. he is bubbling with pure happiness upon seeing will again.

but the intention of showing mike alone in this shot was to feed to our subconscious that mike's relationship with will is stronger (and different) than dustin and lucas's. this next shot proves my point.

dustin and lucas are blabbering about the events that happened during his disappearance and are shown TOGETHER, thus not having any indication of intimacy that we were shown in the case of mike.

then will coughs and we see mike (isolated in this shot) again with a little bit of concern on his face. (if the boys were to be shown to have equally strong friendships we would've got all three of them together in this shot but NO. we see a concerned mike and THEN we see a shot of dustin and lucas together). but WHERE do we see a group shot?

when el comes up in there convo. isn't that interesting? if mike had genuinely romantically fallen for her (as he said in his monologue) wouldn't it make sense for mike to have isolated shots here? but we don't get even a SINGLE shot of mike alone when el is being talked about. we get all three of them as if they all have the same relationship with el (platonic friendship).

then fast forward to the DnD game

we see will rolling the dice and mike looking at him fondly (pt.1)

EDIT : after reading @dinitride-art 's wonderful lighting analysis i saw another thing worth mentioning here

@dinitride-art mentioned how in s4 will is always shown in different/soft/angelic lighting whenever we're in mike's perspective.

see how in this will is bathing in light and is literally glowing while dustin and lucas are similarly lit (in low lighting).

and i don't need to say anything about this next one honestly

this means we're meant to see mike's perspective of will (soft/angelic/glowing) through the lighting choices all along.

this is when jonathan comes to pick will up and lucas is making fun of dustin. we see mike looking at will fondly(pt.2 coz honestly, this screencap of mike the preceding screencap are EXACTLY the same, as in, mike has the exact same expression on two different occasions (the second one where will isn't even the focus on the convo as opposed to the earlier one))

now one last one

mike is shown bidding will farewell TWICE, once when him and dustin are saying together and the second time here, as if he wants will to explicitly know that HE is saying goodbye.

the duffers are telling us from the beginning that there is a lot more to mike and will's relationship and they've been building it up from the start.

byler endgame.

[s-brant]

Angels Roll Their Eyes (2/2)

(gif: @toesure) (PART ONE)

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

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

Word Count: 24k

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

Hurricane Agatha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you smiling about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He isn't sure why she buys into it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

JJ misses her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Weird in what way?"

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

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

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

She sighs.

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

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

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

That part is the most fuzzy in her mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gotta catch me first!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Though he's significantly less angry than she is, JJ pulls the doorknob enough to make the door whine on its hinges and pleads with their friend, "This isn't funny, John B. Open the door."

"Not until you guys stop being immature and talk to each other."

She furrows her brows at him even though he can't see her, saying, "It's none of your business. You can't just trap us here cause you think you know what's best for us."

The sound of thunder rumbling above the house makes her flinch, hand shooting out to latch onto JJ's arm on an instinct she couldn't consciously resist. Feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her palm and the fingers clutched around his wrist sends shocks of familiar electricity up her body. Touching him always makes her feel hyperaware of herself, leaving her to wonder if he can sense her pulse picking up or notice how her breathing pattern turns uneven.

With that being said, it's safe to say that the night they spent together took that sensation of electricity and hyperawareness to a height it hadn't reached before.

That time, it wasn't a brush of their hands or an arm over her shoulder, it was the epitome of physical closeness. She couldn't handle it. He was so sickeningly sweet with her, yet, at the same time, he knew all of the right times to be commanding and in control too. There were awkward moments at first, sure, but once they became comfortable with each other, it was game over.

And whenever they've touched since, she hasn't been able to get those memories off of her mind. It's less prevalent now, since she's only holding onto him out of fear, but it's still there underneath it all—the unfiltered desperation of the lust in his eyes, the low noises that escaped his parted lips, and the strong pair of hands that pinned her hips down on the mattress to give him the leverage to really give it to her at the intensity she begged for.

It's pathetically easy for her to be sucked right back into the vortex of emotions, memories, and fears that haunt her whenever they touch, but he brings her back out of it just as easily when he speaks.

"You okay?"

John B was as good as forgotten by him as soon as he felt her jolt next to him and grab onto his wrist like she was hanging from a ravine and he was the only thing preventing her from falling. It makes him feel like a fool, but even when they're ignoring each other, the urge to comfort and protect her from anything that displeases her never disappears. He'd literally fistfight Zeus if it meant there'd be less thunder to scare her.

If he weren't hiding behind a locked door to avoid their wrath, JB would probably be calling him a simp right about now.

The concern on his face is so pure and unaffected by any of the chaos that surrounds them, both physical and emotional, that it makes her stomach turn with a sick feeling. God, he really does care about her. Why does that scare her? Why doesn't she want to believe that he cares? Why is she so set on believing that he wanted nothing more than a quick fuck from her?

Her eyes turn down to see their connected hands, realizing all in one moment what she did and pulling her hand away as if she were burned.

"I—Yeah," she stops, looking up at him, then back to the closed bedroom door, "I'm fine. You know how it is, it's just the storm."

They're both left with no choice but to face the music after days of avoidance that had no good reason behind it other than the respective doubts and fears they have. Yet even now that they're standing here, unsure of what comes next, they're hesitant to say or do anything that might disrupt the illusion they've created in the week and a half since they first ruined their friendship for good.

It feels as though the tension that has been boiling between them is coming close to turning explosive and all it will take is one tremor of their self-control for it to spill over.

Every feeling they have feels so contradictory. They want to but they also don't. They almost do it, then hesitate and decide to ignore each other for days. At the party, this tug of war game was at its peak for JJ when she was telling him about her jealousy and cuddling up to him, but he couldn't do it then, not when she was drunk. And by the time he had a whole night to think it over and see her biking away, he didn't want to risk it.

She looks away from him, hoping that "out of sight, out of mind" may ring true for once, and says to John B through the door, "Whatever, have fun. I won't hold JJ back when you finally come out of there though."

He won't actually do anything to him, maybe just a non-serious fight that'll end with her walking in on them rolling around on the floor trying to wrestle each other, but she likes to fuck with him anyway. For the dick move he just pulled, she thinks he can withstand a little teasing.

Without anything else to say, Y/N turns and walks off to make herself useful elsewhere—anything to distract from the buzzing, anxious energy that surrounds her from both the hurricane and being forced to confront JJ. She tries to play it cool though she is anything but at the moment, allowing herself to grimace once her back is turned to the blonde boy still standing against the wall in the hallway.

Maybe if she keeps pushing this false sense of normalcy, it'll work. It worked when they both started pretending things never happened between them initially after they had sex, so who's to say it can't work now?

All they have to do is get through the next 12-24 hours without talking and all will be well. Right?

They tried.

They truly tried to get through the night without inciting chaos within the Chateau, but, for these two idiots, not inciting chaos is a task easier said than done. Not only was John B much more stubborn with staying in his room than either of them bargained for, he didn't even attempt to speak to them for the first five hours and they were left with nothing to do but find new ways to avoid talking to each other.

It was simple in the beginning.

She went off on her own and sat with her headphones in to drown out the sounds of the storm.

With her eyes fluttered shut to block out anything but the sound of The Cure blasting into her ears, there was no reason for her to have to worry about anything once her nerves began to settle. Since the songs drowned out any sound and all she could see was darkness behind her closed eyelids, she was able to drift away with the distraction of the music.

The thing is, after a while, she started to see pieces of him in every song she skipped to. She made it a full minute into Just Like Heaven before a supercut of her most treasured memories of him began appearing in her head. Fade Into You? Skipped as soon as the first dreamy lyric flooded in through the tangled cords of the headphones. Cloud 9? Forty seconds in. By the time Dirty Little Secret came on, she decided that her playlist was mocking her.

The headphones were out of her ears, hastily wrapped up, and stowed away in the small pocket of her overnight bag before the chorus of the song could hit. Thankfully for her, JJ wasn't looking when she ripped the headphones out and put them away in a huff, so by the time he turned to see her again, she was laying down on the couch to "nap"—meaning she laid awake for another hour and cursed John B for making her endure this.

While she was daydreaming of a John B voodoo doll, JJ was worried about her.

Yes, the topic of their relationship/friendship/situationship/whatever-the-fuck-it-is was bombarding him against his will every five seconds, but not without him coming back to his concern for her. A small sound of thunder on an otherwise perfect day was enough to make her zone out and start getting antsy that day on the boat, so he didn't want to know how bad it could get during a time like this.

He tried to play it cool, and, in all honesty, his remaining scraps of sanity lasted a lot longer than hers. Four and a half hours passed, then, as the storm began to do its worst on their town, the power flickered out and left them in complete darkness. At that point, John B was passed out in his bedroom, so he didn't care nor notice when they had to find a few candles and stumble through the dark.

Somewhere along the way, having to search through the dark house for candles to light and place around the living room led them here...he isn't quite sure how.

JJ can hardly open his eyes enough to see through the rain that pounds against him the second he runs after her through the back door. The wind is so aggressive and unrelenting, it almost sends him stumbling a few steps when he follows her blurry figure a few paces behind where she tries to flee the house in a panic.

"Get back inside!" he shouts as he picks up his speed to catch up, "Y/N!"

The part of him that isn't focused on the pure physicality of trying to see and move through the stormy weather is utterly overwhelmed with fear. Not for himself but for her. She's deathly afraid of mild storms, let alone hurricanes, and yet she ran through the back door when he tried comforting her through an anxiety attack. One would think that she wouldn't want to go directly into the thing she fears the most, but what sent her running for the hills wasn't the panic itself, it was him.

It's hard for her to think rationally in this state, but all she knows is that he was there, he was saying all the right things and holding her, and she couldn't do it. The fear began to blend to one centered around both him and the storm. The hours of useless distractions and ruminating in her thoughts built up to this point of contention, then it snapped.

Between the thunder, his voice, and the voice in the back of her head that was urging her to confess her feelings and do as John B advised them to, it became too much. Maybe it was the most idiotic split-second decision she made without any regard for logic or reason or her safety, but she bailed. For the third time, she couldn't handle the pressure and ran from him.

The only difference is that he couldn't let her leave this time.

He gasps for air against the streams of water flowing down his face, soaking his hair and making it hang in his eyes to obstruct his view more than the weather already has. It happened so fast, neither of them are wearing shoes. His feet sink into the muddy yard with every stride he takes in his frantic pursuit of her and it frustrates him no end because of how it slows him down.

There's endless dangerous possibilities with her being out here. She could be knocked over into the marsh by the wind, or stuck and hurt by a piece of debris—merely thinking about it makes him call out her name louder in the hopes that it'll wake her from her panicked trance.

After trudging through the mud all the way to the edge of the yard, he finally manages to get to her.

"What are you doing?" JJ shouts, turning her around and grabbing onto both of her arms as if one gust of wind would sweep her away if he didn't, "You're gonna get hurt!"

Stumbling backwards in the direction of the screened-in porch that surrounds the back door, he uses their difference in strength to tug her away in the direction she came out in. The rain makes it difficult to keep a firm grasp on her, and she almost slips away a couple of times when the wind picks up enough to make him too unsteady to hold on.

His arms slip around her waist for a better grasp on her the closer they come to reaching the house. The last thing he wants is to almost get her back inside and lose her at the last second. She isn't thinking rationally right now with the panic she feels taking full control of her responses. He knows firsthand how it feels to be thrown headfirst into a panic attack, he's been in her shoes before and knows better than anyone the lengths your irrational mind will go to if it means survival. And for whatever reason, her response is flight, not fight.

The door to the screen porch takes all of his effort to open against the power of the wind blowing it back against the house.

He grits his teeth as he forces it open, one arm secured around her midsection, and helps her in before he slips inside too. The second he lets go of the door, it's sent slamming back into place and rattling in the frame behind them, but he doesn't spend anymore time on it other than the few seconds it takes to lock it. As soon as it clicks with him that they're safe—most importantly, that she's safe—he whips around to face her with a cold rage flowing through his veins.

"What the fuck?"

She stands in front of him with water pouring off of her in rapid drops onto the rug, and there are no thoughts in her head outside of the ones telling her to leave. Her tears blend in with the droplets of rain so seamlessly that he wouldn't know she's crying if not for the sound of it.

In between her rapid breaths and sobs, she yells back at him, "I was scared, okay?"

"Why'd you run out into the storm if you—"

"I wasn't afraid of the storm, I was afraid of you!"

The silence that follows is louder than anything they've experienced. Nothing can rival it, not the thunder, the rain, or anything can drown it out while he stares at her in shock. His eyes are wide, lips slightly parted as he reaches for something, anything, he can say in response to that, but there's nothing. For once, he is absolutely speechless.

Things got awkward between them in the initial aftermath of last week, but not like this. There was never an instance where he felt like there was nothing left for him to say to her to fill the uncomfortable silence that always brought forth memories of them together until now. Until she said the last thing he wanted or expected to hear.

His anger subsides as he picks over what he did in his head for anything that could've made her feel unsafe.

Before it evolved into him chasing after her through the hurricane, he noticed how terrible it had gotten for her when he lit the first candle. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and her chest began to rise and fall faster with each second that passed. He could see it on her face that things were getting worse, but, now that he thinks of it, it got worse once he reached out to put his hand on her shoulder.

It felt like a dream sequence in his head, so hazy and faraway now that it's over, and he was so stunned by what she was doing, he didn't run after her until a few seconds later. There was a delay in which he stood there in surprise and tried to process what the hell just happened to no avail. Though it wasn't very long, he remembers it feeling like eternity tucked into the cramped space of four seconds.

JJ's voice is softer than she's ever heard it, asking into the void of the near-darkness that encloses them, "What'd I do?" And it breaks her heart in half to hear him sound so concerned, so terrified of the idea that he did something to hurt her when all he did was try to help. "I never meant to scare you, I swear. I know how bad it can get sometimes, and I know we haven't been talking but I'd never try to hurt you if that's what you thought..."

His thoughts run rampant with the possibilities of what she was thinking at the time, and he realizes that he can't stand the idea of her thinking anything badly of him. He never cares about what people think, but, fuck, he loathes the idea of her having any ill feelings toward him.

Y/N immediately starts shaking her head, her face scrunching with the emotion and incessant tears.

"I know you'd never hurt me. I was scared because..." she stops herself mid sentence, catching it right when she was about to admit the one thing she promised herself she wouldn't.

But the need to say it doesn't go away this time. Usually, once she catches herself she comes to her senses and realizes how foolish it would've been to confess, but this time is different. This time, the urge to speak her mind and tell him everything sticks around. The words left unsaid creep up her throat, thrashing and begging to let out after months of being pushed aside.

The look in her eyes is strangely reminiscent of the way she looked at him the night they hooked up, almost yearning in its nature, and he couldn't be more confused. She's scared of him, but she's looking at him like she did when she was two seconds away from jumping his bones. And if he didn't do anything wrong, why was she afraid enough to face her worst fear in order to avoid him?

"Because what?" he asks.

That frustration from when they first stepped into the porch hasn't vanished, it only took a backseat once she said she was afraid of him, not the storm, and he can feel it stirring up again. He's tired of not having answers. He's tired of mixed signals and loneliness and unrequited love. Most of all, he's tired of her running away all the time. At this point, he questions whether or not it's worth it to expose his feelings to her and suffer the consequences.

John B was right. This isn't healthy for them, nor is it healthy for them to put their friends through this along with them, and it might be better to not be friends than to stay this way forever. At least that way they wouldn't be wishing for answers that would never come for the rest of their time together.

She decides at this moment that this has to be said before it gets worse, before she runs away again like a scared, immature child and ruins everything.

"Because," she has to shout over the lightning that cracks down on the earth down the street, something she would be trembling in fear over if she weren't so focused on him, "I've been in love with you for a couple months and it scares me more than anything, even this stupid fucking storm! And I've tried so hard to ignore it because I know you don't feel the same way, but you touched me and I just"—a soft cry escapes her—"I couldn't do it anymore."

There it is.

After months of ruminating over it and hiding everything, he knows, and her immediate feeling after she says it isn't what she thought it would be. She expected trepidation and regret, but what she finds on the other side isn't either of those, it's relief. Her dad often tells her when she's nervous about something that the anticipation is worse than the thing itself, and that has never been as true her as it is now.

However, some of the nerves return with the time that passes after she spoke in complete silence. Much like the delayed reaction he had to her running out of the house, it isn't as long as it feels to her. It's a short span of time that it takes for her words to process with him, but it feels like an eternity that he stands there with his head facing the floor in quiet contemplation.

Her heart sinks.

This means he doesn't feel the same way, doesn't it? If he were the one telling her he loved her, she likely would've leaped into his arms and said it back, but he stays where he is.

Then, after what feels like forever, she thinks she sees him start to smile and feels like she's losing her mind. It's quite dark out here, so there's only a limited amount of light to allow her to see his features, but there's no doubting it when a flash of lightning floods the porch with a split-second of harsh light.

Oh God, why is he smiling? What does it mean?

Much to her frustration, the first thing he says after her confession isn't much help in making her understand his feelings either.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?"

Why? The voice in the back of her mind asks incredulously. Is he seriously asking why? He ignored me too. He didn't want to talk about it either, so what else was I supposed to do?

Maybe she was undeniably worse when it came to the avoidance and lack of communication, but he could've reached out to her too. They both could've. Instead, they spent day after day waiting for the other to make the move and pushed the tension further and further until it finally broke. Now she's waiting for him to hurry up and reject her so she can move on with her life.

She shivers from the wind blowing at her wet skin through the screens separating them from the outside world, crossing her arms over her body to hug herself. His eyes follow her movements down to the breaths that are slowly evening out without her realizing it. It turns out that confessing your love for the guy you've been crushing on since the day you met him is a hell of a distraction.

"I thought you wouldn't wanna hear me being all emotional and shit over a one time thing. You've literally never had an actual relationship before. And that's fine," she rambles, "I'll be okay eventually, but that's not who you are and there isn't a problem with that. I just caught feelings when I shouldn't have."

In her defense, she isn't making baseless assumptions about him, he hasn't had a relationship before. His love life hasn't ever really revolved around love itself, it was mostly comprised of random chicks he'd meet at parties or at the beach during the summertime when tourists come to visit the island. Out of all of them, he's the last one the Pogues would expect to fall in love with someone and commit to a relationship, but then...

He looks over at her with a swell of emotion within him that he's never felt before. It wasn't like he hadn't known before now. He did. He even said it out loud to himself that morning after the party, but this is when it feels the most real. Now that she's said it to him, he doesn't feel so stupid for toying with the four letter word in the back of his mind for the entirety of the past week.

In all honesty, he was the last person he would've expected to fall in love with someone this quickly too. He thought he knew himself better than this. He thought he could keep himself hidden away and not let anyone close enough to see him—the real him, faults and feelings and vulnerability included—but she proved him wrong. In walked Y/N with her pretty smile, teeny bikini bottoms, and oddly strong opinions on Ratatouille, and he stood no chance.

This sudden crescendo of emotion only continues to grow when he watches her shiver, soaked to the skin, across from him and decides that he never wants to deny himself of her again. Those feelings of inadequacy that forced him to question his relationship with her may not have gone away, not by a long shot, but they can't stop him anymore. Nothing can.

Like a light flickering to life in this swirling, stormy darkness, she hears JJ's voice asking her, "What if it is who I am?"

It was said so softly, she nearly lost it beneath the rain and wind. But it was not said with a lack of certainty, which is why she questions if she heard him correctly. He sounded so sure of himself that it feels too good to be true. After his reaction, or lack thereof, to her telling him she loved him, she accepted what was coming and this was not it.

"What?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

"You heard me." There's a pause. "Maybe I needed to meet the right girl."

There is no way he's saying what she thinks he's saying because if he is...if he is then that means the tears and frustration have all been for nothing because he loves her back. But if he loves her, then what was with the kook girl? Was it to make her jealous, or is she misinterpreting him right now and he was flirting with that girl because he doesn't have real feelings for her?

"JJ..." she trails off, looking down and thinking to herself how thankful she is that it's too dark for him to fully see how nervous he made her, "don't do that."

Partly, he should feel offended that she'd think he'd toy with her feelings like that, but he isn't. He's too busy wondering what on earth made this poor girl so insecure to think that someone has to be joking to confess their love to her. It makes him wonder if anyone wronged her before she moved here, and he feels that switch of impulsive anger inside of him flip at the thought.

But that anger has nowhere to go, so it shifts into something different—a need to spend every waking moment of the rest of their time together proving to her that she doesn't have to be so afraid. Does it make him a hypocrite? Probably. It wasn't too long ago that he was telling the Pogues how much he didn't deserve to be with her, but he doesn't see himself the same way he sees her. In his head, he has reasons to believe he doesn't deserve her love, but how could she ever think that herself?

He steps closer to her, the movement something so natural and unconscious to him that he doesn't recognize he does it until he hears her breath hitch in the back of her throat. They were already close enough to reach out and touch each other if they wanted to, yet now it's the kind of closeness that wipes the slate of her mind clean with nothing else but the thought of him there to stay.

He starts to say, "I'm not fucking with you, dude, I'm being serious—"

"Then prove it."

Oh.

The sound of his unfinished sentence lingers on the tip of his tongue as he blinks away his surprise at what she said, though it was less of a statement and more of a challenge. What the challenge is, he isn't too sure, but he thinks there could be a couple of meanings there.

The fire in her eyes when she looked up at him is one he recognizes very well, it stars in one too many of his daydreams that center around their secret night together. She rose to the occasion without fail and matched his chaos every time, and that steely-eyed stare is reminiscent of it.

Yet, the sexual undertone isn't the only part of it to be discovered. There's a clear meaning there for him to actually prove it, to put his money where his mouth is, grow a pair, and tell her how he feels with no room for confusion. No more miscommunication, running away, or insecurity getting between them, just a clear cut confession like hers.

His hand runs through his hair to sweep it out of his eyes and keep the wet strands from dripping down his face. It helps him see her a little better too, grounding him to the moment and calming him at the dimmed sight of her expectant, wide eyed gaze.

There were a million versions of this whenever he let himself imagine admitting it. He only let himself picture it on the worst days, days like the one two days ago when he went home to his dad, ending the night by cleaning his own cuts and inspecting his own bruises in his locked bedroom. He did it to distract himself from wanting to storm out of the room and finally kill the son of a bitch after years of suffering in silence.

JJ closed his eyes, shaking with anger, and dreamed of how he'd tell her. There were versions with long speeches that were far too sappy to exist outside of the realm of his imagination. There were versions with him burying the words between friendly jokes to play down the extent of his feelings too, but he thought it worked best in its simplest form.

So he puts it as simply as it gets, lips fighting a soft smile as he crosses the space between them and rushes in to kiss her. It's charged with an accumulation of the pent up love, anger, and sexual desire that has been repressed until now, resulting in something utterly explosive.

He stops for a second to whisper, "I love you too," into her parted lips, and she finally lets herself go at the sound of those words.

Forget that they've only known each other for five months, when you know you know. This is the real deal. This is the kind of feeling that possesses every accessible inch of her heart and she'd never be open enough to admit that to anyone but him at the moment, but neither of them minds that. It's such a new, rapidly developing feeling that they want to protect it and keep it close to them for the time being.

His arms twine around her waist, tugging her the last bit forward and leaving no space between their bodies this time. The sudden movement draws a sharp gasp from the back of her throat and sends her hands out to brace themselves on his shoulders. The sound of the gasp that disappears into their connected mouths only fuels him on more. It makes him more eager with how he touches her with his hands drifting down the plane of her back, one of which playfully slipping beneath the hem of her soaked shirt in a way that makes her smile into the kiss.

He knows exactly what he does to her. He can sense it in the small reactions that would often go overlooked if it were someone less familiar with her.

It's easy to tell by the way she completely surrenders herself to him, letting out these soft little noises she doesn't even realize she's making when he takes control of the interaction and kisses her like he's starved for it. In a way, he is starving for affection and attention from her. He never knew it was something he needed so badly until he got it, and now he never wants to go without having her again.

That's why it doesn't surprise him when she starts getting antsy after a moment or two, especially after keeping away from him for days.

Her hands run down the length of his chest over the soaked t-shirt, taking a quiet victory in how his stomach flinches inward in response to her exploring touch, and she could swear his next exhale trembles as she continues lower. Never once does she break the kiss, which, by the way, has gone past the point of being passionate and straight to downright needy, but her concentration does falter. The perfectly paced rhythm of her mouth moving with his is interrupted when she touches him over the fabric of his shorts.

Those plushy soft lips go on an exploration of their own too. Leaving him with the first opportunity to catch his breath in minutes, she dips her head beneath the sharp edge of jaw in pursuit of the sweet spot she remembers reducing him to a grabby, moaning mess the last time they did this. It doesn't take her long, not if the tightening of his arms around her and the satisfied hum of a moan she feels vibrate beneath her mouth has anything to say for it.

He loses himself in it for a second or two...okay, fine, maybe ten.

The separate sensations combined spark a flame inside of him that burns so hopelessly for whatever she'll give him. His mind sends him images of them together, both real memories from their first time together and imagined fantasies he only let himself visit in his dreams, and he realizes how thinly spread his self control has become lately.

First, it's the thought of her from last week, thoughts of her gasping, writhing, and begging beneath him that makes his cock throb under the teasing contact of her hand through his shorts. But then he's brought elsewhere. Then, though he hasn't thought of it since the day after the party, he thinks of the mix of jealousy and anger he felt when he saw Tyler with her.

He remembers being sane one moment and charging across the room like a madman the next. He remembers how it felt to watch another person's hands slip under her dress, how it felt to see someone else try to kiss her the way he had, and this raw wound of a memory is all it takes to spur him into action.

It happens so quickly, she doesn't even notice what's happening until he has her scooped up in his arms with her legs around his waist. She doesn't even have the chance to voice her surprise or crack a joke at the expense of his neediness before he reconnects their paused kiss with enough force to make her teeth ache in the collision.

JJ's rings are colder than ice, digging into the flesh of her thighs as he holds them with a tight grip and blindly takes the few steps necessary to reach the back entrance of the house. His wet handprint smudges on one of the cracked-open glass doors and sends droplets of water dribbling down the surface. The teardrop of rain zig-zags at the swinging motion of the door on their way in, only changing course again when he nudges it shut behind him a little too loudly.

"Wh"—her question is cut off by him laying her down on the rug-covered floor in between the couch and coffee table—"What if John B wakes up?"

His first thought was to bring her into the spare bedroom, but then he realized that it shares a wall with John B. Then, he considered the pull out couch but realized that would be louder than the room adjacent to their friend's. His only conclusion was this.

It isn't nearly as romantic as either of them would've pictured, but they're not exactly picky either. They're so desperate for it, they'd likely do it on the porch in the middle of a hurricane if there weren't another option. And in their own weird way, they make it romantic.

There's no one else she'd rather risk rug burn for, and that is the peak of romance.

"John B sleeps like a fuckin' rock," JJ says, "and it's own his fault for trapping us here anyway."

He follows her down onto the floor without a second thought, not even looking up to see if they woke their friend with the sound of the door shutting behind them.

Hovered above her, he looks particularly captivating in the flickering candlelight. The fire burning in one of the three-wick candles they scoured the bathroom cabinets for brings out the warm hues in his blonde hair and highlights every edge of the angular face that looks down at her. The porch was far too dark for her to see him in all of his near-perfection, but this is enough for her to notice a multitude of things.

His slicked back, wet hair allows her to see his features better and the way he looks at her...it's enough to make anyone feel red in the face. How hadn't she see it before? She knows it was denial, but, somehow, she used to overlook the small hints along the way like how he looks at her like she's the only thing that makes sense to him. For the first time in a while, she allows herself to embrace the idea of being loved without looking for something to justify her fears surrounding it.

The sound of her voice brings him out of the mesmerized trance he fell under at the sight of her.

"I've missed you," she says softly, "like a lot."

The sweet admission slows him down for a second, making him stop to ignore the distracting desire that she sparked to life a moment ago and take the time to cherish this moment of rare serenity with her.

It's a wonder that she hasn't even acknowledged the storm raging on outside since they've come back in. It's all thanks to him, of course, since she's been too focused on everything happening between them, but it surprises him. It makes a sense of pride flare up in him on her behalf for being capable of forgetting something she fears so much.

But, on the other hand, it reminds him of how distraught she was right before their conversation/argument on the porch shifted from her panic to the topic of their relationship, and he can't help but hesitate a little.

"I missed you too." The hand he isn't using to support himself above her cups her face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone. "Are you okay though? You were just crying and I don't wanna make you—"

"Yes."

It was so said so quickly, there was zero hesitation. It's not that it doesn't surprise him that she's as eager as he is after what started to happen out on the porch, but it does make his eyes widen a little. His mouth curls with a slight grin. It's the kind that never fails to make her stomach fluttering and light with butterflies.

"You don't have to worry about me. I'm okay, and I promise I'll let you know if I'm not," Y/N clarifies.

"Okay."

There's a short moment where all they do is look at each other with a complete loss for words to convey what they feel right now. It isn't as awkward as it would've been prior to tonight. Before they confessed their feelings, they wouldn't have been able to look at one another for any longer than a few seconds without needing to walk away to break the tension. Now, things have changed. They don't feel the need to conceal how much they care anymore.

They're still the same bickering duo they've always been with the added fun of being head over heels. She never used to understand how some people could let their feelings for another person drive them crazy, but it's done more than make her crazy this past week. It made her jealous, obsessive, and somehow happy too, and no one has ever made her feel so many varying emotions in her life.

Her fingertips graze the stretch of skin between where his cargo shorts sit on his hips and his shirt rides up the side of his torso, and he swallows thickly at the feeling.

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks.

Her lilting, smooth voice is enough to soothe any nerves he could possibly have. It's as if hearing her ask that paired with the hand teasing the waistband of his shorts pulled him back to the place he'd been before when she was teasing him over his clothes.

He answers honestly, his head going fuzzy with the crushing desire that courses through him, "Not as nervous as I make you," and closes the space between them again.

The cheeky comment doesn't go unnoticed by her, not one bit. It makes her face heat up in embarrassment that is purely instinct after having to hide her feelings from her for so long. Maybe after they've been together for longer, it won't make her blush every time he acknowledges the effect he has on her out loud, but that day isn't today. Today, she goes hot in the face from a sole second of his attention, let alone this.

JJ lets his hand climb up the length of her torso as they kiss as if they have all the time in the world, as if their best friend isn't sleeping less than twenty feet away from them, until it flattens at the base of her neck. It doesn't curl around her neck and squeeze, nor does it do anything but remind her how much she loves the feeling of him touching her, the large palm of his hand simply stays draped over her throat to flaunt his ability to sway her nerves.

She's pretty sure if it were anyone else, it wouldn't work, but he's JJ for fuck's sake, and the quiet display of dominance sends an exhilarating little thrill rumbling through her. It isn't anything over the top or exaggerated like some people would do in an attempt to stake a claim over the person they love, just a simple gesture that they both know the meaning of.

She's his. After five months of friendship, two months of silent pining, and a week of sexually confused hell, she's his, and he'll never let her forget it.

The wind rattles the windows over the couch with its force and she notices that his hips grind into hers at the sudden sound. Even in the midst of such a heated moment, it's downright cute how he still makes an effort to distract her from what she fears. And, boy, does it work.

Their panting breaths in the brief seconds they allow themselves to break away from each other are the only sounds audible in the small living room. The storm drowns it all out for now, including the noises that start to leave them from the steadily building pleasure of their bodies moving together.

She can feel how hard he is through the layers that separate them with every absentminded thrust that brushes the fabric of her panties up against her clit each time. It leaves her breathless and wondering, despite already knowing, what it'll feel like when he finally slips inside of her again.

They both fantasized about it in the time they spent apart. Neither of them would dare deny it, least of all JJ. It actually became frustrating after a while because she started to become the only scenario he could conjure to get himself off when he had a rare moment of privacy. His fantasies, all stemming from the night that was so perfect, he began to question the reality of it, linger in his head.

The best part of his fantasies were the parts of them based in truth, and if he knows anything about her when she's in this state, it's that she's needy. Her tongue swipes along his bottom lip in a silent urging to let her deepen the kiss, and he complies without a second to spare, willing to entertain her every whim so long as she keeps being so good for him.

He revels in her muffled squeak of a moan when he presses down on the sides of her throat at the precise moment his hips grind down to meet hers. She can't keep herself still for any longer than a half-second, always meeting his movements halfway and unknowingly doing another thing that will be the death of him.

She leads his shirt up his body without having to second guess herself, knowing that he's always on the same wavelength as her no matter what. This was how it was the last time too. Anything she did, he was already one step ahead, and tonight isn't much different. By the time her hands ball up the dripping cotton fabric, JJ is lifting the hand off of her neck to reach for the neckline of the shirt and help tug it off.

There's a sense of urgency in everything they do. Charged up with frustration and jealousy that brewed within the days they spent apart, there's nothing to stop them from reducing themselves to a pair of panting, impatient lovers too consumed in each other to care about the outside world.

The sopping wet fabric is thrown beyond her line of sight and lands on the hardwood floor with a 'thwack' that accompanies their cacophony of moans and gasps, and she whimpers at the sight of him. It may have to do with the fact that he's guiding their bodies together at a cadence and pressure perfect enough to make her legs tremble, but seeing him like this does nothing but aid the sensation.

Golden skin glistening under the candlelight, tendrils of half-dry blonde hair falling into his face with the lazy effort of his movements, and a stray raindrop that squeezed from the wet shirt dripping down his chest...she's not gonna make it out of tonight alive, is she? In her memory, she knew he was a sight to see in the midst of a heated moment, but, fuck, memories do not hold up beside the real experience of it.

Y/N is so caught up in his seemingly endless beauty, she doesn't notice him peeling her damp denim shorts off of her hips until they're halfway down her legs, and the only reason she does notice is because he must shift his position to do it. Suddenly, the budding feeling that stirred from their needy antics is plucked away and left to ache for more in the absence of him between her thighs.

Her middle and index fingers hook around the front of his necklace to pull him back down to her, but he doesn't budge at first. He's too busy trying to rid her of her shirt to care.

It was too much of a distraction while they kissed for him to resist slipping it off of her when he got the chance to. Much to his frustration when he first realized they were trapped with each other, she's braless underneath, and it's only worse now that the t-shirt is soaked to her skin and clinging to every delicate curve.

Once the clothing gives way to the canvas of her bare skin, he submits to her urgency and follows her down by the fingers hooked around his necklace without any qualms.

As soon as they resume, it's as if they never stopped to begin with, and they start to realize how seamlessly they fit together as the seconds elapse. Neither of them are actively thinking about it while he dips his hand into the front of her panties, but it is in their subconscious.

It's a revelation of sorts, an ah-ha moment where it hits them both in a sweeping realization that it was obvious from the day they met. They should've known sooner, they should've dropped their pride and admitted it as soon as the first inklings of desire began to pop up, but they didn't. Instead, it washes over them now and they let the current take them away together.

Her mouth falls open against his cheek at the feeling of his fingers swiping through the arousal that pools in her underwear for him, dragging the wetness over his fingertips and spreading it up to brush fleetingly against her clit. It's a split-second of a touch that it makes her hips lift up off the floor on their own accord to seek out more. It makes her dig her nails into the skin stretching over his taut shoulder muscles in a wordless plea for more that he doesn't indulge her in at first.

He makes her earn it from him without having to say a single word. He touches her, but he doesn't touch where she wants or ease his fingers into her to satisfy the need she feels yet. It's a blessing and a curse that he manages to turn her on to such an extent. He does it for her like nothing else can, so much so that she's noticed a distinct difference in how it feels when she's alone versus when they're together. When she's alone, it can tend to feel like active effort, but when she's with him, it's as natural as the urge to breathe.

His smirk is felt against her skin the entire time she begs for it through the revealing actions of her body—her hips jerking up toward him, her chest pressing tightly to his, and the sound of her murmuring, "Please," in a breathy tone that could stop his heart.

"Tell me what you want," JJ says, every word constrained and tight in a way that tells her he's a lot less composed than he lets on, and "accidentally" swipes his thumb over her clit again. "Talk to me, baby."

She almost forgot in their time apart how much of an effect he has on her, but this is the best reminder of that she could possibly imagine. If she could, she would find a way to bottle the feeling he gives her and keep it with her forever so that, no matter what happens between them, she'll never have the misfortune of forgetting him.

What he said simultaneously melts her heart and frustrates her to no end because he knows! He knows damn well what she wants from him and won't give it to her unless she asks for it, and she hates herself for loving it. She hates herself for enjoying the flushed-face embarrassment it brings to her cheeks to be so open with him about what she needs.

She swallows the lump in her throat and tries to focus through the clouded landscape of her head to speak to him. It's hard to concentrate when he's above her like this, touching her, calling her pet names, and looking at her like that.

With his lips worshiping the sensitive skin along her neck, she finds it hard to choke out the words, "I want you," into the humid air that has infiltrated the house.

It's not a lie. Anything regarding her wanting him or any related feeling is no longer something she can hide anymore, but they both know it isn't exactly what he wanted. No matter how it took his breath away to hear her say it, he was seeking something more specific. He was aiming to make her ask, maybe even beg, for it. They're both too impatient to wait and based on how wet his fingertips are from barely dipping into her, he can tell she's as eager as he is.

It's been thirteen days too long since the last time they allowed themselves to meet this way, and neither of them wants to let it happen again.

She was nearly trembling with the urge to go to him whenever they were together in the company of their friends, unable to think about anything except for how badly she wanted him. All the while, he appeared so unbothered, especially on the night of the party when he flirted with someone else, that she didn't even believe he felt the same way back. Thankfully for her, she couldn't have been more wrong.

He clicks his tongue and says, still teasing her with light touches that never linger in one place for too long, "That wasn't very specific."

Part of her should know that he's about to do something based on how he withdraws his head from its cherished place in the crook of her neck, but she's too caught up in the anticipation and seeing his face for the first time in a minute to think about it. How dare he look so good? She could cry in frustration, although she might actually already be tearing up a little with the rush of neediness hitting her in its full force.

Never has she felt so turned on by so little physical contact before. It usually takes longer for her to get to this point, whether it be alone or in the past with previous partners, yet all it took was being kissed, touched, and being given his undivided attention and now...She realizes she's in trouble. He has her in an emotional and sexual chokehold at this point, and she fears that no one can compare.

"I want—" her voice is snuffed out in an instant when he eases two fingers into her, "Oh!"

So that's why he pulled away from her neck to look at her.

It was worth abandoning the mark forming on her neck just to see the expression on her face shift. She gets this cute look when anything overwhelming starts to happen where her brows scrunch a little to create a soft wrinkle between them as her mouth drops open in a moan. And after ten steady minutes of doing nothing but some over the clothes action and painstaking teasing, this is as overwhelming as it gets without it crossing the line to being too much.

It never occurred to her how much larger his fingers are compared to hers until now. This type of pleasure is like an itch only someone else can scratch to her, she feels virtually nothing when she does it to herself, but when he does it, it's like an explosive being set off inside of her. Especially with the thumb that sneaks up to circle her clit without stopping to tease her again, she is putty in his hands at this point.

Every smooth stroke of his fingers into her reaches a spot she can never quite find on her own, and she can feel the cold bite of rings when they're buried into her to the knuckle.

It's a surprise every time, even when she knows to expect it. Like a delightful chill running up through her body and down her spine exactly how it's intended to. It strikes an idea in her head for when he eventually pulls them out of her, conjuring the image of her sucking them clean for him just for the sake of imagining what it'll do to him.

With that idea tucked away in the back of her mind, he's the center of her world right now. All she breathes, thinks, and feels is him. Whether it be the sight of him, or the feelings he's giving her, or even the taste of his kiss that still lingers on her tongue, it connects to one common thread.

"What were you saying?" JJ asks, and she wants to wipe that smirk right off his face.

It's virtually impossible for her to piece together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence detailing every filthy idea she has for him, but she tries. It takes another moment or two of her succumbing to the rapid incline of pleasure that he gives her, watching her in wonder through any greedy buck of her hips or gasping inhale that makes her head loll back onto the floor.

At first, what she wanted to say was that she wanted him to touch her, to do anything more than the fleeting touches he gave before. Now, she wants more than that. Now that she's drawn in closer to the eventual high that's to come, she doesn't want it to happen like this. She wants to feel closer to him than this, wants to feel him throb inside of her and fuck her with all of the urgency and desperation that has accumulated in their time apart.

That's why her hands start to grab at the belt loops of his shorts to tug him closer by them, meeting his gaze through the hazy bliss of his fingers pumping into her. It's not enough.

"Please"—she keeps pulling him closer to her, so close that there's hardly any space left to cross, and he revels in her desperation—"just fuck me already..."

Internally, JJ is losing his shit.

Though this was what he wanted, what he coaxed out of her with the teasing and the pretend sense of a nonchalant attitude on his part, it hits him harder than he expected it to to hear her say it. It's not necessarily the act of begging itself either, it's the fact that she's the one doing it. She may have been jealous of the girl at the party, but she had nothing to worry about. Not in the slightest.

Before her, he never thought he'd fall for someone this way. It's not like he had a hatred for love or anything, he understood the appeal, it simply wasn't his thing.

He was perfectly content with his only form of companionship being his friends. Then, she came along and changed it. So to hear her say something like that isn't just breathtaking, it's the kind of thing that makes his heart ache for her. It hits him precisely where she wanted it to, and he has never felt as consumed with love the way he does now.

JJ can do nothing to stop himself from pouncing on her at this point, like some animalistic form of himself has worn down the restraint he used to keep himself at bay.

The loss she feels when his fingers slip away from her is an emptiness she mourns at first before she realizes what's happening. He pulls away slightly to reach down between them for the front of his shorts, and their hands clash as they both frantically try to undo them together. The rings adorning his fingers glisten when they catch the light and remind her of the thought that popped into her head when she first felt their coldness against her skin.

That idea paired with the promise of what they're trying to accomplish in their uncoordinated attempt to get the rest of their clothes off makes her want to press her thighs together. Her hands abandon the task of undoing his shorts for the sake of ridding herself of the last layer that separates her from him.

Her most embarrassing old pair of brightly colored panties, courtesy of past Y/N's questionable decision to trust her mom to buy some on her behalf, are hardly a sight to behold. They're the kind that come in a value pack from Walmart, vibrant blue with the word, "Tuesday," printed on the front of them, and she could hide her face into the rug in shame if she weren't so determined to get them off. Of all the days to wear the day of the week undies her mom accidentally got her, of course she chose today.

By the time she reaches for the waistband, he has pushed his shorts and underwear down his thighs and comes back to her with just as much excitement as he left with, but when he helps her tug her panties down her legs, he laughs. Apparently, he had also been too eager to touch her to notice what was written on them before.

"Cute," he breathes out through a laugh, then adds as the cotton fabric slips over her knees, "Pretty sure it's not Tuesday though."

"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll—"

He cuts her off, "Whatever you wanna threaten me with won't work, chances are I'm gonna be into it."

Her eyes are alight with a certain fire he's had yet to fully lure out of her. Even her voice is slightly more airy and seductive as a result of it.

"Promise?"

JJ grins down at her as he finally tosses her panties aside with the rest of their clothes, "Cross my heart, pretty girl."

His hands grip her thighs and tug her down the  rug to him with a quick jolt that snaps them out of the playful nature of their back and forth teasing. No matter how lighthearted of an interruption it was, the mini-conversation might as well have never existed for how easily they fall back into it again.

She watches with her forehead pressed against his as he strokes himself a few times, then drags his tip, messy with precome, through her wet heat. And though she watches it happen, her body still arches into his when he lines up with her and sinks his hips forward.

She anticipated it, but she still gasps and digs her nails into his biceps at the sensation of him pushing into her. Neither of them bothers to worry about the obvious lack of a condom—it was discussed the first time around when he offered and she told him it was okay. He's often the one to silence the alarm on her phone warning her in its title to, "Take your birth control or else, bitch," while she searches her bag for it anyway, so he trusts her.

Both of them prefer it this way enough to risk the  minuscule failure rate of the pill anyway. It's more intimate, closer, and they can both feel the warmth of each other in a way that would've been somewhat muted with an added layer between them. It makes the feeling of him entering her all the more gratifying as she tenses up around him in reaction, drawing a groan from where his parted lips brush against hers.

She lifts her head off of the floor as much as she can to capture his mouth with her own and stifle the sonorous sound despite the storm doing a better job of it.

It seems that every blast of wind and roll of thunder is in their favor tonight, so much so that he isn't even worried about getting walked in on. It's not a thought in his head at this point, the only thought he's capable of having is this. Forgive him for being shortsighted, but he doesn't give a shit if John B notices or hears what's happening when he's buried inside of her so deeply.

His hips are flush with the backs of her thighs in a matter of seconds, and right when he pauses to give her a breather, he feels her shake her head ever so slightly against where their faces are pressed together.

The touch of her hands on his hips is not timid by any means, it's commanding. Her palm prints singe an indelible claim into the surface of his skin as she guides him to start moving without a second spared to dwindle the discomfort of him filling her up. It's less like a pain and more of a pressure blooming from the insistent presence of him, not so overwhelming that it's painful, but it's an effort to breathe evenly and the only thing that'll ease this transitional moment is to continue.

At first, their bodies start to rock together lazily as though on autopilot. They'd hardly be conscious of the fact that they're doing anything if not for the initial sensations of heady ecstasy that flash like the sparks of a lighter in response to their movements. As soon as he felt her hands coax him into action, he sighed happily and surrendered himself to the instinct of wanting to move.

The merging of their bodies is less of the aggressive rutting motions they'll surely succumb to once their current pace is no longer satisfying, but that doesn't make it any less intense. She's partly sure that this is one of the most vulnerable moments either of them has ever had when it comes to sex, and it wouldn't work if it weren't them together. No other person could consume her the way he does, taking up every unoccupied space of her soul until there's nothing left but the silent begging of her heart for him.

Their kiss is messy when it breaks to allow them the chance to suck down a couple breaths of air, saliva shining on his lips in between the seconds it takes them to come crashing back together.

It's loving enough to rot her teeth with its sweetness, a slow but impossibly deep grinding of their hips together that continually presses the tip of him into that sweet spot inside of her, but it takes a turn.

Not only do her hands shift from his hips up to the sides of his waist to get a firmer hold on him, the kiss starts to become vigorous, almost hungry, in search of something more. The dreamlike sequence of the first moment or so they spent slowly fucking under the warm hues of candlelight starts to unravel to reveal the baser instincts that guide them forward.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispers the praise into her mouth.

As soon as the words are said, he can feel the effect it has on her. The hands braced on his waist pull his body closer to her at the same moment that she involuntarily squeezes down around him, making the smooth drag of his cock against the velvet-soft heat of her walls even tighter than he thought possible.

The sudden feeling of it makes his first returning thrust much harder than the last. He jerks forward into her with none of the restraint he's retained for the past few moments, and her reaction is nothing short of perfection, at least from his perspective. He watches her throw her head back in a moan, hips bucking to him in pursuit of more, and feels the tips of her fingernails digging crescent-shaped marks into the unmarred skin along his waist.

"JJ!" she gasps in surprise, and if her initial reaction weren't enough to spur him on in a frenzied state of desire, this is.

He almost forgot how intense it had been the first time. Their confessions of love preceding this made them both somewhat softer and sweeter in their approach when they started, but he knows how she likes it.

Nobody would expect it from her. He's another story entirely, especially considering how much John B and Pope know about him, but her? He didn't have any in depth conversations about it with either of them, so none of their friends know how dirty she is.

But when you start to tease it out of her, she's got a side to her that makes his blood run hot. Considering how polite she is, he sure as hell didn't see it coming. For fuck's sake, she's the kind of person who'll apologize to a chair if she bumps into it. With that in mind he never thought she'd be the type to demand such things of him.

Just like that, with one moan of his name, it's like she flipped a switch in him that they forgot was there in the first place. It'll never stop surprising him how little it takes to get him going when he's with her, and he doesn't see that changing no matter how long they spend together in the future. Just a touch from her is all it takes, so it's needless to say that the sound of her calling out his name was more than enough.

Those slow, deep movements he made to sink into her again and again have turned rapid and rough, but still controlled enough to have a semblance of precision to them, hitting in all the right places.

"I bet," JJ speaks lowly, "that you want John B to walk out and see us right now."

She doesn't want to admit how much of an instantaneous effect those words have on her, but the feeling of her clenching around him as she bites back a moan completely betrays her. Partly, she worries that he'll take that the wrong way and think it has something to do with John B when it has nothing to do with him at all, but he doesn't. For the spare second of thought she's allowed to have before her mind goes hazy again, she notes how much more eager he is on the upstroke of the next thrust.

Noticing how right he was in his assumption about her liking the risk of getting caught jumpstarts his heart and makes everything he does rougher. She can sense that he's starting to lose control over himself and is acting on instinct alone.

It makes her much more sensitive to everything he does, and all she can do is cling to him and enjoy it as she takes in everything he says and does. It's hard to pick one thing to focus on between the switch up in pace and what he said.

"You want John B to know you like getting fucked like a slut, don't you?"

She could get off on the sound of his voice alone. Hearing him say stuff like that kills her, it makes the swirling bliss that builds in the pit of her abdomen with every thrust he gives her triple in its extremity.

Her legs are tightly wound around his hips to keep him as near to her as possible, her hands sliding up around his waist to keep a steady grasp on him while he pounds into her. The rug scratches at her back enough to make it sting alongside the immense pleasure building in her, but she doesn't care. When blended with the good sensations, the pain underscores the addictive feeling of him inside of her, fucking her exactly how she asked him too.

Looking up at him when he's like this is simply unreal. There's no other way of describing it in her eyes except for that. He's so stunning, she's inclined to believe that he isn't even real as a means of explaining it. This shouldn't be real. It should be one of her daydreams while she steals covert stares at him as they hang out with the Pogues, but it isn't. She can't wrap her head around it.

Those strands of hair that were damp from the rain are mostly dry as they fall into his eyes with the force of his movements. The sight of him alone, set aside from the rest of it, is enough to make her writhe beneath him and claw at his back in tandem with another thrust that sends her jolting against the rug.

He takes one of his hands up from where they both held her hips for leverage to weave his fingers into the roots of her hair.

He demands between the panting breaths and moans that flood the limited space between them, tugging on her hair, "Answer me."

She instantly blurts out the words, "I want him to see us." The feeling of him tilting her head back by the fistful of hair he has wrapped up in his hand is her persistent reminder to concentrate enough to continue, and she bites down on her lip to contain a moan before speaking again, "I want him to know..."

Her cheeks burn with the mere thought of it, let alone saying it out loud. He's the only person she'd ever let in on this intimate side of her, the side that makes her crazy when she hears him say stuff like this. The reason she feels so comfortable doing this with him is that she knows he understands her. It's as if he can read her mind without even having to try, knowing exactly what to say and when to say it.

It wouldn't matter if the topic of their exhibitionism were any other Pogue or a stranger, it isn't about who it is, it's about the thrill attached to the concept of almost getting seen during such a heated moment. In all actuality, John B is probably snoring face down into his pillow right now with no care for what's happening out here, but he knows what it does to her when they push the boundaries of decency this way. It's the same rush he gets from stealing random, useless things every so often, it's the thrill of getting away with something.

The hand tangled up in the roots of her hair sneaks down between their colliding bodies to rub her clit, and her mouth drops open to take in a shaky breath.

The sight of her beneath him is undoing in and of itself. Head tilted enough to expose her neck to him, chest rising and falling rapidly with her breaths, and breasts bouncing gently with the momentum of their actions—seeing her this way makes his thrusts ramp up into more of a frenzied, uncontainable pace rather than one with the same control and cadence as before. But it's mostly the eye contact that kills him. She doesn't dare to shut her eyes the entire time, as if she can sense that he'll tell her to look at him again the second she does.

"You want him to know what?" he asks, and she knows he won't let her get away with not saying it.

She whines, utterly helpless to the climax starting to build inside of her, "Please."

What she's pleading for, she isn't quite sure, but he can tell by how she's acting that she's starting to get closer, and he wants nothing more than to tease her with the impending chance of her orgasm.

"If you wanna come, you're gonna have to do a lot better than that."

Just like that, he withdraws his hand from between them and leaves her desperate, blindly grasping for the peak she was so close to reaching, she could almost feel it already.

With JJ rocking into her at a relaxed, slower rhythm, the pleasure hasn't disappeared completely. It's there, but she can sense the feeling of her orgasm receding as quickly as it had creeped up on her as soon as he slips his hand out from between them.

It's instantly clear to him how desperate she is as all of her previous shyness surrounding having to admit this to him out loud withers away in seconds. She isn't beneath begging again at this point. He could tell her to crawl across the floor to him and she'd happily do it for the chance of touching him. It's pathetic but true. As much as she has him wrapped around her finger, he has done the same to her and she isn't afraid to admit it anymore.

Her hips jerk toward him in search of the familiar frenzy they were in before that sent her to the brink of climax, but he is impressively stubborn. Despite the fact that it physically pains him to dial it back again, he tries to keep the signs of his own frustration at bay. She knew what she had to say to get what she wants, so he'll only cave when she does.

This time around, she doesn't give a fuck about how badly she blushes or the voice in the back of her mind telling her she should keep this side of her to herself. This time, the one thing she needs to do to prompt her to open her mouth and speak the dirty words he asked her less than a moment ago is look at him. One second of staring up at him and here she is, driven mad enough to say or do anything to get him to pick up where they left off.

She says between the soft noises and breaths coming from them both, clinging to him through every slow but deep thrust that sends sparks ricocheting through her body, "I want John B to know I like getting fucked like slut." Her voice is breathless, and he hangs off of each word as she pauses, looking up at him with a challenging attitude swirling in those pretty eyes. "So stop being a tease and fuck me like one."

His jaw clenches at the bratty statement, one he's too far gone to resist at this point, and right when he's about to respond to her, she speaks again.

"Either that," she says, and a deceptively sweet smile crosses her kiss-swollen lips, "or I can go ask him to—"

She doesn't even get the chance to voice the rest of that thought before he's set into motion.

The hands on her hips flip her over with such casual strength, all she can do is yelp in surprise at the sudden movement that blurs the living room in her peripheral version until she lands with her hands and knees pressing into the rug. He was so swift in pulling out of her and tossing her onto her front like she was nothing more than a rag doll, she hardly had the time to take a breath before she ended up here.

There's hardly any time between when he pulled out to flip her over and when he returns to her again, but it feels like an eternity for them. The few second transition might as well be a few years as she feels his hands guiding her body where he wants it, pushing down on her back until it arches just so, and falls down onto her arms. But as soon as she gets situated, she feels a pair of hands yanking her arms away from where they were braced against the floor and put them behind her back.

It's only then, when he has an unflinching grasp on where he keeps her wrists behind her back with one of his hands, that she is met with the relief of him sinking into her again.

Y/N's jaw goes slack, and she cries out into the rug that her cheek is pressed into as he gives her no chance to adjust or catch her breath before resuming the brutal pace they kept a moment ago. Mentioning anyone else but him doing this to her was the quickest way to get him to snap, so it's safe to say that she's getting what she wanted. After all, she did what he asked, it's fair that she gets rewarded for it.

Amidst the sounds of the storm waging war on the landscape outside of the house, the one thing she can hear over the buzzing pleasure that drowns out her senses is the sinful blend of sounds they create together. It's the sound of their bodies merging, his name falling from her lips, and the curses he makes under his breath that never fail to drive her a little wild.

The hand that isn't holding her arms behind her slides down the length of her curved back until it wraps around her throat to pin her down, and her reaction is everything he could ask for. Seeing her rock back against him to meet him halfway makes his grip on her wrists tighten enough to turn his knuckles white.

Her hair is spread in endless directions in a fan around her head, and he can only see one side of her face from where he kneels behind her, but that glimpse is more than enough. Brows scrunched in pleasure, mouth dropped open in a gape as soft 'uh's and 'ah's escape her on the upstroke of each thrust—she's a mess right now. A beautiful, perfect mess.

"Oh God, JJ," she moans between her rapid breaths and the strong hand constricting her neck, "I'm so close. Please, just let me come."

It took virtually nothing for her to be pushed right back to the edge of the peak she was at less than a minute ago. It took a mere half-minute of this and she's once again reduced to incoherent pleas for more and shaking with no control over herself. Her legs tremble with the effort to keep herself up in this position, and she isn't even the one doing most of the work. In all fairness, this change in position has made the intensity triple. It's deeper this way, and with how harshly he slams into her, it's as though she can feel it in the base of her abdomen.

It's the enjoyable type of pain, however, not the bad type. It'll surely end up with her being sore tomorrow, but she can't hide how much she loves the painful pleasure of how rough it's getting. Being denied an orgasm when she was so, so close to it was initially disappointing too, but it was worth it. If the build up to what would've been her climax before was a spark, this is a flourishing fire spreading through her with no chance of smothering the flames.

He lets go of her throat and taps the side of her jaw in a silent request that she picks up immediately, letting her lips fall open to suck his fingers into her mouth without a second of hesitation.

The taste of her arousal on them is faint, but still there, and it occurs to her that she thought about this earlier before things evolved into chaos. Her tongue swirls around the tips of his fingers as he starts to pull them away in what feels like the blink of an eye to her, leaving him to remember what it felt like when her lips were once wrapped around a more sensitive part of him a week and a half ago.

The one other time he let himself remember it was when they were on the boat with the Pogues, yet that wasn't really of his own volition. It was hot out, so Kiara bought ice pops for them and his mind wandered far from where it should've stayed.

Shining with her saliva, his fingers are pulled from her lips with a soft 'pop' in pursuit of that sensitive collection of nerves at the apex of her thighs. She just needs is a little push to go over the edge, and when he slips his hand down her body to rub tight circles onto her clit, she loses whatever remnants of control over herself she had left.

The steady rhythm of her hips moving back against him falters as she is overwhelmed with the separate sensations culminating into one and giving her the push she needs to come. Her entire body tenses up in anticipation, and since she's pinned to the floor with her hands behind her back, she can only lay there and savor the feeling as it hits her.

After what felt like ages of having it build and build within her, then having it taken away to start the process over again, finally being given a release is a relief beyond any she's felt before.

It's so consuming, it takes away her ability to think of anything outside of how it feels to dissolve into the shockwaves of euphoria rushing through her. Every pulsing wave is prolonged by him, not even through the peak of it does he let up on his precise touches and unforgiving thrusts into her that turn a typical orgasm into the most intense thing she's ever felt.

She's melting in his arms through it all, and as if the change in position didn't make it worse, her involuntary spasms leave him hanging on by a thread.

JJ collapses onto her, barely having the chance to keep himself propped up on his arms as he lets go of her wrists and falls forward onto her sweat-slick back.

The heat of his panting exhales raises goosebumps in its wake where his face is buried into the curve of her neck, and he whines at the impossibly tight feeling of her squeezing around his cock through the end of her climax. Those sounds he doesn't realize he's making have her writhing through the aftershocks, answering with a sound of her own that almost makes him come instantly.

For that reason, he makes the decision to pull out and flip her onto her back.

At this point, she's so dazed and fucked out that she doesn't register any of it until she notices the hollow absence of him inside of her, but it doesn't matter when his face appears through the partial darkness above her.

Despite how sensitive she is right now, the sight of him makes her hands reach out blindly to pull him closer again. They're frantic in their need to get back to one another, grasping and clawing until he finds his way back to her in less than a second, hiking her legs up around his waist with a touch that is somehow demanding and tender at the same time.

It's only when he's inside of her again that it occurs to her why he rolled her onto her back again, and it makes her want to kiss him until her lips turn numb. It may be undeniably hotter to pin someone down and fuck them hoarse, but, no, that wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to be able to look at her, to see her face, and the thought of that has her biting back a sudden confession of love. She isn't sure why she doesn't say it right away, since it isn't like they haven't already done it, but she keeps it to herself for a second first.

It's different now. It's not less passionate or frenetic. It isn't as if he isn't being as rough with her as he was before, but they can both sense a shift in the energy between them as soon as he reenters her. It's less about the pursuit of pleasure and more about the feelings they've kept hidden away for so long. It's a simultaneous realization that hits them a little late after they initially confessed their feelings for each other: this is reality. It's real, and when she touches him this time, he isn't going to disappear if she opens her eyes.

The realization of what happened tonight had yet to hit them until right this second, but now that it has, they move forward with a sense of sentimentality that remained partly dormant before.

If there's anything JJ dislikes, it's being vulnerable. The idea of letting someone in to see every part of him, including the parts he doesn't want to see of himself, has always terrified him after years of being made to believe he's undeserving, yet he isn't uncomfortable right now. Somehow, he feels safe with her. Sex has never been something so emotional for him until now, until her, and he doesn't want it differently.

Their bodies are drawn in close, her arms thrown around his neck, and he's so close, he can feel the muscles leading down past his lower abdomen contract with the inevitable approach of his orgasm. She can sense it too in how he acts.

When he gets close, he becomes clingier and lets his feelings get the better of him. His hands squeeze at her hips, sliding up her sides and back down to hike one of her legs up high around his waist to press deeper into her. He can't bear to allow his touch to stay in one place for too long before exploring another part of her, wanting to memorize the delicate intricacies of her body in its entirety.

It's as if she can read his mind too, cause even when she's sensitive enough to gasp when he pushes her thigh to her chest and throws his remaining energy into fucking her at a satisfying pace, she understands what he needs. She knows to reach up and run her fingers through his hair, to tug on it gently until the light strands are taut from his scalp. She knows to lift her head off of the floor enough to trail tender kisses along his face, his jaw, his neck—anywhere she can access.

"Come for me," she says into a kiss placed on the edge of his cheekbone, reeling in overstimulation as she jolts with his quickening thrusts, "I want to watch you..."

Hearing those words, paired with the kisses and fingers pulling on his hair, does it for him. It doesn't take more for his hips to falter and jerk forward into her a final few times before he comes.

Their foreheads press together as they cling to one another for stability, though it's mostly JJ clinging to her while she watches in adoration, and she has to bite her lip to contain a moan at how it feels. The aftershocks of her orgasm have yet to fade as the feeling of pulsing warmth inside of her makes them stronger, reigniting the fire she felt a moment ago if only for a second.

There's a closeness to this situation that they hadn't felt the last time, and they know it has everything to do with what was said before this happened. The sex itself feels like a dream sequence in her mind now that she's coming down from it with him, moving together slowly and gently beneath the candlelight until they ride out the ends of their highs. It was like they were put under a trance by each other, and now that it's over, the first thoughts that come to mind are of what comes next.

It's not the sole topic on their minds though. They're more focused on catching their breath from where they lay, tangled up together, on the living room floor. As soon as the very last of his orgasm faded from him, he fell onto her without a single ounce of energy left to spare. He's careful not to crush her, but, for the most part, he relaxes on top of her and lets his head rest on her heaving chest.

Strong arms slip down to loop around her waist, and she sure that she couldn't get him to release her if she wanted to, which she doesn't.

But they can't stay like this, not for any longer than a few moments anyway, since they don't know how if John B might wake up and come out of the safety of his bedroom after hours of leaving them to their own devices. JJ was right. He's out cold, but for as much as it turned them on in the heat of the moment, neither of them finds getting caught by him as hot with the clarity of their rational minds coming back to them.

He's the one to break the silence.

"As much as I wanna stay like this, we should probably move in case John B wakes up."

The sound of his voice settles in her with the effects of a sedative. It calms her more than anything else could, especially with the added comfort of him cuddling her so closely. One of her hands strokes through his hair and pushes the damp tendrils of sunshine away from his face as he cranes his neck to look up at her. And, for fuck's sake, what else is she to do except admire him?

His cheeks are dusted pink in a way they often are when he spends too much time outside without one of his hats shielding his face, and she thinks he's never looked better.

Ever since they became friends, she's had this theory about him. In the unrealistic landscape of her overactive imagination, JJ didn't come to this world the way the rest of them did. To her, it seems impossible that someone so good, even in his worst moments, could've come from someone like his dad.

So, in idle moments where she would watch him on a day out with the Pogues or daydream about him, she decided that he's the sun.

She imagines he was created in those breathtaking but brief moments where the sun meets the horizon atop the ocean and washes the sky with a vast array of colors. She likes to think he's the incarnation of it. Golden, warm, and bright for everyone but himself, he keeps the world light for her and their friends without intending to.

Some days are warmer than others too. Some days, the light is dimmed by another bruise beneath his clothes or a bad run-in with some kooks, but today is not like that. This moment is eighty-five and sunny with a balmy breeze. Looking at him right now feels like basking in the sun, and she'd burn here forever if he let her.

Without realizing she zoned out, she jolts when he pinches her arm to rouse her from her ridiculous thoughts. He has this dopey half-smile on his face that nearly draws her back into them again.

"You know what they say," he says, "if you take a picture..."

Her soft laughter invades the room, filling his heart with this light, fluttery feeling that always finds him when she's near. His smile grows as she playfully shoves him and reaches above their heads for her wet shirt to cover up with just in case. Odds are, their friend isn't waking up at the exact moment before they seclude themselves to the spare room and get dressed, but she doesn't wanna take that chance.

"I wasn't staring."

She was totally staring. But who could blame her? When someone looks at a person the way he looks at her, how could they ever stay away?

"Whatever you say."

JJ keeps smiling to himself while he pulls his underwear and shorts up his legs and waits for her to be decent enough to sneak past John B's bedroom to the bathroom at the end of the hallway.

The clothes are soaked through with rainwater, so they feel quite uncomfortable to slip back on, but they merely redress enough to be covered. She stole his shirt to avoid putting her shorts back on, the hem of the grey tee hanging right at the tops of her thighs when she walks. As soon as she slips her panties back on and picks up the rest of their cold, wet clothes, that's the cue he needs to scoop her up and take her away.

Y/N curses under her breath in surprise at feeling her feet being plucked off the ground, but she relaxes again once she's settled in his arms, realizing that it was just him who snuck up behind her and lifted her into his arms.

She doesn't say anything on the way to the bathroom. Instead, she lays her head on his shoulder in exhaustion and finds herself staring at the mark she left behind on his neck.

It's a deep, purplish red against the backdrop of his tan skin...the Pogues will surely notice the next time they see him. And while it will make her blush, it won't make her scared as it once would've. There may be a lingering sense of doubt and insecurity within her, but she wants this with him. Even if it means being teased by their friends or dealing with the jealousy of watching kook girls and tourons at parties hit on him, she wants this.

By the time the shower is spraying the rainwater from her hair and washing her clean of sweat sticking to her skin, she realizes that he isn't saying anything either, but she doesn't think it's out of any awkwardness or miscommunication. There's truly nothing to say, at least for now.

Though they didn't have the chance to talk in depth about everything yet, neither of them thinks of that right now. All they know is that they're together, whether it be officially or not, and it feels good. For once, something in his life feels right, and he lets himself enjoy it in silence.

The shower is a cramped space when shared between them and the wet clothes they have draped over the back edge of the tub, but they make it work. It's not like they mind anyway.

They bump into one another whenever they do so much as breathe, and the white walls echo the sounds of her giggling when he tries to tickle her. She leans her head back against his chest and lets out a laugh with shampoo dripping down the front of her face, and he'll be damned if he ever heard a sound as intoxicating as that.

It's a little weird. He's never been as soft and loving with a person before, and he has already felt overwhelmed in the lulls of quiet between them when he's given the chance to think about it.

When she washes his hair for him, insisting that she must return the favor after he so kindly washed hers, he was struck with the same mixture of wanting to simultaneously lean into and pull away from her that he felt the night of the party.

The warmth of the water loosens his sore muscles, washing suds of the green apple scented shampoo over his shoulders and down, down, down until it circles the drain beside his feet. All the while, her fingertips are delicately tracing over a healing bruise on his torso. Those pretty lips of hers are painted in a suppressed frown that she can't hide from him.

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

His instant reaction is to fake a smile, to brush it off and distract her as he usually does, yet he doesn't. He forces himself to remain neutral and not push her away.

"Happens all the time," he murmurs, shrugging and averting his eyes to reach for the soap off on the ledge.

The hands holding either side of his waist tighten as he tries to turn, pulling him back to her with more strength than he knew to anticipate from her. Their chests gently collide back together beneath the stream of water, and she can feel his breathing catch for a second or so in response.

The fact that their relationship has changed doesn't change how she handles this aspect of his life. Their new confessions don't have an impact on the part of his life he never wants to let anyone see, so she isn't going to force him to talk about it because they're trying out this whole relationship thing now. He has hard boundaries that she knows not to push sometimes. That's the way it is, and it might change as they grow closer but she knows to accept it for the moment.

As soon as he hears what she has to say next, he could crumble in relief at the realization that their new dynamic doesn't change anything.

"I didn't necessarily mean...that...I meant generally, you know? It's just that—" she sighs, "you shrink away a little when I hold you, and I wondered if I was making you uncomfortable."

Before she could finish the sentence, JJ was already thinking of what to say to prove her wrong, because that's not it. That's not what it is, and if she thinks she's done anything wrong, he'll do anything to convince her otherwise because it isn't her. It's him.

It's his dad lingering in the darker trenches of his mind, commanding his fear and attention so that even when he isn't physically present, he's still here. Part of why he denied wanting her was because he knew these types of things would arise in the beginning, that there would be difficult adjustments to make and conversations to be had, and he didn't want her to leave him as soon as she was faced with one of these things.

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything."

The feeing of her chest rising and falling with his begins to steady him after a moment of allowing the initial hesitation to dissolve. His internal reaction to her touch is the mental incarnation of a flinch. It's him waiting for the other shoe to drop and expecting her to do something, to hurt him, before his mind catches up with his heart. But once he realizes everything's okay, he loves it.

"It's kinda embarrassing, but I guess when you touch me, I'm expecting something else," he says softly, scared that if he speaks too loudly, everyone in the world will know how weak he feels.

She should've figured, but hearing him say it is different than wondering what the reasoning behind it is. Hearing him admit it after months of strict avoidance on the topic is a sucker punch to the gut.

Both times they had sex, he was too distracted and thoughtless to get caught up in that part of himself, but it's when the bliss of the afterglow disappears that it creeps back in. That's why he could always handle touch when it came in that context. It was his way of obtaining what he wanted without having to face this side of it—a temporary fix to a greater web of issues.

But there's nothing temporary about her. He doesn't want her to leave him, not without him resisting the urge to beg her on his knees to stay and at least remain his friend, so there's no choice but to face these momentary challenges head on.

She pauses for a second, thinking, then says, "You don't have to be embarrassed about it, I get it. We'll just have to take it day by day then. We can take it slow, and you'll let me know if it gets to be too much, okay?"

It's hard not to be shocked by how well she's taking it. A lot of people probably wouldn't feel too great after someone they love tells them they expect to be hit whenever they touch them, yet she's taking it in stride.

Things are back to normal as soon as she sees the grin on his face.

"So, you're saying you're gonna be trying not to throw yourself at me all the time?" JJ asks, then clicks his tongue as though in thought. "I give you a week. Tops."

Her eyes go wide as she looks at him. She holds her hand over her heart as she pretends to be scandalized by such an accusation, but they know it's true. They both can't keep their hands off of one another, which is why it confuses him. How can he want to reject and enjoy her touch at the same time? Sure, the discomfort disappears after the first split-second, but the fact that it happens in the first place annoys him to no end.

She rolls her eyes and tries to hide the fact that she's giggling as she reaches for the soap.

"You're a little shit, you know that?"

He doesn't miss a beat, saying back, "Yeah but I'm your little shit, so I feel like that says more about you than it does me."

While he's too busy rinsing the rest of the shampoo out of his hair, she smiles to herself at what he said.

Hers.

Nobody has ever been hers before, or proclaimed themselves as belonging to her as proudly and casually as he just did, and her heart melts over the sweet sentiment he didn't think twice about.

Less than a day ago, she was agonizing over her relationship with him and trying to ignore how powerful those feelings for him were, and now they're here. She no longer has to steal glances when he looks away or hide how jealous she feels when other girls flirt with him. To finally let the tension disappear is an immense weight off of her shoulders.

The rest of the shower is as quiet as the start of it was, and that comfortable silence continues through from when they're drying off and redressing to when they hit the mattress in the spare bedroom with tired sighs.

After the day they had, the mere suggestion of sleep is enough to make them start yawning, so being able to slip beneath the sheets and rest their heads almost sings her to sleep instantly.

Their bodies are laying in the exact outlines of where they laid the night of the party, the only difference this time being their mindsets. This time around, they aren't holding themselves back from anything, and it's most evident in the little things. Like how she doesn't turn around to shield her face from him, instead laying with her head propped on the other end of his favorite pillow.

They're so close, their noses brush if they make any slight movements, and this would be enough for him to submit to the urge to drift into sleep if not for the fact that he feels her jolt when thunder rumbles loudly outside of the window.

Much like his own fears being pushed to the side amidst their desire for each other, her anxiety about the storm wasn't on her mind until they laid down to sleep.

She was so wrapped up in him and everything that happened between them that she didn't have the time to think again until now, until she hears the violent patter of rain against the roof and feels her stomach drop at the sound of the thunder. Suddenly, she's not the one reassuring him about his fearful reactions, it's the other way around.

His warm hand takes hers, snatching it up as though he's worried it'll disappear if he doesn't take it quickly enough, and she lets him. Her eyes flutter shut with the release of a slow, deep breath, and she lets the presence of his hand in hers bring her back to earth.

JJ asks into the darkness, "Can I take you out on a real date?" After a beat of silence, the comforting sound of his voice returns to her. "Not that this isn't fun, but I think you deserve a little more effort than John B's living room floor."

A short-lived chuckle escapes her—a win as far as he's concerned. It's difficult to lure her head from the clouds when she gets this way, and it isn't like he has much experience with calming her during these moments either, but that sounded good to him. It sounded like she wasn't thinking about the increased pace of her heart or the howling wind outside.

He was planning on asking anyway. However fitting of a first night together this was, he wants to take her out for real sometime soon. He doesn't have much money for it, like at all, but they can come up with something special together, even if it's similar to the same shit they usually do together. As long as it's time alone together, they don't necessarily care if it's a perfectly traditional first date.

The tip of his thumb rubs comforting circles onto the back of her hand in the brief time it takes her to respond, stroking the soft skin as if to tell her that everything's okay. It seems to say, I'm right here. Nothing can hurt you. And it might make her crazy, but she believes him. JJ could take her back out into the eye of the hurricane at this very moment and she'd still believe his unspoken promise of not letting her into harm's way.

"Of course," she says, then pauses, and the sound of her sleepy voice hardly reaches his ears when she speaks again, "...I'm sorry I avoided you for the past few days. I was scared to tell you how I felt but I shouldn't have left that morning."

The memory of waking up in his arms is fresh in the forefront of her mind, so much so that she can remember the way his breath felt where it exhaled in warm puffs onto her skin.

In the first few moments of consciousness, it was peaceful.

She laid awake for a minute or two to count his breaths and soak in the comfort of being cuddled up next to him, wishing she could stay there for hours. It wasn't until another moment passed that it clicked with her where she was and what was going on between them recently, and that was what prompted her to slip away from the bed to get ready for her day at work.

It was the second time in a row that she left him in that bed with nothing to wake up to but the cold absence of her body between the sheets he slept under, and he can't deny that it's part of why he holds onto her hand so tightly tonight. Even though she's promised him otherwise, he can't help but think she'll be gone by the time he wakes up. At this point, he's struggling to stay conscious. She can see those pretty eyes drooping more and more by the second, yet the hand holding hers doesn't loosen its grip.

He takes a deep breath and scoots closer to her, keeping his one hand in hers while the other arm drapes itself over her waist, and he can feel her relax into the touch.

"It's okay," he says.

It's easier for him to adjust to so much physical contact when he's the one initiating. He knows that's why she only reached out to hold his hand. If she had it her way, she would've already been cuddling with him as soon as they laid down, but he likes that she gives him the space to initiate it. In the ways it counts the most, she cares about him more than anyone else has.

The touch in itself is his way of accepting her apology. However, truth be told, he already forgave her for it before knowing his love was reciprocated could be a possibility.

Right when she's about to fall asleep, the screen door slamming open and shut with the wind on the back porch makes her whip her head around to look over her shoulder in the direction of the sound. It seems like every time he successfully distracts her from it, the storm finds new ways of reminding her of what's happening outside of the safety of the Chateau.

There's the sound of a barely audible, sharp inhale, then her whispering into the dark room as she looks at the closed door, "I can't believe I went out into that. What the fuck was I thinking?"

It's beginning to close in on her again; the sounds of the storm, the sense of being trapped no matter how safe they truly are, and the rising tidal wave of anxiety that picks up speed the more she tries to will it to stop. This is the part where she tries to relieve it in some way, usually by smoking weed to sleep or going to one of her parents so they can help her through it, but she can't help herself right now.

Debris was being picked and tossed around in the wind like it weighed nothing when she was out there, she could've been knocked into the marsh or struck by a piece of debris.

How could she be so stupid?

Not only could she have hurt herself, she could've hurt JJ knowing that he'd likely follow her out into the storm to bring her back inside, and the thought of him being hurt makes the tension in her chest heavier. Her breathing picks up speed, the anxiety starting to snowball out of control when—

"Hey, look at me," JJ says, reaching up to turn her head to face him, and she damn near crumbles in relief at feeling his hand cup her cheek. It doesn't make it all disappear, but it provides a momentary comfort that she doesn't take for granted. "You're safe here. You know damn well I'll do anything to protect you. I mean, shit, dude, if I have to go out there and tell that rain to fuck off, I will."

This draws out a laugh from her, chest stuttering with the happy sound through the tears glistening in her eyes, and he never wants to stop hearing it. His thumb swipes away the first teardrop that falls before it can slip over the apples of her cheeks. I'm Her quiet cries and shaky breaths continue for a while after the laughter disappears. For a second or two, he watches with his thumb still wiping her tears away and hopes that it'll be enough to comfort her, but it can't do it completely.

He pulls away from her to get up from the bed with an idea popping into his mind, but upon hearing her whine at the loss of contact with him, he pauses to say, "I'll be back quick, don't worry."

The remaining humorous side of her left wonders if he's actually gonna go tell the rain to fuck off, but he's just opening the bedroom door to trot out into the living room.

A candle burning on the coffee table illuminates the space for him, guiding him straight to the forgotten backpack she left slumped against the arm of the couch hours before their relationship was changed for the better. It takes him an instant to get there and back with the bag in hand, and he's digging through it for a second before climbing back into bed with her.

If anyone else rifled through her bag, sifted through her personal belongings, and dug her phone out of it, she'd probably be annoyed, but she never is with him. She's inherently protective of her things, but JJ can do whatever he wants and it has always been that way. It should've been the first warning of what was to come.

He pulls the sheet back over his body and scoots up close to her, trying to resist the urge to retreat at first when he maneuvers her to lay with her head on his shoulder. It should trigger the flight or fight response that often alarms in his head, but he's able to push it away.

She's so vulnerable right now, so gentle and in need of the warmth of another person that he isn't as intimidated. It's not that she couldn't hurt him if she wanted to right now, she could, but he knows her. He knows that the last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt him, so he has to remind himself of that and give himself the permission to enjoy the physical intimacy of her touch. The part of him that questions if he even deserves it can't reach him now, not when he's so focused on her.

"Thumb?" he asks with the phone held out expectantly.

The screen is less than two inches from her face, so she has to push it back slightly, but she flattens her thumb to the button without further hesitation.

When he unwraps the pair of headphones from around the palm of his hand and plugs them into the charging port, she realizes why he left in the first place.

When she was facing away from him, eyes shut and headphones in to distract herself with music earlier, he was stealing glances at her every so often. He tried to keep away from her for the most part. It was difficult though, especially knowing what she said about being jealous the night of the party and knowing how scared she was of the hurricane. He couldn't help but keep an eye on her, for both his own selfish needs and his worry for her.

He keeps an arm tucked around her, pressing her body into his while he pops one of the headphones into her ear and the other into his. The thing is, her eyes aren't trained on the screen like his are once he starts looking through her vast collection of not-so-legally acquired music for a song that suits both of their tastes, they're trained on him.

Their taste in music tends to diverge in certain ways and overlap in others, so there's always a fifty/fifty shot of him liking what she plays when she's the one picking the music. That is why he smiles to himself and halts the endless scrolling in its tracks to hover his thumb over one song.

He obviously heard it before she played it that one time, but it's different for him now. They were riding together in the backseat of the Twinkie on the way to the beach with John B, Kie, and Pope when they let her take her turn to play a song.

That's how it is with them, the driver goes first, then it goes to the front seat passenger, and so on and so on until they make their way back to the beginning of the rotation. It was her turn when she picked this song, and it could've been the song, or the sunset shining through the window, but he felt as though his heart exploded when he looked at her in the middle of it.

He remembers feeling confused, confused as to why he couldn't catch his breath and why he suddenly adored the song he only heard casually a couple of times.

It was her. It was everything about her. The soft hum of her voice murmuring the lyrics, too shy to actually sing them in the presence of anyone else, was too delicate for the others to appreciate over the sounds of the van. He heard it though. He clung to it and admired her, so unashamed in his staring that he didn't realize he was doing it. It wasn't until she noticed that he stopped.

"Do I still have ice cream on my face or something?"

Her fingers came up to wipe at the corner over her mouth, and the action sent him turning his attention away quicker than he knew he could move, pulling the lighter out of his pocket to fiddle with as he mumbled, "Yeah, but you got it off now."

The cheery melody of Just Like Heaven bursts out of each headphone into their ears.

How did he know? How is he constantly reading her mind without realizing it?

This was her first song on the couch that she couldn't stand to sit through without thinking, naturally, of him when confronted with the topic of love. Somehow, it's like he knew that, and instead of feeling exposed and scared he'll know her feelings like before, she feels loved.

She is never skipping this song again.

"Go to sleep," he murmurs, clicking the screen off and resting it on his stomach.

It takes him a short thirty seconds to fall into an easy, calm pattern of breathing that tells her he isn't asleep, but soon will be. But she's fighting her sleepiness to continue looking at him. His eyes are fluttered shut, hair messy on the pillow, and she'd want to reach up to kiss him if he weren't trying to fall asleep.

Instead, she settles for matching her quickened breaths to the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand and shuts her eyes along with him.

By the time the song reaches its end, she thinks he's asleep, but she still whispers, "Thank you," and feels his arm squeeze around her body in response.

The next songs fade into white noise at this point for her, drowning out the storm to the point where she begins to forget it's happening out there.

Maybe they can be each other's safe place when things get rough. After all, he handled this wonderfully considering his lack of experience with her anxiety and she never pushes him on his plethora of unsorted issues, even when she wants so badly to be the one to initiate the touch.

She never makes him think she pities him, or wants to "fix" him like so many partners with savior complexes who will never try to understand how it feels often do in these situations. With each other, maybe it doesn't have to be so complicated anymore, even when they have those inevitable arguments here or there.

The last thing he does before allowing himself to be dragged under is brush his lips on her forehead in a tender kiss. And when he eventually wakes to the rising sun shining through the windows in the aftermath of the violent hurricane, she's still there.

Tag List: @jjjmaybank, @its-simply-fanfiction, @naughtydild0swaggins.

[jotatetsuken]

HIHI SHYNA!! congrats on 100 followers, your milestone event is one of the most creative and cutest that i’ve seen!! <3

may i join? my pronouns are they/she (but i’m also fine with she/her when writing and reading!), ENFP, dessert, rosemary, and special ingredient is… drum roll please… satori tendou!! (so on brand of me HAHA)

thank you so much and i can’t wait to see what you create! congrats once again :)

HIIII DICE :D thank you so so much for being the first person to send me a request, and I hope you enjoy the meal. I'm so so sorry for the delay, but,here's the Satori drabble for you <3 also, imyyyyyy 🥺

To The Red-Haired Man that I Eventually Loved

features: satori tendou x reader

final dish for: @sweetsbysatori

type of writing: drabble

trope: fake relationship, college au

warnings: starts angsty 'cause reader's crush is dating someone, overall fluffy as heck

song: about love - marina

number of words: 992

beta reading: @saltyvanilla (ilysvm thank you for everything ♥️)

tagging: @mrskenmakozume @hyeque @akaashi-todorki @kiiraes @miikoos @ohtobiors @oyasumiares @tiddieluvr @sabyss @cirigiri @beware-of-the-rogue @cuz-like-why-not @haikyutiehoe @oikawas-milk-bread @solamoure @lunaevangeline (taglist form)

prompt: “I may or may not be secretly leaving teddy bears outside your house so I can see your delighted face in the mornings.” - @sleepyprompts

a/n: so I definitely thought of "To All the Boys I've Loved Before" for this one hahaha. Although, Satori would be a better Peter Kavinsky imo :D Hope y'all enjoy this <3 Likes, comments, and reblogs, especially reblogs are appreciated. ^_^

Made with Love: 100 Followers Event (closed)

“Satori,” she cries out as she begins melting chocolate on the stove. “Yes, dearie,” her red-haired companion approaches her, grabbing the spatula from her hands as she yells, “Hey,” as he swats her hands away, tossing them aside. “Oh, thank heavens you didn't burn the chocolate,” he exaggerated, causing her to roll her eyes. She hugged him from the back and asked, “Satori, remember how we got together?” He laughed, saying, “of course I do, darling. It happened when…

A year ago, in their last year at Shiratorizawa University, (Y/N) noticed that her crush, Eita Semi, was dating her nemesis, prompting wrath to flood through her veins, especially anytime they were in public. This was something her best friend, Satori Tendou, couldn't help but notice. So he summons her to a park, where he sits on a bench and enunciates, “listen, (Y/N), until you attract Eita's attention in some way, he'd unfortunately not glance at you,” causing her to nod in agreement as she looks down on the grass until an idea strikes her. “How about we fake date?” she asks, looking up. Satori glances at her with a strange expression, considering for a while before the identical thought process occurs to him. “That's terrific; we can start acting like a couple and annoy Semi-Semi!” Both of them grinned at each other.

The next day, she walked with Satori, arm in arm to the classroom, causing the ashen-haired boy to look in shock, and Ushijima to narrow his eyes at them. Semi then asks him, "Satori, when did this happen? Why did you not tell me about her?" As they sat in their seats, still holding hands, she sighs and states, "Eita, it just happened all of a sudden, y'know?" shrugging her shoulders.Eita was very perplexed by what he saw and started fiddling with his fingers.

Satori and she had since been the talk of the town. They traveled to university together, ate lunch together frequently, and went on double dates with people. She even went to volleyball games when Eita, Satori, and Wakatoshi would play together, and she watched Eita staring at Satori and her interactions throughout, distracting him from his game. Satori and she ended up bonding over many things, including their favorite movies, meals, and chocolate, and they were even candid about their damaged pasts.

Before going for classes one day, she opened her door to find an (f/c) teddy bear on her front porch, with a note saying, "thinking of you." She smiled to herself while she waited for Satori. "Hello, honey," he gushes as he moves up to her, his eyes widening when he notices the teddy bear. "Oooh, who's the special someone who gave it to you?" he asks with a smirk, poking at her shoulders. As she sits in the car, she blushes and answers, "I'm not sure who sent it, but it made my day." Satori then looked at her with adoring eyes, fully mesmerized by her grin as he drove her. Days went by, and she received more teddy bears on her front porch, and whenever Satori and she were in the cafeteria, Semi always tried approaching her, but to no avail, as his girlfriend would take him away. 

However, one day, it was raining, and as she frantically opened the door, she saw the teddy bear holding a small umbrella, bringing a chuckle to her face, but the smile wore off as the note said, “I’m not who you think I am.” She became curious over time as to who sent it, and her first guess being Eita, caused her to walk to him during lunch. “Eita,” she calls out to him as he’s ending, and he flinches in shock as he turns to her and stands up, “(Y/N), I need to talk to you.” She narrowed her eyes, replying, “funny, I needed to talk to you too. Can we go to the park?” He nodded and answered, “Sure.”

Eita and (Y/N) strolled through the park down a pebble path to a nearby bench to avoid walking on the wet grass when the rain had ceased. “Why don't you go first?” she suggested as they seated. The setter then takes her hands in his and says, “I'd be lying if I said I didn't have feelings for you, but I do. I'm sorry I dated another lady, but I wanted us to find a way to talk about us, and I thought-”

“Are you the one who has been dropping teddy bears on my porch?” she interrupted, taking her hands off Semi's grip. “No, no, I didn't, but-” he says, furrowing his brows. She then placed her hand forward to calm him, halted, and began to wonder who it could be, when she heard a familiar voice from a distance say, “I may or may not be secretly leaving teddy bears outside your house so I can see your delighted face in the mornings.”

The instant she turned around and saw Satori approach her, she had a rude awakening. Their bond felt more real than her crush on Semi over the preceding few months of phoney courting. As a result, she dashed to Satori and enveloped herself in his arms. As he clutched her, his fingers finding their way into the cracks of her locks, she confessed, her words muffled, “I need you to know, Satori Tendou, that I like you, and not in a fake way.” He chuckled, cradled her face, and pressed his lips against hers, eventually melting into each other.

Months later, in the kitchen in Paris, she hugged him tighter and said, “Thank you, for loving me, in every way possible.” He tilted his head so as to perch it on her, chuckling, “You know? We should thank Semi-Semi for bringing us together.” You chuckled but laughed along as well. Despite his remarks, she would never trade him for the world.

© Shyna 2022

[lovely-jily]

potions and locked closets

hey!! sorry this is such a long fic BUT i just wanted to say that i’m also working on this same fic but from lily’s pov lmk if you’d want that:))) thanks and i love you all so freakin much <3

James tried to steady his breathing. His heart was already beating too quickly for his liking, and he hadn't even seen her yet. He was already surprised that she agreed to be his partner; they both know that it would likely be another hour of pointless bickering but nonetheless. Lily Evans had agreed to partner with James for their weekly project Slughorn had assigned. She finally said yes to something.

"Fine," she had said after he asked her, following it up with, "But I'll undoubtedly need help with Transfiguration this week, so if you swear to help me, then I suppose we can partner."

In all honesty, James wasn't having too much trouble with his Elixer to Induce Euphoria, but he just wanted an excuse for Lily to be with him. And maybe if she saw that he had matured at least a little bit, it would make her start to tolerate him.

If that were even possible.

The dungeons were decently empty, but Lily had intentionally reserved the potions room in advance so no one else would be around. Meaning they would be completely and totally alone.

When he walked into the room, she was fiddling with the size of the fire under the cauldron. She was at the desk she usually sat in, the second row to the left, with her back to him.

"Evening Evans," He said, setting his bag on the table and standing next to her, "I see you've started already."

"Well, I actually want a good score on this," She exhaled through her mouth and flipped through her Potions book, her dainty fingers lingering on the words "Elixer to Induce Euphoria".

"I'm right there with you," he said, rolling up his sleeves. He watched Lily's eyes dart from his arms back to her textbook. From what James could see, she already gathered the ingredients and had them neatly organised in front of them.

"Alright, you can start by skinning these then?" She said, swiftly handing him the Shrivelfigs.

"Got it," he noted the way her eyes darted up to his for a second when she was handing him the Shrivelfigs, their skin touching momentarily. While it was only a second, it was long enough to cause James to hitch his breath in an all too noticeable way.

He started skinning the flower, trying to ignore the way her perfume smelled or the curve of her jaw. She tied her hair up in a low ponytail, pulling out tiny wispy hairs that framed her face. He chastised himself for the dirty thoughts that followed, but, Jesus, he couldn't help his want to do the most unholy things to her when she did that.

She started working on porcupine quills as he attempted to pull himself together.

"I wish we got Amortentia."

James took a sharp inhale, resulting in him coughing on his own spit. She, Lily Evans, the same Lily Evans who insisted she hated every fibre of his being every day since they were twelve, wanted to make a love potion with him- James! James Potter! As in the same James Potter that she would shoot daggers at any excuse, the boy she would scold any second she could, the boy-

"It's just so much more of a challenge compared to this one," she finished.

Right. Of course. That's why Lily wanted to make that potion, no other reason, as much as James wanted there to be.

"At least we didn't get Felix Felicis. That takes a while," He ignored the feeling of his heart sinking and his stomach twisting as he finished up the Shrivelfigs. He should've known that was the reason, but he couldn't help but innocently jump to conclusions with her.

"What did Amortentia smell like for you?" She asked, causing James to start jumping to conclusions again.

How do I answer this honestly without giving away the fact that I smelled her?"

"Fresh bread, rain, and- uh- my mother's shampoo," He mentally kicked himself for bringing up his mother, but it was the quickest thing he could think of on the spot, "What about you?"

She sighed, stirring in the quills, "The ocean, my mum's hot chocolate and a cologne of some kind, but I couldn't place where that one was from."

A pang of jealousy beat along with James's heart as he thought about her smelling another lads cologne. Whoever he was, he was a prick.

She shook her head quickly as she seemed to panic for a moment, hastily saying, "Anyways, I'm sure it doesn't matter."

She fiddled with the ladle, brushing the few hairs out of her face. Her cheeks were bright red.

"You alright there, Evans?" He asked as he turned to look at her. He swallowed what felt like all his dignity and pride but was actually just the extra spit that always was around with Lily.

"Just fine," She cleared her throat and handed him the Sopophorous beans, not looking at him, "Would love it if you could start working on these, though."

"Got it," he mumbled as he started dicing the beans.

"No, Potter," His heart lightened a little at the sound of his name in her voice, even if it was to chastise him, "Those are far too small. They'll dissolve too quickly."

"What do you mean, this is how Slughorn does it-"

"Slughorn always cuts things too small, but he makes up for it by moving a little quicker-"

"Well, that's stupid. What kind of a teacher-"

"James," She looked up at him, sighing, and despite her exhausted expression, his lungs lifted immensely at the sound of his first name. She never used his first name.

"Yes, Evans?"

"Could you perhaps go find more in the Potions closet? I think it'll just make things a lot easier."

"Got it."

The closet was cluttered, full of misplaced ingredients from students whose first priority clearly wasn't organisation. After a solid minute of staring at the mess, he called her in to help him.

"What do you mean 'Can't find them'- I just saw them," she huffed, shoving herself next to him in the tight space. James would be lying if he said he didn't do this on purpose but let the boy live. He would take any excuse to be in close proximity to the girl.

"Not sure how anyone could find anything in here. I feel bad for the poor bloke who has to clean this during detention," He said, hands on his hips as she stood in front of him, green eyes scanning the shelves. The closet door closed behind her, and while they weren't any closer than they were by the desks, it almost felt like she was right on top of him. It was taking his total concentration to not think about shoving her against the door and having a long-awaited snog.

"It'll probably be Sirius," she said, glancing at him, a smirk on her face.

He chuckled as he looked at the messy shelves, suddenly shy from her eye contact, "Probably. Maybe we should leave him a note."

They faced each other, her back towards the door and his towards the shelves of messy ingredients. There was just enough room between them for her to fold her arms against her chest, her smile making James's lungs feel extra airy, "Or we can charm the Wolfsbane to fall off every time he tries to put it away."

James laughed, shaking his head as he looked down at her. Their faces were only inches apart, and his heart was beating so hard he was worried she could feel it.

"You know, for such a stickler for rules, you're quite creative with pranks."

She smirked, "I've learned that you can get away with a lot more if you aren't so obnoxious about it."

James let out a fake, dramatised gasp, "You?! A Prefect breaking rules?"

She just shrugged, a smirk still painted on her face. James took a second to look at her, feeling fortunate that not only was he was in the potions closet with her, but she had chosen to carry a conversation with him. This friendly banter was still a little rare, even though they had been getting a little closer lately. Since the incident at the end of fifth year, roughly nine months ago, James decided to get his act together. Mainly for the sake of Lily, but also the threat of war was becoming more than just rumours, and he knew that a war was no place for an immature bully like himself. He was not a person that he- or really anyone- was proud of, and he wasn't okay with that.

James was about to say something when her eyes lit up at something behind his head.

"There it is!" She said and reached her arm out to grab something just next to his ear.

Under normal circumstances, James would've been disappointed that she found it because it probably meant that his time in a closet with her, the girl he's wanted to shag since he had first laid eyes on her, was now over.

However, when Lily reached forward to grab whatever they were looking for (James had since forgotten. Other things had occupied his mind the past couple of minutes), she had subconsciously pressed her body up against his. In a panic, James put his hands on her waist. They both looked at each other with panicked eyes when they realised what was going on, faces close enough that James felt her heavy exhale as she attempted to catch her breath. Her eyes darted to his lips as he was suddenly aware of how naked they felt without hers on them. He instinctively bit them.

James cleared his throat and politely turned his head away from her, trying to reduce the awkwardness.

"Er-Um-Sorry," He said, taking his hands off her waist and shoving his hands into his pockets. Lily's hand was still grasping the beans behind him, and she was staring at him, seemingly debating something. Feeling shy and awkward as she studied his face, James was staring at her left earlobe, noticing the freckle resting next to her small pearl earring.

"Don't worry about it," She mindlessly whispered, still looking intently at him. She seemed to be deep in thought and was not thinking about the words she was saying.

James was just surprised she wasn't showing any signs of being uncomfortable. He would've guessed that she would be yelling at him by now.

"So-uh- I guess we should get-" James cleared his throat as he reached for the door handle behind her. He was nervous under Lily's stare and was having a hard time keeping composure. He wasn't sure what she was thinking, and that honestly bothered him more than if she was yelling at him. At least he knew how she felt then, but he was entirely in the dark right now, "We should get going. The potion's probably been simmering for too long."

Lily blinked and shook her head as if leaving a deep trance. Suddenly embarrassed and blushing, she nodded her head and cleared her throat.

"Right," She said as James tried the door handle.

It didn't move.

He tried it again.

Nothing.

"Well, shit," James said, trying to jiggle the door handle again with both hands despite knowing it wouldn't work. She probably thought he did this on purpose (Which wouldn't be a terribly bad idea if James wasn't so afraid of her), "It's locked."

Lily's eyes widened in a panic, and she promptly turned around, trying the door handle for herself. When it inevitably didn't work, she turned back around and sighed as she leaned against the door, looking up. She groaned and brushed the hair out of her face.

"I forgot that Slughorn keeps it locked," She said, still huffing, "Normally, it doesn't matter because he just keeps it open, but..."

James felt his pockets for his wand and remembered he left it on the desk, "You haven't got your wand, do you?"

Lily looked down as she felt her own pockets, looking back up as she shook her head.

It was then, at the sight of a dishevelled Lily Evans, that James realised that he was locked in a closet with her, and he had a hard time remembering why this was such a bad thing. He tried to shove out the thoughts that entered at the way she looked dishevelled and breathing heavily. The things he would do to be the one making her look like that...

"Sorry, Evans. I feel partially responsible for this predicament," He shook his head, trying to regain self-control. What was he thinking? This was Lily Evans he was thinking about. The girl who never failed to let him know just how much she wanted to strangle him at any given moment.

She said nothing, instead resumed studying his face. He sheepishly messed up his hair, unsure what to do with his body under her gaze.

"Oh, Christ, James," She said in annoyance, biting her lip softly.

"What did I do? I didn't know about the lock!" James said defensively, finding it odd that she was just now getting mad at him.

She rolled her eyes and just looked at him.

"Fuck it," She said, and before James could form a confused expression, her hands were pulling his neck forward, and her lips were being slammed against his.

"What the fuck?" James said, shock widening his eyes as he pulled away slightly. He clearly was baffled beyond logical thinking and reason because Lily would be shoved up against the door if he were thinking clearly. There was no way that Lily Evans, the same Lily Evans that swore she wouldn't ever go out with him not even nine months ago, had just kissed him. Passionately, at that.

"Are you complaining?" She asked, a soft smirk resting on the lips that James was just kissing.

"What-No? Of course not, I just-"

"Then shut up," She whispered, feeling her way from his neck to his tie, which she pulled him forward with so their faces were close again, "And give me a good snog."

"Yes, ma'am," James smirked and tilted his head, pushing her against the door and kissing her firmly without a second thought.

[gotnofucks]

Pot of Gold

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: You went broke and bet your pussy.

Words: 2k

Warnings: Fluffy smut, slight dom Steve, language, 18+ ONLY

A/N: dedicated to the anon who said she needed fluffy Steve smut so that she could get out of her bed. Hope you feel better hon <3

MASTERLIST

+++++

“And what do you bet?” Thor asked you, stacking other’s money in the center of the table. It wasn’t game night yet, but since no one wanted to go out you lot pulled out a few board games. It was going great until the betting started, because the Avengers just can’t play like normal broke people. You had like an amateur lost all your cash in the last round of poker, and now sitting around some stupid board game with pictures and dices, you were the only one who was penniless. Everyone else had tossed on hundreds of dollars and looked at you curiously.

“I bet my pussy” You said at last and a hush fell around the table. For the first time tonight, you were glad to be the only woman present. The reaction you received from the men was very flattering.

Tony, Steve, Thor, Sam, Bucky, and Clint all looked dumbstruck for a moment, their mouths hanging open in surprise. It was when Tony snorted in amusement that they shook their head and gave you disbelieving looks.

“Don’t look at me like that. I have it on good authority that its like a pot of gold.” You remarked and saw more than one man blush. You didn’t care much about modesty, or shame for that matter.

“Y/n, you can’t be serious” Bucky said, and you shrugged nonchalantly.

“Of course, I am Buck. My pussy is worth more than your money put together, so whoever wins will be more than pleased with the outcome. If someone else wins that is. I have every intension of winning this time ‘round” You declared while cracking your knuckles.

“Cool then. Game’s simple enough. Roll the dice, get big numbers, and cross the obstacles. Whoever reaches the finishing line first wins and takes the prize.” Tony said and Steve looked scandalized.

“You can’t be serious Tony!” He exclaimed and you rolled your eyes right along with Tony’s.

“Listen up Capsicle if the lady wants to bet her cooch, so she can. I for one really want to win this round.” Tony said winking at you, and you giggled.

“You got competition here Stark. I want that pot of gold.” Thor stated and you would be a liar if a fire didn’t start in your belly. You wouldn’t mind any of the men taking you, or all of them.

“Oh baby, you are gonna get some chocolate spread this evening” Sam was rubbing his hands the way villains do and you gave him a once over, licking your lips at the end making him groan. “Cap and Tin Man make be from the 90s, but I can give it to you good.”

“I can give it as good as you Birdguy. Just you wait and see. She’ll be screaming from the rafter!” Bucky was also flexing as if it was a wresting match. You couldn’t help the smug smile that was splitting your face in half. This was much better than any evening out would have been.

The game began without preamble now and you saw more than one salacious look tossed your way. Even Steve and Clint who had so far not made their desire known were looking at you with hot eyes, each person rolling the dice with greater gusto. Sabotage became common, someone trying to knock their elbows and move their pieces. Arguments broke out, the board was almost flipped twice, and the game was nearing the end. You were holding the dices in your hands, rolling them between your thumb and finger as you carefully measured your score. You’d need a 10 to win. Or else you were out. Everyone’s eyes were trained on and you felt the pressure mounting. You breathed deeply then let the dices fall with a loud exhale, holding your breath as they came to a still.

5 and 4

“Fuck!” You shouted and the sentiment was echoed, more like cheered. You sat back on your chair with a huff and cross your arms while Thor puts a hand around you.

“Its okay Y/n, I’ll make sure you win even as you lose.” He made his move and the other guys booed as Thor lost too. You were at the edge of your seat, watching as one by one everyone else rolled the dices across the board. Clint groaned and mimicked your actions when he didn’t make the line, followed by Sam who simply got up and left. You watched Tony, Steve and Bucky battle it out, their tongues between their teeth. You were as anxious as any of the others, legs bouncing in anticipation. You made a small noise of dejection when Bucky lost and pouted. You really wouldn’t have minded that metal hand between your legs.

“Capsicle, why not give up now. It’s not like you’ll know what to do with a woman like our girl here.” Tony goaded Steve who glared at him.

“Make your move Stark.” He simply replied and you leaned forward as the dices rolled. They spun on their edges, making the suspense comically longer and when they finally laid still you started chuckling.

“Next time, Tony.” You consoled, your hand patting his knee. He looked so forlorn that you almost suggested a rematch.

“He still has to make a move! He hasn’t won yet.” Tony pointed at Steve who with all the stoicism bred into him tossed his dices and got the perfect score.

“In your face, playboy!” Steve triumphed and to everyone’s surprise just lifted you onto his shoulders like a sack and began walking away. “Leave the cash with Buck. I’ll take those earnings after I’m finished with the real prize”

Cheers and howls followed you as you dangled over Steve’s back. You had no idea he could be this passionate, but you had no reason to complain. You let him haul you away to his room in relative peace, only getting a slap on your butt after poking Steve’s ass through his joggers. He threw you on the bed and shut the door behind him, turning to look at you with fire in his eyes.

“Velvet or silk?” He questioned and your throat went dry as he walked to his closet in the corner. He raised an eyebrow when you didn’t respond, and you cleared your throat.

“Velvet?” You answered, unsure what you agreed to. Steve came back with velvet lined handcuffs in his hands and you creamed. Holy shit, who would have thought that prim and proper Captain could have a kinky side too.

“Hands behind your head” He ordered in his captain voice and you swore your thighs were trembling in need. This was something so out of the realm of possibility you felt out of your element for a while. You complied, your hands holding the headrest as Steve came forward and cuffed them, the velvet delicate on your skin. He rattled them a little, looking at you in question. “Feel okay?”

You only nodded, too stunned to speak, and licked your lips when Steve removed his t-shirt, his bare chest only serving to make you hotter. You didn’t realize you had parted your legs in welcome until Steve climbed between them, his blue eyes almost black with lust.

“Do you have a safe word?” He asked and you nodded.

“Oatmeal” You answered, and Steve paused as if making sure he heard right. “It is a long story.” You sighed. Steve smiled before leaning over you to kiss you softly, his hands travelling from your hips to your sides, caressing them languidly and then reaching your breasts. You moaned in his mouth when his fingers found your stiff nipples, and you bucked up trying to bring him closer.

“You need to tell me if I hurt you, okay?” Steve urged, his mouth licking a fiery trail on your neck. You nodded, too busy in the feel of his mouth to do more than moan. Oh god, Tony was sooo wrong. Cap knew what to do with a girl alright.

He pulled back enough to take hold of your top and tear it straight down the middle, his inner caveman coming back. Your bra fared the same and Steve wasted no time in lapping up your supple flesh. You were sure your voices carried all the way down to the common room, Steve’s tongue making you go wild.

“No holding back sounds tonight, sweetheart. Or I’ll hold back your orgasms, that clear?” He said and hooked his hands into your pants to pull them down, his hands tracing your bare legs. The look in his eyes made you feel like you’ll combust if he didn’t touch you down there right now.

“Please Steve, don’t tease.” You whined and he bent over you, pulling your panties down with his teeth. You are going to write him a fucking glowing performance review and mail it to Tony tomorrow. Your wildest fantasies couldn’t have prepared you for it. He slipped out of his joggers and boxers, his cock hard and weeping. Your mouth watered and you downright salivated when he stroked it. Steve saw your expression and chuckled.

“You’ll get a taste later. But right now, I’m gonna dip my prick in your pot of gold.”

You wished your hands were free when he fitted himself between your legs, helping you wrap them around his thick frame. He torturously lubed himself up in your juices and entered you sinfully slow, letting you feel every bit of him. You both moaned, your mouths meeting for a sloppy kiss when he started moving, getting faster by the minute. One of his hands reached between your bodies to tweak your clit, alternating rough and soft until you bordered on the edge of your cliff. He was so thick you were stretched almost uncomfortably wide; each inch of your walls being rubbed in the most delicious way. You chanted a crescendo of “yes” and “oohs” and “please” and “faster” along with his name. You didn’t seem to be making sense, but he clearly didn’t care since he did little but grunt in pleasure, hips hammering in you hard enough to bang the headboard against the wall.

“Come on darling, scream for me!” He ordered, his fingering pinching your bud and you exploded around him, your body arching in pleasure. He fucked you through your high, thrusts getting sloppier with every second. “Are you on the pill?” He really should have asked earlier.

“I get a depo shot. Don’t you dare waste a single drop. Need you in me!” You honestly didn’t know what you were saying, instead you seemed drunk on his passion and power. You needed him to fill you up, the very primal animalistic part of you craving his seed.

Steve stuttered, his breath coming out in broken gasps when he finally released in you, hips lazily moving until he went limp right over your body. His weight crushed you, but you didn’t tell him to roll off just yet. The warmth of him fell nice.

He raised his hands and reached to undo your hands, massaging your wrists gently and you fisted them in his hair, pulling him into another deep kiss before letting go. He settled beside you, sweaty body holding yours close.

“You’re not leaving tonight; I still need to taste you.” He murmured in your ear, biting the earlobe, and making you squeal.

“Yes captain” you conceded, and his hand swatted your behind before pulling you closer.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You whispered in his ear after your breaths had settled to normal. He hummed in reply and you sat up, your eyes twinkling. “I lost on purpose”

Steve blinked before a laugh bubbled from deep within him, his arms pulling your body under his as he caged you.

“My god, I think I’m gonna have to fuck you good enough that you never think of letting another man fuck you. This pot of gold,” he cupped your pussy, “I have no intension of sharing it”.

+++++

Gonna re-blog with tags later

Taglist is Open.

[yesokaythatsfine69]

You Sexy Thing (Levi Ackerman x reader)

Description: Often Captain Levi is a little shit, and sometimes- he needs to be reminded about who's in control.

Character(s): Y/n, Levi

Pov: 2nd person, third person

Warning(s): SMUT!!! PORN WITHOUT PLOT- PEGGING, 18+

A/n: I keep seeing all this talk about pegging Levi Ackerman but I couldn't find anything to show- so in the words of Thanos, "I guess I'll do it myself"

Word Count:

*none of the Gifs used are mine, full credit goes to the maker :)

Your fists clenched, nails digging into the palms, on the verge of breaking skin. The yelps of your fellow squad members caused your teeth to grind. They had to have ran over four miles today- probably more- they had to do suicides double time, all of this shit and more were because the lovely supreme commander of heaven and hell, Squad leader Levi Ackerman had felt their cleaning of the stalls had been less than ideal.

Currently you were in the midst of doing push ups till he deemed fit. You glanced up at the captain, watching as his silver eyes roamed over the lot of you. Even as you seethed and raged- he was still the most gorgeous sight your eyes had ever laid upon. Levi's hair was raven black, in contrast to his light skin and silvery orbs. His hair was what caught you at first- the way it seemed to fall over his eyes just a bit.

It was long enough you could pull your fingers through- you were sure. You could only imagined how soft it must be. Levi facial features also caught you at a loss for words- they were quite dainty. Long black eye lashes, a soft line nose, and thin pink lips. God, was he pretty.

Your eyes moved from their spot, away from your Adonis and to the ground. No matter how pretty he was, he was still a bastard.

You mumbled incoherently to yourself, flexing your fists. The pain of doing another pushup finally getting to you. "Tch, I think you've all learned your lessons." You looked up again, knees dropping. The Devil himself spoke, lifting his hand and waving it in dismissal. "Go to the showers, you brats stink." Blowing a strand of hair from your eye, you rolled your shoulders back, taking Petra's outstretched hand as you bounded up.

No one spoke as they dispersed. You were itching for a shower, and you practically ran to get one.

You were dead tired, dead sleepy, and running on pure anger.

You watched the water flow into the drain near your feet, fixated on nothing but the boiling water as it hit you. Your anger had not evaporated-it simply grew. If he thought he could've done a better job, maybe he should have done it. You slammed the water off.

Or perhaps- and this was just a thought- he could let you get some real training in, instead of wasting your time and energy on being punished.

Punished.

Your eyes narrowed.

You stepped from the shower, one foot at a time.

Perhaps...the omnipotent captain Levi deserved a punishment of his own. Something that would...bring him down a peg.

You smiled, remembering a certain box hid underneath just for this type of reason.

"I think I might have just the thing."

--------------------------------------------------

Levi was just as sexy (if not more) than he was pretty. Something about him, oozed it. Maybe it was the way he walked, confident but not egotistical. They way spoke- his voice. His dry humor, his bleak expressions, his impeccable fighting skills and savagery...his taunt ass, or maybe it was the way his uniform hugged his body.

Your hands tugged at a box that laid deep beneath your bed. It scraped against the floor, finally sliding directly in front of you. You unhooked the latch, pulling out the important piece of equipment you'd need tonight.

You bit your tongue.

--------------------------------------------------

The truth was, you could spot a bottom from a mile away. It was also the people who needed control in their daily lives- people who needed everything perfect. At night they liked to take a break- to be controlled. Who were you to judge? You couldn't blame them, not hardly.

You knocked at his office door. It was late, barely a few minutes before lights out. For several seconds nothing happened, but you waited. Patience was a specialty.

"Come in." The tone was annoyed, and as you entered you could see why. He had stacks of papers before him, a signal candle lighting the room. Levi rubbed his temples, a sign that the dim lighting had an affect.

His eyes flickered up to met yours, "lieutenant Y/L/N?" The air was tense and goosebumps erupted across your forearms. "Captain Levi, I'm glad I caught you." His Expression remained unchanging. "Tch, yeah, I'm sure. What do you want, brat?"

You smiled, your hands intertwining from behind your back. "You to apologise." His entire body paused. Levi twitched his head to the side, a small movement. "Oh? So you're here to waste both are times then, y/l/n." You turned, locking his office door behind you.

Levi stood. "Oi, oi, oi, what do you think you're doing?" You turned back to face him. "The only person who wasted our time today was you." His eyes narrowed slightly. This was a side of you he hadn't been used to. Sure, he'd seen this intense focus on your face before, this same expression you wore when you sliced and diced titan after titan.

"Tch, what are you on about you stupid-" I'm flash you had his hair in your grip, dragging his head to you. "It's not nice to call people stupid, Levi." His eyes were wide, and his face was inches away from your own. "I can forgive that though, especially when you look so pretty like this."

His eyes sunk back, his shock leaving him. "Oi, I guess you've got me where you want me." You smiled, innocence twinkled in your irises. "Not yet I don't." Loosening your tight grip, you gently guided his head to close the gap between you two.

His eyes fluttered close upon impact, the tenseness he often carried with his resolve melting away with the warmth of your lips. You hummed, feeling the way he seemed to open up with your touch. Gently you scratched his scalp, pulling a sigh from his mouth.

When it opened you wasted no time slipping in your tongue. He tasted like tea, which wasn't suprising but was rather delightful. He let out a small groan as she gave his bottom lip a small bite, tugging softly. Her hands slipped underneath his shirt, dancing across his warm chest and abs. The feeling of what lied beneath was enticing and she pulled away eager to see it.

Levi groaned when you left him, an irritated, "y/n." Leaving his lips as his arms tried to find you, to bring you back to him. You escaped him though and worked to pull his shirt off.

When you had an object so important it was natural that worked as efficiently as possible to succeed. With that mindset you had him shirtless within seconds, Levi felt that had to be some type of record.

With his comfort in mind as soon as his shirt was off you folded it properly, working as efficiently as you had to take if off of him. When your eyes met his, they twinkled with something akin to admiration. You smiled and pulled him into a chaste kiss, his tongue moving to part your lips, but fire he could succeed you began moving.

You kissed his chin, and he frowned. "What are-" Then you kissed his neck and a shiver racked his body. His breath quickened and shook, your lips planting directly over his heartbeat. You sucked, making sure to leave him as many reminders of tonight as you could.

Your lips moved down his chest, blessing each nipple with a tug of teeth. Licking a stripe down his v line, you unbottoned his pants. He moaned, "y/n..." Watching as you tugged down his underwear with your teeth. His length sprained free, looking almost as eager as you.

"Stunning..." You spoke licking a line up his shaft. His legs shook at your move and you laughed, wrapping your first around his base. "It can't be this easy, Levi." He blinked looking down at you in bewilderment.

You lifted yourself up, becoming eye level with him. As light as a feather you stroked his cheek, his head leaning into your hand as though it were instinct. "I figured humanity's strongest would have put up more of fight." His eyes narrowed. "Especially since you seem to love giving orders." Your nails stabbed into his skin, his eyes widened and he pulled back "tch! You bitch!"

Your other hand grabbed his neck, squeezing it and bringing him to you. "I've wanted you for so long. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be so close and yet so far, to someone everyone wants." "Y/n." Levi whimpered as your hand tightened around his throat. "Maybe you do know how much you're wanted. Maybe you like it." You let go and he fell forward, you catching him.

"I guess we'll just have to add that to lists of why you must be punished." You pushed him to his knees, his pants still wrapped around his ankles. Your foot spread his legs apart, and kept them there. Your hand found his chin, pulling his face up.

"i hope you like this view, you'll need to get used to it." You pulled up your shirt, taking it off effortlessly. His eyes widened at your chest- you had chosen to go braless. Then, they relaxed, his tongue going between his teeth.

You pulled your pants off next, and then your underwear. The strap you had put on before you left your room flung out, and Levi looked between you and it. "Like I said, you need to be punished..." You stroked the strap on. "I consider this the punisher." You voice had dropped an octave lower.

Levi took on a dazed expression, half lidden eyes taking in the sight. "Open your mouth." His eyes flickered back up to you. They were big and puppy like."I said." You reached down and pinched his two cheeks together. "Open. Your. Mouth." His pretty little mouth popped open, and your hips thrusted the device in. Your hand ran through his hair as he sucked, when you reached the back of his head you pushed him forward.

Levi gagged around your cock, the fake tip hitting the back of his throat. Tears prickled, in his eyes, but your coos to take in more, to be a good boy for you, they caused his brows the furrow as he adjusted and did what he could to please you.

Using your grip on his head he allowed you guide him at your will, submitting to the drive of your hands. His eyes closed finally and your leg pressed up against his own hard on. "Who would've thought humanity's strongest could look so hot sucking dick." You spoke softly, causing your good boy to moan into the dick.

Finally, you pulled away watching the strings of salvia appear and separate as you let him go. His head bobbled towards you, his eyes barely open.

"fuck me...please." you bent down to where he was. "Oh baby..." Again, you stroked his cheek gently. "I'll do so much more than that to you. When I'm done with you...you won't be able to walk tomorrow." His breathe caught and you laughed. "Be my good boy and go to your desk. Ass out."

You watched him stand and walk to his desk, still filled with long forgotten papers and a dimly lit candle. You stood and moved to the neat pile you had placed his clothes in.

You pulled out his belt, smiling and snapping it. This could be useful.

You moved to where he stood, wrapping yourself behind him. "How well you listen, Levi." You slammed his upper body down onto the desk, pulling his hips up. His ass was on full display in the air, as perky as you imagined. Taking two fingers, you shoved them up is mouth.

Levi didn't need a command, his tongue went right to work. He wrapped it around your fingers while he moaned, pushing his hips against you and your cock.

"cheeky, cheeky." You smirked taking your free hand to grab his ass. Finally satisfied you pulled her fingers from his mouth.

"more..." His voice rasped out. "More? I haven't even started." With that you pushed your fingers into his tight hole. You began scissoring them, watching as he twitched beneath you. His breathing became louder the more you curled. Then you hit his prostate and he cried out, gasping at the intense pleasure you gave him.

Your fingers pulled out, and you reached for the belt that you had placed beside him for such a moment. "Tch, y/n please you must-" you reared the belt back and slammed it forward, the belt bouncing off his ass with a thrup! Sound. He gasped delightedly, his cheek pressed up against the cold metal of his desk.

Again you reared down, jolting his body. "You." Slap. "Think." Slap. "That." Slap. "You." Slap. "Can." Slap. "Just." Slap. "Treat." Slap. "People." Slap. "Like." Slap. "Shit." Slap. "Just." Slap. "Because." Slap. "You." Slap. "Are." Slap. "A." Slap. "Squad." Slap. "Leader." Tears streamed from his eyes, ass red and tender.

"you can't." You grabbed his hands from his sides, "and now you're going to be tied up with your own belt, right after you were just spanked with your own belt." You slide the belt around till it was tight enough to only hurt a bit.

Then you you raised his hands directly over his head. This was used as something to grip onto while you fucked him.

Her other hand made sure you two were properly aligned, and with little more than a grunt you thrusted in. A breath released from his body, a shout escaped his lips as you bottomed out.

You waited several seconds, gently stroking his face and cooing to him, waiting. Finally he nodded, telling you everything you needed to know. You pulled back, almost completely out, save for the tip before you plowed into him.

Your hips thrusted- hard and faster. The only way Levi Ackerman deserved- rough. Each time you bottomed out he grunted and it became a steady rhythm of grunts.

"nnnuh...nuuhhnn..ahhh..." He was drooling, each hit of his prostate weakening his resolve a bit more and making him a bit more needy for more.

Your position made it almost impossible for him to move and he could really only met your thrusts. "Harder!" He gasped out, tears running down his face, drool dripping from his mouth.

Your hand reached around and tugged along his dick, high pitched whines now leaving the captains mouth. "Y/n! Y/n I'm so close please, please." You bent down and bit into his shoulder, causing another Yelp to leave the squad leader.

"cum, bitch." You whispered to his ear and with a cry Levi Ackerman came, his eyes practically crossing as he painted his chest and desk white.

He laid their several seconds, breathing harshly and listening to the sounds of your praises. He was a good boy, he was. He was your good boy now, all yours.

Gently you helped him up and into his shower, fully discarding his bottoms and your strap, to take back to your room to wash.

You cleaned, scrubbed, and were as gentle as possible, making sure to help him to his bed.

You pulled your shirt over your head. "I can stay till you leave for breakfast...if you want that is but-" he cut you off. "Tch...Stay as long as you want." He pulled himself up and onto his elbows. "Especially since you didn't cum."

You raised a brow. "Levi, I appreciate it, but I don't think you're read yet...I mean- we-" again he cut you off. "Y/n, my mouth is always ready."

You paused. He was right, you hadn't cum and not very often did the people you slept with care. He was offering his mouth to you- not that Levi surprised you much- he was very caring and it seemed natural he'd be that way in bed.

You smiled and tugged off your shirt. "I hope you're hungry." You crawled into the bed, barely having to do a damn thing as Levi simply hoisted you up- as if you weighed nothing- and sat you on his face.

His nose carded through your folds- parting them for his tongue. Your hips buckled against him, thighs closing around his face. His hands came up and wrapped around them, pressing them together.

"Fuck, Levi." You moaned as his tongue licked from your hole to your clit, where he sucked for several seconds. Again he pushed his nose up into you, allowing you to ride his face and practically suffocate him. "God, you're so good." You squealed, yanking at his raven locks. He had definitely done this before and definitely knew how good he was.

He hummed into you, pushing you down each time your hips buckled up. Finally it seemed he had enough with your erratic movements before he flipped you into your back and moved so that he was on his stomach, mouth never leaving your core.

Your legs wrapped around his head as he ate, each time dipping his head in deeper to your core. His tongue fucked your hole with urgency, meaning, desire and finally with one final plunge you came, wetting his face.

He pulled away, allowing you to sit up. Your legs were shaky, but you moved so that you were directly in front of him. You licked your juices from his face, meeting him in a chaste kiss.

"Maybe I should be more harsh on you cadets more often." He spoke hurriedly as she pushed him down. You tutted. "Did you really learn nothing, my sweet boy?" He shrugged allowing you to pin his hands down above him.

"What can I say? I am the leader of the brats."

--------------------------------------------------

BONUS

Erwin frowned at his friend and colleague. The two had been eating breakfast together and everything had seemed rather ordinary until Erwin noticed a bruise on the side of Levi's neck.

"uh..Levi?" Levi glanced up. "Where did you get that bruise?" Levi frowned at Erwin. "What bruise?" Erwin rolled his eyes impatiently. "The one on your neck."

"Hello everyone! I hope everyone slept well!" Hanji appeared interrupting the conversation. She slid into a chair on the other side of Levi, smiling happily.

Erwin made a few more glances at Levi's neck, but felt it best to leave it, lest he be smitted by the all powerful Levi Ackerman.

--------------------------------------------------

A/n: BARK BARK BARK okay I definitely got a bit...carried away. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this, thanks for reading, and pls feel free to give critism!

[smells-like-mettaton]

If your still taking ficlet requests, mayhaps 45 with soriel?

Settlers of Catan

Rating: G Word Count: 1106 Prompt: "under the influence" - I took a pretty different route with it, hope you still like it! Read on AO3: here

---

“No! Sans, don’t fall prey to her conniving influence!” Papyrus said as Sans prepared to trade his wheat card for one of Toriel’s brick cards.

“I’m just trying to build a road, bro.” Sans gestured to the edge of the Catan board, where his lonely blue settlement had nearly been cut off by Frisk’s orange ones. It didn’t help that Sans had built on a brick port, only for eights to never be rolled. He was gonna have to resort to loading the die at this rate.

“I have only as many points as you do, Papyrus,” Toriel said innocently. “If anyone is ‘conniving’ here, it is my child.”

Frisk grinned widely at that. Sans was pretty sure Toriel was letting Frisk win, but it was still sweet to see them having such a good time.

Even if he was going to come back and totally crush them.

“I still have a bad feeling about this,” Papyrus grumbled, peering suspiciously over the top of his cards.

“Welp, unless you’ve got a brick for me, I’ve gotta take her deal.”

“Fine, but I will be telling you I told you so!”

Sans shrugged and completed the trade, built his two roads, and passed the dice along to Toriel.

After rolling (a four) and collecting her resources (two ore), she began laying down combinations of cards in rapid succession.

“Woah.” Sans’s sockets widened. He needed to take Toriel to poker night—she’d had twice the amount of cards he’d thought she had. Having giant paws probably helped hide them, but he had no doubt it was intentional.

“Two cities,” she said with a hint of smugness. “You really should listen to your brother, Sans.”

“I told you so.” Papyrus sounded even more self-satisfied, despite the fact that she had completely surpassed his score with that move.

“Geez.” Sans shook his head while Toriel replaced two white settlements with cities. That would double the amount of ore she got every time a four was rolled.

Which was distinctly more often than it should be. Had someone else loaded the dice? If Toriel had gravity magic like him, he would’ve bet on it.

“I’ve got a long road ahead of me to catch up now,” he joked, though his eyelights searched for a weakness in her strategy. He sure wouldn’t be trading with her again anytime soon. Much as he adored her smug look, there was no room for sentimentality in Settlers of Catan.

“You wish you had a long road,” Frisk signed, then held up their Longest Road card, which they’d earned for connecting their settlements across the board.

“Hey, settle down. It’s road to rub it in.”

“Oh, stop complaining and grab your sheep!” Papyrus said. He’d already rolled a five, which did in fact earn Sans a sheep.

“Thanks for sheeping track for me.” Sans winked.

“Ugh!! Just for that, I’m using my knight on you!” Papyrus flipped over a hidden card that allowed him to block and steal one of Sans’s resources.

“You sure you don’t want to use it on Tori? She’s the one who’s kicking our pelvises.”

Papyrus squinted, his skull swiveling between Sans and Toriel. Toriel sat with her hands primly in her lap, her poker face revealing nothing.

Sans started to sweat. Would sibling rivalry win out over Papyrus’s own logic? It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Nyeh… fine! Miss Toriel, I must steal from you! It is nothing personal, just the most rational move for a master puzzler such as myself!”

“Of course.” Toriel smiled, then help up her empty hands. “However, I spent the last of my resources on my last turn. I am afraid I have nothing to give you.”

Papyrus’s jaw dropped. “How did I… well, I can still block your dastardly ore mine! So! It is still a victory for the Great Papyrus! Nyeh heh heh!!”

Sans hadn’t noticed that Toriel was out of cards, either. He watched her closely from then on, making sure she wasn’t hiding any inside the thick sleeves of her sweater.

“See something you like?” Toriel’s voice was innocent, though her quick wink was anything but. Heat broke out across his face.

“Your wheat,” he said, flipping over a hidden monopoly card, which allowed him to take all of one type of resource. “Hand it over, swheaty.”

With a bark of laughter, she slid him two wheat cards. Papyrus grumbled and forked over his three wheat, and Frisk tossed a couple as well.

There was only one problem. Distracted by Toriel’s wink, Sans hadn’t examined his own cards closely enough. He couldn’t do anything with seven wheat. He’d meant to ask for brick.

(He blamed the fact that the wheat pun had been too good to pass up.)

Frisk’s presence stopped him from cursing under his breath, but he still glared a hole in his cards. If he traded in enough wheat…

He made a few inefficient exchanges of resources. By the end of it, he could at least build one settlement. It wasn’t much compared to Toriel’s empire or even Frisk’s transcontinental road, but it was something.

“That was rather anticlimactic,” Papyrus noted.

“The workings of my mind are unknowable,”Sans bluffed with a straight face. Then he passed Toriel the dice. “Just roll with it.”

Papyrus had been the one to organize the “Family Game Night,” but regret was etched into his expression.

“Next Family Game Night will be at the bowling alley,” he told Sans. “That way, I can roll you!”

Sans grinned. “Cool. I’m sure we’ll have a bowling ball.”

“UGH!!”

A few more anticlimactic turns passed before the dice returned to Sans. He rolled a seven, forcing him to move the blocking token off of Toriel’s ore factory.

That was fine. What were the odds that another four would—

Okay. Sans should definitely leave the betting to someone else for a while. Preferably Toriel, with the way her luck was running tonight.

Between her cities and ports, she was able to trade in enough ore to build several roads, taking the Longest Road away from Frisk.

“Betrayed by a mother! How cruel!” Papyrus gasped as Frisk glared at their mom.

“All is fair in love and Catan, is it not?” She smiled at them. “That is my tenth point. It has been a pleasure ‘owning’ you all.”

Frisk stuck out their tongue, and Papyrus groaned—though that was probably at her joke more than at the fact that he lost. Sans couldn’t bring himself to be mad, though. That look on Toriel’s face as all her cards fell into place…

Yeah, Sans was ‘owned,’ alright.

[rarepairsilove]

November 6, 1983

Here’s the first chapter of this little child of mine. 

Second Chapter (2/2) - Love

For a few seconds the only thing that could be heard was the wind around them. And then complete chaos, everyone talking over each other, asking questions, but weapons still up, because who could assure them that Eddie wasn’t actually a trick from Vecna.

‘Shut up!’ It was Dustin, managing to scream above the rest and earning their attention. ‘Say something only you and I would know.’

‘What?’ Asked Eddie, confused.

‘Steve, Billy and Will all had Vecna in their mind at one point or another, and El too, kind of, I think. Doesn’t matter, I’m the only one here that could know something Vecna hasn’t had access to, so… go ahead, say something only you and I know or we toast you.’

To make it clear that he’s not bluffing he holds his weapon tighter, the rest following his example. Except Steve, though, who has been mostly frozen the whole time, just looking at Eddie.

‘Jesus, good to know you still use that tone, makes you seem very punchable, did I ever tell you that? And what the fuck do you mean by Vecna being in Steve’s mind? When did that happen?‘ Eddie directs his eyes to the mentioned boy. ‘Steve?’ 

He doesn’t get an answer to any of the questions. The only thing he actually manages is for Steve to unfreeze and stop looking at him, eyes now stuck on the floor.

‘Fine, fuck, what a welcome back…’ Scrunching his nose for a second he thinks about Dustin’s question, changing his expression to a smirk when something finally comes to mind. ‘Remember the shovel talk you tried to give me about that person I have a crush on? You looked real cute attempting to seem menacing and said, and I quote, that you would shove all the D&D dice through my nose…’ His voice went quiet as he was speaking, noticing how tense Billy and Steve got all of a sudden. ‘Wha- oof!’  

Dustin had sprinted, jumping and hugging Eddie to the point of asphyxia. The poor boy started sobbing, making it impossible for anyone to understand what he was trying to say, but it didn't matter, the sentiment was perfectly understood. El and Will relaxed and came closer to greet the metalhead, finally having the chance to meet him. Billy reacted next, managing a hug when Dustin let go. They could finally smile, sighing in relief. 

But Steve seemed unable to do anything. All the awful visions he had because of Vecna coming back, leaving him so scared he started shaking and his eyes clouded over, about to cry. 

‘Steve?’ Eddie went to get close to him, but Billy reacted faster. Knowing the visions Steve had he immediately connected the dots and got to the boy first, putting himself between them.

‘Hey, pretty boy, look at me.’ He held the other’s face with a firm grasp, making sure their eyes met. ‘It’s not a vision, I promise you, ok? It’s real, all real, we are here. Can you hear me?’ Steve nodded and slowly blinked a few times, tears finally rolling down his cheeks. 

Eddie was watching the scene with a frown, and not only because of how close and comfortable the other boys seemed, although he can admit that he’s a bit jealous. But what the fuck are they talking about Steve’s visions? Last he knew it was Max, not Steve, and fuck if it didn’t make his heart clench thinking about Steve going through any of that shit.

So he simply acted on instinct. Because after almost a month on the Upside Down that’s what he got used to, to act on instinct, following what his body told him was the best option to survive. 

He went up to them, grabbed Steve’s arm and pulled, taking him away from Billy. He wanted to make sure he got his attention, and was about to start demanding answers when Steve's sad eyes found him. ‘Eddie…’ Like with Dustin, Eddie suddenly had an armful of a sobbing mess, this time quite unexpected though. He could barely make out a few of the words said. 

Missed you. Fucked up. Hate Vecna.

‘Hey, it’s fine big boy, I’m here. Did you really think you could get rid of me, uh? Come on, I have some mercy, I won’t leave you alone to babysit the brats.’ 

The mentioned brats, or the ones there with them, started protesting and that finally dissipated some of the tension, making them all laugh. 

Steve reluctantly let go of Eddie, putting some distance but keeping an eye on him at all times, afraid if he lost sight it might all turn out to be a lie. Another foul vision. 

With everyone a bit more calm some explanations were finally given. Eddie talked about how he woke up alone but alive, mostly confused. He wandered around not really knowing where to go, because all the doors were covered and he couldn’t get back to Hawkins. Instead he simply survived, he hid, he became really skilled at killing demobats, and he hated Vecna a bit more everyday. 

On the other hand the party apologized for the doors, being the ones that covered them, trying to make sure no demobat or demogorgon got to Hawkins. That almost got Dustin crying again, thinking it was their fault Eddie got stuck in the Upside Down. ‘It’s fine butthead, look how badass I’m now, worth a few weeks on this shithole.’ Laughed Eddie, managing to calm the boy.

They also explained the plan to kill Vecna, and that now Steve’s the one marked instead of Max. When the visions came up, being the only one that knows what they are, Billy held Steve’s hand in an attempt to show some support. Motion that didn’t escape Eddie's eyes. So of course he has to updo Billy.

‘It’s fine, princess, now you have a real brave knight to protect you.’ More like a bloody butcher, seeing the look he’s carrying. ‘I’m gonna make sure you’re real safe, mh.’ He hummed, while placing one of Steve’s longer locks behind his ear, making the boy blush up to said ear.

The scoff from Billy was what got them back on track, returning to the important matter at hands.

‘Well, if you want the plan to work you might need to make a slight change.’ Announced Eddie. 

‘Oh no, Hopper doesn’t want anyone to get sidetracked or do anything different.’ Objected Will, a bit scared of the chief.

‘You won’t be able to kill him otherwise. Think about it, brat. I explained it, this shit place stays on the same day, I died and came back to life when the day reseted, so does Vecna.’

‘Shit, of course… yes!’ Dustin got his mad eyes again and started pacing, like he does every time he solves a new mystery. ‘We have to get him out of here. We have to bring Vecna to Hawkins, the real Hawkins, and kill him there.’ 

‘Dad.’ Added El, getting where Dustin was going. ‘We go to dad and the rest.’

‘Yes! They are by the road door, if we all go there and get Vecna’s attention we might manage to get him through that door, we all go after him to Hawkins and boom! Dead creepy tentacle guy.’ 

‘That… sounds a lot easier than it’s probably going to be.’ Billy’s voice was heard for the first time in a while, accompanied by a sigh. ‘But fuck it, right? Might as well try.’ 

They had gotten in through the trailer's door but had started the walk to the Creel’s house when they found Eddie, so now they have to go back to get to the road door. Eddie took advantage of that walk to talk with Billy, seeing how the kids and Steve were distracted arguing about how to calm down Hopper once they get to the door and he sees they’re not following the original plan.

‘So… seems like you got chummy with Steve while I was dead.’

‘Don’t. It’s not like that, I just know what his visions are.’ Billy has been mostly quiet since they found Eddie, and wasn’t planning on starting a conversation, so his mood soured knowing he’ll have to talk now.

‘Sure, yeah. Right.’ For a few seconds it seemed like that was the end of it, giving some hope to Billy. But of course not. ‘I almost died.’

‘I… I know?’ Was the confused answer from the blonde.

‘And I roamed around this fucked up place for like a month, I think, lost count pretty fast.’

‘Yes, it’s been almost a month.’

‘So you understand how almost losing everything might change a guy's perspective on things, right?’

‘Where are you going with this, Eddie? Just spit it, for fucks sake.’

‘I want Steve. I don’t care what you or anyone feels about him.’ He declared, tone confident and calm. ‘For all we know he is straight, he could still be in love with Nancy or some other chick, but I don’t care, honestly, not anymore. Even if it’s the smallest chance in the world I’ll take it. I will try to make Steve mine.’ Finally, he looked to the side, to Billy’s stunned face, and smiled like a madman. ‘So where I’m going with this is, dear Billy, you better step up or I’m stealing the pretty boy.’ 

‘Guys! Come on! We’re almost there.’ Interrupted Dustin, having realized how much the distance between them had stretched. 

Without hesitation Eddie jogged up to them, going straight to put an arm around Steve’s waist, shaking him a bit just to be annoying.

‘You’re a lot braver than I am, Eddie…’ Muttered Billy to himself before catching up. 

From then on it was hectic, screaming over each other when the whole group got together, explaining things as fast as possible and acting barely without even having time to think. Because a group so big did exactly what they needed, it drew the attention of anything and everything alive in the Upside Down, just… a lot faster than they thought. 

But it worked, after vines cut, demobats smashed and demodogs fired up, Vecna showed his face. Now they just need to push him to the road door and kill him. Easy peasy.

Of course not, something has got to go to shit. And their villain is anything but stupid, as soon as Eleven tries to get him though the door he starts to fight back, and the damn demoanimals won’t let the others even try to get close to him. That is, until Steve sees his chance and he takes it. 

Nothing matters to him more than protecting the kids, the people he has grown so close to during all those trying times. He has found a weirdly sweet and chaotic family and he will protect them. Even with his own life.

So there he goes, running up to Vecna, throwing himself at the monster in a tight grip that gets them both through the door and to the actual Hawkins.

Everythings slows down for a few seconds, turning them into hours almost.

Steve rolls against the road, scratching his skin but not letting go of Vecna, who’s more One now than his disfigured form a moment ago.

The rest of the party, left behind, scream for Steve. El gets to action, running to the door followed by Eddie first, and some others after. Jonathan and Argyle were the ones waiting at the other side of the road door so they are already there, locked in place just looking at the scene, soon joined by the rest, who also end up frozen. It’s dead silent, not even the animals at either side of the road dare to make a single noise. 

‘Very brave of you, boy.’ Vecna, Henry now, with his blonde hair and white attire, pale skin, all with burnt patches, growls right by Steve’s rear, while holding his neck from behind. He’s not only making sure everyone is seeing Steve’s pained face, but also enjoying their own pained faces because of his actions. ‘Now, look at your friends while you die, let’s make a grand finale.’

It all goes back into motion when Eddie screams and runs up to them, which makes El react again, throwing her arm out and taking Henry with the movement. The blonde flies, leaving Steve on the floor, coughing and crying, trying to take in as much air as possible.

‘Are you stupid? Are you out of your fucking mind? What the fuck were you thinking?’ Eddie slid by his side, still screaming, took him and hauled him up to get as far away as possible from the fight now going on between Eleven and One. 

‘Fuck, fuck, shit, shit, shit… I’m so mad at you, Steve Harrington. I could have fucking lost you. And I don’t know… shit, I don’t know what I’d do. Already lost you once when I was trapped on that shit hole and almost went crazy, now I finally have you back and I swear, I was going to woo you so hard… you wouldn’t even know what hit you, was going to make you fall for me and then confess, but you know what, fuck it, man. This shit is crazy and I don’t know what can happen the next second, who knows, you might think about fucking sacrificing yourself again or some shit cause apparently I fell in love with an idiot, a selfsacrificing idiot tha-’

‘You love me?’

Even though Steve's voice was soft, barely recovering from being choked, Eddie heard it perfectly and stopped his rant. He looked up to El throwing Henry around for Hopper and Billy to shoot him after, then throw him some more, then get shot by Nancy this time. It all looked pretty gruesome and awesome, would probably freak out under any other circumstance. But Steve is still looking at him, waiting for an answer.

So he looks back down at Steve, who’s practically on his lap. Both ended up on the dirt by the side of the road, Eddie hugging Steve to his chest and not letting go.

‘Yeah, I… yes, pretty boy, I love you.’

For the first time in a month Steve smiled. A real smile, one that took his whole face and then turned into a giggle, and then full on laughter until the tears that were rolling down his cheeks stopped being from the pain. 

‘Are you laughing at me in a moment like this, you brat?’ Eddie was about to pinch him to make him stop when suddenly he had the softest lips just brushing his. Nothing else mattered then. 

Nothing other than to kiss Steve. Kiss him for real. Hold the back of his head with one hand, his waist with the other arm and hug him as close as humanly possible while kissing him like it’s the last day of his life. And fuck did it feel good to be kissed back with just as much passion, with so much heat that Steve let out the sweetest noise and Eddie had to stop. He had to stop and look up to the sky and just scream like a fool.

‘You guys are disgusting…’ 

Of course Mike had to break the moment.

‘Fuck you, Wheeler.’ Was Eddie’s answer, flipping the bird at him. 

Steve just stayed put, still hugging Eddie but now looking at the road, noticing maybe a bit late that the fight had come to an end. One where they won. While he was kissing Eddie Munson. 

There went his confidence, replaced by a very bright, very obvious blush.

‘Uhm… maybe we should… like, go with.. let’s… yeah…’ He stood up, tugging Eddie’s shirt so he too would get up, and together they went to the rest.

They were all tired, sweaty and dirty, full of demothings guts, but a group sigh filled the air. They can finally rest. 

On the way back, with them all grunting and limping and what not, Eddie suddenly jumped and turned to Steve, who he was holding hands with. ‘Wait, the song…’

‘What?’ Steve scrunched his nose, confused.

‘The song, the in case you get Vecnaed song… if Max wasn’t cursed anymore and you were then you had a song, right? What song was it?’

‘Uh…’ He looked to the side, hoping to catch Robin or Nancy, maybe one of them would save him. But no, he had to look right at Dustin, who smiled like a maniac and just blurted ‘It was Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ and then went back to whatever he was talking with Lucas. 

The rest of the way was filled with Eddie laughing and singing the Cyndi Lauper song, sometimes accompanied by whoever wanted to tease Steve at the moment. Sometimes by himself, softly, just to make Steve smile.

[sweetea-rosey]

Ooo hi I saw you take requests? I have a writing request if you want to :))

So here is my idea:

Remus has a notebook given to him by the other sides to write his thoughts down in. See, Remus has clear impulse control problems so this notebook of for him to write his thoughts down instead of just doing and saying whatever comes to mind. It gives him a chance to think about it. Sometimes, maybe like once a week give or take a few days one of the other sides will sit down with him and read his thoughts with him just to make him feel validated and heard. Well this particular time one of the sides (of your choice) sat down with the notebook and found some rather interesting things.

Now, you can take this one of two ways (it’s really all up to you!)- You can make this something angsty (hurt comfort), or you can make it something shippy! It can be any Remus ship you want but I personally am more partial to intrulogical hehe 💙💚

Take your time and have fun with it!! Have a good day :)

Ah! Ty for the request! I started writing it on the day you submitted it, but Tumblr deleted it after a while of not saving :') so now my motivation to do this is deterred

Anyway, this'll be my first time not writing something Roman centric =w=""

Remus held the book in his hands. He remembered the day Roman gave it to him, when he risked traveling into the dark scape because he knew his brother needed this. Because he did, too.

An outlet.

A place for his monstrosities to be, other than inside his head, allowed to torture him to their best abilities. The illusions his mind creates are no longer just in his eyes. It's no longer insanity- it's creativity. The journal isn't the first one. But he and Roman make sure to keep eachother stocked up; they get filled rather quickly. The Imagination holds an entire library dedicated to their filled journals from over the years.

The journals have also become sort of diaries to them. So, imagine what were to happen if one of them got lost? The possibility of their secrets being seen by unbidden eyes.

Remus burst into Roman's room, "Ro!"

Roman jumped from his spot at his desk, "Jeez- ! What is it?"

Oddly, for Remus, he seemed almost anxious, "Have you seen my latest journal?"

Ah, that explains it. Roman understands the severity of losing something that holds your private thoughts. He stood up from his desk chair, turning to face Remus better, "No, I haven't. Is it missing?"

Remus nodded, unable to speak through the panic coursing through his veins, the hormone mixing with the feeling of the plasma we call blood rushing through veins and arteries, rest in his heart, which is thumping with vigor, the- Remus shook himself. The imagery coming on its own with nothing to do with it, "Thoughts, thoughts thoughts, thoughts, blood, where? Everywhere? It is me, I am thoughts and blood and gore and death and slime, and..."

Roman pulled his brother in, the physical touch of his second half grounding him, finally balanced out with his brother there to help him.

"Breathe, Ree...I get it...I'll help you look for it, okay? Do you have any spare journals?"

Remus shook his head. He had just started this one, he was too busy brainstorming on the pages to remember to restock.

"Okay, do you have the focus to conjur any, right now?"

Remus shook his head again. No no, of course not! He's too focused on the one that's missing!

"Alright, that's okay, Ree. I get it. Here, use this for now," As Roman spoke, he pressed a plain black book in the unstable man's hands, "Get some thoughts out on that, then we can start looking, okay?"

Instead of answering, he made the rest of the way into the prince's room and started letting the thoughts out.

.

.

.

"Feel better?"

Remus let out a breath and nodded, "A lot, thanks. Can we go look, now?"

"Of course, let's go."

It took hours. The sun was gone in Thomas' living room and they were still tearing the place apart, searching absolutely everywhere. Remus was tempted to just dismantle the mind palace and look through the stuff that gets left behind. The fear was boiling in his gut in the ocean of acid.

"What if we don't find it? My blood, sweat, and tears went into that book! Pieces of my heart are in there, I can't lose it, what if someone else finds it and reads it?"

Roman shuddered, because he didn't believe that Remus was being metaphorical, "I understand the severity of the situation, Ree. We should go look in the Lightside, now..."

Remus shrugged as much as his slumped posture will allow, "Sure..."

"We'll find it, Ree..."

"That's not what I'm worried about. If I lose it? Fine, I have others, I can start a new one. I'm scared of someone else finding it and reading it... there's things in there I don't want others seeing..."

"I get it, you know I do. We'll get it back before anyone else can even know it exists, alright?"

Remus just shrugged off his comforting hand, "Stupid prince, always making promises you don't even know if you can keep. Don't do that to yourself and don't do it to me. I'm not stupid enough to fall for that shit."

Roman recoiled, almost physically, "Sometime, people just need reassurance."

"And then, when you're wrong? I know you don't like breaking promises, Princey."

"...Then hopefully we'll figure it out."

"You're such a fucking optimist, it's gross."

Roman rolled his eyes, "I'm helping you look, be nice, you doofus."

"Oh wow, "doofus", I'm so offended," Remus said without much effort.

Roman ignored him.

.

.

.

"It's not HERE!" Remus screamed, a pot crashing through the wall.

Roman manged to muffle the noise and quickly put it back together, "We will, this was only the first room in the Lightside. You need to calm down."

"I can't! What if someone else already found it and read it? What if they hate me? What if they never wanna talk to me again because nothing in there makes sense, what-"

Roman caught his hands, "Woah! Woah...Remus, when did you start caring so much about what the others think of you?"

"I don't!"

"But...-"

"I don't care about what Logan and the other think of me."

"Of what...Logan and the...? Remus...is this about Logan?"

Remus hesitated just long enough.

"Oh great Aphrodite, it is..."

"Aphro-? NO! No, I don't!"

"Remus, is there something about Logan on that book?"

Remus said fuck it in his mind and sighed, "Yes... I...some fantasies...that he might not approve of..."

"Oh, Remus..."

"What if he finds out, and he...? He just doesn't...?"

Roman hit his brother on the head, "This is why you're a doofus. It doesn't matter if he finds it, you have nothing to worry about."

Remus rolled his eyes. Literally. He rolled them like dice and Roman had to look away, but got the message.

"How would you know?"

It was Roman's turn to roll his eyes (PROPERLY).

"I'm leaving you to figure that out. But, I do."

"Sure. Whatever. Asshole."

Roman moved on to look in the next room.

.

.

.

A flash of green leaped onto him and he was tumbling over, the item in his hands flying out.

"Remus!"

The man scrambled over and snatched the book up, "Did you read it?"

"I- no, Remus what is it?"

"It's mine. Roman, I found it!"

Roman? Since when do those two talk? But, as Remus said, Roman walked in.

"Oh, thank Hades."

"Logan had it."

Roman sucked in a breath, "Did he read it?"

Remus shook his head, relief is a weird expression on the man's face.

Logan wouldn't mind seeing it more.

"What is this about?"

Roman took the liberty of answering, "The book is Remus' and it's private. Reading it would be invasive."

"Oh, my apologies, then. But, I had just picked it up, it was left over from Remus' running through the room and into the Imagination, along with some other debris I cleaned up."

"It's alright, nerd."

Logan's gaze lingered on Remus a bit, before he bid his farewells, reminded Roman of some work he needs to do by Friday, then left.

"Y'know," Roman said as they turned to walk back, "You could tell him how you feel."

Remus scoffed, "I'm not self destructive, like you, RoRo."

Ignoring Remus' jabs is difficult for the prince, nevertheless, "And do, pray tell, how it's self destructive?"

"Because he'll say no and that will hurt. I don't like when things actually hurt. I'm not risking him hating me even more."

"Woah, woah, he doesn't hate you."

"Doesn't he? I'm chaotic, irrational, vile, ik everything he fights to keep under control."

Roman digested this and thought hard on how best to explain this, "But that's exactly why you two are perfect for each other. You help him let loose when he's being a stick in the mud and he helps you keep in control of yourself and stay organized.

"You're delusional. He doesn't like me, he can't Ro. It goes against our very beings! Go ahead and fool yourself, but you can't do that to me. That's just cruel." Remus disappeared and Roman sighed as he tried to brush off his brother's words.

As the embodiment of romance, he thinks he'd know when a couple will work out or not. How will he convince his brother and Logan of that? He supposes he can't blame them for that, who would listen to the love advice of someone who loves someone that loves someone else? Kinda hypocritical.

.

.

.

"Just leave me alone!"

"Remus! Would calm down? Just listen to me!"

"No! You're a liar and I hate you! Do you want me to get hurt? You're an asshole you good for nothing prince!" He screamed. Why won't his brother let this go? Doesn't he see that everyone is better this way?

"Fine! You're right! Is that what you want to hear? Call me an asshole, call me stupid, call me evil or whatever! But I'm not wrong! Why don't you believe me? Ha! Why am I trying to reason with the self proclaimed unreasonable?"

Remus looked down from his perch on the guillotine, "Wait, RoRo-!" But he was gone.

"Fuck."

He rushed out, hoping to Loki that he didn't do too much damage.

"Roman!"

But he found who he wants looking for.

"Why are you screaming in the middle of the common room?" Came that cool and sexy voice.

"Looking for my brother, duh."

"Funny, I just spoke to him."

"Where'd he go?"

"Not sure, but he told me to stop being a robotic fake and confess to you."

"He- ? ROMAN!" Remus summoned a hammer and maybe there's a new hole in the wall.

"He was right, surprisingly."

Remus was not expecting that, "Come again?"

"I have noticed, over the course of our interactions, that I have developed feelings that I didn't recognized until Roman brought them to my attention. Remus...I have romantic feelings for you."

And it was the last casual and calculated confession Remus ever heard. He imagined something with ropes. But it was the best thing he ever heard. He didn't expect to be crying.

"Remus?"

"I like you, too..."

Logan brightened and stood up, his heart beating unnaturally, yet pleasently, as he moved closer, "Then... perhaps we...?"

But before he could finish, Remus pulled him in and there was no need for words.

Part 2 with what happened with Roman afterwards?

Ty so much for the request and I apologies for the long wait.

@fireflyjunkie

[moonyswriting]

Monopoly

Big thank you to @ttylfedora for helping me with this and just writing one of the paragraphs :)

Charcters are by @lumosinlove with minor changes

Requested by an anon on my main blog, i know it took me over a month. But today is the perfect day to post this.

HAPPY TRANS DAY OF VISIBILITY! 💕🥳

TW: coming out

They heard a knock and Finn got up from their couch, reluctantly removing himself from his lovers’ embrace to open the door. That only got Logan told hold Leo tighter, wrapping his legs around the taller person’s body, pulling them down so they were pressed together as close as possible.

“Regulus. Hey, man, how’s it going?”, they heard Finn’s voice from the door.

“Good, good. You?”

Finn and him held up easy conversation on their way back to the living room. “Reg!”,when Leo spotted their friend, they couldn’t help the blush that spread onto their cheeks. Yes, of course, he knew about the Cubs’ relationship and had seen them cuddling more often than not, but Leo still felt like it was an intimate moment. It was obvious that Leo tried to move out of Logan’s hug, to sit up on the couch and greet Regulus properly. Their smaller boyfriend had something else in mind. The blond was now sitting upright on the couch with a human koala pressed into their side. Leo didn’t complain.

“Nice flag you got there.”, Regulus noted as a grin split his face, looking from the trans flag the cubs hung up today to his friend, who had a similar expression on their face. 

Leo looked up at him and answered smugly, “Thanks. I know.” They still couldn’t believe Logan and Finn had just accepted them so quickly. It was surreal really, thinking about how much time Leo had debated about what to do if they didn’t. But they had. They did. They hugged Logan tighter and looked up at Finn, who practically threw himself on the couch and onto his lovers in the process.

After leaving them to a moment of affection – because he knows they would want that – Regulus cleared his throat. “Leo. We have to go.  The reservations are made. We can’t be late.”

It was something Leo had noticed. Reg got extremely anxious at the thought of being late. They didn’t know if it had something to do with his and Sirius strict parents, but he really didn’t need to know. Since they didn’t want their friend to get uncomfortable, the blond tried to get up again, with minimal success.

“Guys, you have to let me go.”, Leo whined, “It’s only for one night. I’ll be back tomorrow.” They turned to Logan, who had a pout on his face, clearly not happy thinking about Leo having a sleepover at Sirius’ and Remus’ place.

“But I need you to cuddle me.”, he whined holding his partner tighter.

“Logan,” Leo wiggled around in their boyfriends embrace to be able to look Logan in the eyes, “You have Finn for tonight and I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?” They leaned in closer and added in a quiet voice, “I’ll cuddle with you the whole day. I promise.”

Logan seemed to be debating their offer, only to squeeze their body one last time and then loosen his arms and press a kiss to their nose. “Fine. The whole day.”

They rolled their eyes, but stood up and walked over to Regulus. “Alright. I’ll be back tomorrow. Love you.” Leo turned towards the door and suddenly felt a heavy weight against their back.

“Love you too, Nutter Butter Baby.” Finn said, kissing Leo goodbye.

Logan moving next to them kissing his lover afterwards “Love you. See you tomorrow, Peanut.”

Leo leaned into the kiss, staying tucked into their boyfriends arms for a second, until Regulus fake coughed behind them and they let go.

“Alright Nutter Butter Baby. Can we finally go now?”

Leo turned around, facing their friend with eyes that could kill, but a slight smile on their lips. “Oh, do fuck off.”

The laughter echoed into the staircase as the friends made their ways into town for a round of bowling.

-

“So.”, Regulus asked picking up a bowling ball from its mount and stepped up to them lane. “Do you know what you want to say?” The ball, as it left his hand, went straight for the side and all the way to the end without hitting a single pin.

Leo swapped places with the other, “No.”, they groaned letting their head fall back for a second. “Is it not weird for you that I’m coming out to your brother before you do?” They both watched the ball hit three of the ten pins, “Ha! I’m in the lead!”, Leo celebrated before sitting back down.

“Okay, first of all”, he carefully selected a ball, “No. For me it’ll just be a spur of the moment thing, I won’t plan it and you’re ready now and he’s your captain. Go for it.” Regulus reassured them and rolled the ball down the line hitting three pins aswell, but waiting for one more to fall at their impact. “And Second.” he started again, “I am in the lead now, bitch.”

Leo laughed and rolled their eyes. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

They played on for three hours, talking about everything that came to mind and being incredibly glad that they were able to change their shoes again. Leo’s had been a tiny bit too small and Regulus would have been able to fit in his wearing seven pairs of socks. 

-

They arrived in front of Sirius’ and Remus’ place later that night, walking inside, toeing off their shoes and being greeted by the smell of fresh cotton and the sight of the couple sitting at the big table in the middle of the living room. There was a monopoly board on the table and Remus grinned up at them both.

“You up for a game?”, Regulus asked Leo as he got a glass of water for both himself and his friend.

A smile spread onto their face, “Only if you’re up for loosing.”

-

After a while, Sirius noticed the persistent bounce in Leo’s leg – a bounce he knew well enough to associate with nerves. The first thought that flashed across his mind involved the current game, but Leo was, in general, a good player. Whenever they played, Leo would put on the ‘goalie face’ – intense, focused, but relaxed. He turned to the younger one to get a further read on them. Leo had furrowed their brow and was rolling their bottom lip between their teeth – another two nervous habits Sirius had picked up on from working with Leo near on every day.

“Everything okay, rookie?”, Sirius asked.

Leo’s head snapped up from where they had stared at the board, lost in thought. They laughed stiffly, becoming more and more nervous by the second. It would be fine. They had done this once, they could do it again. Sirius and Remus would be fine with it. Leo was sure they would. Well, almost sure. “Yeah, yeah. I’m wonderful.”, they answered, voice a bit raspy.

“Nothing you want to get off your chest?”, Sirius prompted further, giving Leo the opportunity to talk, but not forcing them.

Leo knew he could see their leg bouncing. It was even moving the water in their glasses, there was no hiding it. They let out a sigh. Now or never. Although the statement was not completely true, it provided them with enough courage to actually spit out what was burning on their tongue. “Could you maybe, possibly refer to me with they/them pronouns from now on?”, Leo’s voice got smaller closer to the end but they were pretty sure both other man had understood.

“Of course, Knutty.” Sirius told him, as if Leo had just asked him to pass over the salt. “Whatever makes you most comfortable. Do you want me to tell the team or do you want to do it?”

That was not what Leo had been expecting. Looking over to the other, Loops just smiled at him and continued to stare daggers at his boyfriend, who had just cost him half his money.

“No. No that’s fine thank you, I’ll tell them.”, Leo told him, the surprise still evident in their voice. “Your support means the world to me.” they added a disbelieving smile on their lips, looking at the couple on the other side of the table.

“Yeah, no worries, buddy. We’ll be here every step of the way.” Remus told Leo, which almost made their eyes tear up. How did they deserve a team like the Lions.

-

Sirius rolled the dices and landed on one of Regulus’ hotels. “Pay up.”, Reg told him, with a bright grin. It seemed like the younger was going to win.

Sirius just pouted, turning to his boyfriend and started whining. “This is so unfair! I got onto his property five times already.”

Regulus didn’t even look up from where he had been checking what Sirius was due, just simply  told him “Their property. Agender. They/them, thank you.”

Sirius didn’t even hesitate, before starting his sentence again. “I got onto their property five times already. Come on, this is cheating.”

Regulus often seemed like they didn’t care, but they flashed Sirius a grateful smile, receiving a loving one and a wink in return. 

“Love you.”, Sirius mouthed as Remus continued the game.

Regulus felt it wash over them, warmth spreading through their body. “Love you, too.”

[sporadicthingcollection]

Skin and Bones: Chapter 2/4 (Cad Bane x F!Reader)

Summary: While in the middle of a job, Cad Bane crosses paths with you once again. He proposes you help each other -- you'll both go away happy for once. But, as things usually do when you're involved, things quickly go pear-shaped and it's up to him to save both of your sorry asses. Sequel to "Business and Pleasure."

Pairing: Cad Bane/F!Reader

Rating: 🌶️ Explicit 🌶️

Warnings for this chapter: Gambling, foot stomping, bantz, slight dubcon (sex pollen), fingering (female receiving)

CHAPTER 2

Bane gets into a bit of a routine. Blow, roll, twelve. Blow, roll, nine. Blow, roll, twelve. The crowd goes wild, and he basks in it like a Trandoshan in the sun. Was it earned? No. But it added to the illusion.

The pile grows steadily. He doesn’t count them -- bad luck to count at the table -- but there’s at least thirty thousand. Part of him considers just breaking the bank and getting the credits legitimately.

But where’s the fun in that?

You tug his sleeve. “We better cash out,” you say, staring intently past him.

He follows your gaze. A suited green Togruta is staring daggers at him, her mouth pressed into a thin line. The pit boss, likely. A pair of big, nasty-looking Karkarodons in attendant uniforms flank her.

Bane nods at you, handing you the dice, then turns to the dealer. “I’m done here,” he says. He slides a few stacks to the dealer before scooping up the rest. “Spreddit around fer me.”

The dealer waves the pit attendants over as you perform the dice swap. No one notices, and you hand the regular dice to the Besalisk, giving the dice a little blow.

He smiles broadly. “Much obliged, princess,” he says.

Bane bristles, but holds his tongue. One attendant counts the chips while the other glares at Bane. Finally, the one counting nods.

“This way,” he says.

Bane follows him. You move as well, only for the second to grab your shoulder.

“Only one person can cash out at a time,” he growls.

Shit. Time to think fast. Hope you catch on quick.

Bane slips his hand around your waist and puts on his best ‘unsuspicious twit’ voice. He hated using it, but rarely did it fail.

“And leave my lucky charm behind to get snatched up by someone else?” He pulls you flush against him. “I’d never do dat to my wife.”

He once heard a Quarren swallow its own face tentacles. It was only half as funny as the choking sound you make. He wishes he could see the look on your face, but you cover it with a cough before he can glance.

You throw on your own stupid voice, a Wild Space drawl. It’s... bad. “Yeah! This is a dan-ger-ous place for a li’l lady like mahself. Surrounded bah all these ruffians. I need mah husband to defend mah honah,” you say, sliding your arms around his torso. You flash some impressive voorpak pup eyes.

It’s tense for a moment, but the attendant sighs and shrugs. Wordlessly, he motions for him to follow.

Bane stifles a sigh of relief. “Come along, izrin,” he says, turning to you.

You’re wearing another expression he wishes he could bottle. Wide-eyed, brow furrowed, lips pressed into a hard line.

“I don’t know what you’re saying, but you better not be insulting me,” you whisper.

He just gives you a smirk.

You and Bane follow the attendant through a door and down a long, stark hallway, into the pit office. He feels your glower on him the whole time and relishes in it.

It’s a nice room, with a big desk made of real wood and a large, plush couch. A bookshelf is in the corner against the wall, next to a steel slab. The vault door, if the blueprints were to be believed.

“The boss will be with you... shortly,” the Karkarodon says as he leaves. He gives a toothy grin. “Get comfortable.”

As soon as the door closes, you stomp Bane’s foot. He bites back a squawk as he falls backwards onto the couch.

“Next time we’re getting married, have the decency to propose first,” you hiss. You stare intently at the desk for a few moments, then kneel in front of it.

His foot is fine, but that hurt . “I gotchu in here, didn’ I?” he growls, standing and limping over to you. “Wouldn’ kill ya to show a li’l appreciation.”

“Shut up and let me crack this.”

You pull a leather folio from your cleavage -- do you have a mini black hole in there? -- and open it. Inside is a variety of long, thin metal sticks. You pick two and slip them into a small hole on the desk, barely perceptible from his vantage point.

Bane knows next to nothing about analog locks. But watching the way your fingers twist and turn those little pieces of metal, your brow creased in concentration and your tongue between your teeth... It makes him want to learn. Listen to you explain the ins and outs and intricacies.

But unfortunately, he’s got a schedule to keep. “Hurry it up, girlie.”

“You want your money? Don’t rush me.” You put one stick between your lips as you pull another from your folio to put in the hole. It's a cute look.

Your hands suddenly give as the lock turns. Letting out a sigh, you slip your tools back into their case. You climb to your feet and slide the drawer open to reach inside.

“Button, button, who’s got the button...” Your eyes light up. “A-ha!”

A buzzer sounds, followed by a series of heavy clunks from the metal slab. Slowly, it slides open to reveal a hallway.

In spite of himself, he’s impressed. Not that he’ll ever tell you that outright. He instead gestures to the hall. Better you than him to trigger any traps.

You smile and trot ahead. “After this is another analog. It shouldn’t be a problem--”

Bane sees the glint of the laser tripwire. You don’t, and you walk right through it.

He braces himself for the blare of an alarm, but it never comes. Instead, an air vent releases a blast of warm air. The sudden gust is almost enough to knock his hat off.

He didn’t think smells were capable of violence, but then the cloying scent of flowers punches him in the olfactory glands. That’s the only way he can describe it. A violent assault by a bouquet of roses.

It’s not a bad smell, but it’s overwhelming. Like someone wearing too much perfume. He snatches his hat off his head to wave it away from his face.

“What da hell is dat?” he asks. He looks at you, hoping you’ll have an answer.

You don’t. Your cheeks are pallid and your eyes unfocused, staring into the abyss. Your mouth slightly opens to reveal your little pink tongue. You blink hard and swallow hard.

Then your eyes roll back, and you slump forward.

He catches you before you hit the ground. Wouldn’t do to have you crack your head open. Then he'd have no one to crack the analogs.

Moments later, the color is back in your cheeks, and you’re squinting at him. “What happened?” you murmur.

“Some kinda gas. Can ya stand?” He gives you his arm, then hauls you to your feet. You wobble for a moment, but recover enough to follow behind him. “After dis lock, what’s next?” he asks.

“Another office space. The vault can be opened directly from there.” You pause, then swallow thickly. “Is it hot in here?”

He doesn’t feel any different. “Probably dat rug yer wearin’.”

He expects you to haughtily correct him -- something like “it’s Pantoran taiga stoat fur, you uncultured plebeian” -- but you just swallow again.

“Yeah, probably,” you say, but you don’t sound convinced. You slough the fur coat off and toss it aside before kneeling in front of the door.

Bane watches you carefully. Your hands shake as you fiddle with the lock, and your cheeks are flushed dark while the rest of your face is pallid. It looked like what happened to Aurra Sing after she got bit by something on Kashyyyk.

The door swings open. You let out a heavy sigh and climb to your feet, only to stumble backwards. Bane catches you by the shoulders, making you gasp.

“Easy,” he says. He scans for any traps as you teeter against him. Seems clear.

You make a low sound, deep in your throat, then swallow again. Stiffly, you walk through the door.

This office is much, much nicer than the previous one. An even bigger desk. A bookshelf filled with real, paper books. A fishtank in the corner. And yet another big metal door.

“Safe’s through dere,” he says.

You respond not with words, but with a noise. A beautiful, low, lusty moan goes into his ears, trickles down his spine, and settles in his groin.

Slowly, he turns to look at you.

You’re completely flushed, from the neckline of your dress all the way up to your hairline. Sweat coats you in a sheen, and your pupils are dilated like you’d taken a hit of pure spice. You gulp for air.

“Bane,” you choke out. You stumble again, and he catches you.

He’s not ashamed to admit that he’s alarmed. Quite alarmed, considering that he was also hit with that gas. His breathing apparatus should have accounted for it, but it’s not infallible. Your system is different from his. It might affect him harder, it might not affect him at all.

He puts a hand on your forehead. He knows from past experience that you're warm, but you’re burning hot. “What’s wrong?” he asks, voice softer than he expects.

You swallow hard. Grabbing his hand, you pull it down to your cheek and nuzzle into his palm. It would be a sweet gesture, but he’s one room away from a pile of cash. And you look like you’re about to cry.

“I-I-I don’t know...” you say. He tries to pull away, but your grip tightens. You let out another moan, hoarser and louder. “Bane...”

Oof. He likes that. At any other time, he’d try to suck more whimpers from your mouth. Taste them on your tongue, hot and wet.

But of all the times that it has not been the time, now is especially not the time.

He tries to move again, but you grab his arm and haul him towards you with a force that catches him off guard. He tumbles into you, and you stumble into the wall. He only just manages to catch himself before his skull collides with yours.

Before he can react, you grab his collar and pull him into a scorching kiss. You don’t even try to ease into it. Your tongue is inside in an instant, stroking, probing, sucking all of the words right from his mouth.

To be frank, it’s an amazing kiss. Easily in his top five. But again, neither the place nor the time. Bane tries to pry his face away from yours, but you grab his breathing tubes and keep him close.

Your lips twitch as you try to form words. “Fffffuck me,” you finally manage to spit.

He blinks. “ What? ”

“Fuck me,” you repeat, more forcefully.

“Here?” You nod. “Now?” You nod even faster, and he can only stare at you. “Are ya crazy?!”

Bane has no idea what to think. This is stupid. You’re not a stupid woman -- cheeky and maddening, yes, but not stupid.

You try to pull him into a kiss again, but he grabs your wrists and forces them above your head. “Get a hold of yerself,” he hisses.

“I’m trying!” Your hips thrust up as you moan. “N-Need you to... To...!” Your words trail off into a low, low whine as you thrust again.

His cock twitches, just to spite him. He wants to. He really, really wants to. And you look so eager, so flushed, so ready...

He grits his teeth and releases you. “Get yer shit together while I get the cash.”

You sink to the floor against the wall as he pulls out his comlink. “Ike, tell me how to open the vault.”

“See the bookshelf? Top shelf, third book from the left. Pull it.”

At least the kid is punctual, he thinks to himself. He finds the book and pulls. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the vault opens. He squeezes through as soon the gap is big enough for him.

It’s pretty normal for a vault. Clean, sterile, orderly. One wall holds shelves of briefcases, containing cash and chips. On the opposite are the safety boxes.

He goes for the cases, only to pause and look at the safety boxes. The locks don’t look analog. He could probably trip them with this wristcom. Which one did you say your necklace was in? He doesn’t remember.

Grabbing one case under each arm, he enters the office. “I can spring da locks on da boxes,” he says. “Just tell me which--”

He freezes. His mouth goes dry. The cases slip from his grasp and hit the ground with a jangly thud.

You’re right where he left you, slumped against the wall. But you’ve got the hem of your dress rucked up, your nylons around your ankles -- no panties to be seen, he idly notes -- and your hand rubbing furiously at your clit.

He’s seen your pussy before. It’s a great pussy. Nothing unusual about it. But now it’s... well, the only word he can find for it is engorged. Swollen and red and soaked. He’s never seen that on... well, anyone.

“Karkin’ hells,” he mutters to himself. He’s not sure whether it’s annoying or arousing. His twitching cock isn’t helping matters.

Your eyes fly open. “Did you get the--” You cut yourself off with a moan as your hips thrust upwards. “Fuck!”

He swallows. ‘Arousing’ is winning, and he’s fighting it with all he’s got. “What da hell’s gotten into ya?!” he barks. “We got a job to do and yer touchin’ yerself like a whore!”

“I can’t help it! I can’t-- It won’t stop!” You sound like you’re on the brink of tears. “It’s throbbing and my body’s on fire and I can’t think--!”

Bane can’t do anything but stare at you. He’s been in unusual situations before -- especially when you’re involved -- but this is wild. He’s trying very hard to keep his blood in his head, but that’s damn near impossible. That flowery smell is still hanging around too, muddling his mind further.

You slump against the wall, sliding down onto your side as you furiously touch yourself. You look so pitiful. Driven half-mad by whatever is happening.

Arousal wins out. He swallows. “I'll help ya,” he says slowly, “but we gotta be quick.”

You look at him like he was the Maker himself descended from on high.

Scrambling to your feet, you rip the nylons off and throw yourself at him. He catches you in his arms and, before you can try to devour his mouth again, spins you and pushes you up against the desk.

With one swipe of his arm, everything on the surface crashes to the floor. Putting his weight on your back, he forces your chest down and rucks your dress up to slip his hand between your legs. A hiss escapes him as he finds your soaked heat.

He slides his trigger finger into you and curls it, forcing a cry from your lips that goes straight to his cock. In goes a second, a third. No trouble at all. Like putting on a perfectly-fitted glove.

And the noises you’re making... He shudders. He hasn’t even touched your clit yet.

You wiggle your hips against him. “C’mon...!” you say, trying to raise your head to look at him.

He’s in a hurry, but he can’t resist a little fun. Knotting his hand in your silky hair, he presses your head back down.

“Beg fer it, girlie,” he purrs.

“Stars above, Cad, please touch me,” you whine, your voice breathy and hoarse. The scent of flowers hits him again. Probably lingering from whatever gas blasted you.

He intended to push you more, but you just sound so desperate. Stretched. Ready to snap like an old tension cable.

Bane tightens his grip on your hair as he maneuvers his fingers to touch your clit. You howl loud enough that his ears ring.

He curls his fingers and you moan. He swivels his palm and you buck. He tugs your hair and you whine like a tooka in heat.

Such simple actions with such violent reactions.

And it goes both ways. You moan and his cock twitches. You buck and he bucks back, grinding his cock into your rear. You whine and he groans.

“Oh, Cad,” you manage. “Oh, stars, yes!”

You come undone faster than he’d have liked, but he’s not too disappointed. You twitch and convulse around him, bucking into his hips, singing his praises. Finally, you collapse against the desk, breathing hard.

“Y’alright?” he asks. You nod. He lets you rest for a ten count before he continues. “What’s da number of da safety box?”

You roll your eyes. “Why yes, I am better now, thanks,” you huff. “It’s twenty-six.”

He steps back. “Collect yerself. I’ll get the rock.”

You sit up and snap a dry, two-fingered salute.

Bane returns to the vault. Twenty-six is easy to find, and he takes careful aim at the lock with his wristcom electrode. A few seconds of current make the electronics pop and smoke. The box slides out with a hiss. He reaches inside.

...and finds nothing.

Withdrawing his hand, he peers into it. It’s completely empty.

He lets out a sigh. He’s got a bad feeling about this.

“Troubles?” You’re at the door, carrying one of the cases in your arms. Your cheeks are still flushed, but you’ve managed to get yourself presentable. You even retrieved your fur stole.

He tosses his head towards the safety box and you go toward it, leaving the case behind. He pops the lid of the briefcase open. There are credits in there, but in the back, there are heavy metal blocks. Duds. Decoys.

Arousal evaporates into white hot rage. Pure, blinding rage that makes him clench his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. He whips the case against the wall and pulls his blaster out and aims at you.

But you already have a tiny blaster trained on him. “Fool me once, shame on you,” you growl, “but fool me three times and I’m just mad.”

You’re not quite as cute anymore.

--- ⬅⬅⬅ | "Catch Us If You Can Masterpost" | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar | ➡➡➡ ---

Bane: I'd never do that to my wife Reader: *burglar.exe has stopped working*

The "my wife" exchange is my favorite bit in the whole thing.

Thank you for reading! Special thanks to Magoo and my bf for beta-ing.