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sometimesanalice · 1 year

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Leave a Light On {vol. i}

Summary: When Bradley had given you a key to his place, what he probably didn’t expect was to find you there at 2 am sitting at the piano you’d helped him find.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 7k

Warnings: lots of pining and yearning (Minors DNI)

(this was the story I was working on back in January, before the 'Like I Can' series and anything else on my masterlist. I'm so excited to share it with you all! This will be a 2-part series.)

When Bradley had given you a key to his place, you imagine he probably thought you’d check on his plants every now and then. That you’d pop by to give them a quick water and then be on your way.

Maybe that you’d take the Bronco out for a quick spin, so that his baby it didn’t sit there too long going unused. You were one of a very small handful of people he trusted to drive his most prized possession. There was something special about being behind the vintage wheel with the sun on your face as you cruised along the highway, even if it wasn’t the same without him sitting there smiling next to you.

He’d already put his mail on hold with the USPS, but you knew that he knew he could count on you to rescue any stray package that might slip through the cracks and make its way to the front door of his charming craftsman bungalow.

What he probably didn’t expect was for you to be there sometime past 2 AM sitting on the creaky bench of the old, but well-loved, piano that you had helped him to find.

You should be tucked away under the comforter of your own bed, in your own room, at your own place.

Instead, your fingers are navigating over the black and ivory keys trying, yet again, to make it through a tricky passage on a song that you’ve spent the better part of the last three months trying to perfect.

He was coming home soon and you couldn’t wait to hold him, to love him, to surprise him.

Each time he leaves, it gets a little easier to miss him. You wear your longing like a locket rather than an albatross around your neck, always there but easier to bear.

Rooster had a way of filling a space in a way you’ve never experienced before. His larger than life charisma was one of the first things that had caught your attention, followed by that damn smile of his.

He was always humming in the kitchen.

Or whistling in the car.

Or playing the piano to decompress after a long day.

Or listening to something on his mom’s refurbished record player.

His presence always so tangible and warm, like a blanket pulled fresh from the dryer. With Bradley around, you could wrap yourself up in the sheer comfort of him.

And when he was gone, it was the quiet that you struggled with the most. A constant reminder of just how far away he was. No texts or calls or voice memos throughout the day. No little everyday sweet somethings that let you know he was thinking of you.

The sound of silence followed you everywhere. Its heavy companionship making itself known regardless of how loudly you sang along to his favorite songs on the playlist he had made you or how many times you played through the song you were learning just for him.

You had grown up in the silence, you knew it well.

Parents who stayed together because it was easier than splitting the house and sharing the kid. And on the rare occasions it wasn’t quiet, it was loud. The kind that was inescapable regardless of how much you buried under the covers or how far you tucked yourself away in the corner of the backyard.

Until one day the glossy, satin walnut upright piano appeared along the wall in your barely used dining room. And then it soon became your favorite way to cover the quiet and to mask the loud.

Looking back on it now, maybe your parents had wanted something to fill the silence too.

The hours and hours of lessons you and Bradley had both been forced to sit through as children was something that the two of you had bonded over pretty early on. And while he had kept up with playing, it was something that had fallen to the wayside in your life. First with school, then with a career, and now with purposeful avoidance.

There was once a time when reading sheet music had come as easily to you as reading a book. And then one day, they were just a bunch of random dots scattered in between and across five lines on a piece of paper.

There was once a time when you didn’t even need to look down to know where your fingertips were flying to. And then one day, all your fingers could do was stumble and trip over the keys as you winced at the dissonance it created.

And when Rooster had learned about your mutual musical upbringing, he had made it his personal mission to try and get you to play something for him. He was so sweet, so sincere in the way he’d ask you, all big brown eyes and hopeful smiles.

It had always made your chest tight to brush him off. It was something he clearly wanted to share with you, but that part of you ached like a phantom limb. You didn’t know what would be worse embarrassing yourself or disappointing him with your lack of skill when it was something that you used to be so proud about.

It was easy to dodge him at first during nights out at the Hard Deck with your understandable Not with all these people here’s to your practical Mozart would just bring the vibes down’s to your evasive Maybe next time’s.

And when his polite requests were met with empty answers, he took it a step further.

One night in his bed, the curtains fluttering as the sea breeze mingled with his sandalwood scent, he’d whispered into your heated skin, “I’ll get you to play something for me one of these days. Maybe I just need to find the right form of bribery.”

His teasing innuendo juxtaposed deliciously with the deliberate touch of his fingers and tongue as he’d played your body to a perfect crescendo.

It reached a point where you couldn’t stomach to see the dejection in his eyes, the hurt he tried so hard to hide when you’d deny him yet again, that you had to own up to your closely guarded secret.

The confession had whooshed out of you in one breath, leaving you feeling deflated and defeated afterwards.

When you eventually mustered the courage to look at him, he’d been wearing the softest look of understanding on his face, as if he could sense the toll it took to admit the loss of that part of yourself. Then he gathered you in his lap and held you, all while the tears of frustration simmered behind your tightly squeezed eyes.

And when he offered to help remind how to read that language without words, to help you remember the letters of the keys beneath your fingers, it had made your heart hurt a little less.

You weren’t ready then, not like you are now.

But nothing gave you as much pleasure as it did to watch Rooster seated in front of the well-worn and well-played upright piano of Penny’s at the Hard Deck. There was nothing more exhilarating than seeing him in his element so at home on the bench, scuffed and scratched from performers of the past, as he shared that part of himself with everyone in the bar.

He made it look so easy. So damn effortless. His thick fingers flying purposefully over the keys as he played from memory. His joyous enthusiasm electrifying and substantial enough to get the whole bar singing along with him.

It always drew him a lot of attention.

How could it not? He was magnetic on a bad day and captivating the rest of the time. And entirely too handsome for his own good.

Interested eyes, curious eyes, hungry eyes followed him around more often than not after an impromptu performance.

However, those brown eyes of his were always set on you.

Never wavering, never straying from you as he’d weave his way poco a poco, little by little, back through the packed bar. Handing out high-fives to people on autopilot as he passed by to return back to your side. Glistening with the sweat he worked up and grinning widely as he’d greet you with a How’d I do, sweetheart?. Those big, capable hands sliding around your waist, in the back pocket of your jeans, under your top to rest on your low back.

The two of you never stuck around for long after he wrapped up. You didn’t mind helping him find ways to put that excess adrenaline to good use. Usually in the backseat of the Bronco.

You’ll never forget the first time Bradley serenaded you. The song meant for you and you alone.

If someone were to cut into that soft, pink part of your brain, you’re pretty sure they would find that memory pressed there like flowers between the pages of a book. Forever apart of you.

It was the song that always took you right back to that little vinyl shop along the pier. And back to that date that had almost derailed it all.

When Rooster had picked you up to take you to dinner all those months ago, he had seemed a bit antsy and absentminded.

Sure, he had gotten out of the Bronco to come fetch you like a gentleman, instead of sending some half-assed Here text like your ex had been fond of doing. You thought for sure he’d be hustling you back inside after he caught a glimpse of what you were wearing once you opened your front door to greet him.

So you were surprised when he’d simply pressed a dry kiss to your cheek and escorted you to his car with a hand placed respectfully between your shoulder blades instead of cheekily in that space between your low back and ass.

That spot that toed the line between decent and indecent. That spot that made him smirk when you’d give him a pointed lift of the eyebrow, because the two of you knew exactly what he was doing. And better yet, liked it.

However, that night it was almost like he was going through the motions, like he was already somewhere else.

The car ride to the restaurant was silent except for the white noise of the highway as he drove. The circular knob for the radio set to the left.

Off.

Which in hindsight should have been your first warning, since Bradley was never not listening to the Oldies station. A vintage vibe for your vintage boy.

When you were finally seated across from him at that new trendy Thai place you had been dying to go to, his fingers wouldn’t stop tapping out some unheard tune. On the tops his thighs. On the top of the table.

His eyes were landing everywhere else other than on you. On the large leaves of the potted palms, on the ornate pattern on the gold silk that was swathed across the ceiling, on the intricate hand-painted tiles on the floor.

You’d been trying to carry on a conversation for the past fifteen minutes and were feeling completely on edge when you had to repeat yet another question for him.

The anxious feeling growing in the pit of your stomach had been getting more and more difficult to ignore. You could tell he wasn’t really there, what you were trying to figure out was whether or not he just didn’t want to be there with you.

And god, the drinks hadn’t even come out yet. There wasn’t anything for you to distract yourself with other than your water glass, and even that was already empty except for a few melting ice cubes.

His half answers and noncommittal noises were rapidly clearing things up for you.

He’s breaking up with me.

It was at that crushing realization that the waitress had returned with your drink orders. The bright orange concoction that she set in front of you had been topped with a lovely purple orchid and glittery swizzle stick.

A happy looking cocktail for the girl who thought she was going to have another great date with the guy who was saved in her phone as “Golden Boy”.

“Have you two decided on what you want to eat? Or would you like to hear the chef’s specials again?” the waitress had asked, her gaze bouncing back and forth between you and Bradley.

You could tell that she was sensing the brewing tension between the two of you.

“I don’t think we’ll here much longer, maybe just the check--”

“Sorry, if we could have a few more minutes to decide--”

You’d both started speaking at the same time only to turn to the other wearing matching faces of absolute confusion. He’d gone ramrod straight in his chair, his fingers finally still on the tabletop. The shock in his eyes was apparent, and you could only assume it was there because you beat him to the punch.

The waitress had looked at you sympathetically before saying she’d come back in check in a few minutes and then quickly spun on her heel to take her hasty leave.

It was the look that she’d given you that had really sealed the deal for you, and wasn’t that just great? You wouldn’t have been surprised if the rest of the waitstaff was already hearing about the couple fighting at Table 12 and taking bets about whether or not they’d break up.

Lucky them, dinner and a show.

You’d reached the fruity drink in front of you, the condensation from the glass leaving a ring on the table and took a large sip for moral support. Feeling the weight his stare on you the whole time as you savored the tart taste of passionfruit as it burst across your tongue.

He’d just have to wait. It was your turn to ignore him.

As you’d swallowed it down, it had left you feeling more than a little angry that it tasted so good when you were feeling so shitty. He knew how much you liked an over the top cocktail, why couldn’t he have picked some dingy hole-in-the-wall to do this at rather than ruin this place for you? The hot prickling sensation of righteous indignation filled your chest.

You really didn’t want it to drag out any longer, setting your liquid courage back down you’d met his stare and got right down to it, “If you’re going to break up with me, Rooster, can you just do it now? I’d like to still be able to order Pad See Ew in the future without thinking about you and this moment.”

You removed the napkin from your lap, folding it up primly before placing it back upon the table as you waited for the final nail in the coffin to be pounded in on the remains of the happiest-and-easiest-and-clearly-too-good-to-be-true relationship you’ve ever had.

“Wait, what? I don’t want to break up.” His eyes were wide and searching, the hurt in his voice had been evident. And it was the first time all evening that he seemed to be present with you, like your Golden Boy had finally showed up to the date. “I thought things were going well. More than well, actually.”

“Yeah. I mean, I did too. Until tonight,” you’d agreed, defeatedly. “I’m really confused here. You’ve been completely distant tonight. Not to be vain, but look at me,” you gestured to the sexy lowcut dress you’d worn for the evening. It was something you’d been saving in your closet for the right occasion. And you’d thought it was going to drive him wild, but he hadn’t even given it a second glance.

You’d leaned in a bit, lowering your voice, “It’s a boob and leg dress, Bradley. I look really fucking hot, and frankly, I didn’t even think we were going to make it here once you saw this. It wouldn’t have been the first time we’ve missed a dinner reservation. And you haven’t said a single thing about it.”

It felt like a silly thing to be upset about in the grand scheme of things, but his inattentiveness that evening had stung more than you’d wanted to admit to.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I noticed,” he’d retorted hotly. His eyes had been heated as he’d matched your movement and leaned in further across the table. “Half the men in here noticed it too the second you walked in.”

You didn’t bother trying to hold back your scoff of frustration, the man was infuriating.

“Then I don’t understand why you’re making me feel like being here- with me- is the last place you want to be right now?” You’d given up on trying to sound unaffected, this was not the evening you had envisioned. It felt like being blindfolded on a rollercoaster, unable to see what exactly you were hurtling towards.

“I got my new orders today,” he’d blurted out, his eyes trying to read yours for the reaction. “I’m being send as aerial escort for a diplomatic mission. I ship out next Monday for six weeks.”

He’d told you later that he was grateful it wasn’t a longer one, he knew he was lucky because he could have just as easily been sent away for a deployment longer than you’d actually been together.

“Oh.”

You’d known that that moment would have happened eventually with his job, so you shouldn’t have been surprised. However, it was one thing thinking about it theoretically rather than looking at a ticking clock with a deadline.

“Cards on the table, sweetheart?” He’d waited for you to nod before continuing on, “I am really fucking into you. I’m trying not to put pressure on this, because I’m pretty sure you’re my dream girl. I wanted to take you out for a nice meal, get you a couple of those complicated fun drinks you like. I even looked at the menu in advance, they have one here that they light on fire and it seems like something you would love.”

He was right, it was something that you’d love. You had even eyed it when you first got the menu, but you hadn’t wanted to get anything that would draw you more attention when you already felt like you had too many pairs of eyes on you.

“Then I wanted to take you home with me and tell you after we had a great time out. I wanted to ask you to save that Sunday before I leave for me, so that we could spend the whole day together.” His fingers had started playing that unheard tune on the table again. “I wanted to show my girl the best time, to keep her wanting to come back and to stick around. So that someone else doesn’t catch her eye, so that I don’t lose her to someone better than me while I’m away.”

His confession had your heart taking up residence in your throat. Having him lay it out for you so clearly and knowing that he’d felt as serious about you as you did about him was everything you had wanted to hear. However, one thing nagged at you.

“Bradley, you make me happy. Like really, really happy. I’ve only got eyes for you. If I’m being honest, this stopped being casual to me around our third date. And I trust you enough to know you’d tell me if this”, you’d gestured between the two of you, “wasn’t what you wanted anymore before starting up with someone else. I hope I have that same trust in return, because if you’re worried about me stepping out on you while you’re away, I don’t know how this is going to work. And I really want it to work.”

“Shit, I’m really striking out here. Batting 0 for two,” he’d sighed out more to himself than to you, leaning back in his chair and running his hands through his hair. “Our third? Really? I thought for sure after that disaster that you were going to block my number.” He huffs a laugh, cheeks turning the same shade of pink that they had that chaotic evening on the beach.

“Bradley, it was comically bad.” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at the memory of it. “You were trying so hard and you were so flustered. It was so endearing.”

“Who would have guessed getting attacked by seagulls and coming home covered in sand flea bites could have been so appealing?” He joked self-deprecatingly.

“Me, I could have. Since I was with you,” you said sincerely, “No one I’ve dated has ever put half as much effort into trying to make me happy as you have.”

The two of you exchanged a soft, tentative smiles.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you had a wandering eye or anything, I promise.” His eyes pleaded with you as he reached for your hands and threaded his fingers through yours, his palms slightly sweaty. “This deployment is different for me. I’ve never had to ask someone to wait for me before, never had anyone who wanted to. And I’ve been really in my head because I was trying to find the right way to tell you, to ask you.”

You were still getting to know all of the expressions of his face, but the look of open insecurity he was wearing was new to you. And you’d felt something deep in your chest release and unlock.

For how easily he owned a room, for how confident he could be, getting to see these tender parts of him because he trusted you with them had made you ache in the most bittersweet of ways for the man who was in front of you.

You held his gaze, taking in his anxious expression. How anyone couldn’t want this man or didn’t think he was worth the wait was incomprehensible to you.

“So Sunday the seventeenth, huh?” you’d said with a grin.

His relief was palpable as he’d squeezed your hand a bit tighter, “Yeah, baby, you up for it?”

“A perfect day with my dream guy?” you mused, squeezing his hand back, “Yeah, I think I’d be up for that. I’m up for all of it.”

Not just the date. Not just the deployment. You already knew. With him, you wanted it all.

When the waitress returned a few moments later, Bradley ordered a green curry for himself and the Pad See Ew for you. Along with one of those complicated, fun drinks that arrived with fanfare and flames, all while he played with your fingers.

And after you were finished, she’d dropped off a fluffy looking coconut covered dessert that she’d stated was on the house as walked away with a wink.

You’d totally called it, dinner and a show.

As you’d left the restaurant, he tucked you in close under his arm pressing kiss after kiss to your temple as you made your way back to the Bronco.

And later, when he had taken you back to his place for the night, your boob-and-leg dress forgotten somewhere on the floor, he’d apologized again. This time with his mouth on your body.

Twice.

It had been a fluke, really, finding that record tucked away in that small, but well-kept shop on that Sunday before his deployment.

You’d surprised him with a certificate for a haircut and hot towel shave at an upscale barber for a little pre-deployment pampering. He’d gotten his hair trimmed the day before and he was somehow looking even more sunkissed than usual. His patterned shirt was mostly buttoned up and he had on your favorite pair of jeans- the ones that might have been a bit too snug, but did devastating things for his ass.

It was the outfit he’d been wearing when you had first met.

You and Bradley had spent a lazy, perfect morning at the beach reading and lounging and trading sea salt kisses before changing and to grab a bite to eat. He’d held up a towel up around you to slip into your sun warmed dress, behaving himself for the most part. But you’d still caught him sneaking a peek from over the top of the terry cloth.

After eating a late lunch at his favorite little café that served the best cioppino, you’d popped in and out of the various shops that dotted the boardwalk near the pier. It might have been the bottle of wine you shared, but he made sure to stop at every photobooth you passed along the way, collecting strip after strip of snapshots and tucking them into his shirt pocket.

His hand staying in yours the whole time.

When he’d spotted the tiny record store, he’d cheerily pulled you along with him wanting to look for new additions for his ever-growing collection. It was his newest hobby after getting his mom’s old record player restored. You had even helped him build the sideboard he had specially ordered for it to display his prized collection in the living room of his home.

You could hear him talking excitedly to an associate about some Jerry Lee Lewis albums, who offered to take a look in the backroom for him. You never had good luck when you tried to search for specific things, so you were happy to meander around a bit aimlessly and see what spoke to you.

Casually flipping through the stacks, you’d gasped when you landed on what appeared to be the holy grail of all vinyl records ever made.

“Bradley, look!” You’d held out the record for him like a prize. And he abandoned his own search to come join you on the other side of the store.

“Soldiers’ Sweethearts, huh?” He grinned at your find, his eyes crinkling around the edges. The navy colored jacket highlighted a trio of glamourous looking women, each of the three records featured a different performer and their covers of songs popularized during WWII.

“Mm-hmm,” you’d preened, feeling entirely too pleased with yourself. “You’re a soldier, I’m a sweetheart. I’ve never seen anything more perfect in my life. I have to get it.”

“Well I’m not a soldier, technically,” he’d chuckled, as you’d rolled your eyes at him. The joke had you scrunching your nose, and his mustache grazed you as he leaned in close to press a quick kiss to it. “But you’re definitely a sweetheart, sweetheart.”

You were still trying to learn the ins and outs of that part of his life. But you’d liked how he never made you feel stupid when you had questions. More often than not he seemed excited to answer them for you, that you were interested in what he did.

Rooster gently took your newest most prized possession into his big hands, “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” Flipping the album over, he’d scanned the tracks listed on the back for the three records. “Some classics, but a lot I don’t think I know. Definitely some intriguing titles, like ‘Daddy’,” he read aloud with a raised eyebrow and a grin that could only be described as lewd.

The man was a menace and had no problem finding new ways to make you blush. You were grateful that the shop was empty except for the two of you, as you felt the heat rise in your cheeks.

“What about ‘Who’s Taking You Home Tonight’? Have you heard that one before, sweetheart?” His large body moving in and crowding yours, the smell of his cologne making your thoughts go a bit fuzzy around the edges. Your heartbeat kicked up in tempo as he brushed a piece of hair off your forehead.

That find was definitely a jackpot.

Him and those records.

“Mm, or how about ‘Make Love To Me’?” He’d murmured into your ear, his free arm slid slowly against your waist, making a home for itself low on your back. The warmth from his hand seeping through your dress and into your skin.

It was heady being the target of all his heated words and teasing tone. The pull in your low stomach getting more intense with every moment you’d stayed pressed against his hard body. You could see how his pulse was pounding arditamente con forza, boldly with force, from how close your face was to that thick throat of his. And you had wanted to--

“I knew we had it somewhere!”

The associate’s cheery announcement as he returned from the backroom startled you back into yourself. Feeling flustered you’d tried to pull away, but Bradley just kept his arm locked around you as he’d made his way to the counter.

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. We’ll take this one too,” he stated as he’d smoothly placed your Soldiers’ Sweethearts album on the top of the pile he had accumulated. Only letting go of you to pay.

Naturally, you’d wanted to play the record the second you made it back to Bradley’s place.

He set it up for you before giving you a lingering, deep kiss leaving you to your own devices as he worked on the final few things left on his to-do list before his deployment early the next morning.

You were happy to make yourself comfortable on his wide seat couch with an Old Fashioned listening to Jo Stafford’s soothing voice with your eyes closed, wanting to luxuriate in the moment.

One where Bradley was less than twenty feet away puttering around in his kitchen and humming and murmuring to himself.

One where you could call out to him and he would be in front of you in a few long strides.

You wanted to avoid thinking about the next day and the beginning of your new normal.

One where you couldn’t expect text messages from him throughout the day.

One where concern and uncertainty would follow you around like a dark cloud until he came back home to you.

But he was here for now. And you wanted to savor it all, to soak up all of its sweet, syrupy goodness like the expensive cherry in your glass.

He must have sensed the turn in your thoughts because his sandalwood scent gave his closeness away before his voice did, “What do you say, Miss Soldiers’ Sweetheart? Can you spare a dance for me?”

You opened your eyes to see him standing before you with his hand outreached for you. The smile so gentle and open on his face, made it impossible for you to do anything other than wordlessly nod your head in agreement as you’d let him pull you up from your comfy perch.

“Apologies in advance for any injuries caused by my two left feet,” you joked a bit bashfully as he wrapped his arm around you.

“Lucky for us, I was gifted with two right feet. Don’t worry, we’ll even out each other,” he murmured.

He pulled you into his gravity, pressing your joined hands against his chest where you could feel the steady beat of his heart. The hand on your lower back urging closer, closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between your bodies. His chin rested lightly on the top of your head where you had tucked it into that safe space where his neck meets his shoulder.

take me in your arms, and never let me go whisper to me softly while the moon is low

True to his word, he’d guided you in a smooth, easy rhythm. The confidence in his steps as you were held within his sturdy arms was enough to make you feel secure in your own movement. With him you were completely taken care of.

hold me close and tell me what I wanna know say it to me gently, let the sweet talk flow

Your other hand slid up slowly from where it was resting on his shoulder to wrap around his neck, fingers threading through the fine hairs at the nape of his neck as your thumb traced the thick column of his throat.

Come a little closer, make love to me

He held you tighter, held you closer, as the song came to an end. The easy rhythm turning into a gentle sway that continued as the next song began. And the one after that.

That night in his bed he moved against you with such purpose, such tenderness. The sex with Bradley was always stunningly good, he was never content to let himself come until he’d rendered you thoroughly boneless and breathless. He was easily the best you’ve ever had, but that night it was different between you two.

The mood weighty and intense, both of you exposed in a way you hadn’t been before. But there was no mistaking the deliberate way he touched you, the unwavering way he rolled his hips against yours, the unguarded way he held your gaze as if he was committing that moment to memory as he made love to you.

He’d held you close to his warm body, his fingertips leaving trails of goosebumps, as you shivered through your orgasm. His mouth pressed against your ear as he whispered soothing sweet somethings until he followed you over the edge.

For Bradley, you were up for it. For him, you’d be up for all of it.

yesyesyes

Things were a bit too quiet for you.

You heart clenched in a different way when you looked at Penny’s piano on those evenings you spent with the Dagger Squad without him. The ache was still there, but so was a new kind of longing. Part for him, but also for yourself.

But you’d made it through that deployment with the help of your three favorite sweethearts: Jo, Vera and Anne. Although you always queued up one song in particular anytime you found yourself missing him a bit more than normal.

And when Bradley returned back home to you six weeks later, it was easy to fall right back into him. That quiet period was almost too easily forgotten when he was around to fill a space.

That night at the Hard Deck when he serenaded you for the first time, it was normal for him to strut over to the old jukebox to unplug it. His timing impeccable as always, silencing whatever country song Jake had queued up.

What wasn’t normal was the way he took you by the hand leading you directly to the old upright and pulled you right onto the bench next to him.

There was already some sheet music spread across the shelf, you’d noted as he’d wiped his hands on the outside of his jeans before settling his hands on the keys. It only took you a couple bars of the intro to realize what song he was playing, already completely enamored before he’d even opened his mouth to sing.

It was your song.

Nothing in the world could ever compete with Bradley Bradshaw’s deep, raspy voice singing just for you. The significance of the song meant for you and him alone.

You heart had swelled in your chest until you thought it might burst from happiness. Never in your life had you been so thoroughly swept off your feet. It was a gesture came from his heart that made a home in yours.

Ever the showman Rooster put on a full performance, his aviator sunglasses sliding down his nose as he really leaned into it.

Your wide grin had turned to laughter when a few members of the Dagger Squad jumped in as back-up vocals, singing into their beer bottles in a way that obviously had been rehearsed. You didn’t know how he managed to keep it a secret. While Rooster was a vault in his professional life, when it came to his personal life Bradley couldn’t keep a secret to save his life.

The whole bar was having fun with the jaunty tune, some couples dancing along in smooth circles on the sticky wood floor as he crooned. He’d leaned over to place a kiss on your cheek every now and then in between verses, and you’d felt yourself fall for him even harder.

He’d pulled you into his lap once he was done playing, as the din of the resumed chatter softly cocooned you. You’d seen all you needed to know reflected in his eyes as you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

“Will you play it again?” you’d asked against his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.” And you rested your head on his shoulder watching his fingers get into position on the keys once more as he played the few opening notes.

Somewhere you heard a groan followed by a grumbled, “Not again.”

“Shut it, Bagman,” you bossed at him, not even bothering to look in his direction. You only had eyes for Bradley.

“You heard the lady,” he chuckled. “Shut it, Bagman.”

And then he played it again.

take me in your arms, and never let me go

You should be asleep in your own bed and not at his place with only the soft light of the lamp above his piano and a now cold cup of tea to keep you company.

Tired of tossing and turning, you’d given up on the idea of getting any sleep at your own place after the second hour of trying. Throwing on your slippers, you’d grabbed your keys and then drove over to his place, still in the oversized t-shirt you’d put on before bed, in hopes that scent of his sheets would help lull you to sleep.

But all it did was make you miss him more.

It was too quiet without his soft breathing next to you as he held you close and tucked against his chest.

Too quiet without his records.

Too quiet without his happy humming.

Too quiet without him.

The sound of the tea kettle on his gas range had helped fill the silence, but it was his piano that had called you as you had waited for the water to boil. The sheet music you had left there from the last time you were over beckoning like a siren’s song.

It was your secret.

Only for a few more days, only until he came home.

You wanted to surprise him, to sweep him off his feet the way that he always did with you when he played for you.

During that first deployment, for the first time in years, your fingers yearned for the feel of cool, smooth keys beneath your fingers.

You hadn’t even told Bradley, the one person who would understand it the most, that you’d been thinking about it. Let alone that you were actually taking classes again. Making up excuses about manicures or errands or spin classes for why you were busy for an hour every Tuesday at five PM.

The thing that had once hurt your heart the most, was now the only thing that helped soothe the ache of missing him. The only thing that made you feel close to him when you were thousands of miles apart.

You wanted that familiar comfort of making music. You wanted it because you missed him, but you also wanted it for yourself.

A co-worker had given you the name and number for her kids’ instructor, Mrs. McMullen, an elderly woman who started teaching after her husband passed away. It took you couple weeks to work up the courage to make the call, the sticky note burning a hole in the pocket of your purse you had tucked it into.

You had been an anxious mess the day of your first lesson, hands shaking like you’d had one too many shots of espresso. It felt strange, a little surreal sitting there in the body you’d grown into on the padded bench in her cozy living room. One of the walls filled with shelves and shelves of sheet music, her own personal library.

And for a brief moment, you were transported to a different year on a different bench in a different room. Now and Then. Older and Younger. Both versions of you there to learn. All too familiar, yet entirely new.

You started with the basics. A reintroduction to those lines on the page and the notes that spoke their own language for those who knew how to read it.

Your fingers wanting to move quicker than your sluggish mind, like an echo of a memory of how it used to be. You winced and apologized after every wrong note, until she put her hand on yours, her skin looked as delicate as her fingers did, and said gently, “We learn by doing, mistakes only mean that you are trying. Once more, once again.”

After that first lesson, you’d gone back to your car and promptly burst into tears. Overwhelmed tears, happy tears. That tender part of you still soft, however no longer aching.

You’d left feeling lighter as you pulled away from her house to go meet up with everyone at the Hard Deck, but also with a packet of sheet music to practice for your next lesson.

When Rooster had told you about getting his new orders, when he had asked you again if you were still up for it. You’d told him the same thing you had at that date, you were up for it all.

You would take the sadness with the sweet any day of the week for as long as he was yours.

You’d known how you would fill the space he left behind. And exactly how you wanted to welcome him home. You’d been excited to put that certain song just for him in your cart, and then tacking on one more song to your order, a song that would be just for you.

Both you and Mrs. McMullen had be surprised at how you’d been able to pick things back up over the months, you still weren’t anywhere as good as you were when you were younger, but it wasn’t nearly as daunting as it used to be. And when you showed up to your next lesson after your songs had been delivered, she was more than happy to help you figure out ways to simplify the songs a bit so that you’d be ready when he returned.

And now you’re bent over Bradley’s piano with a pencil tucked behind your ear as you played through the hardest bit of the song, you’ve lost track of how many times you’ve gone over it tonight. This morning? You were in that liminal space between yesterday and today. Where the time on the clock was just a suggestion because it felt neither here nor there.

You had practiced and practiced the song you had wanted to play for him once got home. You’re pretty sure Mav wasn’t supposed to tell you the significance of that particular song, but it had made your heart flutter wildly in your chest when he’d told you. And every time you’ve heard it since then.

It was polished, it was perfect, it was ready. All you needed was him.

The one you’re playing now con amore, with love, is the piece you pull out when you long for him the most.

The cover of the song had made you think of him from the moment you’d heard it. It was more lyrical and delicate than the original, and captured just how you felt about him. Just how much he meant to you. Sometimes you sing along with it, sometimes you just let the keys and pedals express the things you otherwise could not.

It was the song of your heart.

Your fingers trip over one of the notes yet again, probably from the lack of sleep, but you weren’t ready to crawl back into Bradley’s comfy bed. Not just yet.

Sighing, you pull the pencil from behind your ear, muttering to yourself out loud as you note the spot on the page. It was already filled with little pencil marks, some older and some newer. All made because you were trying.

Once more, once again.

Breathing out slowly, you settle your hand back on the keys-

“Can you play it from the beginning this time, sweetheart?"

Read {vol. ii} here!

He's a sneaky one, friends! I have Part 2 in the works, not to worry! We have to see how it all plays out! (put intended)

Thank you for reading! Let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist for the grand finale!

Here's a link to the Soldiers' Sweethearts Album, if you're curious!

But this is their song, the one Bradley serenaded her with! Jo Stafford's version of 'Make Love to Me'

I ended up making two moodboards for this part!

Here's the more colorful one! And here's the more yearn-y one!

You can check out my other stories here!

And a big thank you to Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) for letting me spam you about this one!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #rooster x you

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pianoplanet · 3 months

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Variety of Well-Maintained Used Upright Pianos

Improve your music experience with our collection of well-fixed-up used upright pianos. We have different brands and styles available, making it easy to find the perfect piano for your music journey.

#used pianos #used upright pianos

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simdertalia · 4 months

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🎸 ACNH Music Stuff Set - Part 2 🎸

Sims 4, base game compatible (Pianos & keyboard are functional & require City Living, as it uses the keyboard as the base). 30 items 💗

Here is the second part of the music stuff! With some extras added, as always.

Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.

Type “acnh music 2" into the search query in build mode to find quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing the title and it will appear.

As always, please let me know if you have any issues!

📁 Download all or pick & choose (SFS, No Ads): HERE

📁 Alt Mega Download (still no ads): HERE

📁 Download on Patreon

Will be public on June 5th, 2024 💗 Midnight CET

Happy Simming! ✨ Some of my sets are early access. If you like my work, please consider supporting me (all support helps me with managing my chronic pain/illness):

★ Patreon 🎉 ❤️ |★ Ko-Fi ☕️ ❤️ ★ Instagram📷

Thank you for reblogging ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@sssvitlanz @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters @coffee-cc-finds @itsjessicaccfinds @gamommypeach @stargazer-sims-finds @khelga68 @suricringe @vaporwavesims @mystictrance15 @moonglitchccfinds @xlost-in-wonderlandx @jbthedisabledvet

-Display Counter CC

Other Instrument Downloads & Related: -Theramin -Gong & Bamboo Drum -Ukulele -Harp -Festivale Drum -Pipe Organ -Street Organ -PA System on Stand -Radios

-Music Tag

The rest of my CC

If there is anyone who knows how to make functional guitars/violins, please feel free to make the decor instruments functional if you wish, to share with the community.

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dilemmaontwolegs · 9 months

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Harmony || CL16

Summary: Being a musician isn't the easiest way to make ends meet. Aside from being in the local orchestra, you balance being a tutor and a tuner - one Charles hires to tune his piano. Warnings: none, fluffy WC: 1.2k F1 Masterlist

Of course the city would be busy when you were running late. As much as you might have tried to run, or at least power walk, you didn’t want to damage the precious cargo you were carrying. You managed to make up some time at the sacrifice of your lungs and you were still recovering when you reached the address of your last appointment.

“Sorry I’m late, Mr Leclerc, my violin lesson ran over.”

“That’s okay, and it’s just Charles,” he corrected as he opened his door wider for you to enter his home. It was easy to see where you were going to be working so you headed straight to the upright piano in the light and airy living room. After placing your violin case on the floor beside his coffee table you shrugged off your backpack and opened your tool kit.

“May I?” you asked as you reached for the memorabilia balanced on the top you needed access to.

“Oh, right, sorry.” He rolled his eyes at himself for not preparing the piano for your arrival and helped you clear it off. “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you, Mr- I mean Charles.” You opened the top lid before removing the front panel and sat down on the bench. First you tested the keys and pedals to see if any were sticky but they were in good condition, and you listened to each key to determine how much work was needed.

“How long have you been learning to play the violin?”

You looked away from the keys as Charles took a seat on the sofa near your instrument. “Oh, no, I teach it. Well, I suppose I am still learning, because there is always room to improve, but my lesson was with a student.”

“So violin tutor and piano tuner,” he said with an impressed nod. “That is quite the niche market.”

“Not as niche as yours,” you pointed out as you pulled a tuning fork out of your tool kit. “There are certainly more than 20 of us in the world.”

The racer cracked a smile that was quite disarming and you had to return to your work as your cheeks warned. “When was she last tuned?”

He chuckled nervously and you winced before he even answered. “When I bought it, two and a half years ago.”

You suppressed the sigh that built and grabbed the adjuster to start moving all the keys up in pitch. “Without regular tuning, you’ll likely find she needs fine tuning again in a few weeks.”

Charles smiled sheepishly and nodded. A comfortable silence fell as you continued your work, moving with confidence through the motions until you were satisfied the piano sounded perfect. Replacing the front panel and closing the top, you took a seat again for the final test. There was already a page of sheet music on the stand so you placed your tablet next to it and opened the app that picked up notes and confirmed if they were in tune or not.

Your eyes scanned the sheet and you heard the melody in your head before you let it flow into your fingers that started their graceful dance across the keys. One page was more than enough to check your work was done but you were a little disappointed that you weren’t able to hear the remainder of the song as you closed the lid.

“I haven’t heard this before,” you said as you picked up the sheet but it had no markings on it. “Who is the artist?”

Charles rose from the sofa and took the page with pink cheeks. “I, uh, I wrote it.”

“It’s beautiful, and sad.” He frowned at the strange compliment and looked away before you placed your hand on his shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with sad music. It is meant to be a way of expressing oneself so it doesn’t fester inside. I tell my students it is a good thing.”

His frown softened and his grip on the paper eased before he reached past you to place it back on the stand. “I wanted to add some other instruments once I recorded it, but I wasn’t sure which ones.”

You nodded to yourself as you replayed the sonata in your head, your fingers drawing invisible notes that could accompany the melody. “Hmm, I think I can help…if you want?”

“Please,” he said as he watched you grab your violin case and unlock it. The lid opened with a creak and his eyes widened as he saw the logo for the Monegasque Royal Orchestra in the velvet lining. “You play for the orchestra?”

“Second chair,” you hummed with a proud smile. “We are playing for Prince Albert’s birthday this weekend.”

“I guess I will see you there.”

Of course he would have an invitation to the Prince’s birthday, all the important people in the principality would be there. “That’s one way to make me nervous. I’ll try not to mess up for you.”

“I think you’ll be great,” he said with a grin as he sat at the edge of the bench and watched you raise the delicate violin to your neck.

“Do you want to play and I will join you?”

“Uh, sure.” He was the one who seemed nervous now and he cleared his throat as he turned on the bench seat, his toes hovering over the pedals. “Here we go, I guess.”

His long fingers were elegant and his wrists remained loose as he began to play. You let the first eight bars open before you closed your eyes and drew your bow across the strings in harmony to him. Charles stumbled over the key as the higher octave caught him by surprise but he recovered with a quiet apology and soon the piece rose into an emotive crescendo that had your chest aching before the last note died out.

You let your arm relax and the warmth from the rosewood rest cooled on your skin as you lowered the bow and violin to your sides.

“That was…incredible,” he said as he turned in his seat.

“You are a very talented man, Mr Leclerc,” you said as you carefully laid the violin back into the bracket and locked it up. “A lot of people can play the piano but very few have the creativity to write their own music.”

His blush spread from his cheeks to his neck and he fidgeted with the ring on his finger. “Thank you, for tuning my piano and playing with me.”

“It was a pleasure.” You packed up your tools and shoved them into your backpack before picking up the violin case and looking at the door. “I hope you enjoy the concert.”

“I’m sure I will,” he said with a genuine smile as he walked with you to the entrance way. “Maybe we can have a drink together afterwards?”

You clutched the handle of the case tighter and tried to control your excitement with a small nod, but your smile was uncontrollable and bright. “I would like that.”

“I’ll see you Saturday.”

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one fanfiction #formula one imagine

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llamagoddessofficial · 4 months

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A lovely continuation commission from @valacre. You love your husband Nightmare as he is - but there's a lot more to him than what is now, isn't there?

---

The record player moved on to the next song. Your recognition of the song roused you, faintly, from your almost-sleep... a familiar, emotive, reflective piano piece. You didn’t open your eyes just yet; you could feel a small smile forming on your lips.

He’s playing Debussy? He must be in a good mood.

You were holding Nightmare’s hand up against your face tonight, tucked up to your ears under the covers, cheek pressed stubbornly to the top of his palm. You spent many nights falling asleep this way. Nightmare didn’t need to sleep, it was a luxury he could indulge in if he felt inclined, but he often chose instead to bring his books and quills to bed with him (propped against his knees) and use the precious quiet hours to read and write. You would fall asleep tucked up to his side... most often with one of his hands commandeered by your own, as your just payment for not receiving your usual embrace from him.

You didn’t mind this arrangement. In fact, you quite enjoyed it. There was something about him being awake that made your sleep so deep, so restful - you felt so safe. He could watch over you, right? It was as if knowing he was awake for you made all your anxieties melt away. He would sometimes play music to fill the silence, and the tunes would lull you into comfortable and romantic dreams.

You very minutely nuzzled his hand as the song drew to a close. After a few beats of silence, the record player skipped on. You didn’t recognise this one, but it was distinctly Debussy again... you couldn’t help but open your eyes.

...

The hand you were holding was white.

You gasped, a loud and sharp breath - you snatched your hand away and sat bolt upright in bed. The blanket tumbled off you.

Again?!

Your vision focused.

... Nightmare, despite the look of startlement and concern on his face, appeared completely normal. His bones were black, faintly iridescent and glistening as they always were; his eyelight’s cyan light was bright and comforting. Handsome as ever, too.

“what is it?” he asked, gently, putting his quill down. “bad dream?”

... You didn’t know what to say. Let alone how to say it. After searching his face for anything unfamiliar, and finding nothing but the man you loved, you gradually lowered yourself back down into bed. You tried to breathe slowly, calming from the sudden bout of panic you’d caused yourself. Your heart was beating much too hard.

“I... Yes. I’m alright.” You definitely didn’t sound alright. You bought the covers back up over your shoulders.

His face shifted. His voice was soft, as was his gaze, you could tell he was being careful to keep his tone non-confrontational.

He slowly closed his book. “no you aren’t.”

You shifted uncomfortably at the twinge in his tone. Nightmare, a man who could taste lies, obviously didn’t like being lied to. Even small ones.

“I’m sorry. I... don’t really know what’s wrong.”

You stared at some of the fine stitching around the edges of the pillow. You were struggling to get comfortable again, your whole body still tense. This wasn’t the first time your mind had supplied you with images of a skeleton you didn’t recognise.

Lately, you’d been having the most intense, vivid, immensely strange dreams. You never fully recalled them when you awoke, but certain aspects would remain in your head like the afterimage of a powerful flash. Symbols of the moon, silver, flickers of purple. The warmth that comes from drinking herbal tea. Laughter, the smell of fire, a tree stump.

... Then the skeleton himself, the subject of your confusion. Tall and elegant, clad in faded silks, with a kind smile but the aura of something that grown accustomed to unspeakable grief. Soft lilac eyelights that were deep and overflowing with power. You couldn’t remember his face; you could, however, remember that his expression was warm. A smile that made your chest ache. He would look at you as if he owed you a great debt; no matter how much you called out he wouldn’t come any closer. He would open his mouth, but there would be only silence, like he was behind a thick wall of water.

You would’ve ignored the dreams. Were they not so vivid - and so recurring. You felt as if something was quietly watching you. But what? And how could you possibly reply, if you couldn’t even remember what happened?

... You were broken out of the memory by Nightmare moving. His tentacles picked up his book, pen and ink, placing them on the bedside table; as he did, he shuffled to lay down beside you. He drew you against him. Perhaps he could tell that whatever was wrong, it needed more than words.

You gratefully accepted the embrace. Your cheek tucked against his collarbone, his arm and a tentacle looped over your middle. When his huge arms were around you, you felt so safe, you knew heads would roll before he allowed anything in the world to touch you.

“better?” he murmured.

You were choked up. You didn’t know why. “Mhm.”

“you know you can tell me anything.”

“Of course. I just need to find the words to tell you, first.”

“i’m sorry. i shouldn’t push. i’m one to talk about not telling the whole truth, hm?”

You couldn’t help but giggle. He clearly liked that... against his chest, you could hear his Soul faintly humming. Probably by instinct, a second tentacle tucked over you, this time curling around your legs.

The record player moved on to the next song. His claws were gently moving in your hair, wrapping a specific curl around his phalange and letting it go over and over again. He’d always been enamoured with how it looked when it was down; it was a sight he was only privy to in moments like these, with the covers pulled up over both of you and the dark of night filling the bedroom.

Your voice broke the comfortable silence once you recognised the song playing. You weren’t laughing at him, but you were laughing, just a little. “More Debussy? Someone’s feeling romantic.”

He sounded like he was smiling. “indulge me,”

“I think it would be nice to learn how to play this one.” It felt good to talk about something else.

“it’s not as hard as you’d expect.”

...

You did look up at him this time, surprised, fabric rustling as you tilted your head up. “You play piano?”

“mhm.” His eye was wide and fuzzy, nigh filling up his entire socket, looking down at you with an immense softness. His hand moved to cup your face, massive palm to your cheek, claws curling around the back of your head. “it’s been a while. but i’m sure i could shake off the rust.”

“I didn’t know you knew how.”

“honestly, dear?” He hummed. “until this moment, i had forgotten i could.”

“You always struck me as more of a string player. Violin, perhaps. Or cello.”

“ah... violin, i never particularly fell in love with. but i am fond of the cello.” His voice was so satin-like, if you closed your eyes you could almost feel it caressing you. “i’ve picked up a fair few instruments, in my time. do you play?”

You rested your cheek back against his collarbone. Just how many instruments did he know? He was something of royalty, wasn’t he? Perhaps his childhood had involved a prince’s education. He would’ve seen a fair few beautiful and expensive instruments. His hand traced over your shoulder and down your spine, lovingly and almost reverently, settling to the small of your back. Despite all your time together, Nightmare still touched you like he couldn’t believe his luck.

“I floundered at piano as a child. My teacher always told me I was too airheaded to be any good.”

“she sounds unpleasant.”

“Mh... she wasn’t all wrong.” You thought back to the woman that had frightened you so much as a child. “I didn’t make her life very easy; I never practised, I was always busy playing gardener. She would scold me for coming to practise with dirt under my fingernails. Maybe if I’d concentrated, I would’ve been better.”

“well, it doesn’t matter now.” He turned his face slightly, and kissed the top of your head. “i didn’t marry you for your musical talent.”

“That may be true. But you didn’t marry me for great reasons at first, either.”

“my reasoning was questionable at the time, yes. i had no idea how to process what i was feeling.” His grin was audible once again. “but it would be a bald-faced lie to say i regret it. i’ll never regret making sure you were all mine.”

You rolled your eyes. “Aren’t you the romantic?”

He chuckled. You didn’t realise how much the short conversation had soothed you. Perhaps that was his plan. You were getting sleepier and sleepier, forgetting entirely what had startled you.

“I like these songs.” Your eyelids were drooping. “You have good taste in music.”

“music was... the only thing dream and i ever agreed on.”

... You stilled. Had... had he ever volunteered information about his brother before? Outside of when the spectre of the topic was already looming over both of you?

...

“... You should play me something, tomorrow.”

“anything for you.”

///---///

Nightmare waited until you were asleep to stop petting your hair. He only relaxed once the expression completely melted from your face. Instead, he just let his claws rest beside your head, his eyelight wandering over your features. Doing its best to memorise every curve.

He could never quite draw your smile right. The rest of you, he could create from memory, his claws knew the shape of your body well - your cheek and the arch of your brow, the little dip where your neck and shoulders met, the soft skin of your stomach and back... when he indulged himself in drawing you, those were the parts he could recreate with the effortlessness of total familiarity. The locked box in his study had more than its fair share of proof.

But your smile? He just couldn’t get it. No matter how badly he wanted to. Perhaps it just wasn’t something that could be contained. Perhaps there was a lesson there, for him, in the thing he loved most being the one thing he couldn’t capture forever.

... Alas. He knew he would keep trying, anyway. He was nothing if not greedy.

He kissed your knuckles. He would apologise again in the morning. It was unkind of him to pick you up on not telling the truth - especially when you were so incredibly patient with his endless lies by omission.

He wasn’t telling you everything about his dreams, either.

He’d grown so comfortable around you that many nights, when you slept, his mind would unconsciously reach out and connect to yours - his Soul seemed to see you as an extension of himself, so it would naturally draw you closer. Usually that meant nothing more than moving far more easily into your dreams.

... But recently, something very strange had been happening.

He would feel you in his mind.

It was the first time someone had ever entered his dream. It was much more pleasant than he imagined, though that was probably because it was you. So physically close to him, and so emotionally close, for you moving into his dream would be as easy as passing through a veil. He wouldn’t even notice you were there; not until he felt your presence in places and thoughts he hadn’t let himself access for years.

Something within him was... well, he didn’t know. Moving, perhaps? Shifting. He didn't like it. Whatever it was, it made him stop to consider, for the first time in a long time, what he really... was.

He wasn’t his old self. He knew that for sure. He wasn’t Night, but he wasn’t purely Corruption either. Unlike what his brother constantly insisted, Nightmare wasn’t some poor innocent skeleton trapped by a cartoonishly evil Corruption - his lip curled at the thought. Dream’s blind belief was as insulting as it was patronising. Nightmare knew what he was doing, he was the master of his destiny. Nightmare was something new, something different. A combination that was stronger than either entity could’ve been alone. He was better.

... He touched your face again, absentmindedly.

Both parts of him liked you. There was no question about that. The Corruption adored you, but it loved in an ancient and consuming way - it wanted you with them forever, a bird in a cage. The Corruption whispered longingly about how, if only they moved with more conviction, nobody but him would ever see or touch you again. Was he allured by that? Yes. But Night knew that love like consumption would eat you alive. It was the lingering presence of his old mind, the moderation and empathy of his old self, that gave Nightmare the tools to love you in a way that would make you happy.

He sighed. Both parts of him loved you... that was the problem. The lines were blurring.

... He could feel himself changing. Something old, rising to the surface. It was troubling. When the Corruption first took over, Night all but became comatose, healing from the damage done to him. As promised, the Corruption protected him. And even once Night did recover, he had absolutely no desire to return to full control, not after what he’d been through. He was afraid... remaining deep inside, protected from a world he saw as universally cruel. Protected by a wall of viscous black darkness.

Then you came along. Walls that he had spent centuries building, crumbling down from just a glance. Were he not so hopelessly in love, he might’ve considered his own behaviour rather pathetic.

He wasn’t sure what to do about it just yet. He pressed his nasal cavity against your hair. He would think about it more in the morning. For now, he just wanted to do the thing he enjoyed most; holding you and forgetting absolutely everything.

Sometimes, when he slept with you in his arms, he felt like there was nothing in the world to be afraid of.

///---///

Nothing felt off, when you woke up. You stretched your toes, hummed... with light peeking through the curtains, you decided to roll over and see if your husband was awake.

The skeleton facing you wasn’t Nightmare.

When you saw white bones again, the first thing you did was freeze. Your breathing stopped, you stared blankly - the skeleton asleep opposite you appeared startlingly like Dream. The same cheekbones, the same jaw, the same soft expression. But there were differences both minute and glaring. Dream’s face had a brightness and sharpness to it. This skeleton looked softer.

... And when blinking a few times didn’t make him go back to normal, you leapt out of bed.

His sockets opened. Purple.

Instantly, seemingly before he’d even realised you’d jumped away, he jolted, and a look of fear appeared on his face. He sat bolt upright in the bed, lifting up his hands to his face - the sight of his own bones made that look only worsen into one of outright panic, purple eyelights shrinking down into quivering dark pinpricks, deep lines of fear cutting between his brows and around his nasal cavity. He staggered out of bed...

... And over to the mirror.

It took a split second for him to look upon his face. You could see him, reflected over his own shoulder back at you. You watched as he took only a split second to see his own terrified profile staring back at him.

You had never seen so much fear strike face before.

A flash within his sockets, like an amethyst turning in the light. He reared back and punched the mirror, shattering it, the force carrying through and visibly fracturing the wall beneath. You let out a tiny yelp as glittering shards showered the bedroom floor - you moved back mostly out of confusion, but also no small amount of fear, until your tailbone bumped Nightmare’s desk. Pieces of the mirror were still peeling off the frame and dropping to the stone tiles even as the stranger put his hands over his face, stumbling to the side until he hit the wall.

“no. no,” he slid slowly down it, surrounded by shards of mirror. “no, no, no, no...”

...

You could scarcely believe it. But you knew that voice. You knew those movements. As you stared across the room at the ‘stranger’, instincts kicked in. Despite your utter disbelief, the word left your lips anyway.

“N... Nightmare?”

He lifted his face from his hands, staring at you. You gasped, quietly; yes, there he was, it couldn’t be anyone else but him. No wonder you thought he resembled Dream, the layers of tar had vanished but everything you had kissed a hundred times before was still there.

“val,” he breathed. The way he looked at you - confused, but pleading for help - you knew it was him. It couldn’t have been anyone else.

You rushed back across the room, over to him, to his side. You didn’t care about the glass. It was so, so bizarre to see him with both sockets, your eyes darted back and forth, unsure of where to look. You knelt before him; he was back to staring with horror at his violently shaking hands.

“what’s happening to me?” His voice was different, too. It didn’t have its usual commanding weight and depth. It was still distinctly him, but it felt as if his voice had been halved somehow. Gentler, higher, closer to the surface. “why... no, no, i can’t be...”

“Shh, shh.” You didn’t know if he wanted to be touched or not, so your hands hovered around his shoulders. Now that you knew it was him, you weren’t frightened anymore. You did your best to keep your own voice calm. “You’re alright. Nightmare, you’re alright.”

The lilac of his eyelights was such a beautiful, gentle colour. Though it was soft, and clearly suited his features, you were so accustomed to comforting cyan that you were unsure of what to make of it.

He was shaking all over. His voice cracked when he talked. “i don’t know what’s going on,”

“We don’t need to know what’s going on.” The more you gently spoke, the more he appeared to ease, his hands gradually coming away from his face. His eyelights, locked onto you, weren't quite so small. “We’re both fine. Take deep breaths, okay?”

You reached out, placing a hand on his cheekbone. It felt different. Smoother. But that was the extent of the differences, your hand still fit against his face like a puzzle piece.

He sucked in a sharp breath. For a moment you feared you had hurt him - were his bones sensitive like this? - you made to pull away. But Nightmare grabbed your hand with his, pressing it tight to his cheekbone.

“i-i...” He wasn’t looking at you. He was looking into the middle distance, a lost expression on his new face. Through you.

“Night?”

“i-i never thought i’d be able to...” He sounded choked. “like this...”

... His sockets... filled up with tears. They were lilac too. Shimmering like gems as his eyelights reflected in them.

Instinctively, you placed your other hand on his other cheek. He gripped that one and held it to him just as tightly, his skull sandwiched between your palms. He took in a deep, shuddering breath...

... And then openly started to weep.

You were shocked. Completely shocked. His chest fluttered, the sound was small but deafening. How many times had Nightmare cried around you? Once, for certain, perhaps twice if you were generous and counted the time you suspected he cried but had not seen tears. And even when he did cry, he always hid his face like he was ashamed, tucking into your shoulder or turning away.

But here he was. Tears moving down his cheekbones. Shaking, right in front of you; clutching your hands and sobbing.

Well. You didn’t need to pause much longer. You leant in, using your hold on his face to press a kiss to his skull. He let go of your hands and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in, with you kneeling between his legs it was a slightly awkward posture but neither of you really had it in you to care. You just held him.

He smelled the same. Like home.

Not long passed, he had always been adept at self-control. By the time you were getting used to the sound of his soft cries, they were already fading, replaced with the deep slow breaths he took to regain himself. Though the sounds ebbed away, the tears continued to run down his face like the tide.

... You had absolutely no idea what was going on. But at least he was alright. You leaned back, using your thumb to wipe at his cheekbone. He leaned into your touch.

...

... Suddenly, he gasped. It made you jump. He looked down to the floor - “the mirror. your feet,”

Before you could do more than open your mouth, his arms moved around you, he stood; you were lifted clean off the floor. Even missing half his mass, he was still so strong. As easily as ever, he carried you to the bed, sitting you down and quickly kneeling - despite the tears still visibly staining his cheekbones he only had worry for you scrawled across his face. He took one of your feet in his hands, checking for cuts, for blood, for damage.

The care in his eyelights... you couldn’t believe it had taken you so long to recognise him.

... You had completely forgotten about the shards of glass on the floor. Now that you followed his gaze down, you could see little pinpricks of red, staining the white of the nightgown around your knees. “O-oh,” was all you managed to say.

He didn’t respond. He just obsessively checked you for injuries. His hands felt... more textured than usual? Like a once-smooth stone was now mottled and aged. He moved up to your knees, lifting the hem of the nightgown over them, looking with that telltale frown on his face. He couldn’t have looked more like his old self, with that grimace.

He exhaled, slowly. “... okay. you’re fine. by some miracle, your feet missed everything.”

“And my knees?”

“just some small cuts.” He carefully pulled the hem back down. “the nightgown must’ve stopped anything from embedding. they’ll heal fine.”

He let his hands linger on your legs, staring into empty space again the moment he seemed to slip. He still looked troubled. Troubled - but not panicking anymore.

...

“Nightmare.” You spoke eventually. “You know I don’t usually ask you personal questions.”

Despite his clearly fraught state, cheekbones stained by tears, a little laugh broke out of him when he looked back up at you. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit too.

“i-i know, i know. i think i have some explaining to do, don’t i?”

You reached out your arm - without a single word needing to be spoken, he took your hand and placed it against his cheekbone again. He sighed.

“You’re the skeleton I was dreaming about.”

“i never thought this would happen. i never thought i would be like this again.”

“Again?”

...

He (clearly somewhat reluctantly) let go of your hand, standing, slowly shuffling to sit beside you on the bed. He appeared unsteady on his feet. The light from the window was catching in the shards of mirror on the floor, casting tiny freckles of light across his face; he looked... remarkably handsome. He always did, of course, but especially so like this. You felt your chest get a little tight.

“it is how i used to look. this is how i used to be.”

You tilted your head. You took in everything, eyelights, teeth, mouth. You thought about what the Nightmare you knew looked like - the collapsed socket, the dripping smile, the tentacles. The viscous black fluid covering him from head to toe.

“That’s... quite the transformation,” you murmured.

He nodded. “indeed. i used to be a different person. more like dream. but that person... entered a contract with another entity. the two of them combined, and became the person you know.”

“Hm.”

“perhaps symbiosis is a better term. nightmare was attacked by people who didn’t understand the role he played. they saw dream and nightmare, ‘good’ and ‘evil’, and placed blame on the latter for everything wrong with their lives.” He spoke about the event as if it had all occurred to someone else entirely. As if he thought nothing of it; as if he was fine. “nightmare gave his body, and the corruption gave its power. that was the deal that created me. a place to be powerful, and in return, the power to never be hurt again.”

“Corruption?” You were immediately concerned. "Nightmare,"

... He looked at you. His face was loving, he looked amused. It was nice to see a more positive emotion on him. “that’s just its name, dear.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very trustworthy name.”

“you’re married to a man called nightmare.”

“I,” ... you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth. “Alright, touché.”

He chuckled. He sounded so much younger. Stars, it was strange to see him this way; like a loved one coming home after shaving off all their hair or losing a vast amount of weight. Though you logically knew it was him, and you could see him so clearly within all the mannerisms of the skeleton in front of you, there was something so jarring about expecting your Nightmare and seeing another’s face staring back at you.

“I think I understand somewhat. Are you... the ‘past’ version of you right now, then?”

“... i... no.” He shook his head. “i’m still me. i can still feel everything. but the corruption has... receded. it’s been at the front for so long. it’s never done this before. i don’t know what to do.”

“Do you think you’ll turn back again soon?”

...

His eyelights widened, ever so slightly. Faint wisps of violet coloured the high edges of his cheekbones.

“you don’t prefer this form?”

You flustered - how could you say something like that? Especially when he was clearly so upset by his transformation. He smashes a mirror in front of you, and you openly express you prefer his previous body to this one? “I-I don’t mean I don’t like you like this! Of course I do,”

“darling,” he took your hand and squeezed it, cutting off your blabbering. “i like my other body more, too.”

“Y-you do?”

Smiles suited him far more. “mhm. i’m not as strong, this way. and the absence of my tentacles is noticeable. i keep wanting to hold more of you, but i simply don’t have the dexterity.”

“I just...” You exhaled, slowly, eyes trailing over his sockets and nasal ridge and jaw. “Honestly, I really miss your normal face.”

“... normal,” he hummed. It was a pleased hum.

“Well - it’s alright. Regardless of what body you’re in, you’re very handsome.”

His smile sharpened. All of a sudden, he looked like a preened bird. It was hard work not to roll your eyes; all that crying, all that vulnerability and fear, but it was clear from that grin that this was very much the same man that you had gone to bed with hours before.

“hmm. so i’m handsome to you either way? i like this conversation very much.”

“Oh you would, wouldn’t you?”

“i think i understand now.”

The sudden softness of his voice caught you off guard. You leaned back a little, to gauge his expression. He was smiling at you so fondly now.

“the deal i made. nightmare... the corruption promised no one would ever hurt him again. i wonder if...”

“... If?”

“i wonder if, for the first time since making the deal... i fear nothing.”

... You couldn’t honestly imagine Nightmare fearing anything. You had yet to meet anyone who considered your husband an equal, let alone an inferior; even Dream, his own brother, had left at the first sign of fury. Entities who caused no small amount of strife, like Killer, begged you to assure them that Nightmare wouldn’t kill them.

Then again. How much pain would someone have to go through, to become that vicious to the world around them?

You leant toward him. He immediately reciprocated the movement, touching his forehead against yours. He sighed.

“touching you, in this form... it’s...”

He trailed off. You didn’t make him finish. “You feel so different. So similar, too. It’s a little jarring.”

“i’m glad you prefer me as i am.”

“Of course I do. I married you.”

He snickered. “despite all the flaws?”

“Not despite.” It was your turn to comfortingly brush your thumb over the top of his palm. “Not despite, at all.”

“... you truly prefer my ‘normal’ form?” he asked, “even though this one is so much... cleaner?”

“You’re the one who can taste lies. You tell me.”

He chuckled. His sockets closed.

“i want to stay like this. for a while.”

“As long as you need.” You closed your eyes, too. Now that the adrenaline of the situation had settled, you could feel your sleepiness catching up with you.

“... i love you.”

“I love you too.”

...

You felt the cyan-blue light on your eyelids long before you opened them.

#commisions #he craves the love he never got before #aka: hes such a good boy and we love him!!!!

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potatobugxo · 7 months

Note

You know those piano-based rhythm games?

I think Alastor would have a distaste for those - nothing like a real piano and entirely digital cowhfowf

Any chance you could share some headcanons or the like of a friend of his showing him them for the first time?

i made this too silly omg

🦌❤️piano rhythm games w/Alastor❤️🦌

"hey al check this out!" "hm?" alastor uses his shadows to maneuver over to where your hunched over on the hotel lobby couch, staring at your phone as you had been for the past hour now.

"look," you scoot towards where he's standing, and he peers over your shoulder, squinting at the device's screen between your fingers. "it's a piano game! you like piano, right?"

"my dear, you know i don't dally with this frivolous technology of yours," alastor remarked, standing back upright. "no but its fun," you insist, lifting it back up to his face. "watch." alastor rolls his eyes, smile twitching as he leans back down to study you as you play. your thumbs tapped away at the screen, the neon colors changing as you pressed different keys to match the notes of the song that was playing from the phone's speaker. "hm... interesting, i will say!" alastor admitted. "though nothing like traditional piano, perhaps you should return to your roots, dear-" "here you try," you shove the phone toward him, and his eyes widen. "pardon?" "it's fun, just give it a try," you nod your head in anticipation. alastor would expect such behavior from charlie, yet it was coming from you. "fine," alastor reluctantly agreed with a shrug. "but lets make a deal. i play this silly game, and you agree to play traditional piano with me at least once." "yeah, okay, fair," you shrug. "okay, now try it." you eagerly watch as alastor plucks the device from your hands and takes a seat beside you on the couch. he holds the screen a bit too close to his face, squinting as if he were a grandpa who forgot his glasses. "just tap the keys that flash on the screen," you explain simply, peering over his shoulder at the phone. he starts tapping away at it as the keys flash on screen, precise and unnervingly calculated. "this is such a simple song, with your mind i would expect you to be playing more complicated songs!" alastor exclaimed. "oh no i can, i just put it on an easier level for your first time playing, didn't want this frivolous piano game to be too challenging for your first try," you chuckled, and alastor snapped his neck to look at you, casting an offended glare. you blinked up at him in surprise. "yeah okay or i could, y'know, change it," you suggest, plucking the phone from his hands and tapping away to change the song. alastor flutters his eyelids at you impatiently as you do so. since when did he become so keen on playing a mobile piano game? "here," you pass the phone back to him. "now then," alastor rights himself, grin stretching up and past the corners of his eyes. "let the challenge begin."

~~~

"so uh... did alastor get into one of your drug stashes?" vaggie inquired, cocking brow at angel dust before peering back over at alastor. you and the other hotel staff were baffled at the fact he had been playing the rhythm game for over an hour now, hunched over on the couch staring at the phone like a toddler who had just been introduced to an ipad game. husk and angel are beyond horrified, and charlie had a consistent expression of worry on her face. "um, y/n? what did you do to our hotel host?" she asks. "i just introduced him to a piano game as a joke," you shrug, whisper-yelling. "i didn't realize he would suddenly become addicted to it!" angel slowly raises his phone to start recording the scene and vaggie lowers it with her palm just as fast.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #bug writes🦋

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thatbloodymuggle · 9 months

Text

READY TO RUN (v)

FIVE - ACCELERANDO

SUMMARY: in a world where everyone has a predetermined match, JJ Maybank and Y/N Montgomery want nothing to do with theirs. it has to be a cruel joke; the universe forcing two people to love each other when they don’t know how.

PAIRING: jj maybank x reader / soulmate au

WORD COUNT: 8k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: smut, language, dom!jj, sub!reader, hair pulling, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, choking, slight humiliation kink, public sex

✰✰✰

A week had passed since the annual tennis tournament. 7 days since you had last spoken to Anna. 7 days since you had last seen JJ Maybank.

Each day passed by even more slowly than the next. You only left the Montgomery estate to go to Madame Mercier's house. You only left your room for meals. You hadn't even used the grand piano in the ballroom for your daily practices and had instead confined yourself to the small, upright Yamaha in your bedroom.

But you weren’t depressed. Rather, you found that confining yourself to such a routine eliminated any possible distraction. If you didn't hang out with your friends, you wouldn't be sucked into parties. And if you didn't frequent the streets of Kildare County, there was no chance you would run into your soulmate.

You knew Kate and Topper were concerned about your well-being. It was evident from their daily texts, and phone call attempts. You responded to them but made clear that you needed space alone. Anna had not divulged the reason behind your argument, which you were grateful for. You felt particularly bad for being so distant with Topper, as he had been there for you at one of your lowest points the previous week.

To top it all off, your mother had been even more scrutinizing than usual after you had showed up to the estate escorted by Topper, puffy-eyed and soaking wet from head to toe. It now seemed that every dinner was filled with some kind of thinly veiled insult.

Is that a new shirt? You know cool tones wash you out.

Are you sure you need another brownie? You're not getting the exercise you used to since you quit sports.

Worst of all had been dress shopping with your mother and sisters with Midsummers rapidly approaching. Margaret found something wrong with every dress you tried: too short, too long, too much cleavage, unflattering on your figure. Meanwhile, Georgia and Dixie had no trouble finding the dress of their dreams.

But you would take the cruel remarks from your mother any day over confronting your greatest problem of all.

You thought that by physically distancing yourself from JJ, maybe the bond would grow weaker. Maybe you could revert to before you met when your soulmate's pain was merely an afterthought. But to your dismay, the effect had been the opposite.

With each passing day, the bond seemed to grow stronger. It had become so sensitive, that you could feel the flick of a lighter against your thumb; the tickling of uncut grass between your toes. You worried about what would happen if you continued to resist it. How much stronger could the bond grow? Would the longing in your chest become so painful, you won't be able to function?

It was a battle between your head and your heart. You thought JJ was an impolite, abrasive asshole whom you shared absolutely no common ground with. But your body burned with desire at the mere thought of him.

Since you had entered your self-imposed isolation, you found yourself practicing the Chopin piece until your fingers were numb, and your back ached from sitting up straight. When you were unable to sleep, you played. When Georgia's incessant shrieks sounded through your walls, you played. When you found yourself entertaining the possibility of giving in to the inevitable connection, you played.

The silver lining? You had the entire piece nearly memorized.

You were in the middle of yet another torturous practice session when you were interrupted by a sharp knock on your door.

"Mom says we're leaving for dinner with the Camerons in an hour so you better be ready," Dixie's grating voice was threaded with annoyance, as you figured your mother must have sent her.

"'K," your shoulders slumped as you reluctantly pulled yourself from your piano.

You did not want to have dinner with the Camerons. You knew the whole thing was an excuse for the adults to get wine drunk together, brag about their children, and complain about their first-world problems. Sarah Cameron used to be your savior at these get-togethers. But you couldn't remember the last time she had come to one of these dinners, as Sarah seemed to always be busy with her new life on the Cut.

After dinner, Dixie would stick around with the adults, while Georgia would run off with Wheezie. This would leave you with Rafe, who was a hit-or-miss. Sometimes, like the night of Topper's birthday, he was pleasant, more or less. Other times, his demeanor matched that of a cranky, old, drugged-up alcoholic.

Despite the impending dread of the evening, you trudged over to your ensuite bathroom and turned on the shower, allowing the room to fill with steam before actually getting in. The water was scalding against your skin, but you welcomed the numbing feeling. Nowadays, you welcomed any feeling you had control over; any feeling that would drown out JJ's. You took your time lathering your body, washing your hair, and shaving your legs. You stayed in the steaming shower until your fingers began to prune. You reluctantly shut the shower off and wrapped a towel around your body. You went through your meticulous skincare and hair routine, all the while humming along to whatever piano melody floated aimlessly in your mind. Your phone buzzed, and you paused your work curling your eyelashes.

6:36 PM Kate: what are you up to tonight? we'd love to see you

You sighed as you read over your friend's message. You knew that you could only avoid them for so long, and the expiration date of your isolation was rapidly approaching.

to Kate:

stuck going to the Cameron's for dinner. how about move night thursday? delivered 6:38 PM

You set your phone down after typing out a quick reply. A minute hadn't even passed when your phone buzzed again. You glanced at it from the corner of your eye, as you were mid-mascara application.

6:39 PM Kate: it's a date

You smiled softly at her response. You really had missed your friends; you just dreaded having to explain your argument with Anna, as well as your disappearance.

You rushed through the rest of your routine, before making your way to your walk-in closet to pick out an outfit for the evening. Just as you had slipped on a satin skirt which you knew your mother would approve of, you felt the sharp, burning sensation of walking barefoot on gravel in the balls of your feet. A shiver ran up your spine, and you wiggled your toes as if doing so would shake off the uncomfortable feeling.

"Get a move on, you. We're leaving in five minutes!" your father’s booming voice startled you. You tried your best to ignore the sensation in your feet as you hastily slipped on a pair of kitten heels, and rushed down the grand staircase and into the foyer. As you caught sight of the rest of your family waiting by the car, you sighed. Still, you swallowed down the dread, put on an obedient smile, and walked outside to join the rest of the Montgomery clan. You only hoped that playing along would make the time pass faster.

✰✰✰

"You wouldn't believe the audacity of these teenagers, nowadays. They must have never been properly taught manners, let alone customer service skills!"

You bit your tongue at your mother’s dramatic retelling of the story of the staff member at the club who delivered her a lukewarm towel rather than a hot one. You feigned a smile as the adults at the table laughed. You caught Sarah Cameron's eye from across the table, who rolled your eyes dramatically at Margaret Montgomery, eliciting a quiet giggle from you.

As miserable as the dinner had been, you had been pleasantly surprised to see Sarah at the table. At least after the meal, you would have someone your age to make small talk with, saving you from lingering beside the adults or engaging with Rafe. This was particularly relieving considering the last time you saw Rafe he had his tongue down your throat at Topper's birthday party.

Just as you shuddered at the memory, Ward Cameron's booming voice diverted your attention, "Well why don't we head inside and try out some of those liqueurs I mentioned earlier?"

Margaret and Clyde folded up their used napkins and followed him inside the house, with Dixie trailing behind. Just as you had predicted, you were left alone with Rafe and Sarah, as Georgia had run off with Wheezie earlier in the evening.

"And then there were three," you sighed awkwardly. Sarah sent you a soft smile which you returned, while Rafe stared you down in a manner that made you feel uneasy. You shifted under his gaze and cleared your throat, "I'm just gonna head to the restroom."

You folded your napkin and stood up, pushing your chair in behind you. You head towards the house with a bounce in your step, eager to escape Rafe's leering eyes. You hurried into the bathroom near the front entrance of the Camerons’ house and huffed in relief as you locked the door behind you.

You turned to the mirror and sighed as you looked yourself in the eyes. You frowned as you noticed that the bags under your eyes were visible even under layers of concealer, and your mascara had smudged slightly in the crinkle of your right eye. Your self-scrutiny was put on pause as you felt a familiar hot pressure on your thumb, followed by a burning sensation in your throat. You cleared your throat as if it would expel the sensation. Instead, the burning returned. Smoking kills, you thought to yourself but gulped in acceptance. You gave yourself one last once over before pushing the door open, intent on finding someplace quiet where you could escape for the rest of the night.

"So you're avoiding me now?" a gruff voice tickled your ear as you turned to close the door behind you. You jumped in surprise and whipped around to face Rafe, who loomed over you like a predator would with its prey. His eyes were dark, and his grin unsettling as he leaned one hand on the door beside your head.

"No," you squeaked, "Just needed to pee."

Rafe scoffed and leaned even closer to you, "Well now that you've gotten that out of the way," his head ducked down to the crook of your neck, "why don't we continue where we left off last time, huh?" his lips grazed your collarbone. Your entire body tensed, frozen in shock. Rafe sunk his teeth into the soft skin of your neck, nipping harshly and shaking you out of your state of surprise.

"That was a one-time thing," you shoved at him, but he placed his other arm on the other side of your body, effectively trapping you between his body and the wall. He trailed sloppy kisses up the side of your neck and jutted his hips against yours, keeping you from squirming away. His breath reeked of alcohol and you scrunched your nose up at the smell. "Knock it off, Rafe," you cried, shoving at his chest again, but to no avail.

"Get off of her, you perv!"

Sarah's shrieking voice startled Rafe away from you. You gasped in relief as his body was removed from yours. Your heartbeat was erratic, and you shivered as the shock of Rafe's advance towards you settled. You didn't hesitate to scramble over to Sarah's side.

Rafe, on the other hand, let out a guttural groan at his sister's interruption, "God, Sarah, can you fuck off for once?"

Sarah narrowed her eyes at her brother, "She said 'no', you dickhead. And you reek. Go take a shower or something."

Rafe rolled his eyes but trudged away, nevertheless, all the while grumbling profanities under his breath. You felt a weight lift off your shoulders when he exited the foyer, and you turned to Sarah with sincerity, "Thank you."

"Don't even mention it," Sarah spoke in a soothing tone with apologetic eyes, "I'm so sorry about him. He can really be awful sometimes."

"That's an understatement," you scoffed, and Sarah giggled in response.

"Seriously though, are you okay? Did he hurt you?" Sarah questioned, her brows cinched together in concern.

You shook your head and sent her a reassuring smile, "I'm fine, really. Just grossed out."

Sarah nodded, satisfied with your response. A beat of awkward silence passed between you before she broke it again, "Well I was gonna go have some of the Rosé my dad opened during dinner if you wanna join? I could use your help killing the bottle."

"Sure," you replied with a closed-mouth grin, "I could definitely use a glass of wine after tonight. If I hear one more golfing story I think I'll lose my mind."

"Tell me about it," Sarah laughed heartily and led you back outside to the table you had eaten on, snatching the opened, but nearly full bottle of Rosé along with two wine glasses. The two of you sat on the steps of the patio, and Sarah poured you each a generous amount of wine.

"Cheers," you grinned as you clinked your glass against Sarah's before taking a sip, relishing in the bittersweet flavor.

"Are you still playing piano?" Sarah chirped, filling the once awkward, but now slightly more comfortable, silence.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I've actually been thinking about applying to some music programs for next year."

Sarah grinned at your response, "That's amazing! It's nice to see you stepping outside of the Montgomery mold," she teased.

You chuckled softly. "How's your life been? How are things with John B?" you questioned in response, taking another sip of your Rosé.

The longer the two of you chatted, the more you felt yourself relax. You had missed Sarah, and feeling connected with someone outside of your inner circle felt like a breath of fresh air. For once, you didn't feel the need to impress anyone or present yourself in a particular way. That freedom was a much-needed relief.

"You know it's nice seeing you at one of these things," you sighed, "You're like, my only saving grace at these dinners."

Sarah gently swirled the wine in her glass, and shot you a guilty smile, "Yeah. I'm sorry for leaving you high and dry all those times."

You shrugged, and took another sip of wine, "It is what it is. I mean, you've got a whole new group of friends now."

Sarah frowned at this but didn't object as she knew it was true. She had ditched a number of people, but in her defense, it was hard to have the best of both worlds with so much animosity on both sides.

"I guess. But I do miss you, though. It just feels impossible to have friends on both sides with this raging class war. I mean, can you imagine a world where Topper and JJ play beer pong and sing campfire songs together?" Sarah laughed at the image of the well-established enemies being friends.

Your heart skipped a beat at the joke. You couldn't imagine a world in which Topper and JJ got along. You couldn't even picture Topper's reaction when he would inevitably find out that JJ was your soulmate. The thought terrified you; still, you forced a laugh and raised your glass of wine to your lips, effectively concealing your phony smile.

"Seriously though, I think you would actually like my friends, Y/N," Sarah said with a smile, "I think you'd get along well."

You shrugged and looked out at the twinkling string lights covering the backyard, "I don't know about that. I do like Pope. He seems to be the tamest of them all."

"He definitely is," Sarah affirmed. She waited a beat, before continuing, "You know, I'm supposed to be meeting them at the beach for a small bonfire soon. I would love it if you could come."

You nearly dropped the glass in your hand.

"Uh," you blubbered, "I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Oh come on, I promise it'll be fun. You'll have me, and I really think you all would get along," Sarah stared at you with pleading eyes, her eyebrows raised with hope.

You shifted in your seat in discomfort. You had been doing so well, this past week, avoiding any possible run-ins with JJ. Why would you subject yourself to the possibility of seeing him? At the same time, you were really enjoying spending time with Sarah, and it would be nice to get out of the house for something other than piano practice or a family obligation.

"Who all is going to be there?" you questioned.

"Just John B and Pope, I'm pretty sure," Sarah responded.

You gnawed on your bottom lip as you mulled over the invitation. JJ wouldn't be there, at least. But was hanging around with his friends any better? In the end, the pleading look in Sarah's puppy dog eyes was unrelenting.

"Okay," you reluctantly agreed, eliciting a squeal of excitement from Sarah.

With a giddy Sarah on your tail, you set your glass of wine down to find your parents and ask for permission to go to the beach with Sarah. You were careful to exclude any mention of other people, let alone Pogues. In their tipsy-bordering-drunken state, Clyde and Margaret waved you off with a nonchalant seal of approval.

"John B should be here any minute," Sarah proclaimed as you waited at the driveway of the Camerons' mansion. You felt the nerves beginning to creep in. You knew that Pope didn't hate you, but you still worried John B would given that you had never interacted with him beyond nods of acknowledgment or passing insults from Topper. Before you could spiral into your whirlwind of thoughts, a beat-up Volkswagen van pulled into the driveway. The vehicle looked like it was on its last legs, but the rustic exterior was oddly charming.

Just after it screeched to a halt, Sarah yanked the side door open and clambered inside.

"Hey guys, Y/N’s gonna join us if that's okay," she chirped, beckoning you to join her inside the van.

You cautiously climbed inside and were met with a surprised John B and Pope in the driver and passenger seats. You flushed as you realized how out of place you were. Before you could excuse yourself, Pope interjected your train of thought.

"Yeah, of course! It's good to see you again," he sent a toothy grin your way, which you hesitantly returned.

"The more the merrier," John B stuttered with an awkward, but still kind, smile.

Your anxiety settled but still bubbled quietly in the pit of your stomach. You were completely out of your comfort zone. But it was too late to turn back now, as John B started up the van and pulled out of the Cameron's estate.

"How was your dinner?" John B called from the driver's seat, glancing at the two girls through the rearview mirror.

Sarah scoffed, "Pretty fucking awful."

You snorted and turned to your friend with a grin, "I think if I heard one more person complain about how the Club's hor d'œurves have gone downhill this season, I'd gouge my eyeballs out with one of your stepmom's fine china teaspoons."

Sarah burst out into a fit of giggles, and the two boys in the front chuckled at your quick-wittedness. You relaxed into your seat, as you grew slightly more comfortable with the unfamiliar crowd.

The drive to the beach was short from the Camerons' house, and it wasn't long until the four of you climbed out of the Twinkie in a nearby parking lot. You noticed a dirt bike parked next to the van, but you didn't think much of it as the group made their way towards the water.

"I definitely didn't pick the right shoes for the occasion," you grumbled as you fiddled with the straps of your heels and pulled them off before stepping onto the sand of the beach.

"Hey, they're cute though. Where’d you get them?" Sarah nudged you with a grin as the two Kook girls walked side by side in the sand.

You shrugged, "They were Dixie's. But she wore them twice before deciding they were too last season."

Sarah snorted, "Classic Montgomery behavior."

"Tell me about it," you mumbled with an exaggerated eye roll.

Loud chattering ahead of you diverted your attention from your feet to the flickering flame of a small campfire surrounded by four long logs. You smiled softly at the scene, but the grin was instantly wiped from your face as you caught sight of the familiar blond locks you'd been avoiding all week.

JJ Maybank's eyes shot to yours, and you froze in your place.

Sarah noticed how you had tensed suddenly and turned to you with furrowed brows.

"I thought you said it was just Pope and John B," you rasped.

Sarah followed your gaze and finally noticed JJ staring back with an unreadable expression. A guilty blush crept up her cheeks as she turned to you and grabbed your arm gently, forcing your eyes back on her.

"Please don't be mad," Sarah whispered, "But I may have stretched the truth. I just didn't think you'd come if I told you anyone else was coming and selfishly, I really wanted to spend some more time with you."

You internally groaned at Sarah's confession. You should have known better. Since when did the Pogues hang out in separate groups? Your shoulders slumped and you sighed, composing yourself. You knew Sarah didn't mean any harm by it. It's not like you knew about everything between you and JJ.

"You're right, but it's fine," you relented, "I'm already here so might as well make the most of it."

Sarah's shoulders slumped in relief and she grinned, "Well let's go then!"

She grabbed your hand and dragged you towards the small fire to join the rest of the group.

"Hey guys! Y/N did my a solid saving me from a miserable dinner tonight so I invited her to join us," Sarah announced with a cheery tone. "Please be nice, she’s really cool," Sarah spoke pointedly at JJ with a cocked eyebrow.

He grunted and restored himself to poking at the fire with a stick, trying to look as disinterested in your presence as possible.

"Yeah, of course," Kie smiled cautiously at you, which you shyly returned.

Sarah beckoned you over to join her on one of the logs beside the fire. You sat with Sarah to your right and Pope to your left, much to your relief. At least you were surrounded by the two members of the group you felt least ostracized by.

The group of friends passed around beers and erupted into conversation. You listened intently, smiling along but silently sipping your beer otherwise. You learned that so far this summer, Pope had been busy studying for the SAT, John B had landed a job in a mechanic shop, and Kie was taking a creative writing class off the island at a nearby university. You admired the ease with which the group of friends spoke, and found yourself feeling glum as you thought of your friends. You worried that you may never be able to sit around like this with Topper, Kate, and Anna again. Anna certainly hated you, and you were sure Topper would when he inevitably found out the truth.

"Why don't we play a game?" Kie's voice pulled you from your thoughts.

"What do you have in mind?" Pope quirked a brow as he took a sip from his beer.

Sarah interjected, "How about Never Have I Ever?"

The Pogues in the group groaned at your suggestion.

"We already know everything we've done," John B complained.

"Well, you've never played with me! And we have a new friend with us, so we don't know everything," Sarah argued pointedly. You flushed as all eyes turned towards you.

Kie shrugged, "I'm convinced. Who starts?" she propped her elbows on her knees and held up five fingers on each hand.

"You start since you think it's such a good idea," JJ grumbled. You avoided his gaze across the fire.

Kie hummed in thought, "Alright. Never have I ever given or had a happy ending massage."

Sarah and John B sheepishly put down a finger, and everyone else erupted into disgusted cries.

"I didn't need to know that," Pope shook his head, before collecting himself and continuing the game. "Never have I ever gone skinny dipping," he exclaimed.

All three girls put a finger down, and the three of you giggled as you realized you were the only ones who had done so. You could feel yourself warming up to Kie, albeit slowly.

All eyes turned to you, "Never have I ever..," you trailed off, thinking of a statement, "shoplifted."

You watched as John B, Kie, and JJ all put down a finger. JJ scoffed, and grumbled under his breath, "Well of course you haven't, you don't need to."

Kie elbowed him in the side to shut him up, but you had already heard his comment. You frowned and diverted your gaze to your bare feet in the sand. He really detested you, didn't he?

"Never have I ever pulled an all-nighter," Sarah's lilting voice brought you back to the game. Pope and Kie both put down a finger.

As the group of teenagers continued going around the circle, their questions became more and more targeted.

Never have I ever had a boner.

Never have I ever lived on Figure Eight.

Never have I ever had a brother named Rafe.

Kie was the first to drop out, and Pope, John B, and Sarah each had one measly finger left in the game. In a last-ditch attempt to save himself and kill two birds with one stone, Pope cleared his throat and boomed, "Never have I ever met my soulmate."

Sarah and John B immediately erupted into cries of protest.

You, on the other hand, felt your entire body stiffen and your heart skip a beat. You sucked in a breath, and your gaze cautiously crept towards the blond sitting across from you. Your pink lips parted as your eyes met his, already trained on yours. His jaw was taut, and the expression painted on his face was indiscernible. His three fingers remained in the air, unmoving. And so you mimicked him, keeping your remaining fingers raised.

Pope softly nudged you and you jumped in your seat, diverting your gaze from JJ. "Oh, um," you stumbled, "Never have I ever been arrested."

Pope sighed as he put his last finger down, "Well it was fun while it lasted."

JJ put a finger down, leaving him with two remaining and you with three. You shifted in your seat, as all eyes were trained on you. You cautiously met his eyes and watched as the tip of his tongue poked out in thought, wetting his lips.

"Never have I ever had my own household staff to wait on me," JJ taunted, his voice dripping with disdain.

Your lips curved into a frown and your cheeks flushed at his insinuation that you were spoiled. You put one finger down, leaving you with two remaining.

You ground your teeth, and quickly retorted, "Never have I gotten into a fight for no good reason."

JJ's left eye twitched, and he put down yet another finger, leaving him with one left. The rest of the Pogues were silent while they watched the pair, heads whipping back and forth as if watching a tennis match.

"Never have I ever spread my legs for a Kook," JJ sneered, his face stoic and eyes swimming with malice.

You could barely hear the groans and shouts of the Pogues around your reprimanding their friend. Your body felt hot, and you couldn't tell if it was because of the crackling fire or your blazing fury. You leaned forward just enough so JJ had a full view of your cleavage through the flickering flames. You propped your elbows on your knees, pushing your breasts together. You lifted your beer and wrapped your lips around the mouth of the bottle slowly, never taking your eyes off of him. You blindly set the bottle down and licked your lips slowly. You relished in the bitter flavor and the bob of JJ's Adam's apple as he gulped, revealing a crack in his stoic demeanor.

Finally, you put down one finger, leaving only your middle finger trained towards him.

"Never have I ever hurt my soulmate on purpose," you spoke with a sense of finality.

Because you knew you had won.

JJ was fuming as his composure shattered. And you found yourself captivated by the shift of his jaw, the vein bulging from his neck, the baring of his teeth. A cruel smile crept onto your lips as you reveled in the darkened hue of his blue eyes.

"I think that's enough of Never Have I Ever," John B coughed, cutting through the rapidly escalating tension.

You leaned back in your seat with a satisfied smirk tugging at your lips. You finally pulled your eyes off JJ.

The Pogues attempted to move past the awkwardness caused by the seemingly innocent game. Sarah and Kie sparked up a conversation about their plan to buy supplies from Home Depot for a pong table. John B and Pope joined in, offering design suggestions. But JJ's anger and your smugness lingered in the air; impossible to avoid.

"Well I'm getting pretty tired," Sarah forced a yawn and dramatic stretch.

"You spending the night at the Chateau?" John B was quick to add, eager to escape the lingering hostility.

"Sure," Sarah responded before looking at you, "We can still swing by your place if you want a ride home?"

You shook your head and politely declined the offer, "I think I'm gonna walk home. I could use the fresh air."

And you didn't want to risk any of your family members seeing the beaten-down van pull into the driveway.

You shot Sarah a smile that seemed to be convincing enough.

"You coming, Pope?" John B asked as the couple rose from their seats.

"Yep," Pope didn't hesitate to jump from his place.

"Me too," Kie mimicked his actions. They all cautiously looked toward JJ in anticipation. After a few beats of silence, the group began their work dismantling the small campfire. While Pope, Kie, and John B collected the littered bottles, you followed Sarah to collect buckets of ocean water.

As you walked towards the waves, Sarah wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug, "Thanks for coming. I hope we can hang out again soon," she smiled as she pulled away which you gladly returned.

"We will, don't worry," you reassured the Cameron girl.

The two fo you filled your buckets with water and returned to the fire. You each doused the flames, causing a dwindling of smoke to rise into the air. John B kicked sand over the logs for good measure, until the last ember dimmed. Satisfied, the group turned to begin their trek to the Twinkie. Sarah gave you one last smile and wave before looping her arm through John B's and turning away.

You watched as they walked away, ignoring the presence of the boy still seated on a log who hadn't moved since the end of the game.

Silence enveloped the two of you, filled only with the crashing of soft waves nearby. You grabbed your heels from your previous spot and wandered away from your soulmate, seemingly oblivious of his presence. You ambled towards the moonlit waves and plopped down in the sand just behind where the water crept up at its highest point. You wiggled your toes in the fine sand and stared up at the crescent moon illuminating the dark earth below. You fluttered your eyes shut and breathed in the salty air, shivering slightly at the sea breeze.

Even with your eyes closed and the ocean clouding your senses, you could feel JJ's presence.

The blond Pogue took a seat beside you. You waited with bated breath, refusing to be the one to break the silence.

Your wish was granted as JJ finally spoke, "You'll be the end of me, Montgomery."

You couldn't fight the triumphant grin from stretching across your face.

Your eyes flicked towards him. His anger had dissipated into something else entirely; something You couldn't quite put your finger on.

"JJ Maybank's demise," you hummed in thought, toying with a loose strand of your hair, "The Pogue Prince at the mercy of the Kook Princess. The duality is almost poetic, isn't it?"

You felt a scorching desire brewing in the pit of your stomach; one which wasn't your own.

You had him wrapped around your dainty finger, and you both knew it. Still, he took the bait.

"You're the devil, you know," he rasped, inching closer to his other half.

"Well you know what they say," you quirked a brow, reeling him in. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

Hook, line, and sinker.

JJ released a guttural groan as he crashed his lips against yours. His hand snaked around your neck, entangling itself in your windswept hair and firmly holding you in place. The callouses of his fingers were rough against your smooth skin, sending an earth-shattering shiver up your spine. You melted into his touch and balled the fabric of his t-shirt in your first, yanking him even closer. His blunt nails dug into the dip of your waist, eliciting a gasp. He took advantage of your open mouth and slipped his tongue inside before running it along your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth.

JJ swiftly swung his body over yours and nudged a knee between your legs, forcing them apart. Your skirt slid up your thighs and bunched around your hips. His lips never left yours, as if he was afraid you would slip away if they parted. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you laid back on the sand. You rolled your tongue against his and tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a moan from JJ. He returned the favor by grinding his knee between your thighs where you needed him most. You jolted with a moan and bucked your hips against him desperately.

Just as your hands, trembling with desire, slid underneath his shirt, JJ grabbed both of your wrists with one hand and pinned them above your head. He abruptly detached his lips from yours, and you gasped at the loss. Your eyes fluttered open as JJ trailed kisses along your neck.

You cried out when he took your earlobe in his mouth before whispering, "It's cute that you think you've got me wrapped around your finger," he gripped your chin in his free hand, "But you seem to have forgotten who you're messing with, Montgomery," he slipped his thumb into your mouth, "You need me to remind you?"

You stared up at him with pleading eyes. Any semblance of dignity was swept away in the ocean breeze when you nodded once.

JJ's eyes twinkled with desire as he moved his hand back down to wrap around your neck. He leaned down so their lips just barely brushed. You lurched forward to connect your lips to his, but he jerked back and pushed his hips into yours. He leaned down again, before pulling back in the same cruel manner. You cried out in frustration and jerked your arms but to no avail against his iron grip.

"Use your words," he teased, ghosting his lips over yours again, "Or I'll go like this all night."

"Please, J," you whined, thrusting your hips. You wanted so badly to wipe the cocky smirk off his face, but you had relented control.

"Come on, sweetheart, you can do better than that," he squeezed your neck, "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Tears of frustration pricked at your eyes. He wanted to see you embarrassed.

"I wanna feel your lips on my skin," a tear trailed down your face, "I wanna taste you, I want you between my thighs. I want you all over and I need you inside of me, please--"

JJ cut off your blubbering by crashing his lips against yours once more and releasing your arms. You slid them back under his shirt, and this time he didn't protest as they trailed up his toned abdomen to his flexed shoulders. He parted from you once more to discard the material, and you nearly drooled at the sight of his bare chest.

JJ scrunched your skirt up around your waist, revealing your lacy panties. You squirmed as he simply pressed the pad of his thumb against the very obvious wet spot in the middle. He watched in awe at the effect he had over you, and a blush crept up your neck.

"Please, stop teasing," you whined.

He didn't hesitate to yank the material down your thighs and toss it aside. JJ trailed kisses up the soft skin of your inner thigh, and you waited with bated breath as he inched closer to where you needed him most. Finally, his tongue dragged up your slit and circled your clit, before sucking it into his mouth with a vulgar slurp.

You cried at the sensation and threaded your fingers into his dirty blond locks. Your eyes fluttered shut and your jaw went slack in pure bliss as JJ ate you out like a man starved. The alternating flicking of his tongue against your nub and sucking into his mouth made your head spin. You felt your high approaching, and you knew JJ could feel it too which made the sensation all the more intoxicating. As his skilled tongue continued to circle your clit, he ran a finger through your folds before sinking it deep inside. You mewled as he massaged your walls. Feeling your orgasm rapidly approaching, JJ wrapped his lips around your nub and inserted anotyour finger, curling them both as fast as he could. You wailed and shockwaves rolled through your body as you felt your release. JJ groaned against he as he felt the ecstasy of your high in his own body. He continued lapping up your juices as you rode through your release until your thighs twitched violently and you jerked away from him.

You panted in the afterglow of your mind splintering orgasm. You barely had a moment to recover before JJ's lips were back on yours. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, forcing you to taste your own release.

"You taste so fucking good, baby," he moaned against you, and your heart skipped a beat.

He reached behind you and swiftly untied your top, throwing it aside. He groaned as he saw you weren’t wearing a bra. Your nipples were hard from the sea breeze, and he eagerly took one into his mouth while massaging your other breast. He flicked his thumb against your nipple, and you trembled at the sensation. You reached down and fumbled with the button and zipper of his shorts. You shoved at JJ's shoulder in an attempt to flip him so you were on top, but he wouldn't budge.

"Uh uh," he shoved his shorts off and nipped at your neck, "As much as I'd love to see those pretty lips wrapped around my cock, that'll have to wait. I need to feel your tight cunt stretched around me right now."

You shuddered at the filthy words leaving his lips and watched in awe as he helped you nudge his boxers off. His cock sprang up, rock hard and dripping with pre cum. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he slid the tip of it between your soaking folds. Your opening fluttered as the head of his cock poked through, before retreating over and over again, leaving you a blubbering mess.

"Beg for it," JJ rasped against your lips as he continued his teasing.

You cried out in frustration. He wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing slightly; a warning.

"Please, fuck me J, fuck me until I see stars, I need you inside me," you whimpered pathetically.

He rested his forehead against yours and stared deep into your eyes. Your noses pressed harshly against each other and you could feel the heat of his breath at his proximity. And in one swift movement, he thrust himself inside of you.

A guttural groan escaped him at the sinful feeling of your velvety walls fluttering around him. Your jaw fell slack as you sucked him in. You could feel every indentation, every ridge, every vein of his cock inside you; it was a sensation unlike any you had ever felt before. Your bodies melded together like a lock and key, the last two pieces of a puzzle, two halves of a whole. It rivaled any past fleeting pleasure. You lost all inhibitions as you gave into the bond you had fought against for so long.

JJ pulled his hips back slowly, before slamming them back against you at an unforgiving speed. You wailed at the sensation and dragged your nails down his bare back. You felt your nails dragging along your own back and resliehd in the intimacy of it. He buried his face into the crook of your neck as he set an unrelenting pace. With each snap of his hips, you felt waves of pleasure which resembled that of the ocean water not even 10 feet away.

"You feel like fucking heaven," JJ gasped against your.

He raised one of your legs so it rested over his shoulder. You cried at the sensation, a tear trailing down your face. The new angle allowed him to reach you even deeper, hitting places you had never felt before. He kept thrusting at a splintering speed, but the snapping of his hips was beginning to falter.

"You feel that, baby? You feel what this cunt does to me?" JJ growled into your ear. He pressed one hand against your abdomen, knowing you could feel his rapidly approaching orgasm. He moved his hand down and rubbed his finger against your sensitive clit at a rapid pace.

You nodded, unable to speak.

"You want me to fill this tight little pussy with my cum?" his voice cracked as he got dangerously closer.

"Yes," you sobbed, "Please, fill me up!"

JJ let out a guttural groan as he thrust into you one last time before spilling his load inside of you. Shockwaves rippled through your body as the coiled spring releasing in his abdomen sent you over the edge as well. Your vision blurred and your head spun as you found yourself unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to see. You could only feel. You could finally feel.

JJ rested his nose against the side of your cheek, panting as he recovered from his high. He was unable to move as he reveled in the feeling of you. He laid, strung out, on top of you until his dick had begun to soften, and he had to pull it out. JJ reluctantly propped himself up on his elbows and eased out of your, causing you to tremble at the sensation. You blinked and slowly regained focus on the stars above.

You were vaguely aware that you were lying naked on a public beach--but it was too late to care at that point.

JJ collapsed beside you with a huff. He mimicked your position and stared at the stars twinkling above. He turned on his side and swung an arm over your waist with a sigh. He nudged his nose against your cheek again and barely spoke above a whisper, "We just complicated things, didn't we."

You nodded before you replied, vocal cords scratchy, "That's the understatement of the century."

JJ watched the rise and fall of your bare chest, using it to count the passage of time until a minute passed.

"So what do we do now?" he asked.

"I don't know," you shrugged.

Your chest rose and fell. Another minute passed.

"I don't think we can keep on avoiding each other," he broke the silence.

You sighed, "Clearly not."

The acceptance of your predicament was sobering. Acceptance. What a terrifying word.

You cleared your throat, "Well, clearly we can't ignore the bond. But that doesn't mean we have to uproot our lives."

His brows furrowed, "What do you mean?"

You sighed and tilted your head so it faced his. You stared into his ocean blues, nose to nose, "I mean so long as we satisfy the bond we can continue our normal lives."

His eyes never left yours as he mulled over your suggestion. "So, you're saying that if we keep fucking then we can go back to before."

You nodded.

JJ turned his head from yours and stared up at the sky again. He watched the crescent moon, which when he tilted his head resembled a frown.

"Okay," he finally replied.

Before you could say any more, a booming voice made you freeze in terror.

"Hey, who's out there?"

You and JJ scrambled to your feet and frantically searched for your clothes. Your heartbeat was erratic as you caught sight of a man on the other end of the beach. His shining light and the silhouette of his vest were a dead giveaway that he was a cop patrolling the public beach.

You only had time to slip on your skirt before JJ yanked your wrist, pulling you from the scene.

"Come on, Montgomery!" he ran, dragging you behind him. You held your top up to cover your bare chest as you stumbled behind the Pogue, who managed to get all of his clothes on in time. You sprinted through the sand and towards the parking lot where the dirt bike you noticed earlier was parked. JJ found a set of keys in his pocket and looked up, finally catching sight of you. Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn't help but laugh at the wide-eyed Kook, clutching a top against her naked chest and trembling in fear.

"Fuck off," you hissed, hands shaking as you attempted to lace up the back of the top behind your neck.

JJ spun your around and swiftly tied it into a knot, saving you time. He shoved a helmet into your hands, and your mouth gaped as you realized he wanted you to get onto his bike.

"You want me to get on that...that death contraption?" you shrieked as he put his own helmet on. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the spare helmet from you, placing it onto your head unwillingly.

"You wanna get booked for public indecency?" he retorted.

You remained silent but huffed to show your displeasure.

JJ guided you onto the vehicle and revved the engine. Just as he kicked off the brake, your face dropped with realization.

"Wait! My shoes, I left them on the beach!"

"Tough luck, sweetheart. You're gonna have to get a new pair."

"But they're Louis Vuitton," you cried in despair, earning a scoff and exaggerated eye roll, which although you couldn't see you could feel.

Your vintage heels were forgotten as you heard the police officer getting closer, "Stop right there, or I'll call for backup!"

JJ merely revved the engine in response and guided your arms around his waist. You gripped onto him for dear life as he sped out of the parking lot and onto the road, leaving the poor man a blubbering mess.

You clutched the fabric of JJ's shirt tightly as he weaved in and out of lines like a maniac. You feared for your life, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins was insatiable. You leaned your head back and shut your eyes, relishing in the feeling of the beating wind blowing your hair back. You laughed at the sensation and your situation.

Never would you have guessed that a Montgomery-Cameron family gathering would end with you on the back of the Pogue Prince's humble steed running from the police.

And you couldn't help but revel in the incredulity of it all.

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