celianity

[celianity]

Movie Night 2.0

Jordan Li x Reader

Prompt: having finished the movie, you and Jordan take care of all that pent-up energy

Warnings: cursing, basically just a whole lot of smut

Word count: 1.332

Author's note: thanks for all the love on Movie Night - here is part 2, I hope you enjoy :) ________________________________________

„Where’s your shit talking mouth now, huh?” Jordan’s voice echoes through the quiet of the hall, drawing you in like a hypnotic spell.

There is still a bit of distance between the two of you because they got a head start, excusing themselves to the bathroom five minutes before the movie credits rolled.

Their absence put you more on edge then you cared to admit.

When Andre and Cate finally left and Marie started cleaning up the aftermath of the watch party, you could feel the tension in your body building.

After the lights went out in your dorm room and you counted to a hundred for good measure, your feet hit the floor again. Marie’s breath was steady, but Emma watched you in the dark with eagle eyes as you tiptoed to the door.

“No glove, no love,” she whispered, scaring you half to death.

You held up your middle finger before disappearing into the hallway, where you’re greeted by a small figure at the end of it.

The exit sign above Jordan’s head illuminates their chin length hair and tints their fitted tank top light green.

Your gaze drinks them in, every alluring curve and dip. Even from the distance you can feel their eyes burning as they watch you approach.

Slowly, they pull their hands out of the pockets of their sweatpants, reaching automatically for your waist as you halt to a stop in front of them.

You dip your head slightly to even out the height difference, breathing in, brushing your noses teasingly. An intoxicating mixture of perfume, adrenalin and foolishness sends your mind spiraling. “Right here, all yours.”

Jordan doesn’t wait a second longer to take you up on that offer, stealing that hitching breath right off your lips. You suppress a moan in the back of your throat at the unexpectedly hard impact.

Their hand snakes up the front of your torso and sweeps along your collarbone until it rests firmly at the side of your neck, splayed fingers applying reassuring pressure. Their thump at the front of your throat makes you fear for your dear innocence. The other hand on your ass doesn’t help either.

Time to turn the tables, then.

You deepen the kiss, letting the pent-up tension roll off your tongue right through their parted lips. Tasting the peppermint tinge of their toothpaste and pressing closer, you wedge one knee in between their legs. Craving more friction, Jordan grinds against the clothing of your silken pajama bottoms and you’re happy to oblige.

Your hands split up.

One brushing along the underside of their left boob before cupping it fully. A sigh escapes Jordan’s lips as you both come up for air and you pinch their nipple between your fingers. The fabric of their tank top is so thin, making it basically invisible to your touch.

Your other hand is stroking up their thigh, playfully undoing the cords of their sweatpants, before slipping past the elastic band of their underwear.

This time, you don’t even try to subdue the groan. “Holy fuck.” Jordan swallows every syllable greedily as their desire wets your fingertips.

Maliciously slow, you push two fingers inside them, curl, retreat, repeat. They arch further into you, intensifying every penetrating movement by practically riding your hand.

The tiny voice in the back of your head reminds you to slow down if you don’t wish to end this soon. However, pushing them over the brink with just your fingers, still fully clothed, is an ego boost you can’t deny.

The assurance of holding their body in the palms of your hands threshes yourself dangerously close to the brink of coming undone right then and there in this fucking hallway.

“Don’t slow down,” they rasp as if hearing your thoughts, biting down on your bottom lip to hold your attention. The grip on your ass tightens.

“We’re just getting started.” You close your mouth around your fingers, savoring their taste on your tongue. “We should move this to your bedroom though because I need you to get naked right about fucking now.”

“You’re so goddamn hot, it makes me hate you sometimes,” Jordan bites out, nodding in agreement.

After planting one last peck on your swollen lips, they guide you by the hand to the nearest door.

Darkness surrounds you, sharpening your senses, highlighting your own desperate needs.

You hear a lock turn before two larger hands grab your waist, pulling you flush against a defined chest. Head turned upwards now; the new flaring up force of the kiss spurring you on. You feel like fighting the current of an ocean all of a sudden.

Those damn sweatpants are doing a terrible job at disguising Jordan’s hard-on, and it drives you crazy.

You clasp one hand around their cutting jaw, deepening the kiss, wanting them to swallow you whole.

The other one glides from their right shoulder over their chest and stomach, picking right up where you left off, enjoying every muscle twitch under your definite touch.

Right before reaching the elastic waistband again, certain fingers wrap around your wrist.

Hot breath fans against your ear, as Jordan whispers, “Your turn, get on the bed.”

The confidence in their tone sends a shiver down your spine, settling right between your legs which are now being pushed apart.

Scattered streaks of moonlight streaming in through the window paint their figure above you in pale light. With a catching breath, you freeze to admire them for a moment.

A smug smile tucks at the corners of their mouth, coming down on yours again after being parted for what feels like an eternity.

Eagerness is pulling the strings now.

You wrap your legs around their waist, guiding them nearer to where you need them the most. Tracing fingers and venturing lips won’t do the trick any longer.

You free them from their tank top to toss it somewhere onto the floor, ruffling their hair in the process, and finally loosen the cords of their sweatpants.

Physically restraining from letting your hand travel farther to encompass their bulge, you sit up instead to get rid of your own clothing, never breaking eye contact.

Jordan takes a quick dive into their bedside table to find a condom before settling onto their side, impatiently waiting to get a hold of your body again.

Briefly, you toy with the idea of putting on a little strip show just to tease them but the hungry glint in their dark eyes teaches you better.

“I want you on all fours,” they say, already moving behind you, warm hands grabbing your hips to pull you back in position. The tip of their hard cock at your soaking entrance turns your mouth into a desert.

“If you wait one second longer, I’m going to kill you,” you pant.

They grant your wish immediately, slamming into you with a force that nearly sends you face-first into the mattress if their splayed hands hadn’t held your torso upright.

These raw groans in the back of their throat zinging right through you, as you move in sync, pushing you over the edge a lot faster than you would have hoped.

Jordan can’t help falling apart at the same time, the view of your moonlit backside and the feel of your body around them being too goddamn much.

You flop down on your belly, content in the silence that follows, not caring about the mess right now. Jordan’s arms wind around your naked form, wrapping you in a full body hug. Their lips on the crown of your head are making you smile into their rising and falling chest.

“Are you staying over?” they ask almost hesitant, voice low and quiet in the dark of the advanced hour.

In response, you press a series of kisses onto their heated skin.

“You won’t get much sleep tonight if you keep on doing that.”

Your open-mouthed grin is a dagger in the diffuse light of the room. “I’m counting on it.”

[celianity]

is there any more jordan li in the works? looove your writing for them

Thank you so much! I'm currently working on part 2 for Movie Night and hope to post it till Friday :) But of course, there's more to come after that!

[celianity]

i saw your jordan li imagine and i couldn’t resist!!! would you consider doing an imagine with the reader having some water-related power and sparring with jordan? then one thing leads to another and one of them ends up on top of the other…… cue the tension 👀

Hi! I'm so sorry but I'm not taking requests right now but feel free to check out my imagine "Training Session". It's got a little fighting and some tension at the end :)

[celianity]

Movie Night

Jordan Li x Reader

Prompt: having your nemesis attend your roommates' movie night takes a turn when some unresolved desires flare back up

Warnings: cursing, mentions of smut

Word count: 1.246

Author's note: would anyone be up for a continuation? _________________________________________

“You seriously bought sour cream and onion?” Emma eyes the bag of chips in Marie’s hand like it is a nuclear bomb.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you the snack police?”

“It’s just a movie night, guys. No need to get at each other’s throats.” You try to be the voice of reason, but you are one pointless argument away from combusting into flames.

The drinks are wrong. The snacks are wrong. The placement of seating (for which you bared responsibility) is wrong. Well, there are only so many options to arrange the furniture in a dorm room.

“Shut up,” your roommates respond in unison.

“Nice to see that you can agree on something.” Emma is glaring daggers at you.

On some level, you understand their motives for organizing this night to hang out like normal teenagers for a change.

Things at the school have been slowly going downhill while you and your friends are still in the dark about most of the details. Too many questions, too little answers.

You can’t shake the feeling that that’s the motto for tonight too, but you wouldn’t dare to say that out loud. Marie would probably strangle you with her blood powers.

So, you have no choice but to suppress your annoyance, pull up an action movie on the flat screen TV by the door and fluff the pillows on Emma’s bed one last time.

Marie hands you a bowl of chips while announcing that Andre and Cate will not be the only ones attending tonight’s comfortable activities. Her lopsided smile does not soften the blow in the slightest like intended.

“Are you kidding me?” you groan out in frustration. “You can’t just invite my nemesis into my fucking bedroom.”

Marie shrugs her shoulders. “Technically, it’s our bedroom, so I’m allowed to invite whoever I please.”

Emma rushes to Marie’s defense, “Maybe that’s a good thing. Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer. Understanding them better might help you finally break into the Top Five.”

You intend to outrank Jordan Li with talent and power.

Not by studying their profile in the flickering light of a movie.

Not by watching their fingers grasp for the last crumbs of chips in the bowl.

And certainly not by wondering what they might be wearing to such a casual event. A tiny voice in the back of your head suggests a pair of grey sweatpants and you suddenly feel the urge to punch yourself in the face.

Instead, you hurry to build up that protective wall in your mind to hold back the quickly resurfacing memory fragments.

Hot breath on your swollen lips. Curious fingers, tracing patterns on a toned stomach, muscles tensing under your touch, wandering southwards. Feeling their need on your fingertips. Feeling your own, searing in the pit of your stomach. Hitching, matching breaths.

Oh, for fucks sake, Marie, what have you done?

---

You loathe feeling weak but that was exactly what pushed you into Jordan’s arms one lonely night a few days ago.

After failing yet again to access the full potential of your powers and expressing your frustration about the matter cursing like a sailor, you were looking for a distraction to blow off some steam.

And there they were, hastily typing away on their phone in the locker room of the training facility.

“Sounds like you have a shitty night too,” they observe, back turned to you, pulling their hair together into a ponytail.

When your eyes finally meet in the dimly lit room, you both know this is inevitable.

---

The movie’s quite entertaining, but you have to resist the urge to continuously let your eyes wander to Emma’s bed where Jordan occupies the spot at the edge, farthest away from you.

Emma and Marie block your view a bit with their legs upright.

From your own spot in the desk chair next to the bed, you restrain from craning your neck.

Andre and Cate are on the floor in front of you, totally engrossed by the plot of the film.

Of course, Jordan’s wearing those damn sweatpants, leaving little to the imagination. They waltzed in here, all tall and lean frame, running a hand through their short dark hair, flexing their bicep in the process.

You received a barely noticeable smirk in exchange for a pointed look.

---

Your staring’s getting obvious.

Your phone screen lights up in the dark, earning an annoyed sigh from Marie. At first, you don’t recognize the unknown number, but it doesn’t take you long to connect the dots.

Stealing phone numbers now? That’s really depressing.

You dim the brightness of your display and roll your chair back as quietly as possible to further shield if from prying eyes.

Must be able to contact you in the event of an emergency.

You frown, catching a glimpse of Jordan’s fingers typing again. Their irritatingly pretty face illuminated by soft blue light.

You’ve been avoiding me.

You’re not sure where this conversation is going, so you try to put an end to it as fast as possible.

I’m a busy person.

And I’m fucking sick of it.

Your fingers freeze over the keyboard, afraid to make a wrong move that would burst this bubble of sudden tension.

That sounds like a you problem.

You take the safe route, hoping for the best and expecting the worst.

Maybe you’ve trouble remembering, but you came on to me. Practically ambushing me in the dead of night.

Oh, fuck you.

Yeah, I’d hope that’s what you plan on doing tonight.

You ignore the heat rising in your cheeks and begin typing again. Two can play this game.

If you ask nicely. I recall you’re good at begging.

Jordan’s laughter merges into an awkward coughing fit and you have to bite your tongue when Emma offers them a glass of water.

Getting a reaction fuels your… ambition. You’re getting bolder, tired of tiptoeing around the topic.

You know what else I recall? A fucking sleepless night after getting interrupted by that janitor. The imprints of your fingers all over my skin, between my legs, deep inside. Wishing every curve and hard edge of you up against me again in the dark. And no goddamn release.

The images come crashing down like a wave and you shift your weight, parting your thighs slightly, needing to get out of your own skin.

Jordan is catching onto your drift.

The image of you kneeling in front of me seared itself onto my brain. Those soft lips parted, ready to take every goddamn inch. I still feel your hair strands around my fingers.

Out of the corner of your eye, in the flickering light of the TV, Jordan suddenly switches to their female form.

“That’s it, I’ve had enough,” Emma declares, startling everyone in their seats.

Andre pauses the movie, him and Cate turning to see what she is on about.

You hide your knowing grin behind a yawn. It is a small victory, but at what cost? You’re itching to tear your clothes along with your skin from your burning body.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I wish to be excluded from this narrative until you two have sorted it out. Emotionally, physically, or whatever.”

The silence is deafening. Almost guiltily, Jordan puts their phone aside, you follow suit.

“It’s like watching a movie in the middle of a fucking porn shoot. Now, if everyone agrees to behave themselves, can we continue, please?”

[celianity]

hii I absolutely loved your work, are you planning on writing more of jordan? I'm in desperate need for more of them haha

Hii, thank you so much! I've got a few more ideas so there is more on the way in the next days :)

[celianity]

Training Session

Jordan Li x Reader

Prompt: you agree to a training session with Jordan, to (kinda) make them pay for breaking your heart on a night out

Word count: 1.075 _________________________________________

You should have stayed in your dorm room.

Should have studied for the upcoming exam tomorrow.

Should have kept your eyes down on that glass contained firepit in the middle of your sitting area in that goddamn club your roommates Marie and Emma dragged you to.

Should have ignored that buzzy feeling in your gut as you felt a certain pair of brown eyes on you from across the flames.

Should have not given into the temptation to catch a glimpse of the shadows dancing on their unreadable face.

And you certainly shouldn’t have entertained the foolish idea of there being an unspoken connection between the two of you after having had one conversation (that didn’t particularly go well).

Now, tell that to the anger bursting through your veins as you keep on hitting the punching bag hanging from the ceiling of the training facility. You are cursing your friends’s names under each breath whenever your fist connects with the unyielding leather of the bag.

Just as you reach out to steady the swinging chain, the door behind you opens, revealing the person you wanted to avoid at all costs. Preferably forever.

Jordan Li strolls in, duffle bag slung over one shoulder, wearing a distracting gray tank top.

You avert your gaze and try to focus on your routine again while unable to shake the feeling of them watching your every move, practically burning holes into your back.

Eventually, they suggest a one on one fighting session. “Looking at your punches, you’re in desperate need of it. Not to mention your footwork.” There is a teasing edge to their voice, but you stuck out your chin, nonetheless, incited to show them just how good your foot would work on their face.

“And yet, there you are, preparing for the worst.” You consider them with your arms crossed defensively over your chest. You didn’t miss the fact that they changed forms after challenging you.

The duffle bag lands on the floor with a thud. Since you are the only ones in the training center this early in the morning, the sound’s almost deafening.

As you take up positions across from each other on a training mat, the rage in your veins flares anew. Having this little distance between yourself and last night’s almost mistake, you can’t help being annoyed at your traitorous heart for still fluttering like a bird in its cage.

You try not to focus too hard on the daring gleam in Jordan’s eyes but instead on the recoil as your fist slams into their right shoulder. It feels like hitting a brick wall with full speed. A knowing half smile tugs at the corner of their mouth, making you curse yourself for feeling your cheeks heat up.

The pain in your fingers doesn’t stop you from making another advance right after this failed one but they beat you to it. You feel the energy blast washing over you, snatching you off your feet in a matter of seconds.

Thanks to your quick reflexes, you manage to turn mid fall and land on your feet in a crouched position, softening the otherwise ankle crushing blow.

“Nice trick”, Jordan taunts and quickly switches to their male form again as you storm up to them, ready to tear down their body armor until your hand can clutch around their heart like theirs did to yours unknowingly.

What follows is a mishmash of hands and feet, kicks, and punches.

Feeling their muscles work with every movement begins to mess with your head. The sweat covered skin of their bicep under your palms also doesn’t help the least to get your thoughts back on track.

Just as you see your chances of winning waning thin, you manage to land a kick against the back of their knees that makes them buckle in surprise.

You wrap an arm around their neck, catching them in a headlock and demanding to be declared the triumphant. Somehow, they manage to gain just enough space in your grip to whirl around and press a featherlight kiss to the underside of your jaw as a distraction maneuver. And it fucking works.

Taken aback, you lower your guard for the fraction of a second just to be blown backwards by a precise hit to your ribcage. In a desperate attempt to gain some stability, you get a hold of their tank top’s collar.

Your intertwined groans echo through the still empty training room, searing right to the bottom of your stomach. A few strands of hair have escaped Jordan’s slick back ponytail.

Bodies pressed together, flashes of last night involuntarily invade your head. The booming bass and strobe light.

Jordan’s body pushing a stranger against the wall near the dance floor where you let loose with Marie and Emma. A swift changing in positions and Jordan’s dark eyes were finding you over the heads of the crowd as their acquaintance moved down on their neck.

The memory sends a shiver down your spine and their grip on your back straightens automatically. You don’t have to say a word for them to know what’s causing that haunted look on your face.

“I didn’t think it a possibility.” Their voice is barely above a whisper and before you can overthink it again, you grab their chin with your right hand and crash your lips down on theirs.

Sometime when stumbling to the nearest wall, Jordan becomes the impatient one, shoving you backwards until your back hits the hard concrete and you’re caged in between their arms on both sides of your head.

Anger and resentment come undone as you melt into their embrace.

The move of your lips getting more feverish, now tilting your face upwards to meet the new height difference.

Hands on hot skin, desperate panting, burning glances.

As Jordan’s fingertips brush along the waistband of your sweatpants, asking for an invite, everything in you protests against your decline.

Slowly you retreat, cheeks aflame, hair and feelings a mess, to state the obvious. “Class starts in twenty minutes.”

Jordan takes a step back and smooths out their tank top, putting on a casual demeanor to mask the fact that they were ready to risk it all.

On your way to the door, you regard them with a smug smile. “For the record, you also didn’t think that I could beat you in a fight. So, I hope you can handle two truths in one day.”

[celianity]

we go down together - jj.m.

After being abandoned by JJ in a jail cell, you are not really on speaking terms. The chaos becomes perfect when three uninvited guests crash your little beach party.

disclaimer: just tapping back into writing - might turn this into a little story project (if anyone's interested)

warnings: slight swearing, fighting, mentions of underaged drinking, english not being my first language

His eyes are more unfathomable than the depths of the ocean as he watches me across the campfire. The flames draw sharp shadows on his face, and I avert my gaze, afraid to cut myself on its edges.

It wouldn't be the first time I've stained my hands with blood trying to resist his almost magnetic pull. But by now I have become a serious opponent myself.

The hand on my lower back increases its pressure, pulling me closer to the side of the tourist whose name I'm going to scream tonight with such conviction that JJ’s ears will bleed even on the opposite side of town.

Am I getting tired of this cat-and-mouse game? Yes. Will I conciliatory hold out my hand and admit defeat? Of course not.

The beer in my red plastic cup is stale, warmed slightly by the fire and the still-comfortable temperatures, just right to make the fingers wandering along my hip more bearable. JJ gulps and brings his own cup to his lips to mask the disgusted tug around his mouth.

I know all too well how that sight can burn into your retinas, how cruelly it can keep you awake at night while you ruffle your hair and curse yourself for your own stubbornness.

Rough fingertips against the bare skin of my thigh bring me back to the present and I find myself wishing they belonged to someone else. The conversations of my friends crash over me like a mighty wave, their laughter carried away by the wind along with the music playing quietly in the background. A strand of hair flies across my eyes, veiling the scenery around me for a split second, before it’s carefully being tucked behind my ear by the boy next to me.

Kiara's gaze is razor sharp, slashing my ribcage open with a clean cut down the middle, baring the scars on my heart. Under her scrutiny, I feel weirdly naked. Not the kind I would prefer under any other circumstances.

I give her a carefree smile and turn back to my companion, whom I met on the beach while surfing this afternoon.

I didn't tell Kie about the last fight between JJ and me for fear she might finally be forced to choose a side. That it most likely wouldn't be mine makes the corners of my eyes sting suspiciously.

Each rash word is just another mark on JJ and mine's score. Gentle touches, breathless sweet nothings, secret revelations, nullified by accusations that etched our throats with every syllable. A lame maneuver to hide the real depth of our feelings.

As if JJ didn't relive each of the fears in my head through the stories, I used to tell him late at night. As if I didn't anchor each ounce of his guilty feelings inside the pit of my stomach to relieve him of this burden at least a little.

The familiar outline of his clenched jaw almost makes me forget why we're at loggerheads. My fingers twitch and I claw them into the hem of my dress. He's not getting off the hook so easily this time, no matter how much I miss the weight of his arms around my waist when lying in my bed.

The idea of sinking Topper's boat may have been my doing, but the finer points of the exercise came from JJ's imagination.

I suppress a shudder at the memory of the musty dampness of the puny jail cell where I spent last night. Alone, mind you. That traitorous asshole tucked tail when the going got tough and Shoupe showed up at the chateau’s door. And yet, with each passing minute, I find it harder to keep stoking my rage.

I swallow hard and sway the half-empty plastic cup in my hand before emptying it.

In a household with unstable foundations, news of an arrest is like an all-consuming earthquake that leaves no survivors. Not to mention the sizable bail, which for my parents was more onerous bureaucracy than serious problem. A metaphorical slap on the wrist and they turned back to more interesting things.

I endured my friends’ taunts this morning with a gracefully raised chin and indulgent laughter, because I have solid ground under my feet while JJ balances on a tightrope.

Still, his betrayal hurts more than I care to admit.

Before my mind starts spinning again, I focus on the banter between John B and Pope, who are about to use absurd comparisons to fight out who would stay alive longer in the event of a zombie apocalypse.

A winner can no longer be declared, because at that moment three shadowy figures approach from one side of the beach. Their quick steps sink into the sand, making their strides look rather stodgily. This impression fades relatively quickly when I identify the figure in the middle as Rafe.

“Hey, ex-con,” he calls out, the echo of his voice reverberating in my bones. Topper and Kelce flank him on either side, as if clinging to their mom’s skirt.

The realization makes me laugh in surprise and I quickly slap my hand over my mouth. John B gives me an alarmed look before stepping around the campfire to face our uninvited guests.

JJ lowers his cup to the ground and rises as well, arms folded defensively in front of his chest. I can almost feel the tension in his shoulders and unintentionally take a step toward him until cold fingers snake around my wrist to hold me back.

A broad back slides into my field of vision and my patience snaps. Roughly, I yank my wrist free and circle the fireplace, stopping next to John B, ready to face the inevitable melee with my head held high. Somewhere behind me I hear JJ’s knuckles crack.

“Have they now robbed you of the last vestige of your already deficient manners?” Rafe taunts and the hostile undertone in his voice makes me shudder. “So, a little refresher of the natural hierarchy should be just right, don't you think? It’s always tit for tat.”

“Since when do you let Mommy fight your battles, Top?” I ask challengingly, studiously ignoring Rafe. “We’re even, you dickheads. You had your fun with Pope, and in return we had ours with the Malibu. You should have heard her heartbreaking screams as she sank.” My choice of words hit the mark.

Rafe marches directly toward me with sweeping strides and I brace myself for his outburst of volcanic proportions, already seeing myself covered in ash kneeling amid the lava-covered landscape. He should really learn to get his temper under control. My jibes would be far less fun if they were met with an impenetrable countenance.

He has almost reached me when a blond shadow tackles him to the ground, causing sand to spurt up in all directions.

For a second of shock, we are all frozen before Kiara’s shouts and Pope’s groans tear the night apart. Topper has knocked the latter to all fours with a well-aimed punch to the stomach. Kie lunges for Kelce’s back, who gets a hold of John B’s shirt collar at that moment.

It's a chaotic mess of flailing limbs and strained groans.

And I stand at the edge of the scenery, squinting at the fast moving body shapes dimly lit by the fire like a fish out of water.

My tourist companion secretly sneaks away behind my back, but I couldn’t care less.

Taking a deep breath, I snap out of my stupor and grab Rafe’s lunging arm around the bicep before it can smash down on JJ’s face like a sledgehammer. The momentum of his movement makes me stumble, and I claw my fingers harder into his heated skin.

He whirls around, an animalistic glint in his eyes, ready to get back at me even though we’re not on direct war terms with each other. Shining blood wets his split lip, forming a thin trickle down his chin.

A spark of fear settles in the pit of my stomach. But he's not the only one willing to take a slap in the face for his friend.

“Don't even think about it", JJ presses through clenched teeth, kicking Rafe’s legs out from under him. He collapses like a blown up building and JJ manages to put him in a relentless headlock. “We’re even, you bastard.”

Finally, he pushes Rafe off of him as the latter's complexion turns an unhealthy dark red in the fire’s glow. Rafe lands on his stomach, unable to soften the fall with his hands, growling faintly.

My warning catches in my throat as JJ turns to face me, gifting Rafe with a moment of inattention for his next attack.

JJ’s fingertips slip from my outstretched palm.

Rafe pins him to the ground with both knees, fingers curled into claws around his neck, squeezing relentlessly, while JJ wriggles under his weight to get free again.

Feverishly, my eyes search for a way out, but the others are too busy trying to prevent various body parts from being broken. Pope and John B keep Kelce and Topper at bay, while Kie tries in vain to settle the fights.

That’s when I spot JJ’s backpack leaning against a log by the campfire and rush toward it, desperately hoping to find the gun inside that he rarely leaves the house without lately. He has an unfortunate habit of not having it at hand in dicey situations.

Half blinded by my rising panic, I rummage through the contents of the bag, gracing the coldness of his motorcycle keys and a bag of weed before my fingers close around the handle of the gun.

Two shots rip through the night, interrupting the melee for a few seconds. Steadying my hand with the other, I aim the barrel at Topper's sweaty face, wandering further over Kelce until I reach Rafe.

“The next shot is a hit.” I warn, taking a few steps forward to reinforce my words.

Breathing heavily, JJ shoves Rafe off of him and struggles to his feet. My friends slowly drag themselves behind me until Kooks and Pogues are facing each other, waiting with baited breath. Kie has an arm wrapped around Pope’s waist in support. John B, panting slightly, brushes his tousled curls from his forehead.

“You heard her.” Kiara snaps. “I wouldn't tempt fate if I were you.”

Rafe spits disdainfully at our feet before shooing his entourage in the opposite direction with a nod of his head. Apparently, a spark of his sanity has managed to save itself from JJ’s blows.

“Holy shit.” Pope moans, slipping from Kiara's grasp to slump against a tree trunk, his face contorted in pain.

“Now would you please put that away?” JJ asks, hesitantly closing a blood crusted hand around the barrel of the gun.

I glare at him. My heart is pounding, adrenaline flooding my veins, and for a split second I'm afraid my finger might slip on the trigger. I release my tense grip and drop the gun to the ground in front of him.

“Careful, Maybank. I may have just saved your ass, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten about my little jail holiday.”

His gaze becomes veiled again and it’s like sitting in this damn cell anew, hands clasping the bars, waiting to be released. But this time I turn around and throw away the key.

For now, I don’t crave the sweet taste of freedom.