#and at least I found one where John had his shoe already off but the parrot was still on Paul's shoulder

[nevereverywhere]

The Beatles and a parrot, A Mad Day Out, 1968

[fadedncity]

forever mine

wc: 2.5k

pairing: hades!johnny x persephone!reader

cw: smut, greek gods!au, husband!johnny, fem!reader, pet names, teasing, use of titles (king, queen, your majesty), oral sex (receiving), fingering, body worship, finger sucking, riding, mating press, lil bit of praising, creampie, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, lowkey dumbification

song inspo: won’t by tanerélle | aphrodite by rini | in a week by hozier | 7th heaven by quin

"Where is she?"

"Where she always is."

Johnny's long legs carried him in long strides through the palace, bursting through the doors at the end of the corridor.

The moment he stepped outside, he could already feel your warmth radiating through the entire garden, looking much more lively than in the past six months.

Johnny found himself out here more often than not with the wilting flowers and dying trees, longing for your return just as he had. Now, life was coursing through the entire garden, the tall standing trees rustling in the breeze, flowers blossoming all around his feet. He could feel your presence growing stronger the further he walked. 

When he finally spotted you, you had your back to him. And Johnny could already feel his heart hammering against his chest.

Just laying eyes on you, it seemed his lungs were finally able to intake the oxygen around him a little easier.

Without even looking away from the plants you were bringing back to life, you spoke,

"What did I tell you about those boots in my garden, John?" 

Johnny looked down at his feet and then at the trail of scorched earth behind him. 

"Sorry," he mumbled. He kicked off his shoes and continued toward you. 

You finally turned around, and Johnny felt like it was the first time again. You stood from the dirt, your long dress flowing around you and slightly waving in the wind.

Johnny's arms were immediately around you, pulling you to him.

Your heart had ached for this man for half the year, and it almost felt like your chest would explode, finally being in his arms again.

You ran your hands up his arms to his shoulders, one of them cupping his face. 

"Hi." Johnny's heart melts at the way your eyes sparkle at him. 

Johnny sighs, nuzzling his face into your touch, "Hi." 

"Six months have felt like an eternity away from you, my love." 

"I know. It's been hell here without you."

You laughed, "That joke doesn't get any better, babe." 

"It made you laugh, though," Johnny grinned. 

"Because it was terrible. Leave them to Mark," you patted his chest. 

"Fine." 

. . . 

Anything he needed to do today was quickly pushed back to tomorrow at least, Johnny not wanting anything other than to be with you right now. 

Your feet mindlessly swayed in the air as you lay on your stomach face to face with your lover. You rest your chin on Johnny's chest, studying the details of his face as if they would have changed much in the past few thousand years you've been married. 

"Have you been sleeping? You look tired," you frown, noticing the dark circles around his eyes. 

"I'm fine," he told you. The look in your eyes was enough for him to know you don't believe him. "I've just been working a lot, that's it. And it's kinda hard to sleep when you're not here."

You sat up on your knees before swinging one of your legs over his waist to straddle him. 

"I'm sorry about that, baby," you pout, caressing his face. 

"You should be," Johnny teased, pecking your lips, "But now you can make it up to me," he whispered. 

"Anything for you, my King," you teasingly whispered back. 

Johnny's hands on your waist moved down to cup your ass. You slide one of your hands over the silky material of his shirt, grab the back of his neck, and deepen the kiss. 

Johnny's hands fell to your thighs, slowly pushing the skirt of your dress up. A shiver ran down your spine, your stomach coiling from excitement. Johnny slipped his tongue into your mouth when you dragged your hips against his, trying to relieve built-up pressure between your thighs.

Your back met the mattress, your head lying against the pillows as Johnny's body occupied the space between your legs. 

His hands wandered all over your body, cupping your breast, squeezing your thigh; it was all too much but not enough.

Johnny's lips traveled down to your neck, softly kissing you there. He bunched up the fabric of your dress in his hands, pushing it up to your hips. He bit and sucked your skin, making his way down your body. 

"So, so beautiful," he mutters between kisses down your stomach.

Johnny touches you like he doesn't have every inch of your body memorized already; as if it were his first time with you.

He pushes your knees apart, settling between your legs. He slowly kisses his way up your inner thighs, digging his nails into your skin when he hears the faintest whimper or whines fall from your lips.

With a subtle wave of his fingers, your panties are discarded to ashes. Any other time you would've chastised his use of his powers, but you couldn't care in the slightest.

Johnny's predatory gaze falls to your pussy, only a few inches away from his face. 

"You gonna let me taste you, sweetness?" 

You eagerly nodded, "Please, Johnny," you said so faintly it was almost a whisper. 

Johnny smirked, lowering his head and flattening his tongue against your lips. You moaned, rolling your hips into his mouth. He teasingly circled your slit with the tip of his tongue before bringing his attention to your clit. You lifted your hips off the bed, raising them against his face before Johnny held your hips, keeping them pinned to the bed.

"Patience, baby. 186 days, I've waited for this. To have you again," he placed both your legs over his shoulders, giving your thighs more kisses, "So, I will take my time if I please."

He ran his tongue through your folds, your juices reminding him of sweet nectar on his tastebuds. Your eyes rolled back, bliss written all over your face as you lost yourself in the pleasure he was giving you. Johnny wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves, resulting in your back arching away from the bed. 

You brought one of your hands to his head, fingernails lightly scratching his scalp.  

"Gods, John, please don't stop."

Johnny moans into your pussy in response. Your legs threaten to close around his head, but he doesn't give them a chance to, hooking his arms under your thighs and keeping them apart to allow him to continue to eat you out like a starved man.

The one thing Johnny wishes he could do for the rest of his immortal life, it's to give you pleasure. The sounds you make, the look on your face, the way your body trembles, all of it; Johnny wishes to be the source of it all for the rest of time. 

"Johnny—fuck. Always make me feel so good," you whine. 

"You wanna cum for me, baby?" 

"Yes, m'so close," you mumble, nodding. 

You could feel yourself nearing the edge before finally falling over. A loud cry of Johnny's name bounced off the walls, surely heard by the palace staff everywhere. 

Even after already cumming, you couldn't help the thoughts running rampant in your head, feeling your skin burn under his touch as he lapped at your folds. It aroused you, even more, having him use his strength against you, knowing he can't hurt you even if he tried.

He left you with one last kiss on your knee before he sat up. You lazily watched your husband begin to undress. He noticed your eyes on him and teasingly undid the buttons of his black silk shirt slowly. You sat up, the fatigue from your first orgasm no longer existent. A smirk was planted on your face as your eyes drank in the man before you. 

Johnny could see from his spot at the foot of the bed the lust swirling around your irises and practically smell your arousal seeping onto the bed sheets. 

Getting impatient, you slide off the bed and stand in front of Johnny, hooking a finger in the belt loop of his pants, tugging him closer. Your lips meet in a messy, desperate kiss, your teeth and tongue clashing. 

You slide his shirt off his shoulders before running your hands down his chest, letting yourself get refamiliarized with his body, having missed feeling his skin against yours these past two seasons. Without breaking the kiss, your fingers blindly undo his pants until they end up on the floor along with his shirt. 

Johnny's hand snaked around your back, pulling you flush against him, untying the laces until the front of your dress fell. He kisses your shoulders as he slips the material off your body, leaving you naked before him.

Johnny wastes no time touching and kissing your body, worshipping you as the goddess you are. 

You push him back onto the bed, Johnny's eyes practically turning black as you get on top of him. You sink your teeth into your bottom lips, feeling his cock between your folds. You couldn't resist the urge to drag your hips against his once again.

"I need you so bad," you whimper, your slick dripping onto his cock.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Please, Johnny."

"Whatever my Queen wants, she gets," he tells you before lifting you out of his lap and lining his cock up with your entrance. 

Lowering yourself onto Johnny's cock, you're refamiliarized with the feeling of him splitting you apart in the best ways.

"You feel so fucking good," you utter. 

"Gods, you're so wet, sweetheart," Johnny groans, fingernails digging into your skin. 

You grin, lifting your hips before sinking back down onto his cock. 

"It's all for you, baby," you slowly start to ride him, unable to resist how good it feels to be so full. 

Johnny can't tear his eyes away from your face. Loving the way you lose yourself in ecstasy. 

He lifts his hips to meet yours, and your eyes roll back into your skull. Too focused on how good it feels, you wrap your arm around his shoulder to balance yourself as you bounce in his lap.

Johnny's hands were all over you while his mouth traveled over your chest, biting, kissing, and licking your skin.  

You tangle your fingers in his hair, bringing his lips back to yours. When you broke the kiss, Johnny's thumb softly edged your bottom lip, silently asking for entry. 

You enthusiastically suck on his thumb, coating the digit in your saliva before he slips his hand between your bodies and starts rubbing your clit. 

"Johnny," you gasp, "Fuck, I can't. John, I'm gonna-" Johnny slamming up into you, cut off your words.

The room seemed to grow warmer, the fires lit around the room burning brighter. 

"Come on, baby. I know you wanna cum," Johnny rubbed coordinated circles on your clit with his thumb, "Be a good girl and cum for me," the vibrations of his voice shot straight to your core.

Your cries and moans were music to his ears, mixing with the sound of skin hitting skin. The knot inside you snapped, and Johnny felt your pussy choking his cock, sucking him deeper into your warm wet heat. 

"Fucking hell," Johnny clenches his jaw. 

You bury your face into Johnny's neck, allowing yourself to catch your breath. 

You lift your head from his neck and rest your forehead against his. 

"I love you," you whisper against his skin, kissing his face. 

"I love you," he groans as you start rolling your hips again.

"Please, fuck me, John," you begged, "Remind me who I belong to."

Johnny threw you onto your back and pushed his cock back into you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, unable to get enough of him. 

"It would be my pleasure, your majesty," he leaned down and met your lips in a kiss, slowly drawing his hips back before easing back in. 

You feel every inch of him, stretching you open, fucking you nice and deep.

"More, more, more, Johnny, please!" you lift your hips to meet his. 

Your husband grabbed your legs, placing them over his shoulders, folding you in half as he plowed into you. 

The tip of his cock reached so deep inside, you could feel him in your stomach, rightfully rearranging your guts.

You found yourself gripping onto the sheets, pillows—anything you could get a hold of, all the pent-up longing you've held onto all this time being released after finally being reunited with your love. 

You felt yourself losing more and more control as you drowned in pleasure. Vines wrapped themselves around the headboard, flowers miraculously blossoming across the room. 

Johnny's chest blooms with pride, knowing he's the only one with the ability to make you feel good enough you lose control of your powers like this. Your whimpers and whines were as sweet as a prayer on his ears. It makes him slam into you harder, faster. 

If you were mortal, your muscles would've screamed in relief when he lowered your legs from his shoulders but kept your knees close to your chest. His thrusts never falter, continuing to pound into you. 

Your pussy clenches around his cock, feeling even tighter than before. The way he messily snaps his hips into yours, pistoning his cock in and out of your sopping hole, you knew that knot inside of him would break sooner rather than later. 

Johnny watches your pussy and swallows his cock, taking him so well.

"Gods, I've missed you," he muffles your moans with his lips on yours, "And this pussy. You were fucking meant for me," he growls, his cock twitching against your gummy walls. 

"Johnny," you whine. 

"What is it, my love?" he slows down but continues his deep strokes. 

"Please, baby, I wanna feel you," you plead.

"Cum with me," he tells you before bringing his thumb back to your clit, sloppily circling the bundle of nerves. 

Your toes curled, and your fingernails dragged across Johnny's skin, hard enough to leave red streaks on his arms. 

You could barely keep your eyes open, slowly blinking up at the man above you as your body approached another climax.

"That's my girl," he hums, "Cum for your King," his eyes glimmer red.

His last words toppled you over the edge, euphoria flooding your entire body. Your orgasm sent Johnny into his own, warm ropes of his cum spilling into your messy cunt. 

You whimper against Johnny's lips, feeling empty as he pulls out of you. He lays beside you, grabbing one of your legs and placing it over himself to keep you close. Neither of you caring about the mess of bodily fluids and flower petals all over the bed. 

"Fuck, I've missed you," you crash your lips into his. 

You pull yourself up into Johnny's lap, his hands holding your waist. You grab onto his hair, making him crane his neck up at you as you slip your tongue into his mouth, your lover sucking on the wet muscles. 

You both pull away, catching your breath but staying close enough you're sharing the same oxygen. 

"You really aren't trying to waste any time, huh," he asked, nudging your nose with his. 

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around him.

"186 days. I've wasted enough." 

a/n: I know it's been a minute but seriously life has been fucking crazy and exhausting so, sorry about that. but thank you for reading and feedback is appreciated <33

[cetaitlaverite]

Anything to Anywhere

Masters of the Air - Bucky Egan x OC

coming to you from rome, italy atm!!! im away travelling so sorry for slow updates and thanks for your patience. all the loveeeee <3 (masterlist is here)

11. Connected by A Thread

Glenn Dye was the first pilot to hit twenty-five missions flown at Thorpe Abbotts. As such, the party thrown in his and his crew’s honour the evening he returned was monumental. Some of the other airmen had decorated the officers’ club for the occasion with various B-17- and American-themed decorations, and Stella was sure she’d never seen the club so full of people.

Along with what seemed like everyone who worked on base, locals from the village and land girls had come along to join in the fun. By the time Stella and Alice got there, the dance floor was already full of couples and every table was taken. There were no free chairs, was hardly any free space at the bar, and cheers erupting from each corner of the room intermittently.

Stella’s eyes swept the crowd in search of familiar faces.

Jessop emerged from it with a pint of beer in his hand and a grin on his face. “What time d’you call this?” he asked as he picked his way over to the two of them.

“Fashionably late,” Alice replied without missing a beat. “Where’s Dye? It seems rude not to congratulate him.”

“Table over there,” Jessop informed her, gesturing with his thumb over his shoulder. “Your boyfriend’s over there, too, Fin,” he added with a smile that betrayed he was expecting the wallop which met his shoulder as soon as he’d finished speaking.

“Not my boyfriend,” Stella all but growled.

Alice laughed. “One day you’ll wake up and you’ll realise you’re in love. Then what will you do?”

Stella scoffed. “I will most certainly not be falling in love with John Egan, thanks very much, so I don’t have to worry.”

“Does he know that?”

Stella rolled her eyes and didn’t dignify that with a response. “I’m getting a drink. Tell Dye congratulations from me.”

“Come tell him yourself,” Alice said. Now she was frowning.

“I’ll tell him later.”

“Tell him now.”

“Alice,” Stella said, shooting her a look. “I said I’ll tell him later.” Already she was exhausted by this night. So many people, so much noise. It was hot in here, too. Her hair felt heavy on the back of her neck, her jacket felt itchy, and her feet were sweating in her shoes. Something was tight in her chest, too, and heavy in her stomach. Something just felt off.

“You alright, Fin?” Jessop asked. His smile was fading all of a sudden as he searched her face for an explanation for her standoffishness.

Stella only brushed him aside. “I’m fine. I’m getting a drink.” But she didn’t go and get a drink; when she got to the bar she skirted around it and disappeared into the crowd, then headed for the door and pushed out into the quiet of late evening.

It was as bright outside as if it was three in the afternoon. The double daylight savings were still so difficult to get used to. But the blackout meant they had no streetlights on when it got dark, so Stella counted herself lucky that she could, at least, see. She moved out of the way of the door then paced forwards a few steps into the grass. In one smooth movement she folded herself down to the floor, her knees tucked up into her chest and her ankles crossed. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees, sighing as her eyelids fell closed.

It was bizarre, she thought, that she’d spent all day reminding herself that when she got into the club Curt wouldn’t be there to make sure she didn’t feel the shock of it, but she’d felt it all the same. Seeing John and Buck together, surrounded by their various friends, and Curt nowhere to be found was too jarring. Seeing so many other familiar faces as the replacement crews filled their spaces was sobering, like being spontaneously dunked into ice cold water.

How could everyone celebrate one crew going home when so many never would?

Stella didn’t know Glenn Dye. She didn’t care about him. She was happy for him and for his crew but he was someone she only knew in passing. Why did he get to live and go home and become an instructor, grow up and get married and raise babies, but one of the people she cared about didn’t? Why was it always the ones who mattered to Stella who drew the short straw and the ones who didn’t who ended up unscathed?

For the first time in a long time, Stella longed for home. For the comforting chaos of so many people being squashed into one small room, instead of the disorienting chaos of the officers’ club. She longed for Will’s arms around her and Harry’s jokes, for Arthur’s boring stories and George’s incredible ones.

She longed for a lot of things, really, which had been taken from her. So many things that she’d taken for granted, had assumed were due to her, were gone. And she could meet new people and try to make new friends but they would likely be taken from her, too, because that was what war was, what war did. She had no more right to the safety of her loved ones than anyone else did.

When someone ambled across the grass behind her and came to a stop just shy of right beside her, Stella assumed it was John. He had a talent for always knowing where she was. She had the same talent for him, she knew, but she didn’t like to admit it because that would mean admitting that she actively sought him out.

But it wasn’t John. When Stella looked up, her mouth open and ready to make some stupid comment, she found herself looking up at Buck.

His head was tipped back as he considered the stars, his hands at his sides and his posture formal even though it was just the two of them out here.

Stella watched him for a few moments. She knew he could feel her eyes on him because his hands started to twitch, like all of a sudden he was overly conscious of them and not sure what to do with them.

Tentatively, she offered a smile. “Seeking refuge, too?” she asked quietly.

Buck glanced down at her with a small, almost amused smile. “How’d you guess?” he asked.

Stella shrugged, resting her chin back on her knees, turning her eyes back on the expanse of grass in front of her so that he didn’t feel too observed. “I think we’re different in a lot of ways, Buck,” she replied, “but I think we’re similar in some big ones, too.”

Buck breathed a laugh. Stella imagined him trying to work out how she’d come to such a conclusion. On the surface, it was much easier to compare her to John; both of them talked a lot, had fiery personalities, and clung to people they liked. Both of them were confident in their own abilities and somewhat loud about them, too.

But Stella had recognised parts of her innermost self in Buck. He was a good leader and the men revered him, but he didn’t like the eyes and he didn’t like the crowds. He was at his most content when he was with John and Curt alone, when people weren’t looking to him for answers or for guidance. And, just like her, she sensed there was something in him which didn’t think himself quite worthy of John and his attention. Stella knew John had singled him out in training and plastered himself to his side, had given him a nickname which was similar to his own and given Buck no real choice in his friendship. John had done much the same with her. And just as she couldn’t understand it, his reasons for doing so or for his perseverance, she got the feeling Buck couldn’t, either. They were two peas in a pod that way, connected by a thread they weren’t sure they deserved to be bound to.

Buck didn’t make any comments on the contrary. He just shrugged, made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat which may have been construed as agreement, and kept on staring at the stars.

Stella was content to sit with him in silence for a little while, but some time later she found herself bored. “John was telling me you’ve got a girlfriend back in the States,” she spoke up when she could bear the quiet no longer. “Will you tell me about her?”

Buck looked down at Stella with an expression which revealed he was at least mildly surprised by her inquiry, but he didn’t hesitate for long. Burying his hands in his pockets, he smiled to himself as he said, “Marge,” in a dreamy sort of way, like even just the sound of her name took him to an entirely different place. A moment later his eyes returned to Stella’s and he added, “Her name’s Marge.”

“John says he met her.”

Buck smiled again. “He did. She tried to set him up with one of her friends but it didn’t work out.”

“Because he wasn’t looking for commitment,” Stella surmised.

Buck shrugged, not to indicate that he didn’t know but to indicate that he wasn’t going to comment on the nature of John’s relationship to another woman.

“What’s your favourite thing about Marge?” Stella asked next, taking the hint.

Again, Buck was smiling that dreamy smile, his eyes set into the middle distance as his mind left the present moment and retreated to a happier one. “Her warmth,” he replied after a while. Stella got the impression he’d known the answer immediately, he’d just taken some time to revel in it before he’d shared it. “Her smile lights up the whole room. Every time she turns that smile on you you feel like the most important person in the world.”

Stella smiled as she watched him talk. “Maybe that’s just because to her you are the most important person in the world,” she ventured. “Maybe she reserves that smile just for you and you don’t know it because she can’t help but give it to you.”

Buck’s expression was quizzical as he looked down at her. He arched one eyebrow only slightly at her but it was enough to make her laugh.

“I’m a secret romantic,” Stella confessed, giggling to herself. “Don’t tell anyone, much less John, but I read a lot of romance books.”

“You don’t seem like the type,” Buck mused as he finally settled himself into the grass beside her.

“Because I’m so dark and mysterious?” Stella guessed, grinning.

“Because you keep rejecting Bucky,” Buck said.

Stella scoffed. “He hasn’t tried it on with me a single time, not really. When I thought he was it was only me jumping to conclusions. He’s feeding you fibs if he’s told you I’ve ever rejected him.”

Both of Buck’s eyebrows were raised now, the twist in his mouth amused, but he didn’t say anything.

Stella scoffed once more and looked ahead of her, because that expression on his face said more than his words would have needed to.

“How did you meet Marge?” she asked, because she’d started this conversation about him, not about her.

He set the scene for her and took his time painting the picture of the first time he’d met Marge while in his junior year of college. He spoke of her with so much reverence, with a small smile and a brightness in his eyes which was usually reserved for when he was watching John do something stupid to entertain him. He spoke at length about how their relationship had developed up to now and by the time he was finished Stella felt like she’d fallen in love with Marge right along with him.

“It must be hard to be away from her,” she said softly once Buck had finished his story. “I’m sad for you.”

Buck looked back at her carefully before giving her a small smile, as though he could tell she was being earnest. She’d never spoken to him one-on-one like this, much less for so long or about such personal things, but she could see what John saw in him; he was an easy person to be your truest self with.

“Yeah,” he said at last. “It’s hard. But she writes amazing letters. ‘M counting down the days until I can get back to her.”

Stella smiled. “I bet.”

“There you two are!” John exclaimed from the doorway to the club, light and sound from the room beyond spilling outside before he let the door fall closed with a bang. “What, you hosting a party and I’m not invited? My two best friends are leaving me for each other?”

“Bucky,” Buck said with a shake of his head, but there was a fond smile playing on his lips.

Stella said nothing, because he’d called her his best friend. After Curt, she supposed she was the only other close friend he had. She’d been wrong when she’d been in the infirmary, when she’d talked about the two of them being opposites, about John being the kind of person people gravitated towards. Now that she was edging closer to him she could see that wasn’t true. The other men looked up to him, just like they looked up to Buck, but whereas the distance between them and Buck was because they’d placed him on a pedestal and created in him some kind of deity, in John they’d created some kind of ticking time bomb, a live wire; to them, he was fun to observe, great to know because of the stories you could tell about him, but better off keeping your distance from. The other men liked to know of him but they didn’t like to know him, not really. And now that Curt wasn’t around, that was one less person who wanted to.

Stella wanted to.

It was only really now, hearing him call her one of his best friends, seeing him ambling towards the two of them, already halfway drunk but smiley and affectionate and fond instead of rowdy and aggressive, as she’d known drunkenness to be, that she could acknowledge how much she wanted to know him. She wanted to know him an awful lot.

“No party out here,” Stella said quietly, fiddling with the sleeves of her uniform jacket. “We were actually fleeing from the party in there.”

“Ain’t no party in there while you’re out here, Stels,” John replied without missing a beat. He was wearing a wide grin which she’d once thought was stupid, because he looked much too pleased with himself, but now thought was familiar and reassuring and safe. That grin was directed at her because she was wanted, her company and her thoughts. That grin was directed at her because he was glad she was around and glad to share his thoughts with her.

“Have you met any of the new pilots yet?” she asked to prevent having to reply.

John’s grin faded a little bit. “No,” he said decisively, straightening out his posture like he’d been chastised. “Actually, that’s why I came out here. Looking for you, Buck - Rosenthal and Nash are in there, thought we oughta introduce ourselves.”

“Right,” Buck agreed. His reluctance to return to the party wasn’t lost on Stella and nor, she was sure, was it lost on John.

“Alice really fancies Rosenthal,” Stella said before she could stop herself, a last ditch attempt to prolong the conversation. Once they went back inside she’d be left on her own, after all, and then what would she do?

John’s smile grew again. “She does?”

“Don’t tell her I told you,” Stella insisted immediately. “Rosenthal already knows - she’s not exactly subtle - but if she thinks you know just tell her it’s because she’s obvious.”

“I can set her up,” John said.

Stella laughed. “She doesn’t need the help, I don’t think. Why did you never go for her, anyway? I would’ve thought she’d be exactly your type.”

John’s smile faded.

Buck coughed awkwardly.

Distantly, Stella acknowledged she’d just put her foot in it. She wasn’t so naïve as to not acknowledge the change in the air.

When John didn’t reply, just set his eyes on some spot in the distance Stella couldn’t find anything particularly remarkable about, Buck coughed into his fist again. “Maybe we should get back in there,” he said, planting his hands in the grass and pushing himself to his feet.

“Yeah,” Bucky said.

“Right,” Stella agreed.

“You coming, Fin?” Buck asked.

Stella forced a smile. “I think I’ll just go back to my hut and get an early night. Send Dye my congratulations, maybe?”

“You can’t go to bed this early, Stels,” John said with a slight crooked smile. “Come back inside and I’ll buy you a beer, how’s that?”

Stella considered this offer. She almost accepted it, even. But then she remembered what lay beyond the door to the club, the room filled with new faces but Curt and Dickie and the rest of their crew nowhere to be found.

“No thank you,” she said.

“Stels -”

“I’m going to go to bed.”

“What’s in there that you don’t like?”

Before she could think of what she was saying, she was replying, “It’s what’s not in there that -” She faltered and cut herself abruptly off. She knew her face had fallen.

John and Buck were both watching her carefully as she turned away and stared at a point as far into the distance as she could find.

“You mean Curt?” Buck asked softly after a moment’s pause.

Stella made a non-committal sound in the back of her throat, some kind of choked hum in acknowledgement of what he’d said. She couldn’t turn to look at either of them and momentarily considered just making a break for it and setting off running back to her hut.

No one said anything.

After a while of feeling sorry for herself, Stella remembered where she was, who she was with, and suddenly felt rotten for feeling like she’d loved Curt more than either of the men beside her. But she didn’t know how to apologise for this sentiment and knew, besides, that John would brush it away. So instead she said softly, “So many new faces,” and knew they would understand how she was feeling.

“Yeah,” John replied, equally as quiet.

“Yeah,” Buck agreed.

[thebigoblin]

On The Dance Floor

tags: Not Scott McCall Friendly, Inspired by a Song, Oneshot, Alpha Derek Hale, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Getting Together, The Hale Pack 2.0, Fluff, Minor Sheriff Stilinski/Melissa McCall

a/n: found this in my drafts tagged as "complete." figured i'll post this as a lil weekend treat <3 so cleaned it up a bit. i'll post this on ao3 tomorrow ig. also, real enemy is giving fics a fucking title.

now you can also read this fic on ao3.

White, marble tiles are eaten up by his black, formal shoes, his movements a little hurried as he veers off another corner of this event hall, almost braining himself against the wall. He stops just at the right moment, curses his clumsiness, and continues walking down the empty hallway to the dressing room. Everyone else is already in the main hall, sitting on the chairs, and Stiles Stilinski was there only moments before, so he knows they're waiting for the ceremony to begin.

Except, his dad is getting cold-feet, and despite Scott's attempts at being normal around his soon-to-be stepfather, and being a shoulder to lean on, the cold-feet is getting worse. At least, that's what Derek texted him, a short, concise depiction of whatever the hell must be happening in the dressing room.

And he trusts the Alpha, so he's quick in his steps and quicker with his breaths when he does open up the door and finds his dad pacing around the decently-sized room, his suit on, and complemented by a look of absolute panic on his face.

Scott is standing off to the side, like he always seems to be these days, and he's on the opposite side of Derek, far from him, like he always was and always will be. Some people don't change, and Stiles has learned that through experience he would rather not repeat.

"Dad," Stiles says, and that's all it takes for the dam to break. His dad gives a quick glance to Scott, his once-favorite son, and then pulls both Stiles and Derek towards him, his hands a little sweaty with dread. His dad knows being close and talking low wouldn't make a difference, but it's the principle of the thing, and for one split second he wonders what 16 year old him would have thought of this fact, of Derek being his dad's chosen son, and him himself being this close to his dad. And Scott not even being privy to the beauty of this relationship.

"What if she doesn't want me to? I love Melissa, I do, but Claudia- I don't know. I had a dream yesterday, Stiles, and she was just, she was just there! Just sitting on the beach, where I proposed to Melissa, right where Melissa was sitting. Was that, like, one of your supernatural dreams? Derek, you must know something about these sort of things. I don't think she wants me to—"

Derek cuts him off with a firm, "She wants nothing but happiness for you." He gives Stiles a quick look, asking silently if this is okay, because out of the four people in this room he's the only who didn't actually know her when she was alive. Stiles nods, and Derek continues, and his dad hangs onto every word out of Derek's mouth. "Today is a big day for you, and you're nervous, and it's okay, John. That dream was just a way for your subconscious to show up — this isn't the first time you've had this thought, have you?"

"No."

"That's it. Nothing more, nothing less. Just your nerves."

Stiles smiles softly at his dad. "Mom loves you," he moves forward to bring his dad in for a patented Stilinski hug. His voice is muffled when he insists, "She loved you when she was beside you, and she loves you now that she's watching over you. And she loves Melissa, too. I know she'll be the one smiling the biggest when you say 'I Do,' today."

His dad holds on for a little longer, and Stiles knows he's holding back tears when his dad says, "Okay," with a rough voice. He pulls back, takes a deep breath, pats Stiles on the shoulder twice, the way he always does, and gives a wobbly smile to Derek. He says, "Thanks, son," to both of them before looking at himself in the mirror.

"You look amazing."

"I'm so glad Lydia's mom was able to modify your original suit into this," Stiles adds to Derek's compliment, and Derek nods, repeats the sentiment of his dad looking amazing.

Scott chimes in, too, and his dad gives him a small smile. The relationship with him is strained, and if it was any other day Scott wouldn't even be in Beacon Hills, but it's his mom's wedding day, too. Stiles allows this one day, and if he didn't, he can't really stop Scott from being here. This is his hometown, too. They have their differences, yes, but they also have a past, together and also not, stemming from this same town.

Stiles has no right to where Scott does or does not go.

Derek, on the flip side, with his red eyes and ancestral blood running through his veins, roots sprouting from this town's soil, has no such qualms. Derek and Scott share a past, too, and it defines their present more than anything else could have.

Stiles' dad says he'll be out in just a minute, can they wait outside please, and all three of them step out. Once the door is closed, Derek turns to Scott.

"When are you leaving?"

Scott is instantly angry. He has always hated Derek, no matter the truth. Logic was always Stiles' friend first and Scott's second, and without Stiles, Scott is just a ball of emotions being hit by the bat of daddy and authoritative issues.

Derek has a right to know. It is his prerogative. This is his land, his territory, his packmate's wedding. Scott was banished — run off, really, and now he's back. Derek has a right to know when he'll leave, irrespective of Scott's hesitation to tell him.

But, the years have done Scott good. Instead of yelling, making a scene, he takes a breath in. Stiles wonders what or who his anchor is, and promptly decides it's not something he cares to know. He watches Scott get himself under control, enough that when he speaks his voice is almost emotionless.

All or nothing. That was what Scott was, and still is. He's changed, but not really.

"Mom leaves for her honeymoon tomorrow, and I need to take stuff from home."

Derek raises his right eyebrow. "That's not an answer."

Scott gives a tight smile. "It is if you just learn to stop when you should."

Before Derek can say anything, Stiles is taking the two steps to stand right beside his Alpha, disbelief coloring his face and words as he lets out, "Are you seriously threatening him?"

Scott just looks at him. The look is unreadable. It hurts, this distance between them, when Stiles remembers fantasizing about being not two feet apart on a porch in their late, late years, drinking to the years and cheers they must have had in their shared lives. Derek shakes him out of that thought with a gentle touch to his hand, their arms trapped between their bodies, and he relaxes.

Derek looks at Scott. His eyes turn red, brilliant red, and he orders, "Leave by Wednesday afternoon."

Today is Sunday.

And his dad's wedding day. His dad, who chooses this moment to come out, looking much better, and happier, and assured. He looks at the scene in front of him, the three of them, Scott on one side, alone. Him and Derek, side by side, on the opposite side of Scott.

He claps his hands.

"Who is ready to cry today?"

*

They all cry.

The ceremony is simple, but beautiful. The whole town is here, the wedding off their Sheriff, and the nurse who is so lovely, so kind. They are an inspiration, they all murmur, Derek tells him; second chances at love are rare, and this is beautiful, and who knew there exists beauty in the depths of tragedy?

His dad cries when he watches Melissa come down the aisle, Ms. Martin on one side and Scott on the other. Her best friend and her son, and for once, Stiles doesn't mind Scott's presence.

Melissa is smiling, eye to eye, her wedding gown fitting her perfectly.

She stands in front of his dad and says, "Oh, John," with such reverence, it's hard to not cry. Stiles has to put his hand in front of his mouth, but it's futile. Derek, the jerk, repeats those words, the ones he is hearing from every corner of the hall, and by the time Stiles has a dad and a stepmom officially, he's crying happy tears.

Lydia hugs him and tells him now it's his turn to find her mom somebody, too, and he agrees, only half-listening to her. He's staring at the big, gigantic grin on his dad's face, a matching one on Melissa.

Everyone congratulates him and the newlyweds, and then it's food and chatter and toasts, and everyone is surprised when Derek gives the first toast instead of Stiles, and Scott is supposedly not giving one at all.

Derek's toast is short, but no less lovely. He calls John a great man, one with utmost patience, and of course Derek would find a way to make a dig at Stiles; he says he has no clue how John and Claudia had strength enough to be patient with Stiles around, and that perhaps it is that tenacity, that will, that has brought about the proceedings of today. Of not giving up, even when the world is stacked against you. Of staying strong, in the face of everything falling apart. Of falling apart but coming back stronger, steadier. Of finding love after all of that. And coming from Derek, of all people, it means a whole lot, and Stiles' dad hugs Derek post-speech tightly.

When they pull apart, Derek says into the mic, but with eyes on Stiles' dad, "She's just as proud of you as Stiles is. As I am."

And then it's his turn to give a toast, and he's not sure how he can outdo Derek; as he stands up in front of the mic, he realizes he doesn't want to.

He gives a few funny anecdotes of his childhood, of how his dad taught him to always have hope, because good people get good things, even if it takes long. And how Melissa was always there, a second mom to him right from the start, and how much he loves her and is glad she's still in his life, despite the years, despite the circumstances. The crowd gets intrigued at that, aware of the distance between Scott and his mom, and Stiles too; all of Beacon Hills knows about the rift, but only a hand few know the cause of it as well. So, for him to mention the distance, to publicly acknowledge it, is a big thing.

He moves right the fuck on, makes jokes and smiles and cries, admits he'll always miss his mom, but that he'd always hoped, deep in his heart, that when the grief becomes tolerable he'd be the one to make the two of them marry each other.

"You got there first," he jokes, "Had the ring all picked out even before I could start trying to convince you to ask her out. Honestly, that might have been the second best decision you've ever made." None of them have to ask what the first was. It's obvious; Stiles knows his mom's wedding ring sits inside his dad's shirt, on a necklace, his own beside it.

Melissa gives a toast, too. She reminisces the first time she met Claudia, how they became friends, and how, at the time, it was impossible to imagine a life without her.

Before her little speech, to everyone this was her and John's day, but it's clear to them now that it's not just that. To the newlyweds it's a promise to Claudia; Melissa's once best friend and his dad's first love. To be happy. To live.

There's more hugs, more cheers, the champagne popping, and a quick, impromptu speech by Scott, who was fuming at being outdone like this by not just Stiles, but also Derek.

His speech is not bad, per se. Angry jerks of his chin, wild eyes and noticeable pauses. It's not bad. It just looks bad in comparison.

Stiles will definitely rot in hell for finding this funny, but at least he won't be the only one. The whole pack is trying not to laugh, and Stiles has to hide his own in the lapels of Derek's suit, who in turn hides his laughter in Stiles' hair.

Stiles feels bad, once or twice. But Scott made his bed and he's lying on it.

And then, after that, there's the first dance. There's the open dance floor and little kids asking Derek sweetly if he'll dance with them. He's their favorite, and it's adorable, and Stiles takes a thousand pictures.

Derek is in a sharp suit, and the juxtaposition of him dancing with young children, in princess dresses and printed suits — one kid had a yellow, minion-print suit, and honestly, that kid, Darren, pulled it off well — all colorful to his black shirt, black blazer, and black pants, is just so...

Good.

Derek's whole face is lit up, the golden glow of the lights all around them putting him in an ethereal spotlight, his eyes soft, mouth curved up, and nose adorably scrunched as he tries to decipher the babbling of a two-year-old.

The mom of the kid comes to get the boy, profusely apologizing, but Derek just smiles and says it's okay. It was no issue, it's okay, no need to apologize at all.

"Right," she says, eyes flicking between Derek and Stiles. "I'll let you get back to your partner then." And it's clear she means him.

Derek doesn't correct her, and neither does he. She leaves, and in this corner of the room, it's just them now. Most kids are tired, now, and most guests have left. It's mostly just the closest friends of Melissa and his dad, and the pack, of course, who are here.

Derek turns to him, his eyes still soft, which somehow get more soft when he looks at Stiles. It takes his breath away, and he lets out a squeaky, "Let's dance?" He's almost 25, the "adult" age according to the internet, and he still acts like a high school kid with a fucking crush.

Derek just makes him feel that way.

Derek, who is going to be 30 in less than a week, the big decade, the big, bad wolf. Derek, who blushes, his cheeks pinkish red behind his stubbled face, and puts out a hand.

Stiles takes the offered hand, his heart dancing inside his ribcage. And onto the stage they go, to the applause of the pack, and his dad's, "Finally!"

Stiles blushes, too. It's just their luck to get on the floor when it's a slow dance song.

Derek wastes no time, like he can't think or he'll explode, and puts his left hand on Stiles' waist, his right on Stiles' shoulder. Stiles puts both his hands around Derek's neck, and the alpha leans into the touch. This, the blatant trust, the welcomeness of it, is what bolsters Stiles.

They move to the slow beat, their eyes on each other's like white on rice, and everything else just doesn't exist. It's just them, and only them. No one else exists, not when they do, this close.

They move closer still, their hips touching, their foreheads against each other's. Noses touching close.

"Hey," he says, and grins when Derek does.

"Hey," Derek says back, so close that Stiles feels in his bones the word shape itself in Derek's mouth.

The music changes, then, and Stiles recognizes this one from the very first beat of it. Of course he does. It's Derek's favorite song ever.

"Did you bribe the DJ to play Apocalypse?"

Derek laughs, a quick, short one, and Stiles watches the movement of it, the beauty of Derek Hale laughing. "What if I did?"

Before Stiles can say anything, the line, "kisses on the forehead of lovers," comes on, and Derek takes a step back, only to kiss Stiles on the forehead.

Stiles' breath stops in his throat. Derek closes the gap between them again, and sways them to the beat. Stiles just follows his lead, his face having stuck itself on an astonished smile, and by the time the song is over he's just hugging Derek, tight, close, forever and ever and ever close.

Derek hums the song right in his ear, and it's perfect, Derek's breath on him, his grip, his eyes on him.

Stiles takes a step back and just looks into Derek's eyes.

"Hey," Derek says softly. They don't need words. Just this, a moment to themselves, where nothing but them exists.

Stiles doesn't even have a clue what song is playing. All he hears is Derek. His unspoken trust and devotion, his soul half of Stiles', Stiles' own soul half of Derek's. Their mingling breaths, because they're still close, just a hair apart from being one.

"Hey," he repeats, and they're both moving forward, Derek's hands on Stiles' waist, his own around Derek's neck, and they kiss.

It's gentle and slow, like time doesn't exist, could never take from them, this moment infinite, their love defying the laws of the universe and stopping time.

Because this is it. This is love, theirs and theirs only, part of its definition somewhere in the noises Stiles is making, part of it in the way Derek is touching him, moving his hands around Stiles' body, up and down, up and down, caressing him close and closer still.

Because isn't that what love is? Finding meaning in another?

After what feels like a lifetime, Derek pulls back. "Your lips, my lips, apocalypse," Derek hums against his lips, and they're so close, one breath two beings close, Stiles feels the movement of Derek's lips against his.

He lets out a small laugh. Derek swallows it down with another kiss, this one urgent, and time stills, again. Nothing exists, but this, and this moment only. Them. Arms around one another, devouring lips, tight grip, closed eyes, and peace.

They pull apart, foreheads resting against each other's, and Stiles opens his eyes to Derek's soft gaze. On him, through him, for him. He smiles, takes Derek's hand in his, dislodging it from its previous position on Stiles' waist, and brings it up to kiss the open palm of this man, who is radiant in this moment, glowing, almost, with happiness.

"Best day ever," Derek says, and he hums only the tune this time, and this time, Stiles sings the lyrics.

"Your lips, my lips, apocalypse."

"We did think it would take, like, a severe life or death situation for you two to get your shit together."

The sudden reality of a third person existing, and slowly, the reality of them being in the middle of a public dance floor in front of people has them flinching and moving apart.

"Kind of glad that didn't actually occur," Lydia continues, unperturbed.

"Definitely glad," his dad agrees.

"I do prefer you two getting together on my wedding day instead of my ER room, actually." Melissa adds.

Derek and Stiles both stare at their pack — Lydia, grinning eye to eye, a wine glass in her hand. John and Melissa beside her, their hands clasped, laughing at Derek and Stiles' wide-eyed gaze. Isaac clicking a hundred pictures of them, Erica with her full-red lips and a plate filled with food. Boyd beside his wife, hand on her shoulder, and Jackson leaning against Danny, smirking at the two of them. Cora is looking at them, that Hale look of absolute mischief. Kira and Malia have probably gone home — and nope, here they come, with a...

"Is that a banner?" Derek asks, aghast, and Stiles is right there with him. Because that fucking banner reads STEREK WINS.

"What the fuck?"

Peter comes out from the shadows, and Stiles tries to be happy about the fact that his appearance surprised everyone else present too, not just him and Derek.

"Thanks for making me win the bet. Really appreciate the $5."

"Bet?!"

His dad answers his unasked question. "We all figured you two would get together sometime during our wedding. Maybe during or after. It was just a matter of when." He points to where Malia and Kira are putting the banner up, right beside the one that says, JUST MARRIED!!! "Most of us figured the week following today, but Peter, Lydia, and Kira are the only ones who doubled down on the day being today itself."

"We're going to share our anniversary!" Melissa exclaims, happy.

Derek and Stiles just stare.

Derek turns towards him. He cocks an eyebrow up. Stiles nods with quick movements of his head.

"We, uh, are gonna go," Stiles says to the hall at large. "Have fun with your... bet, I guess. Dad, Melissa, love you guys, the rest of you, fuck off." Everyone laughs.

"We'll talk about anniversary plans later, Melissa," Derek says, and Stiles finger guns at her before realizing how stupid it looks.

Luckily, Derek picks him up, fireman carry style, and swoops him away.

Stiles groans against Derek's back. "Doofuses. Serious doofuses."

"Us or them?"

Stiles thinks. "All of us," he decides. "All of us, Derek. How the fuck were we so stupid to wait so long to get together?" They don't need to really discuss it — the kiss was just a precursor. "And why the fuck do they have to be so... ugh."

"They're still laughing," Derek says, as if that would help. "Doofuses," he agrees.

And then they're in the Jeep, Derek's camaro probably to be taken home by Isaac, and they're alone and when Derek drops him gently on the seat, Stiles lunges up to kiss.

"You make me fucking feral," Derek admits against his lips, and hey, Stiles loves where this is going. "I love you."

The words are nothing, really, but an arbitrary combination of English lexicon. But there is a meaning it — so many touches, so many moments shared between the two of them. Time spent in presence or in thoughts. All of it, leading up to this. These three words that make Stiles giddy.

"I love you too, and we really were doofuses."

"Wanna be doofuses on my bed?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

Stiles speeds it out of the parking lot of the event hall, and they do, in fact, act like doofuses on Derek's bed.

They make-out, they throw down their clothes, and they pour out their hearts with every touch, every caress, every moan; they kiss and laugh and confess, touch and worship and love.

They map out each other's bodies and lean in, snuggle, and sleep.

If all apocalypses could be so lovely, it would be great, really.

[gumnut-logic]

The footsteps on the metal decking were so obviously familiar fine footwear, Virgil didn’t need to look up to know his eldest brother had finally returned. The fact they were accompanied by wet squelches and the tap of his brother’s cane only informed him further of Scott’s mood.

Not a good one.

Virgil sighed and with a final yank on the bolt to secure it, he pushed his goggles onto his forehead, no doubt adding to the grime already in his hair.

Looking over from under Number Four and her propellers, all he could see was that fine set of shoes standing in a puddle of water. The tempered brass end of the cane, an affectation that was only partly required by his brother and was more for show than anything else, tapped again impatiently and rather loudly on the deck plates.

“You’ve returned.”

“Obviously, Virgil.” The feet shifted. “Where exactly are you?”

“Under here.” His back was on wheels and with a shove, he slid out from under his little brother’s Thunderbird.

Blue eyes as crystal clear as the ocean they were currently floating in targeted him immediately.

Virgil couldn’t help but smile upside down at his brother. Scott was far too serious most of the time and his appearance and dress clearly illustrated that at the moment. Black top hat, deep blue waistcoat, equally deep red cravat, charcoal long coat over black pants and those fine black shoes.

Virgil felt positively grimy in his dirtied shirt, old breeches and worn boots. But then his work was of a different kind to that Scott had in New York.

“What did father say?”

“He did not approve. Claimed the risk was too high and the chance too small.”

Virgil frowned. “But John’s calculations were exact. We have to investigate. If there is land there, I am sure Alan could have made it.”

Scott shifted where he stood. “Yes, well, father disagrees.”

Virgil thinned his lips. Their father wasn’t here. Their father lived in a different world despite the man creating the infrastructure and funding the efforts of International Rescue, Virgil sometimes wondered if he actually understood what his sons experienced.

A sigh and he pushed himself up off the trolley and onto his feet. Several nuts and bolts clattered to the floor, prompting a sigh from his brother.

Virgil arched an eyebrow at him before bending over to pick up the metal pieces of submarine. As his brother shifted again, he was reminded of the squelch of his entrance. “What’s leaking?” More work most likely.

“I believe Eos has been gnawing on the airlock rubbers again.”

“Again? I only repaired them last week.”

“I’ll speak to John about it.”

“He’ll love that.” The pilot of Thunderbird Five, the great docking submarine they were currently standing on tended to ignore a lot of the ‘advice’ their eldest brother offered. Since they had lost young Alan, their master navigator had taken to locking himself away for long periods of time.

Virgil made a point of barging in on him as much as possible with his medic and ‘mancy excuses. John, of course, saw through all of them to what Virgil’s interruptions were – genuine worry.

Unfortunately, Scott was much more direct and arguments often happened between the two of them. Virgil found them stressful. Fortunately or unfortunately, his brothers knew that and would stop the moment he walked in.

But still…

“Are we going anyway?” Virgil eyed his brother.

Scott’s posture was always ramrod straight, but still he managed to gain a few thirtyseconds of an inch at that comment.  “We leave at dusk.”

Damn. This was going to cause a rift the size of the Grand Canyon. Their father would be furious.

But Scott had no choice, Virgil agreed, Gordon was inconsolable and John was on the verge of losing his mind. They had to do this.

Scott’s eyes narrowed on Virgil as he grabbed a rag and wiped his hands.

A sigh. “We’re looking at least ten days travel time at Five’s top speed, give or take Cape Horn.” He knew where he would prefer to shove Cape Horn. “Best guess, I’d say a fortnight to the middle of nowhere.” He eyed his brother. “Any word from the colonial offices in the South Pacific?”

Scott’s gaze dipped. “Unfortunately, no. Neither by telegraph nor IR broadcast.”

“John has more balloons in the air.” It was a faint hope. The whole concept was a faint hope. But Virgil, like his brothers, refused to accept defeat. They would find Allie. “And the closer we get, we can launch One.” And Two. There was no way Virgil was being left out of this any more than John or Gordon for that matter.

Scott raised his head again. “If we find Three, do you think you can revive her?”

Virgil’s fingertips tingled at the thought. His affinity for mechanism had helped make this all possible. Hiram built the craft under the direction of their father, but Virgil tended them, kept them alive.

Sparks flickered at the ends of his fingers. “I will.”

Or die trying.

-o-o-o-

[lialacleaf]

The Spartan and His Pyro:

Poor Past Actions, and Their Present Consequences

Synopsis: Catherine has regrets about her past, and it may haunt her forever.

Seeing old friends often went one of two ways. You were either thrilled to see them, or you would rather have your fingernails pulled out. For Catherine, it was usually the sour kind of reunion that she found herself trapped in.

"I'm pretty sure you stole my shit."

"You had a bright future ahead of you."

"We'ren't you one of my kids's friends? We caught you sleeping in our garage once?"

Or her personal favorite, "You're looking better."

Catherine thought it wasn't hard to look "better" when people were used to seeing you hungover in the grocery store parking lot on a school night, boondocking in an old pickup truck she'd borrowed from her foster dad, along with some of his booze.

As far as she was concerned, it was her whiskey, paid for with the money the state sent as an incentive to foster. She didn't care about the legalities of it, at least until her classmates were whispering about her underage drinking habits when she stumbled through the halls the next morning, blatantly hung over.

Her clothes smelled like her foster mother's smoking habits anyway, and people had already made plenty of assumptions about her based on that. She was beyond the friendship of the clean, well-cared-for kids at her high school.

They were loved. She could tell when she looked at them, with their new clothes, shoes that didn't have holes, and freshly trimmed hair.

What was worse was the parents who saw her in the pickup line and could tell that she wasn't.

A woman once offered her some money to buy a bag for her school books, and she'd turned around and spent it on substances without an ounce of guilt. She still didn't look her in the eye in the pick-up line though.

That life, however, was galaxies away, and Catherine didn't have to think about where her next meal would come from anymore If she'd have clothes to wear, and most importantly, how long until her next drink. Her relationship with alcohol was much healthier now, and her team, her friends, were none the wiser of what she'd once been.

"I wish we didn't have to go to these things, seems like a waste of time," Kelly said, tugging at the collar of her uniform with a scowl.

Catherine simply shrugged, glancing around at the other occupants of the Rec Hall. She didn't even know whose retirement party this was, but Blue Team's presence had been requested, so she could only assume it was a high-ranking officer or a council member.

"I don't see the problem. They've got a pretty good spread," Horace interjected from beside Catherine, licking the remnants of a custard dessert from his fingers.

"Remind me why you're here?" Frederick asked with a raised brow as the Hispanic polished off a plate of fruit tarts.

"I served under the old man a while back, he was always the type to throw a big party, especially if it was in his honor," Horace explained, before elbowing Catherine in the side. "Where's your boyfriend?"

Catherine shot the soldier a glare and elbowed him right back. "Stop calling him that," she snapped. She and John hadn't exactly put a label on what they were, nor had the Master Chief declared that things between them were exclusive.

Sure, he had admitted to having feelings for her, and he'd been rather physical here and there, but nothing had been decided. She couldn't help but worry that if Horace kept up with the unwanted commentary it would become overwhelming for the Spartan, and he'd end things with her.

"John is running late, won't be here for a little while, if he comes at all," Kelly supplied, raising a brow at the redhead's hostility.

"Guess you got dolled up for nothing," Horace whispered and Catherine scoffed. She hadn't exactly put much effort into her appearance. Only curled her hair, done up her face, squeezed into a little black dress she hadn't worn since her twenties, and shoved her feet into the most damn uncomfortable pair of heels sitting in the back of her closet. Ok, so she had gotten dolled up.

It was somewhat of a relief, however, that the Chief might not even come to the party, worries that she had overdone her attire floating around in her brain. Maybe her lipstick was a little too red, or her eye makeup was too pronounced.

Catherine startled when Kelly bumped her shoulder, a worried look on her face. "Everything all right?"

She nodded, smoothing out her dress with a nervous smile. "Just peachy."

"I'm sure John will come, even if he waits until the last minute."

"Oh! no- I wasn't...that's not- nevermind. I- I need a drink." She couldn't get away from her friends fast enough. She felt like a clown as if she was attracting too much attention. She should have just stuck with her dress uniform and foregone the makeup.

She felt even more ridiculous knowing that even the Spartans themselves could see that she was just dressing up to impress the Chief. She felt like glass as if everyone around her was looking in on her most private intentions, picking out her insecurities one by one.

She was so lost in thought that she didn't even notice the familiar figure that stepped into her path until she collided with a firm chest.

"Catherine? Is that really you?"

Her eyes darted up and she felt her blood run cold. There was no way. Her mind was playing tricks on her as a result of her anxiety. It had to be.

The man before her was tall and lanky, with sandy blonde hair on his head and a pathetic amount of muscle on his arms compared to the other men in the room.

"Toby? What...what are you doing here?" she asked, looking around for something, anything to pull her away from this reunion.

"I'm here for my old man's retirement party, what are you doing here?" Toby had a grin that spread wide and showed off his teeth, pearly whites that Catherine knew to be veneers. He'd smoked his way through his real ones back in high school, and it was a miracle his lungs were still intact.

"Your...old...oh," Catherine offered him a smile that was wilting the moment it hit her face. "Wow, time really flies, doesn't it," she mumbled behind her grimace.

"Yeah, this stuck-up military stuff isn't really for me though. You know?"

"Oh I know, Toby. Boy, do I know." She anxiously wrung her hands, eyes darting around.

"Man, I miss the good old days though. You ever think about it?" he asked, a reminiscent gleam in his eyes.

A sigh of resignation left her lips. "No Toby, I, a grown woman with a job and real responsibilities, do not fantasize about hotboxing your car in the middle of January."

Toby let out a bark of laughter. "Damn, Cat. You got old and boring."

Catherine frowned, smoothing her hands over her dress self-consciously. "I'm not that old," she grumbled.

A sudden hand on her waist made her jump, and her eyes snapped up to a familiar pair of blue ones. "Am I interrupting?"

Catherine felt her heart drop into her stomach, and a strong desire to puke bubbled up in her belly despite the lack of alcohol sitting there.

"Not at all, mate! Catherine, who's your friend?" Toby gave her a cheeky grin as he eyed John's figure curiously.

Catherine felt as if the room was a hundred degrees and her knees were going to give out so that she might hit the floor like a dead weight.

"This is..." Her partner? Her significant other? Her commanding officer who was also her crush turned situationship? "Jo-" she was interrupted by her own burp, her hand flying up to cover her mouth, as her anxiety turned to full-blown indigestion. "This is John."

The air felt too thick to breathe, and if the Master Chief had noticed the tension, he didn't deem it necessary to comment on it. "Friend of yours?" he asked.

Catherine opened her mouth to reply, but Toby opened his mouth much faster. "Oh, we go waaay back. Started high school together, feels like forever ago now. Cat always knew how to have a good time. Shared a lot of our firsts," Toby supplied, bumping the Spartan's shoulder with a cheeky grin.

Between the wave of embarrassment and sudden nausea, Catherine nearly whimpered. "Toby taught me how to smoke a cigarette," she stated quickly.

John simply quirked an eyebrow, glancing between the redhead and the clearly intoxicated man before him. "I've never seen you smoke."

"Well she always preferred the reefers," Toby said so matter-of-factly that Catherine couldn't possibly suppress her grimace. She was going to kill him. He needed to shut the hell up or she was going to stuff a cream puff down his throat and watch him suffocate.

John gave little reaction, and she could only imagine the disappointment he was feeling. Surely he was realizing what a mess she really was. What a degenerate she'd been in her youth. She must have been a polished piece of shit in his eyes now.

"It's too bad you joined the military, you were a helluva good time-"

Catherine felt another nervous belch coming on and swallowed thickly. "I need some water," she interrupted, pushing past Toby, towards the bar, throwing a half-hearted goodbye over her shoulder.

The bartender had been nice enough to hand her a ginger ale, noticing the way she clutched her stomach in discomfort. She took small sips, her lip wobbling as she tried not to recount the events that had just occurred, knowing it would send her heart rate through the rough.

She took deep breaths, trying to focus on the expanding of her lungs and not the noise of the party around her. She felt his looming presence over her despite staring into her glass, her shoulders tightening and her breaths coming out shallow. She felt like she was choking.

And then suddenly he was pulling her in from the side, one hand planted firmly on her waist while the other swept from the top of her neck to the base of her spine.

"That was eventful."

Catherine simply nodded, burping softly as her stomach settled. John squeezed her hip, before moving to cup her cheek, the warmth from his palm seeping into her clenched jaw.

"You're fine," he rasped softly, and she nodded, humming in agreement despite the wheeze in her lungs. "Catherine," he urged her to look at his face, and her eyes darted there momentarily.

"I'm sorry," she blurted all of a sudden, feeling like a fool.

John didn't falter, his hand sweeping in sooting strokes down her back. "For what?" he chuckled softly. "Your friend?"

"He's not my friend," she snapped, wilting into his shoulder. "He's a prick I used to mess around with, I didn't think I'd ever see him again."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," he assured her, arms settling around her waist. "Why is this bothering you so much?" he prodded.

"I have a really good life here," her voice wavered, her hand rising to cling to one of his sturdy arms. "I really don't want to lose that because of something stupid I did in the past," she admitted.

John frowned, watching as the redhead seemed to fold in on herself. "Do you think about this often?" he asked.

Catherine swallowed thickly. "A lot. Every day." Her life was a constant battle between the joy of finally having a home, and the fear of loss and abandonment. What if Blue Team decided she was too much to handle?

John shook his head, pulling her tight against his chest. "You're a part of my team. You're mine. Even the parts of yourself that you aren't proud of." he murmured.

Catherine let out a deep sigh, allowing the tension to melt from her shoulders. “You don’t know everything I’ve done,” she warned, voice wavering.

John’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he offered her a reassuring smile. “Don’t need to.”

He’d never been under the impression that she had ever been the most well-behaved adolescent. Maybe someday he’d tell her about the time he cost Fred and Sam their dinner and ended up with a black eye.

Catherine licked her lips nervously and nodded. “Thank you, John,” she said swallowing thickly.

Her Spartan had yet to abandon her, and maybe someday she’d stop expecting him to.

Tag List:

@kittybatman04 @il0vebeingdelulu @starchaser-the-prophet

@writeforfandoms

-I think that's everyone? it's been so long since I posted for this....

Masterlist - Find the rest of the Pyro Series here!

[senashenta]

Horror High: Chapter Nine

Title: Horror High

Pairing: Destiel

Rating: Explicit (in other chapters)

Warnings: Sex, Violence

Summary: John Winchester plants his eldest son at Caspar High in Jacksonville because weird things have been happening there: people disappearing. People reappearing only dead and drained of all their bodily fluids. Cocoons. It’s up to Dean to figure out what’s stalking Caspar’s halls and deal with it accordingly; but then he meets the New Kid—newer than him, even, the New-New Kid—Castiel Novak, and all his plans get severely derailed. Now Dean has to juggle the supernatural case—a really hungry jorogumo—and also the fact that he’s very quickly falling in love, something that is absolutely forbidden by his dad.

Meanwhile Castiel, shoved into the third new school in a year because his adoptive father—Chuck Shurley’s—job has them moving around a lot, struggles to fit in at Caspar High, not only because he’s the New Kid but because he’s the weird New Kid. Dean seems like a saving grace, a harbor in a storm, someone who doesn’t judge him—that is until Cas finds out about Dean’s night job. Cas’s life just got a whole lot stranger—but that doesn’t stop him from falling for Dean, regardless.

Notes: Second-last chapter, only one more to go after this! Also available ON AO3! :D

HORROR HIGH TUMBLR MASTER POST HERE.

HORROR HIGH Chapter Nine By Senashenta

Four days into his convalescence, and Cas was already going stir-crazy.

Dean continued to visit him every day to keep him company for a while and help him with his bandages, but he could only stay for so long before he had to get back to the motel to keep an eye on Sam (or Cas’s father kicked him out so Cas could continue resting up from ‘the flu.’) They took to showering together each day, but somehow managed to keep their hands off each other after the first time (mostly.)

Cas had spent most of the first couple of days after being injured just sleeping through the pain, of course, but after that he started carefully puttering around his room, toying around on his laptop—looking up news reports about what had been found outside Caspar High the morning after the Hunt; apparently it was all being written off as a prank or vandals—and reading books. All things that didn’t pull at his wounds too much.

On the fourth day, he was sitting in bed, trying to read his copy of Good Omens and unable to concentrate at all when he finally dropped the worn paperback into the rumpled covers and flopped back. He winced faintly when the gashes on his ribs protested the movement and stared up at the stars on his ceiling for a moment.

He was bored.

A quick glance at the clock on the bedside table told Cas that Dean was late getting there: it was almost five and he was usually there by four at the latest. And it had been four days. Surely he could go outside now, at least for a little while. (His “I’ve got the flu” excuse could only last so long before his father got suspicious, anyway.)

So finally, he dropped his book on his desk and proceeded to get dressed, with only a minimal amount of wincing and cursing under his breath. His ribs really were on the mend, but there were some movements (particularly bending at the waist) that pulled them and made them protest. It made getting his shoes on when he got down to the front door an interesting feat to say the least. He was sitting on the little bench by the door, struggling to get his second shoe on when his father’s voice piped up: “Did I just hear you call your shoe an ‘assbutt’?”

Cas didn’t look up but shrugged with one shoulder. “I ran out of more creative insults.”

“Where are you going?”

“To see Dean.” He finally got his foot in his shoe and made a quiet triumphant noise as he quickly tied it.

“And you’re feeling better?”

Uh. Cas straightened, then stood, forcing himself not to wince, and gave his father a nod. “Yes.”

Chuck stepped forward and reached to rest a hand against Cas’s forehead, obviously checking for a fever, but when he didn’t feel one, he dropped his arm again and smiled. “Okay. Go on, then. Tell Dean I said hi.”

“I will!”

Cas scooted out the door before his father could change his mind, heading in the direction of downtown. It normally took just under an hour to walk between his house and the motel, but he kept having to stop and take rests or catch his breath, so this time it took longer. Still, his phone told him it was only just before six-thirty when he arrived on Dean and Sam’s doorstep, which he figured wasn’t all that bad, considering.

He knocked on the motel room door, listening for movement inside, and could hear Dean’s voice, raised, sounding aggravated—and it was Sam who finally unlatched the door and yanked it open with a surprised look on his face. “Cas!” And then he lowered his voice with a glance over his shoulder, “what are you doing here?”

“I was going crazy, cooped up in my room.” Cas lifted a hand to hold at his ribs almost absently, “and Dean was late, so I figured…” He trailed off when Dean’s voice raised another pitch before dropping back to normal again, “what’s going on?”

Sam looked over his shoulder again, then sighed and stepped aside for Cas to come in. Over by the kitchenette, Dean was pacing back and forth, his old flip phone up to his ear and a frustrated look on his face—he kept trying to say things, only to clearly be interrupted by the person on the other end of the line. Eventually he was down to simply “yes, sir” and “no, sir” over and over again. Cas very quickly figured out he was talking to his dad. When Dean looked over and saw him, surprise flitted across his face—and then he got pulled back into the obvious dressing down he was receiving from his father.

“Dad figured out he finished his Hunt a few days ago,” Sam explained, voice low, “he wanted to know why Dean didn’t call him right away.”

Cas winced at that. “Oh.”

“They’ve been going at it for almost two hours now,” Sam continued, “Dean doesn’t want to tell Dad about you, but I think he’s doing to have to. It’s… not good.”

Guilt crawled up Cas’s spine and he looked over, watching Dean argue quietly for a moment. “This is my fault.”

“It’s not.” Sam insisted. “All you did was get close to Dean. That’s not a crime.” The younger teen was currently shoving clothes into a duffle bag—

“—BECAUSE I MET SOMEONE HERE, DAD! I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!” Dean abruptly blurted from across the room, his voice nearly a shout. He had one hand planted on the kitchenette counter, green eyes glaring at the countertop harshly. “Yes, I mean a relationship, what else would I mean by ‘boyfriend’?! I—”

Cas and Sam both cringed when the voice on the other end of the phone got so loud that they could hear it demanding an explanation. Sam went back to shoving clothes in the duffle bag, shoulders hunched a little.

“—because he’s—sick—right now, Dad, and I don’t want to leave him while he’s—” Dean made a frustrated noise and glanced toward Cas from the corner of his eye. After a moment of yelling from the other end of the phone he kicked the counter in front of him and muttered, “yes, sir… I know, but—”

“Come on,” Cas was watching Dean worriedly, but Sam tugged at his arm, hefting the duffle bag of clothes up over his shoulder. “Knowing how Dean feels about you, and knowing Dad, they could be at it all night. There’s no point in standing around listening to it. I’m going to go do laundry and you’re coming with me.”

Though he was reluctant to leave, Cas understood the logic. There was also the fact that he was sure there were things Dean couldn’t say with him around. So, he gave a weak little wave in Dean’s direction and just followed Sam out the door.

The laundry room was just down the row of motel rooms, situated next to the office. It held two coin-operated washing machines and two dryers, as well as a vending machine with little boxes of laundry soap and dryer sheets, and a second vending machine with drinks and snacks. There were also a couple of cheap plastic chairs and a table to match, probably meant for folding your laundry on.

Sam dug in his pocket for some change to buy laundry soap, then emptied the bag of clothes, along with the soap, into one of the washers. A few more coins got it started, and the two of them sat down to wait. It was clear Sam had done this very thing many times before.

“I usually bring a book with me, or my laptop.” Sam explained, breaking the silence after a short while, obviously trying to ease the tension that Cas was feeling at the moment. “But having someone to talk with is good, too.” He paused, then asked, “Dean keeps telling me you’re doing okay, but he won’t let me come with him to visit you. How are you doing, really?”

Cas shifted in his seat, unwilling to admit out loud that the reason Dean didn’t want Sam to come along was that they kept climbing into the shower together. It would be more than a little awkward. Now he just shrugged and brought one hand up to rest against his own side absently. “I really am doing okay, Sam. I walked all the way here and I only had to stop and catch my breath a couple of times.”

“But your injuries?”

“They’re healing. They’re much better than they were before. I…” Trailing off for a breath, Cas smiled and offered, “I haven’t been able to thank you properly, but Dean says you’re the one who patched me up. So, thank you, Sam.”

“I couldn’t just let you bleed out.” Sam shrugged.

“And I appreciate that.” Cas chuckled softly. “Really, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Cas.”

The rest of the time the laundry was washing and drying was spent with the two of them chatting about various things; classes at school, what it was like for Sam to take classes while on the road with Dean and his Dad, the times that the brothers were unceremoniously dumped off with someone called ‘Pastor Jim’, some of the times Sam had made friends along the way (he had two friends at Bedwin Junior High that he was going to miss, Andy and Ava), Sam’s views on some of his father’s views—but also books, movies and television shows. Cas was a little lost when it came to movies and TV, but he did know his books, and Sam had an impressive library in his head considering he was thirteen. The younger boy’s memory was impeccable.

When the clothes were out of the dryer and the two of them were folding them, still warm, on the sketchy table, Cas fell silent while he worked but Sam decided to address the elephant in the room:

“I see the way you look at each other,” Sam told him almost idly, then continued; “it’s okay if you’re in love with him, you know.” He didn’t even glance up from the shirt he was folding. “I’m pretty sure he loves you, too.”

Cas didn’t jump or jolt at the words, but he did blink several times and give Sam a surprised look. Sam didn’t flinch, just kept folding laundry. Cas looked away, eyes turning downward, and was silent for a long couple of minutes before he licked his lips and managed weakly, “I don’t think he can love me, Sam. With his life, with the way things are for him.”

Sam scoffed at that. “Just because he’s a Hunter doesn’t mean he can’t love. And the way he looks at you…” Trailing off a little, the younger boy laughed softly; “he looks at you like people look at Rembrandts or the Sistine Chapel. Like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. I’ve never seen my brother this way before, the way he is with you.” Finally, Sam spared a glance over to give Cas a little smile, “I think he might even give up Hunting for you, if you asked him to.”

“I could never ask him to do that.” Cas shook his head, “being a Hunter is everything to him.”

“Not everything.” Sam corrected knowingly. “And he’s already gone against Dad for you. That’s something I never thought I’d see.” He finished folding a hoodie and his hands paused halfway to grabbing the next item of clothing. He turned a frown on Cas. “The jorogumo thing.” He said firmly, “I’m sure Dean already told you, but you were stupid, Cas. You should never have gone there, never have gotten involved. You got hurt.”

Cas brought one hand up to his ribs again, pressing there with the faintest of winces, and his eyes flickered downward. “I know.”

“What I know he didn’t tell you is how absolutely frantic he was when he brought you back here. He was panicking and Dean never panics. If you’d died, it would have destroyed him.” Sam smacked a hand into Cas’s arm lightly for emphasis before going back to folding laundry, his energy full of frustration now. “Honestly, you two are driving me nuts. You spend practically every waking minute together. And some of the sleeping ones, too. You moon over each other constantly. You almost get yourself killed and he absolutely loses his shit because of it. You’re practically living in each other’s pockets, but you’re both dancing around the issue like freaking ballerinas. I wish one of you would just say it already and get it over with.”

“It’s not that simple, Sam.” Cas offered softly. “I know you know that. You’re a Hunter, too.”

“Not by choice.” The younger teen informed him flatly before frowning over at him, “and it’s not fair! When two people find each other like you guys have—people who were clearly meant to be together—they should be able to be together with no reservations.”

“You’re an idealist.” Cas accused with a little smile. “Don’t ever let the world take that from you.” And then; “Sam, listen, I… you’re right. About how I feel about Dean. I don’t know for sure how he really feels about me, but I…” Trailing off, he shook his head. “You know. And I plan to show him as much as I can before you two have to leave, even if I can’t tell him. Okay?”

Sam grumbled under his breath but nodded anyway. “Okay.”

“You care about him a lot, don’t you? His happiness.”

“Well, yeah. He’s my brother.”

Cas’s smile grew. “You’re a good kid, Sam.”

Sam gave him a little half-grin from the corner of his eye, and they continued to fold laundry until everything was done and re-packed in the duffle bag. Then they made their way back to the motel room. When they walked in, Dean was seated on the edge of his bed, his elbows propped against his knees and his head in his hands. The cell phone was discarded on the mattress beside him.

Sam just went about putting the clothes away, but Cas sighed softly and headed over to stand in front of Dean. Dean didn’t look up, but his arms lifted to snake around Cas’s waist, and he lifted his head just enough to press his forehead into Cas’s solar plexus, just under his ribs. Cas just brought one hand up to stroke through Dean’s hair gently.

“You okay?”

Dean mumbled something under his breath and tightened his arms around Cas just the slightest bit. “M’fine.”

“You’re not.” Cas continued petting through his hair, just warmth and affection. “I’m sorry about your Dad.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Dean shook his head slightly, bangs mussing against Cas’s shirt. “I’m in so much trouble.”

“You shouldn’t have told him about me.”

“I couldn’t help it. He was hounding me, and I just…”

“I understand.” Cas smiled down at him. “I’m glad you think so much of me, Dean.”

“I… yeah.” Dean’s arms tightened around him even more, making Cas wince just faintly. “I really do.”

“You guys are disgusting.” Sam protested from the other side of the room, “get a room already.” And then; “another room.”

That finally got Dean to lift his head, though he didn’t release Cas entirely, and he leaned over to glare at his brother. “Dude, we’re not even doing anything.”

Sam was just finishing putting the last of the clothes into the drawers of the small dresser that came with the motel room. He closed the last drawer and then crossed over to shove the empty duffle bag under his bed. “You’re always doing the sappy, lovey-dovey crap, though. I could live without it. In fact, you should go to Cas’s place. Like, immediately.”

Dean made a face and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Actually, that’s not a terrible idea.” Then he looked up at Cas and added, “it’s getting late, we should get you home. How did you get here, anyway?”

Cas blinked down at him. “I walked.”

“In your condition? Cas.” Dean frowned.

“I’m okay, Dean. I made it. I’m still alive.” Cas offered a reassuring smile and toyed with Dean’s hair a little more, almost absently. Dean leaned into the touch. “Do you want to walk me home?”

That made Dean smile, just a bit. “Yeah, I could do that. Maybe stay for a little while if it’s okay with Chuck.”

“Mm, I’d like that.”

Sam made an exaggerated gagging noise.

Dean glared at him around Cas again. “You are such a little bitch sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, at least I’m not a lovesick jerk.”

-- --

Cas’s first day back to school was a Friday. He’d tried to tell his father it was pointless to send him back on the last day of the week, but Chuck had informed him that if he was well enough to leave the house and visit his boyfriend, he was well enough to go to class. Cas could kind of see his point, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with it.

Dean, of course, had stopped going to class pretty much the instant the jorogumo thing was over and done with, so was obviously not there to meet him in the morning when he arrived on the steps of Caspar High. Cas hadn’t realized just how disappointing that was going to be until the exact moment that he automatically looked for the older boy and he wasn’t there. In the end he had to quash the discomfort in his stomach and just head on inside to his locker. Alone.

He wasn’t alone for long, though. He was standing in the drama hall, digging out his books for first class, when hurried footsteps approached him from the right and suddenly someone next thing to tackled him. “CAS!”

Cas nearly bit his tongue in an effort not to yelp out a curse, stumbling sideways while his wounds throbbed painfully. At least the tackle had been on the opposite side from his injuries. After a moment of catching his breath, he brought one hand up to pat against a familiar head of red hair. Platonic affection. “Hi, Charlie.”

Coming behind Charlie, at a much more sedate pace, were Jody and Garth, and Cas gave them a little wave, which they each returned in kind. Cas hadn’t been expecting much of a welcome back after being away for the week, and this was actually kind of… nice. If abrupt and somewhat painful.

Charlie squeezed him hard once more, making him wince, before releasing him and stepping back. She tilted her head slightly. “We missed you in calculus. Where were you?”

Cas rubbed at his ribs without even meaning to. “Sorry. I was sick. I had the flu.”

“Yeah, I heard that’s going around right now.” Jody commented, “I guess it’s that time of year.”

“Exactly.” Cas agreed. He felt bad, lying to his friends like this, but it was necessary. It wasn’t like he could tell them the truth about Dean and his family and the spider monster that had been living in the school’s basement. “But I’m fine, now.”

“Not contagious?” Garth joked with a grin.

Cas blinked. “Not to my knowledge.”

“Cough on him and we’ll find out!” Charlie suggested, obviously joking.

A little smile spread across Cas’s face as it occurred to him that, just maybe, the rest of his final year of high school wouldn’t approximate torture after all, even if Dean wasn’t there. He did have friends—and he was absolutely sure they would stand up for him if they needed to. (Especially Charlie.)

“Where’s Dean?” Jody again, sounding curious, “you two are practically attached at the hip these days, I’m surprised he’s not here with you.”

“Oh,” Cas wilted visibly, and everyone’s expression immediately shuttered into something obviously sympathetic, “uh.”

Charlie reached to squeeze his arm gently. “Breakups are hard. Especially when you’re really close to the person.”

Jody and Garth nodded in agreement—but Cas quickly shook his head. “No, it’s not like that, it’s—” Breaking off, Cas let his gaze fall to the floor, eyes shifting back-and-forth as he considered his words before; “his family moves around a lot, and his Dad’s job is taking them somewhere else now, so he’s… I mean. He’s in town for a couple more days, but he’s gone from school to pack up and everything. And then he’s taking off.”

“Oh,” Was the general consensus from the other three.

“Are you okay?” Garth asked after a moment.

Cas shrugged slightly and went back to digging his geography books out of his locker. “I’m… I mean. I’m not great. But there’s texting, and video calls, and video chat on the computer, and the phone and…” Trailing off, he shoved his books in his backpack and then admitted softly; “and I’m not actually okay.”

“Oh, Cas,” When Charlie hugged him this time it was gently and with more than a bit of sympathy. “I’m so sorry, I know you two are close.”

Cas accepted the hug with a sigh—even hugged back just a little. “It hurts.” He told them quietly. “I mean… it feels like we should be together forever, and instead…”

Jody made a soft agreeing noise. “Relationships can be like that sometimes.”

But Garth was the one who actually said it; “you’re in love with him, huh?”

Charlie looked up at him, curious to see his reaction even though she already knew what it would be, but still didn’t stop hugging him. Cas’s eyes skittered away and down, and he shrugged again before admitting softly, “yes, pretty much.” He was still avoiding saying the actual words out loud, though. “And I don’t know for sure, but I think… I think he feels the same way. About me.”

There was a round of murmurs amongst the three of them. Charlie gave him another gentle squeeze before finally letting him go again and giving him a reassuring smile. “I knew you two were meant to be. If that’s the case,” She told him firmly, “then do the whole phone calls and video chat thing, for as long as you can.”

“I always thought you two made a good couple. Maybe a little odd, but good.” Jody commented with a smile, “I’m sure you’ll make it work.”

“People make the long-distance thing work all the time.” Garth added encouragingly.

“That’s…” Cas offered a little, half-hearted smile in return, “that’s what I’m hoping. Because honestly, I can’t picture my life without him at this point. Even eating lunch today is going to be weird without him. I can’t just eat in our spot by myself, right?”

“Naaaaaah,” Charlie waved a hand dismissively, “Cas, my man, you are definitely eating with us at the Weird Kids table in the caf from now on. You are a Weird Kid, now.”

“I think I was already a Weird Kid.”

“Yeah, but now it’s official.” Charlie grinned, while Jody and Garth chuckled to themselves. When the warning bell for first class went off, they all glanced up, then back at Cas. “You gonna be okay?” Charlie asked, more seriously.

Cas smiled again, a bit more real this time. “I’ll be fine, Charlie, thank you.”

“Just checking.” She brought one hand up to squeeze his arm, “we’ll get you through this.” And then, “gotta go. Come to the cafeteria at lunch today, we’ll find you!”

“Okay.”

“See you later, Cas.”

“See you.”

They all hurried off to their respective classes while Cas slumped his way to geography.

-- --

At lunch time Cas made his way to the (dreaded) cafeteria, where Charlie waved him over to a table in the corner where she, Jody, Garth were already seated, along with a girl named Jo and a younger boy named Kevin. Jo was nice and kind of reminded him of Dean in a lot of ways. She wore a lot of denim and leather and after he watched her interact with the others for a little while he understood why she fit in with them so well. Kevin was a little harder to pin down because he was quiet and didn’t talk as much as the others, but what he did say was witty and sarcastic, if awkward at times, and everyone else seemed overly fond of him. Like he was the little brother of the group.

When Cas pulled his lunch out, he discovered two sandwiches—he had packed one for Dean strictly out of habit—and wilted a little, but the others quickly changed the subject and brought him back up again, even Jo and Kevin, who had apparently already been apprised of the situation.

So, lunch hour wasn’t so bad. No one bothered them in their little corner and, Cas thought, if it was like that every day then he could probably get used to it. He would always miss Dean and their little sanctuary under the gym bleachers, though, that much he was sure of. Still, this was a passable substitute. He could get used to it. Probably.

After school, once he had packed all of his homework into his backpack, Cas didn’t even bother going home, just walked straight to the Seafoam Motel, where Dean was waiting for him. He opened the door after the cursory check through the peep hole, locks all unlatching in quick succession until Cas could smile at his boyfriend face-to-face. Dean dragged him inside by the front of his shirt and pulled him into a long, drawn-out kiss that made happiness bubble up inside him.

When he looked around after they parted, he was surprised not to see Sam. “Where’s Sam?”

“School. He always goes until the very last minute.” Dean took his backpack and deposited it beside the door, then tugged him over to sit down next to him on one of the beds. “Bedwin gets out an hour later than Caspar does. Starts an hour later, too. Unfair, really. He always got to sleep in.” A shrug, then, “how was your first day back?”

“I did okay.” Cas reached for one of Dean’s hands, toying with the older boy’s fingers gently. “I ate lunch in the cafeteria with Charlie and the others, and they introduced me to a couple more people that I also don’t have any classes with. Jo and Kevin. I think you’d really like Jo, actually. She reminds me of you.”

“Is she roguishly handsome, too?”

“Stop.” Cas bumped sideways into him with a smile. “No, she’s just tough and strong and opinionated. She’s nice, though. So is Kevin. So, I guess I have a couple more friends to ride out the year with, which is good, even if I don’t have any classes with them. I think they’ll all get me through.”

“That’s good. I know I said just each lunch with Charlie and the others, but I was a little worried.”

“You always worry about me.”

“I do.” Dean confirmed, then, “speaking of which, how’re your ribs?”

“Well Charlie full-body tackled me this morning in greeting, and that was unpleasant,” Cas grimaced slightly, “she didn’t know, obviously. But other than that, they’re okay. They still hurt, but it’s more of a bruise hurt than a huge gouges hurt now, so it’s tolerable. And the actual bruises are almost gone, just a couple are left, the ones that were the worst.”

Dean made a little pleased noise at this news, though Cas was sure he would rather have made his own assessment. “That’s great to hear. I was worried you’d be in pain all day today.”

But Cas shook his head, “no. I only had to take some aspirin once. I was fine.”

“Good.”

They were quiet for a bit, then, just sitting next to each other while Cas toyed with Dean’s fingers absently. They were both going to miss little moments like this when Dean was halfway across the country. They were soaking them in while they could.

“I just keep thinking about all the kids who go to school there and have no idea.” Dean sighed finally, “Caspar High? More like Horror High, right?”

Cas just smiled, though, and leaned sideways against his boyfriend, wincing just the slightest bit at the movement. “It isn’t Horror High to me. I met you there. It could never be Horror High, even with a jorogumo in the basement.”

Dean chuckled and turned his head to kiss against Cas’s temple. “Subjective High, then? But I think that’s pretty much all high schools. Also, it doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

“Mm.” An agreeing noise. Cas turned a little to tuck himself closer into Dean’s side. Finally, he asked, “you’ll be leaving soon, won’t you?”

“I—” Dean had to pause and swallow hard. He wrapped an arm around Cas, careful of his ribs, as if that simple act would keep them from being separated. “Yeah, I—as soon as my Dad gets here from Utah.”

“Two, three days, then?”

“He’s just finishing out his case first, but yeah…”

Cas offered a sad smile and pulled him into a kiss. “So, we’ll just have to make the next couple days count, that’s all.”

“What do you suggest?” The question was asked against his lips, into the kiss.

“I think…” Cas leaned his forehead against Dean’s and met his gaze, blue clashing with green. “I want you to stay over again, even if my Father is around. I don’t care what he thinks, I just want to be with you as much as possible until I can’t be anymore.”

Dean smiled, just a sad little quirk of his lips. “Maybe we should go on a date. A real date. Before we can’t.”

Surprise. “I’ve never been on a date before.”

Dean chuckled, “neither have I, really. What do normal teenagers do when they go on dates?”

“I think the stereotype is dinner and a movie.” Cas hummed, “but we kind of did that already when you stayed over at my place.”

“Does pizza and Netflix really count, though?”

“I have no idea,” Cas admitted. He was kind of out of his depth with this sort of thing. “What if we go to a diner? I know you probably get lots of diner food on the road, but there’s one that I keep hearing about, I think it’s called Maggie’s. Apparently, they have really good cheeseburgers? I could look them up and check out their reviews.”

Dean grinned, “you had me at cheeseburger.” He squeezed his hand in Cas’s gently. “Maybe after we can just go for a walk, like normal people. Pretend the world isn’t as screwed up as it actually is.”

“That sounds nice.” Cas agreed. “And after, you can come home with me for the night. Okay?”

“Your Dad is going to kill me.”

“No, he won’t. I think as long as I’m happy he’ll be fine. As long as we’re not too loud.”

“Were we loud?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? But there was no one else home to tell us to keep it down, so.”

“Not for nothing, but it could be awkward screwing around with your Dad in the house.”

“Well, we don’t have to have sex,” Cas clarified, then, “I mean, I would like… to have that with you, as many times as I can before you go. But just being with you is enough for me, too.”

Dean chuckled, “’as many times as you can’, huh?”

“Mm,” Cas agreed, playing with Dean’s fingers where they were tangled up with his own once more; “you’re like a drug, Dean. I can’t seem to get enough. It’s been like that since day one, since we met, I…” Trailing off a little, Cas squeezed Dean’s hand again and continued; “I consider myself incredibly lucky, that you decided to befriend me, and then more. But I’ve been addicted to you since the very first moment, and it’s only gotten worse with time. The more time we spend together, the more I get to know you, the more we do together, how close we’ve gotten—physically and emotionally. It all leaves me craving more. I’m going to go through withdrawals when you’re gone.”

“We’ll still talk,” Dean reminded him, “video chat and all that stuff you drilled into me.”

Cas smiled. “I know, but it’s not the same, is it? As being able to touch you. Kiss you.”

A soft sigh and Dean joked, “Dad is going to get really pissed off with all the weekends I take off to meet up with you in some seedy motel.”

A laugh from Cas. “Specifically seedy motels?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“You just specifically look for the seedy ones, that’s all—ah.” Cas cut himself off with a wince, letting go of Dean’s hand and bringing his own hand up to rub at one ear harshly. “That hurts…”

Dean looked at him in surprise. “What…?”

He continued rubbing at his ear, even though he knew it wouldn’t help matters, as he responded, “ever since the jorogumo, when I hit my head, I keep getting this… it’s like a ringing in my ears. Or a high-pitched whine. Sometimes both ears, sometimes just one. But sometimes it’s loud and it hurts.” Not that he wanted to give Dean anything else to worry about, but… “I’m sure it’ll stop eventually, I just have to deal with it for a while until it does.”

Dean was just opening his mouth to say something, starting to look worried, when the sudden onslaught of sound stopped—and Cas worked his jaw a couple of times, dropping his hand back down again. “See? It goes away fast.”

“I feel like you should see a doctor about that.”

“Yes, but how would I explain it to my Father?”

“Just… tell him about the ringing in your ears. You don’t have to tell him about the jorogumo.”

A fair point. “I guess.”

Dean squeezed his arm around Cas and reached to take hold of his hand again. “Promise me you’ll get it looked at?”

Cas had to smile, just a little, at Dean looking out for him again. “I promise.”

They both fell into silence then, just sitting together for a few minutes before Dean asked, “did you have homework? You should probably get working on it if you do.”

“Mm-mm.” A soft negative noise and Cas shook his head, “I mean, I do. Have homework. But I’ll do it tonight after I get home.”

“I just don’t want you to stay up too late, that’s all.” Dean toyed with Cas’s fingers gently as he spoke, “you should still be resting.”

“You worry too much.” Cas accused fondly.

But Dean just came back with a kiss and: “I worry just enough, thank you very much.”

[twinkleimagines]

frenemies

summary: You catch feelings for your nemesis Rafe Cameron and notice his change of how he started interacting with you, so you begin and hoping he feels the same, so you decide to take the risk to confront him and see what his true intentions are.

5.5k words

LONG!

Part two, part 3 , part four (final)

Warning: Language, smut, physical and verbal fighting.

Rafe Cameron.

The most loved and also the most hated Kook in the OBX.

You and your pogue friends despised this guy, or at least you were suppose to.

But for some reason, between all the bickering you two had done over the summer, you've managed to fall for him.

I know- what the fuck.

It blew your mind too. He was never nice. Always making fun of the Pogues, practically humiliating you all every chance he got. You guys were nothing but broke thieves who took whatever you wanted no matter who it hurt. You guys were scum, the dirt on the bottom of his shoe, a bunch of nobody's that will never make it anywhere in life.

Which is obviously not true, but to Rafe - that's what you ‘dirty Pogues’ were.

You didn’t care for the name calling though. You honestly could say the same thing about the Kooks. They cheat their way into life, never have to work for anything , always have mommy and daddy's money to get them through any obstacle. But you knew not all Kooks were like that. Take your best friend Kiara for example. She's a 'kook' by the book, but by the streets she’s a Full Pogue at heart.

but for some reason though, Rafe would spend most his time trying to find a way to harass the shit out of you specifically. He could have a million Pogues around him yet he always found his way through the crowd to have some conversation with you even if it was to drag your name through the mud.

You first realized the feelings you had for Rafe when you began craving his presence.

It was the annual bonfire that you and your friends had went to , a place where all teens and young adults mixed from all clicks. Tourists, Pogues, and even Kooks. Everyone was there.

You stood next to the fire with JJ and Pope, two of your closest friends as the night grew louder, more people filling in. You watched the crowds as the piled up on the sand, but your eyes roamed for Rafe himself. You were almost mad at yourself for actively searching for him. And it wasn’t even like you were looking for him so you could avoid him, but searching so you could see him and hopefully grab his attention.

You continuously questioned yourself as to Why you were looking for this jerk off to begin with. All he was going to do was put you down and try to humiliate you in front of all of your friends.

But for some reason, when your eyes landed on that tall brown headed boy, his hair for once not greased back, a wide grin on his face as he wore a black t-shirt and a red cup in his hand- your heart fluttered. You began to grin slightly, seeing him in the distance.

Despite how much of an ass hole he was, Rafe was unbelievably hot. He was toned, Tall, jaw line so sharp it could probably cut you and you could get lost in those blue eyes of his. It excited you so much when he would give you attention. Even the negative attention. At this point you just enjoyed looking at him and hearing your name flow out of his mouth.

"earth to Y/n" JJ spoke out stepping out in front of you blocking your view to Rafe, and ultimately bringing you out of your trance.

“huh” you responded dumbfounded .

“Pope thinks I’m stupid for eating food with mold on it” JJ said throwing his hands up, you grin as you watched the blonde boy try to seriously defend his theory. Pope’s eyes widened throwing his hands up as well, looking towards you for agreement.

“It’s a Fungi bro! nothing good comes from Eating mold!” Pope argued back. JJ shook his head, disagreeing with Pope’s statement .

“dude, mold is good for you ok it’s just a natural organism “ He stated, dropping his hands down to his sides.

“You’re fucking nasty” You laughed out before pushing onto JJ’s shoulder. You hadn’t realized it yet, but your laugh caught a certain boy’s attention. the moment Rafe heard that familiar tune, his head turned to your direction, his eyes focused on you as you threw your head back with laughter.

“Well well well if it isn’t Ms. Sarah Cameron “ JJ spoke as he walked up towards one of your best friend, John B, and Rafe’s younger sister, Sarah. They both looked in your direction taking a few steps away from each other as if it wasn’t obvious that they were talking.

You didn’t hate Sarah per-say, but one time she did make out with your ex boyfriend while at a party. She claimed he told her he was single and she was just looking for a good night but Sarah was known for always wanting attention so you were doubtful on the fact that she was ‘unaware’ that he was your boyfriend.

You were the only one who knew John B’s crush on Sarah. He had started working for her father after his father went missing, and you were the only one who had caught on to his different approach when Sarah was ever mentioned, or how his cheeks would go slightly red when she would walk by. You didn’t blame him, the Cameron siblings were fucking hot.

“Hi JJ’ Sarah said with a grin. You stood to the side of Pope, looking around for Kiara, only to find her sat with a group of more Pogues talking their heads off.

JJ began trying to include Sarah into his previous ‘mold is good for you’ argument while your focus drifted off, your eyes roaming the crowd once again.

You managed to look back over to where you had first saw Rafe standing, only this time he was no where to be found.

“sarah baby c’mon” you heard someone say. You looked over, Your eyes widening to see Rafe and Topper standing in front of you next to Sarah. You knew this wasn’t a group that needed to be mixed, but seeing Rafe excited you. Your eyes landed on his, your heart beginning to flutter. You hated the fact that you two were enemies. It sucked looking at someone the way you did, knowing they were only looking back at you with hatred and pure disgust. At least you thought.

“Oh c’mon Topper can’t the girl just have a little fun?” JJ laughed out, his alcohol clearly running through his veins.

“You Pogues don’t know the meaning of fun JJ” Topper laughed out. You rolled your eyes shaking your head.

“Go the fuck on Topper “ you spat out, your eyes lifting some towards Rafe before going back to Topper. You could feel yourself kicking up a sweat, maybe from the alcohol , or maybe from the fact that Rafe’s eyes were already on yours when you looked at him. He even had a smirk plastered on his face, probably from the fact he gets off on the fighting.

“Oooohhh someone’s ballsy tonight huh?” Topper laughed bringing the attention to you.

“No im just sick and tired of you stuck up kooks always trying to ruin a good time” You scoffed out, crossing your arms over chest.

“Y/n you wouldn’t know the meaning of a good time if it slapped you in the face alright?” Rafe said. He furrowed his brows together when he realized a smirk rising on your face once you looked over at him. He didn’t know what to think considering the other times you were giving him an ‘ eat shit ‘ look, but this time it was almost as if you were happy he was commenting towards you.

“Oh right, having random hook ups and snorting a line of coke every night is a good time huh Rafe?” You scoffed out sarcastly. “ yeah I think I’ll pass” You said with a roll of your eyes.

“ Listen JJ you and your little bitch need to just go back to the cut where you came from-“ you glanced at Rafe, only to see him looking at Topper with anger as if he was upset at him for calling you that , but before you could further analyze his expression, JJ pushed against Topper’s chest, slinging Topper backwards.

“you watch your mouth” JJ spat out pointing his finger towards Topper’s face. John B quickly stepped in , pulling JJ back away from Topper who was now laughing like an idiot, excited for the action that he thought was about to happen.

“Yeah go ahead Johnny boy go ahead and play dad “ Topper spat out as John B continued practically dragging JJ away from the group. “just don’t go abandoning him like your dad did ” He yelled out. Your mouth flew open in shock, seeing John B stop in his tracks but before he could even respond, your hand slapped straight across Topper’s cheek, causing his head to bounce side ways.

“go suck on your moms tits some more you fucking prick” You scowled before turning on your heals, following your friends. You didn’t even bother to stick around for anymore commentary, your only goal at this point was getting your friends the hell away from here before all hell broke loose.

“never fails man” you heard JJ screamed out in anger as you made it to the parking lot all while Pope continued trying to hush them as they stood next to the twinkie.

“JJ chill!” Pope yelled out as he tried pushing JJ into the Volkswagen but to no avail.

“no man they always get to do and say whatever the hell they want and never get any repercussions for it !” he exclaimed.

He wasn’t wrong, they really did. And if the Pogues fought back they were deemed bad and out of control. You sighed heavily as you watched JJ try to calm himself down, only to realize you had left your phone on the Log you were originally sitting at by the fire.

“Fuck I’ll be right back” You stated, only for your arm to get grabbed by John B.

“No don’t go back there” He instructed but you shook your head.

“I’ll be fine I just left my phone. “ You exclaimed before making your way back down towards the crowd of people.

“Xcuse’ me “ you mumbled as you brushed past people, making your way to the fire.

“Y/n what happened?” Kiara asked popping up from the side, placing her hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll explain later , meet you at the twinkie ok? go calm JJ down” You responded, pointing behind you with your thumb towards the van. She rolled her eyes, realizing it was a fight that had happened before turning around, making her way to your friends.

“Just can’t stay away can you?” You heard from behind you. You turn around to see none other than Rafe himself standing proudly. You rolled your eyes before turning back around, walking towards the fire once again. Despite you usually being excited to see him, tonight really put things into perspective for you.

You really were just a ‘dirty pogue’ to these guys, nothing more. There was no point to continue entertaining the thought of anything ever happening between the two of you. You were enemies, and that was all you’d ever be.

“I just came to get something Rafe go away” You huffed out.

“Oh you mean this?” He yelled out , making you stop in your track. You turned around to see Rafe holding your phone up, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“Give me that” you demanded, reaching your hand out, but Rafe pulled back, pulling it out of your reach.

“Rafe!” You yelled out with anger. “Give me my fucking phone dude” You spat out , reaching out again.

“Well what’s in it for me?” he asked , that smirk still obvious on his face.

“Rafe , please” You sighed out, dropping your shoulders slowly giving up. Between the alcohol and it being so late, you didn’t have any energy in you at this point to argue and you were just ready to go home and crash. Rafe noticed the body change in you, his grin falling from his face.

“I’m sorry” he said softly as he held out your phone to you. You were shocked. Rafe apologizing? Nobody but his father had ever heard those words coming from him so for him to say this to you really took you by surprise.

You slowly took the phone from him, your brows furrowed together in confusion.

“uhm,” you said as you pulled your arm back towards yourself. “thanks” you mumbled before turning on your heels making your way back to your friends.

“Y/n stop arguing and just do it!” Your mom yelled at you as she pushed the cleaing cart your way. You had to work with your mom today at the country club unfortunately and you were not even the slightest bit happy about it. She needed help and ‘You teenagers don’t do anything for yourselves’ as she would say, so you were stuck cleaning the floors while she did whatever it is that she does.

“Okay!” you huffed out as you picked up the broom off of the cart, aggressively beginning to sweep against the floor. You rolled your eyes as she mumbled something else to you before walking away, leaving you to clean the room alone.

It wasn’t long after that you heard some familiar voices walking down the hall way towards the room you were in. It most definitely sounded like the horrible three, Topper, Kelce and Rafe. You quickly turned your back towards the door, hoping none of them would notice you since you were alone and you against 3 just didn’t sound like a good time. You continued sweeping as you heard the group laughing as they passed the room you were in, not even paying you no mind. You sighed with relief as you realized they hadn’t noticed you and continued back to sweeping the floors.

“Hey” you heard from behind you. You jumped up gasping loudly as you turned around quickly, only to see Rafe himself standing there .

“God – fuck Rafe you scared the shit out of me. “ You breathed out, your hand over your chest as you tried to calm your heart beat down.

“sorry” he responded. There was that word again that didn’t exist in Rafe’s dictionary. You caught yourself staring before you quickly snapped yourself out of your trance, placing your hand on your hip.

“What do you want Rafe?” You scoffed out. He smirked before walking over to one of the Desks that sat in the room. You watched as he sat down on the edge, grinning as he stared over at you.

“ Never seen you here before.” He stated. You rolled your eyes before you propped your elbow up on your broom, sighing heavily.

“my mom works here. I’m just helping” You exclaimed, not that it was any of his business anyway.

“Huh” He responded nodding his head. He kept quiet once again, leaving the room silent and you beyond confused. You eventually shook your head at him, indicating for him to continue, but he didn’t.

“Look Rafe “ you started, standing yourself up straight. “I have to get back to work so unless you’re here for something important, you can go the fuck on” you finished. Rafe hopped off the edge of the desk, taking a few steps towards you , his body now hovering over yours. You began to feel your heart pound again, this time from the nerves as he stood so close to you. The smell of his cologne, grass and sweat from his Golfing lingering in your nose. you felt your hands begin getting clammy as you tried to hold your composer, your breath hitched in the back of your throat.

Rafe slowly lifted his hands, placing it under your chin, his blue eyes focused on yours. You didn’t know what to do at this point. You’ve had one on one Arguments with rafe before but none where he stood this close, and this quiet with you.

“Rafe” You breathed out as he lifted your chin, your face close together. He grinned once again, leaning in closer to you.

“You’re so beautiful” He said softly. You stared back into his blue eyes for a second before leaning in slightly. You were taken back though as he let go of your face , taking a step back and putting his hands in his pockets.

“ see ya” He responded calmy before walking back out of the room, following back to his friends.

You stood in shock, confused by Rafes actions. You were for sure positive that he was going to kiss you but he didn’t.

“what the fuck?” you mumbled before shaking your head in confusion at Rafe’s actions. You sighed heavily before sweeping your broom across the floor again, trying to regain your compose.

Most of your day went on like normal. You finished work with your mom, your mind only focused on your brief conversation you had with Rafe earlier.

It sucked because you had feelings towards Rafe, and you couldn’t tell if you were overthinking his actions or if he actually was in to you as well.

You had come to a conclusion though- it was one of two options. He was either fucking with you, or he wanted to fuck you. And you were determined to find out by tonight.

“Here goes nothing” You sighed to yourself as you stood outside TannyHill, the outside lights lighting up the big white house. You quickly jumped over the concrete fence, your feet landing in the wet grass.

Your eyes roamed the balcony, trying to remember which area you had seen Rafe standing at before. You bit your bottom lip as you concentrated, only to see Rafe himself walk by one of the windows.

“gotcha” You spoke softly before crouching down some, doing a quick jog across the field in hopes no one would see you.

You quickly managed to climb your way up the house onto the balcony you had just recently seen Rafe at. This was one of the pro’s of being a Pogue. You guys were very athletic and could always find your way to anything no matter the obstacles. You stood catching your breath as your feet finally landed on the wooden floor, the area barely lit by the light from the windows.

“What the fuck am I doing?” You said to yourself as you stood in the dark outside of what looked to be Rafe’s bedroom. You ran your hands through your hair, turning back around to face the field.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you said to yourself again as you began pacing. This is Rafe we’re talking about. Of course this man is just fucking with you. He’s been nothing but a dick to you and your friends for years. why in God’s name would he want you now? You knew you weren’t’ ugly. You were in shape, had decent hair (Even though you probably smelt like sweat sometimes because of how much you spent outside with the gang) But for the most part you cleaned up well.

Plenty of guys wanted you- but you looked nothing like any of the rich girls Rafe hooked up with. Why would he ever want you? It was clear that he was only acting this way towards you so him and his friends could have a good laugh later.

You shook your head in disbelief that you even had the balls to climb this guys house and actually think you could even ask him if he was interested in you. You began to climb back over before you heard a door open. You froze instantly, hoping they wouldn’t see you in the dark but that was just wishful thinking.

“Y/n?” You heard someone say. You mumbled a ‘ fuck’ as you recognized the voice to be Rafe.

“Uhm” You replied awkwardly as you climbed down, turning towards him to face him.

“Care to explain?” He asked throwing his hand up in your direction.

“Uhh” You said awkwardly as you ran your hand through your hair before placing them down your side.

“Y/n what the fuck are you doing climbing up my house at fucking 11 at night” he spat out. You flinched slightly at the harsh tone of his voice, your eyes roaming everywhere but his face , afraid to look at him in humiliation.

“okay so” you started, looking down at your feet. You stood for a second, wondering how you were going to explain yourself without sounding like ta total creep.

“Alight fuck it. “ you breathed out, looking up at Rafe. “You’ve been acting weird towards me, and being all like nice and flirty one minute and a complete ass the next and like – I just need clarification “ You exclaimed before you took in a deep breath, staring at Rafe as you waited for a response. You bit your bottom lip as he continued staring at you with a blank expression.

“Well?” You repeated, but he stayed quiet. You rolled your eyes, annoyed with the mind games he continued to play. “Rafe what is it? You like me or are you like fucking with me?” You spat out in frustration.

He finally changed his expression, this time a cocky smirk forming on his face. He reached out, grabbing one of your hands before walking backwards, leading you to follow him into his bedroom.

“uhh Rafe?” You questioned, confusion written all over your face as his eyes continued staring into yours.

“I’m not explaining myself” He finally spoke, his hair draped over his eyes as he looked down at you. You scrunched your face up as he reached behind you, closing the patio door. He chuckled slightly at your confusion before taking a step back away from you. “I’m just gonna show you” He exclaimed before pulling against your arm, leading you towards the bed before pushing against your shoulder, making you flop down. Your eyes widened as he walked over towards you, a smirk never leaving his face as his hand reached up, pushing away the stray hair in your face.

“You know, I’ve wanted to fuck you for quite sometime” He stated, leaning forward. “I mean look at you,-“ his eyes looked down and then back up your body, landing back onto your eyes, “You’re hot as fuck” He responded. You didn’t have a clue on what to say, so you continued in the same spot , sitting on his bed propped up on your hands behind you.

“You know for a pogue,” He finished, chucking as you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“Why didn’t you say anything ?” You finally spoke, looking up at him through your lashes. His cocky smirk left his face, only to return shortly after.

“Had to make sure the feelings mutual.” He replied , standing back up straight.

“and Who said it was?” You asked , trying to build your confidence back up. Rafe’s smirk widened before he let out a chuckle, his finger pointed out towards the balcony you were just climbing a few minutes ago.

“You did” he replied . you lowered your head some without responding, knowing he wasn’t wrong. HE stared down at you for a few seconds before he leaned in, the tip of his nose touching yours.

“Rafe” You breathed out as he stayed teasingly close.

“Hm” he hummed, not moving his face.

“Just fucking kiss me already” You demanded. Rafe happily obliged, his lips colliding with yours. Your hands immediately made their way to the back of his head, tugging on his hair.

“You wanna lay down for me ?” He asked after a few minutes of your tongues fighting for dominance. You didn’t respond other than nodding before you slowly laid yourself down, your eyes not leaving Rafe’s. Rafe grinned before unbuttoning your shorts, tugging on them. You lifted your hips up from the bed, helping him slide your shorts down as your teeth clamped down around your bottom lip. He stared at your hot pink panties, seeing the darkened area as you were already soaked.

“Soaking wet and I haven’t even touched you” He indicated. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as attempted to lower your head in embarrassment even though he could see you. Your mouth flew open as Rafe leaned down, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your damp panties, applying friction against your clit. You moaned out, leaning your head back as he placed the palm of his hand against you, rubbing up and down at a slow pace.

“Does that feel good?” He asked, his voice low and deep. You bit your bottom lip before nodding your head. Rafe grinned before he tugged on your panties, pulling them down to your ankles.

“Spread your legs open baby” He demanded , his voice calming but deep and intimidating.

You grinned before slowly spreading them open, his eyes focused on your heated core the whole time.

You laid your back flat against his bed as he got down on his knees, pulling you by your hips down to the edge of the bed, your bottom hanging off directly across his face .

“Rafe” You moaned out as you felt his warm tongue glide along your slit, his tongue stopping against your clit before he enclosed his lips, sucking slightly. He wiggled his tongue back and forth as his inserted his two index fingers into you, curving upwards. You gripped your hands against his navy blue sheets, gasping loudly as his fingers hit against your g-spot, sending tingling feelings through your body.

Rafe took one of his hands and trailed it up your stomach under your crop top, his hand groping around breasts.

You continued moaning loudly as his finger tips swirled around your nipples while his other hand continued moving rapidly against you, his eyes looking up at you in admiration.

Rafe lifted himself up, his face close to yours as his fingers continued moving inside you.

Y/n” he called out softly causing you to open your eyed and look over at him.

He placed his lips against yours as he slowly grinded himself against your side, pushing his rock hard shaft against you.

“You wanna do this?” He breathed out as he looked down at you, the pace of his fingers slowing down. You nodded looking up at him, your heart nearly pounding out of your chest.

“Yes Rafe” you practically whined out. Rafe moved himself to where he was hovering over you, his lips placed against your neck as he pulled his joggers down some, his member popping against his abs. You breathed out deeply as you watched him line himself up before slowly sliding himself in.

“ fuck” He groaned out as he felt your walls wrap tightly against him. Rafe was not only long, but he was thick all the way around, filling you more than anyone had ever done before. You placed your arms around his neck, holding him close as he began moving his hips against you.

The room was silent, only the sounds of your deep breathing and small groaning from Rafe as he continued rocking his hips in you at a steady pace, one hand placed above your head as the other gripped tightly under your thigh to hold your leg up.

“Rafe go harder” You pleaded. Rafe instead stopped his movements completely before rolling you over onto your stomach. He pulled slightly against your hips causing your bottom to stick up in the air as your face was pressed into the bed.

You gasped loudly as Rafe inserted himself into you again from behind, the new position giving him access to going deeper in you, which was exactly what he did. You felt his hand land on the back of your head, pressing you deeper into the bed as he began grinding his hips deep into you. He began slow at first but then began giving you exactly what you wanted , slamming himself into you over and over again.

At this point the pleasure was overwhelming and you couldn’t hold the moaning in as he continued rocking his hips into you, the sound of skin slapping echoing the room.

“Fuck im gonna cum” Rafe groaned out deeply in your ear, the feeling of your tight warm walls around him bringing him close to his own climax. He began placing sloppy kisses on your back, his pace speeding up. You arched your back feeling yourself clench around him as you orgasmed, your clit pulsing. You whined out, tugging on his sheets as Rafe continued to pound into you, riding out your high.

“Fuck y/n “ Rafe groaned out as he quickly pulled out, pumping himself off shooting his load on your back.

You both stayed in the same position for a few more minutes as you tried catching your breath before Rafe grabbed a napkin from his nightstand, wiping your back off.

You rolled over, laying on your back as Rafe put his bottoms back On before looking back over at you out of breath. You grinned as your eyes roamed his glistening body, his abs very prominent and his hair stuck to his forehead from sweat.

“ You should’ve definitely came to me sooner” you finally spoke out with a giggle. He sat down on the edge if the bed chuckling slightly.

“Yeah, that was nice. “ He responded. The room became silent, you both just sitting awkwardly while you laid on his bed still naked. After a moment of silence, you finally sat up, pulling his top sheet with you while getting up off the bed.

“Soo” You said awkwardly as you wrapped the sheet over your sweaty body.

“you can use the front door ” He responded looking up at you. You almost wanted to slap him at this point, realizing he was indicating for you to leave. You scoffed while rolling your eyes before turning away, picking your clothing up off the floor.

“What?” He asked as he continued sitting on the edge of the bed, noticing you aggressively picking your clothes up in anger.

“Nothing Rafe” you mumbled as you pulled your shorts back up up your legs, turning your back towards him.

“Hey” He responded standing up, grabbing your hand after you pulled your top over your head.

“What” You replied back, looking up at him with anger.

“I wasn’t saying you had to leave now I was just saying you didn’t have to climb down the house again” He exclaimed. You stood for a second before shaking your head.

“I should go anyways, it’s late” You replied before walking over towards your shoes, sliding them on over you feet. “but don’t worry I’ll take the balcony so no one sees me”. Rafe wanted to reply to your comment but instead he stayed quiet as he watched you make your way back to his balcony before stopping, leaving your hand on the doorknob.

“Uhm” You spoke , causing him to look up at you. “I’ll see you later?” You stated, more like questioned just for your own clarification. He grinned before nodding his head, walking towards you. He walked you out to the balcony, helping you over the edge before watching you climb down to the ground to make sure you made it down safely.

You did a light jog back towards the concrete wall before turning around, looking up at the balcony. You grinned when you saw him still standing there watching you. You gave him a wave before turning on your feet, climbing back over the fence and going home.

***

Sorry I’ve been incognito for a while but ya girl is back 🥲

Also,

✨As always feedback, like, and a reblog is always appreciated ! ✨

Masterlist

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

stuff

@friendlyneighborhoodcapricorn i actually didn’t plan to write this drabble right now because i was actually wanting to work on my wip, but i can’t seem to do it rn because everything that i add upsets me (you know these times when you can’t for fucks sake somehow accept your own writing? because even as you type it out it sounds shit and you want to throw yourself out of a window) so instead im doing this hoping it’ll help lol

also a gif for my mental health because I've got sport tomorrow and at this point I'm ready to get into a car accident to avoid it

(please don't mind the fact that I had to respond to my own crappy ask to do this, idk what's wrong wit tumblr on my phone rn)

You took a sip from the bottle in your hands and nodded at something JB had said, resting your hip against the doorframe. The kitchen was small enough to basically not be able to stand in it with two people, at least not when someone was working. And - as much as it surprised you - John B was, in fact, working. Cooking. You hadn’t known that he could. Even now, you were doubting it, despite the lovely smell that the simmering food had taken on. But just for safety reasons, you rather stayed standing in the doorway instead of minimising his space even further. That he managed to cook and talk and seemingly do a good job at both was shocking enough.

An arm sneaked around your waist. Then another. You couldn’t hide the little grin on your face that spread as your boyfriend pulled you closer to him, even though this had to be the bazillionth time that he’d done this.

“What exactly is that supposed to be anyway?”, you asked, pointing at the pan that JB was stirring something in and intertwining one of your hands with JJ’s while you talked. His chin found its usual place on your shoulder. Your smile only deepened.

“A secret recipe passed down by generations”, John joked. Even though he couldn't see you, you raised an eyebrow. Idiot.

"Honestly, what are you making? I want to know, that shit smells awesome."

In hindsight, that was definitely the wrong thing to say. You should've left it at his weird joke. But no - you had to ask. Of course. Of course you had to ask. Dear god.

John B seemed to never have been as passionate about anything as this. He took his sweet, sweet time explaining the ingredients, the way it was made, how he'd have to serve it later on. If this one recipe took up that much space in his brain, you were certain that he was unable to remember how to cook anything else.

At some point - he'd stopped talking to turn up the heat and then turn it down again and put another pan onto the stove, for whatever reason that you had not yet understood and didn't particularly care to (he was about ten minutes into his monologue and you'd emptied your beer already) - you heard soft snores coming from next to you. Snores. From next to you. Where JJ was still resting his head on your shoulder.

JJ had fallen asleep.

While standing. In what just had to be the most uncomfortable position to fall asleep in.

For a second, you debated what to do. But barely a moment after, you were already softly turning around, putting your beer onto the counter on your side and quietly laughing at JJ's sleepy gaze as he blinked hazily into the kitchen light.

"Hey, sleepyhead", you said. "Let's get you to bed, alright? We can skip dinner just this once."

You didn't think JJ was in any state to actually listen to and process your words, and luckily John B was so busy that he didn't hear you (he would've very much thrown a tantrum if he had), so you just took JJ's hand in yours and carefully pulled him out of the kitchen, into the hallway, and into his room, where you sat him down on his bed and took off his shoes and softly tucked him in before giving him a little kiss on the head and cuddling up to him. Hell, if he was getting into bed early, then so we're you.

[maddiwrites]

Breathe With Me

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: After finding out who hurt you on that horrific night, JJ helps you through another panic attack and makes plans to protect his girl.

Note: This was requested a long time ago after a chapter of my rewrite was posted! Instead of doing JJ x OC, like requested, I changed it to JJ x Reader so that people who don’t read my rewrite can enjoy it too. Hopefully this is okay with ya’ll. 

Word Count: 3.5k

WARNINGS: Sexual Assault!!! This chapter has descriptions of sexual assault. Please do not read if this is TRIGGERING!!!! 

National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673

Masterlist

It was another regular day on the island. Hot and crowded with tourists. With everyone working, you decided to tag along with JJ and Pope to delivery groceries for Heyward’s business. Usually this meant going to Figure Eight, your least favorite place to be. Normally it didn’t creep you out too much, but because of a rather recent incident, you didn’t like being there.

Right after your dad went missing, you spent a lot of time with Kie as she lived out her Kook Year. Avoiding the Pogues and John B and surrounding yourself with stuck up assholes and their expensive drugs and alcohol helped you forget about your own family crisis. You would do anything to take your mind off your dad’s disappearance even if it meant getting high on whatever was offered to you. You didn’t ask twice about what it was. You figured if the rich people we’re doing it, it couldn’t be that bad right?

One night you did a long line surrounded by Rafe and a couple of his buddies. Pretty much everything after that was a blur. Your memories are fuzzy, like a puzzle piece you can’t piece together. The last thing you remember is your black hitting something soft, like a mattress or a pillow. You thought you heard the zipper of your shorts being pulled down but figured it was Kie helping you change into a pair of pajamas. 

The next morning you woke up practically naked with a blanket covering your bottom half and your bra pulled down to your stomach. You began to panic and ran your hands down your side, flinching at the tenderness by your hips. The skin was yellow/green and getting ready to bruise. Your breathing became shallow and your throat tightened up. You fumbled around the room you didn’t recognize for your clothes and slid them on, not caring what was backwards or inside out. You stumbled out the door and tip toed down the long staircase of the large house you were in. Figure Eight, you thought. 

You didn’t go home first. You went to Kie’s house. Because your body ached. Because you wanted to cry but didn’t want John B or the other boys to hear you. Because you were afraid to be naked around anyone but another girl. The second she opened the door, you sobbed into her arms and told her what you think happened to you. Kie tried to get you to go to the police or even the hospital, but you couldn’t fathom the idea of anyone knowing about what happened. Not even a stranger. Because you were embarrassed. You blamed yourself for this happening to you. You were high as fuck, trying to forget about your family troubles. You were the one to make yourself weak and vulnerable. No one else. Someone just took advantage of the position you put yourself in.

Kie didn’t pressure you. She wanted to support you in whatever decision you made, despite wanting justice for you and sending whoever the sleaze bag was to jail. She sat on the toilet and talked to you as you showered slowly. You spent most of the time staring at the wall and feeling ever inch of your body. You felt so dirty and no amount of soap or scrubbing could make you feel any cleaner. 

You stayed at her house for a couple of days until John B eventually texted her because he was worried. You both decided it was time for you to go home, but you never told them what happened. You were afraid of what John B and even JJ would do if they found out. And the last thing you wanted was for either of them to get hurt or in trouble.

John B didn’t notice something was off as much as JJ did. He could tell you were being more quiet and reserved than usual. Your usual style of crop tops and jean shorts changed to sweats and baggy t shirts. You slept with your door locked and didn’t touch a single can of beer since you came home.

Moving on from that night was a slow and gruesome process, one you don’t know if you’ll ever fully recover form. Luckily for you, JJ was a great distracter. He was an amazing story teller, he could make you laugh with a small hand gesture, and his laugh could draw you in for hours. No one was surprised when the two of you eventually started dating. Not even John B, who was a little apprehensive about it at first. 

To JJ, everything came to light when another make out session became heated. Like that morning, it became hard to breathe and your mind wandered off to what could have happened to you that night. In a blink of an eye, you were back in Figure Eight with someone pulling your zipper down. You could physically feel the bruises on your hips again and your skin burning. 

A panic attack emerged and JJ was left confused and lost. Fortunately for you, he was quick to realize something was seriously wrong and helped you through it. He breathed with you and talked you down. When you were calm, you explained what happened. At first he was pissed. Pissed at whoever could have done this to you and even a little bit at you and Kie for keeping this from him. He was ready to charge out of the house, grab John B, and find the sick son of a bitch who would touch an unconscious girl. But your cries stopped him. He’s never heard pain in your voice like he did that night. It physically cracked his heart into a million little pieces and he dropped every instinct he had and stayed with you instead. 

Since then, he’s been the most supportive and protective boyfriend. At every boneyard party, he would keep an eye out for any Kook that decided to show their face on your turf. He took note of anyone looking at you in a weird way. He carried the gun he stole from Scooter in his backpack for protection. He was serious about using it too. No one touches his girl and gets away with it.

Luckily, nothing happened between JJ and any Kook. No one made a move to talk to you or tease you. Kooks kept their usual distance from you, which not only made you feel better for yourself but because you didn’t want something to happen to JJ. You know the rules of the game of this island. Nothing bad ever happens to Kooks. They don’t know consequences. 

When Pope docks his boat, he asks if you would come with him to drop groceries off at the Thorntons. If he did it alone, it would cause two trips and he doesn’t want to waste time. 

As you go to agree, JJ steps in and shakes his head as he looks between you two. “I don’t think thats a good idea.”

“Why not?” Pope asks, completely clueless.

You subtly shake your head, silently begging for JJ not to say anything. Pope and John B still didn’t know and you want to keep it that way. Sure you would feel safer with JJ by your side, but you won’t be alone. You will be with Pope. And who would try to start something in the middle of the day anyway?

“It’s fine, J,” You tell him. You even try to joke. “I’m sure you’ll survive one hour without me.”

When you kiss his cheek, JJ turns to look at you with his brows pinched together with worry. “Y/N...”

“Seriously, J...” You say. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” You whisper that last part as Pope turns to get the bags. 

“You have your phone?”

You nod and pull it out of your pocket to show him. “Yes. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

As JJ walks in the opposite direction of you and Pope, you feel the tension in your shoulders get tighter. The sight of these homes gives you flashbacks. The worst part about all of this is you don’t even know who hurt you. It could’ve been anyone - a touron even. It would be easier to know who did it so you know who to avoid. 

Pope notices your change in behavior but doesn’t mention it. Instead he keeps a silent eye on you and studies your every movement. 

As you pass the golf course, you hear a couple cat calls and cheering from a group of teenagers. When you look up, you see Rafe, Topper, and one of their friends making their way over to you. You take a step behind Pope, hiding behind his body and keeping your eyes trained down on your shoes. 

“What do we have here?” Rafe whistles as he comes closer. He looks down at the bags in your arms and the beer in Pope’s hand. “Bring us something?”

“These are already paid for,” Pope glares at them.

“Oh, right, right,” Rafe nods as if he understands. Then he takes is golf club and swings it at the brown paper bag in Pope’s arms, causing everything to spill out of it. 

“Dude!” 

“Sorry, man!” Rafe holds his hands up in fake surrender. He leans down to pick up a beer bottle and tosses it to his tall friend. “Trevor, you feeling thirsty?”

The guy, better known as Trevor, cracks the beer open and takes a long sip. When he looks down, he spots you and eyes your figure up and down. Then he smirks to himself and a shiver runs down your spine. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. Like a piece of meat or someone he knows too much of. 

Rafe catches his eye and smirks to himself. “Ah, yeah. I forgot. You and Routledge have some history.”

Pope looks over his shoulder at you and sees your chest rising and dropping at a quicker pace. You’re gripping the bags in your hands so tight that he can see your knuckles turning white. You look away from the group of Kooks at the golf course with a frown on your face. Something was wrong, Pope thought. 

“Yeah, you could say that,” Trevor chuckles. He looks at you again and tilts his head. “What? You don’t remember me?”

“Pope...” You feel like you’re choking. How could he know you when you have no idea who he is? You don’t like where this is going.

Trevor continues, “Can’t say I blame you. You were out of your mind wasted that night -”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Pope says, looking between you and Trevor. He wasn’t one to get confrontational or angry, but he didn’t like what he was hearing. He didn’t like how you were acting. Something wasn't adding up. He knew you’ve hooked up with Kooks before, but this one was different. 

“Almost as dead as her daddy,” Rafe chuckles. Something in Pope snaps and he pushes Rafe back by his shoulders. In retaliation, Rafe raises his golf club and smacks it against the middle of Pope’s back, causing him to fall down with a thump. 

“Pope!” You cry and drop the bags you were holding and kneel next to him. 

“Hey,” Trevor touches your shoulder to try and pull you away from the two fighting boys, but you flinch away from him. 

“Don’t touch me! Get away from me!” You cry.

Trevor immediately holds up his hands in surrender and takes a step back. Your outburst causes everyone to freeze in their movements, even Rafe and Pope. The wheels in Topper’s head start to move a little quicker too. He looks between you and Trevor and feels off about your connection. You looked terrified. And Y/N Routledge was almost never terrified. 

Even though you are outside, you feel claustrophobic. Your heart is beating so heavily against your ribcage that you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to break your ribs. Pope notices you’re two shades paler and having a hard time breathing. Tears are silently falling down your face and you continue to crawl away form the group of Kooks backwards. 

“Y/N...” Pope says quietly.

“We should go,” Topper says. He never hated you like some of the other Kooks did. Sure you never got along, but a small part of him thought you were cool. He knew something was extremely wrong and he couldn’t help but think it had to do with their friend, Trevor. He looks at Rafe who continues to stare at you with surprise. “Dude.”

“Yeah...” Rafe says slowly. “Trev, let’s go.”

The three Kooks scatter back to the golf course. You squeeze your eyes tightly and grip the fabric of your shirt, pulling it away from your body because right now it just feels suffocating. 

“Hey.” Pope crouches down near you and lightly touches your shoulder. His touch feels like an electric shock, making you flinch even further away. When you open your eyes, you’re back in some random Kook’s house on a mattress you’re unfamiliar with. “They’re gone. Hey, they’re gone.��� Pope tries to be gentle with you, but he also wants to get you out of here and in a more comfortable setting. 

“JJ,” You manage to say. Your throat feels on fire. “I need J-”

Pope immediately starts fumbling for his cell phone and dials his best friend’s number. He bounces on the balls of his feet as he impatiently listens to the ringing. “Come on. Come on.”

JJ answers. “Hey! Sorry I’m on my way back now. You’ll never believe how much this lady tipped me. I swear I’m coming on every -”

“JJ, shut up and listen to me. Y/N...” He glances back at you and sees you’re hunched over with your forehead resting on your knees and your fingers through your hair. “She’s having a panic attack or something. I - I don’t -”

“Where are you?” JJ’s once elated tone has dropped to a more serious one. 

Pope tries explaining what part of the golf course they are near. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes. Pope, get her under some shade or something. And if you can, try to get her to look at you. She needs to open her eyes to see where she is.” Pope nods, forgetting that JJ can’t see him. “Pope!”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Okay, doing that now.”

JJ hangs up the phone so he can run faster. 

Meanwhile, Pope crouches down in front of you again and says, “Y/N/N, hey. Can you open your eyes?” Pope lightly taps your ankles. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.” You slowly blink your eyes open and sniffle back the tears. Pope smiles when he sees he’s made some sort of progress. “Hey. JJ’s on his way. Why don’t we move you under some shade? It’s getting pretty hot out here. Can I help you up?”

You nod and let Pope help you up and bring you a couple feet away under a large tree. Your back rests against the bark and you try taking deep breaths to calm the swirling nausea in your stomach. 

It was Trevor. It had to be Trevor. From the way he looked at you, to the innuendo Rafe made. You knew in your heart that it was Trevor who had hurt you that night. 

A part of you always wanted to know who did this, but another part of you wished you never figured it out. Because now his face will haunt you forever.

About a minute later, you hear another set of footsteps quickly coming your way. You panic, your immediate thought going to Trevor. Would he come back? 

But then you hear your boyfriend’s beautiful voice. “Hey.” His tone is soft and gentle. “Hey, baby. Look at me. It’s JJ.” You open your eyes and meet the lovely blue one’s you fell in love with. He grins at you and takes your hands in his. 

“I’m so - sorry,” You sob, suddenly hating yourself for bringing this back up to your boyfriend and ruining Pope’s work routine. “I - I -”

“Hey,” JJ says and pulls your hands to his chest, palms down. “Remember what we did last time? Match my breathing, okay? Ready? Take a deep breath.”

Pope watches with awe silently from the sidelines. He’s never seen this side of either one of you. You so panic stricken and scared, JJ so intent with concern and intuitive. 

You follow JJ’s breathing until you feel calm enough to breathe on your own. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” JJ shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

You look down at your hands that are folded in your lap. You want to tell him. Of course you want to tell him. But you’re afraid of what happens next. You’re afraid of how JJ will respond.

“Rafe, Topper, and their friend Trevor jumped us,” Pope answers for you. Like JJ, he’s also curious about what happened. Of course he was there for the physical breakdown, but he wants to know more about what you’re going through emotionally. 

“Did they hurt you?” JJ looks back at you and inspects every inch of your open skin for signs of scratches or bruises. 

You shake your head. “No.”

“Then...”

“I know who it was,” You say, your voice as soft as a whisper. 

“What? You mean. -” JJ’s head snaps back and forth between you and Pope. “Who?”

You dip your chin into your chest to hide your tears as they start to flow again. You take a deep breath and look back up at your boyfriend. “Trevor.”

“Who the fuck is Trevor?” JJ looks at Pope. 

Pope shrugs, “I don’t know. He was golfing with the other two Kooks.”

“Where’d they go?” JJ stands up, causing both you and Pope to follow him.

“No, JJ -” You try to pull him back to you but he slips his wrist out of your grip. 

“JJ!” Pope calls out to JJ who walks in the direction the other three disappeared to. 

“JJ, stop!” Your voice cracks which makes JJ turn around to look at you. “Please. I just want to go home.”

JJ freezes and bites down on his bottom lip, feeling conflicted. His head is telling him to run after the Kooks and beat every single one of their faces in until he finds the one named Trevor. But his heart is telling him to walk back to you and take care of you. 

“Okay,” he decides and wraps his arm around your waist. “Let’s get you home.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After you fall asleep later that night, JJ tip toes out of your room and silently shuts your door behind him. You passed out early, exhausted from the panic attacks and crying. In the living room, Pope, Kie, and John B are waiting. You had no other choice but to tell John B what happened. Now that Pope knew, it felt wrong keeping it from your brother as well. Of course it caused an argument, but in the end, John B only wants the best for you and to protect you. Which is why they’re here now.

“Ready to go?” JJ looks directly at your brother.

John B holds up his car keys. “Let’s go.”

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” Kie grabs John B by the elbow and glares at both of them.

“Where do you think?” JJ says.

When Pope and Kie stepped out of the room to check on you, JJ and John B both secretly decided that when you fell asleep, the two of them would sneak out and find this Trevor person and give him what he deserves. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Pope says, looking between the two. “You know how this works. The two of you end up getting in trouble and he gets to walk away clean.”

“I don’t care. I’ll kill him -”

“You can’t,” Kie says.

“I’m not asking for your permission, Kie!”

“Where’s the gun?” Kie says. “If you’re going to do this, I’m not letting you bring the gun. Leave it here.”

JJ looks up at John B who reluctantly nods his head for JJ to give it up. The blonde sighs and reaches into the back of his waistband and pulls it out.

“This is a bad idea,” Pope says again even though he knows the other two don’t give a shit. In a way, he kind of respects it. He would go to if he didn’t have a scholarship to worry about.

“Keep an eye on her. We’ll be back in a couple hours,” John B says.

“You better hope you are. Because if you’re not, you’re only going to be making this worse for her,” Kie tells them.

Kie’s words have both John B and JJ rethinking their decision. But only for a split second. 

JJ nods. “Don’t worry. I’d never leave my girl behind.”

[theshelbyclan]

Happy Birthday!

Summary: It’s your birthday! And the Shelby brothers refuse to let another one of their baby sister’s birthday go by without some proper celebrating. 

(Gif by @benson-shelby​)  A/N: It’s actually my birthday today, but due to quarantine I can’t really celebrate it with anyone. So I decided to celebrate with the Shelby’s! Via this little fic, purely self-indulgent, to cheer myself up and to remember some great birthdays I had in the past ;) Set in season 1, you’re just a few years younger than John. Words: 1710 *** “John, get her tea.” “I thought you had the tea.” “Well, then get the milk!” urgent whispers sounded in the hallway. 

“I’m not your bloody maid, am I, Ada,” John spat not so quietly in return.

You were lying in bed, awake for hours already. This was the day you’d become a woman, or so Ada had said, but still, your siblings were bickering like little children. It brought a smile to your face. Another annoyed grumble, “Shhh, you’re going to wake her up!” “Am not,” he hissed, “I got your fucking milk, didn’t I!” “Oi!” another low voice joined in, “Ada, you really need to take a look at the toast.” “What about the toast, Arthur?” “Burned it,” he mumbled and you could hear John giggle softly in the dark. Ada sighed deeply, “For fucks sake, fine, I’ll do it. Wait here.” As the least subtle brothers in the world shuffled about in the hallway, you thought of your other birthdays. When you were little, they were celebrated with mum and everyone gathered. During the war, no one paid attention to birthdays any longer. And now, after the war, people tried to get their lives back on track. Only last week you’d made sure Finn had gotten a birthday he’d never forget. And now they tried to return the favour, obviously. Another few minutes and about a thousands curses passed, when they finally tiptoed into the room. Closing your eyes, you decided to play along. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Slowly you sat up and put on a groggy voice, “What are you doing in here?” “You are the worst actor ever, Y/N,” John grinned. “Am I?” you feigned innocence. Ada handed you a cup of tea as John plopped down onto bed next to you, “Did you hear about Arthur burning the toast then?” “I didn’t burn it,” he protested, “Only… blackened it a little.” Ada sent her eldest brother a look, “Polly’s making some more.” “Thanks for the tea,” you smiled and took a sip. Frowning, you narrowed your eyes at John. “You’re not a child anymore, Y/N!” he explained happily. “Move over,” Arthur shoved his brother aside and hugged you, “Happy birthday, sweetheart. This is for you, go on, open it.” Wrapped clumsily in some brown paper, he’d given you a revolver. And just as you were staring at it, Aunt Polly walked in with toast in a lovely shade of light brown. “A gun,” she demanded at once, “For fucks sake, Arthur.” “She needs it to protect herself, Pol,” he returned, and with pride in his voice he added, “And look: it’s a lady’s gun!” You turned the weapon over and saw it was small, delicate and laid in. Still, deadly as any weapon it was. “My turn,” John said, bouncing up and down in excitement almost. He handed Polly your tea and when she sniffed it, she said strictly, “Alright, who put whiskey in her morning tea?” No one answered. Quickly John handed you his present, hardly wrapped at all. Inside, you found a peaky cap, razorblades included. “Honestly, John…” Ada sighed, “She’s not a bloody Blinder!” “It’s all she’s ever wanted!” John called out, “Ever since she could walk, she tried to steal our caps, forever talking about wanting to join us wherever we went. Now she’s got her own!” “I love it,” you beamed up at him, “All I ever wanted.” “Alright,” Ada interrupted, “Clearly Y/N has too many brothers so it’s up to me to turn her into a lady.” “Please do,” Polly sighed, “Or the only interest she’ll ever have is weapons.” She knew her niece well, “That and gambling…” Your sister combed a few rebellious strands of hair behind your ear and planted a kiss on your cheek, “My darling little sister, soon you’ll learn you have more than one way of getting a man to do what you want.” You blinked a few times. This had always been more of Ada’s area of expertise. “She has no idea what you’re on about,” Polly smirked. “Thank God,” Arthur and John said in unison. “Sit still,” Ada demanded and she started applying the lipstick, “Sit. Still.” You furrowed your brows at the unfamiliar feeling, “Just your colour,” Ada commented happily, “As I thought.” “Not bad, that,” Arthur commented as he tilted his head. John leaned back and examined you as well, “Yeah, well, it’s red, isn’t it? I like red...” “Lipstick, a gun and razors,” Ada commented matter-of-factly, “the most deadly Shelby as of yet, Pol!” Aunt Polly rolled her eyes. “Happy birthday, Y/N!” eleven-year-old Finn came running to the room and jumped up into your arms, “You can have mine!” And he thrust his homemade catapult into your hands by form of a gift. “Another weapon, Pol,” Arthur eyed her, “Whatever will become of our innocent little sister?” Aunt Polly rubbed her nose and stammered a little, “Well, you know I don’t agree with you joining the family business… And God knows I’ve tried to rein you in just a little…” “But,” you interrupted, eyes glittering mischievously. “But…” she looked down, “I got you something for your shoes.” “Shoes?” you looked at the little black package she’d handed you. John suddenly burst out laughing in realisation, Arthur tried to hide his face in his hands and Ada commented dryly, “So, no better than us, eh, Pol.” Slowly you opened the package. Inside, you found a small black butterfly knife. *** A few hours had passed, with the regular nonsense that you cherished more than anything in the world. The family was gathered in the kitchen, everyone argued and life seemed perfect. But, one thing was missing. “Where’s Tommy?” you finally asked. “He had business,” Polly answered shortly, “No idea when he’ll be back.” You eyed John carefully, the brother you always turned to, “You think he forgot?” “Nah,” he tried cheering you up, “And you’re doing alright with us, right? Don’t need grumpy here…” You smiled, but still it hurt a little. And then, unexpectedly, Tommy waltzed into the house like it was any other day. “Y/N,” he announced himself coldly, “I need you to come with me.” “Why?” you challenged, “We’re just celebra-“ “I said now, Y/N. Family business.” Tommy interrupted in a low voice. “Thomas…” Aunt Polly started, but he held up a hand to silence her. Then he turned to you and repeated, “Come with me.” Begrudgingly, you got up and followed your brother. Looking back, Arthur motioned you to move it, which made you all the more suspicious. Without moving a muscle in his face, Tommy opened the door and said, “Go on.” You stepped outside and the second you did, applause resounded through the streets. In front of every house, people had gathered and they cheered like you were royalty. You couldn’t believe your eyes. “Tommy, did you…” you started. “He’s been at it all morning,” John explained as he crossed you in the doorway. A few moments later, the sound of hooves echoed in the streets. “What the hell is this,” you said at once. “This,” Tommy made a broad hand gesture, “Is a gypsy on a horse.” “And what, pray tell, is he doing in the middle of town?” You recognised Johnny Dogs now, who called out, “Little Y/N Shelby! Happy birthday, love!  How the hell are you!” “I’m grand, Johnny,” you said numbly, “What’s with the horse?” He got off the horse and patted her flank, “She was a lovely filly as first. Sweet, but could never quite be tamed. Third filly out of Shadow, gorgeous beast.” “So, we decided,” Tommy mumbled as he lit a cigarette slowly, “she needed a rider who’d understand.” “What? Being a gorgeous beast?” your cynical reply came. Tommy rolled his eyes, “ ‘could never be tamed’ “. “Well, go on,” Johnny urged, smiling from ear to ear, “Up you get, little one!” Gingerly, you walked over to the horse. As you stroked her nose, Tommy handed you his cigarette and said softly, “What do you think of her?” “She’s an absolute beauty.” Tommy nodded, “Just like you,” but before you could send him a thankful look, he’d walked off again. And with the whole of Small Heath watching on, you climbed up on the horse. *** It was almost midnight when you woke up on a hard cold bench. A splitting headache washed over you as you tried to lift your head. You touched your temple and noticed some blood on your knuckles. Vaguely, you remembered being in the Garrison only a few hours before. You remembered Tommy had closed the betting den and the pub being packed with people, all celebrating your birthday. Memories of card games, songs and laughs came back to you. And the whiskey, so much whiskey. Slowly, you hoisted yourself up. As you looked around, you recognised the inside of the police cell. And you felt at your laced up boots: the knife was still safe inside. A sigh of relief escaped you. “How’s the head, eh?” Recognising your brother’s voice, you looked up without meeting his eye. “What did I do?” you asked finally. After a pause, Tommy replied, “Well, you celebrated your birthday alright.” “Did I have fun?” “Yes, I’d say so.” You frowned, “Why am I in here?” He cleared his throat, “It started with the barmaid and ended with you head-butting a policeman. Quite the Shelby night…” “Is that pride I hear?” Tommy didn’t answer, so you send him your best innocent smile. Eventually he asked, “Was it worth it?” “Hell yes,” you replied in a flash. “Little devil, celebrating her fucking birthday, eh?” “Admit it!” you pointed at him, “you areproud!”

And Thomas Shelby actually smiled through the bars, “Fucking right I am.” When he started to walk away, you shouted, “Oi! What about my bail?” “Paid it!” he called from a distance. “How am I supposed to get home?” you raised your voice even more. Tommy’s reply echoed, “Take your horse. She’s outside.” Myhorse? And just as a policeman with a head in bandages opened the door of your cell, you smiled to yourself: Best birthday ever.

Tommy left the station before you were released, but before he’d gone, he finally said:  

“Happy birthday, Y/N.”

***

Masterlist

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!

[inastateofmind]

one day / rafe cameron

a.n. YAY for my first fic!!! please be nice because i really do not know what i’m doing. hopefully it’s okay though. feedback is greatly appreciated. let me know what yall want to see next or if i’ve left out any warnings or anything like that!

pairing: non canon rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary: y/n tutors sarah and is pining after rafe, little does she know, rafe is pining after her too. song fic inspired by one day by tate mcrae! i do not own any lyrics used. lyrics are italicized.

word count: 2440

warnings: unrequited love induced angst, fluff, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex if you squint, jealousy, kelce being kelce

“She stares at her ceiling once again with a hundred thoughts,

‘Maybe he knows who I am, probably not.’”

Y/N laid in her room quietly, Olivia Rodrigo’s “enough for you” playing faintly in the background while she stared at the ceiling above her. School had just started two weeks ago and her feelings for Kook King Rafe Cameron had only intensified since then. Working for the school’s student services, she had been assigned to tutor Sarah, which left Y/N seeing Rafe more often than her heart could physically handle. The two of them hadn’t talked much, only sharing a few passing comments to each other while she confided in his home with Sarah. The reality of their relationship was that the older Cameron sibling probably hardly knew her name, however that did not stop her from harboring feelings for him from afar for almost two years.

“She walks down the hall with her head down low, scared to meet his eyes

Even when she hears his voice she's swarmed with butterflies”

The halls of the Kook Academy were crowded with girls in short skirts and crop tops and boys in polos and khakis when the bell rang for lunch. Y/N stopped by her locker to switch out her textbooks for the second half of her day, keeping her head low as she weaved in between the crowd. “Dude, I just don’t get it. I basically used Grammarly for the whole thing and I still got a C?” She could make out Kelce’s voice in all the commotion due to the volume of his outburst. A giggle slipped out of her lips as she slipped past him, knowing the teachers in this school know when the students use programs like Kelce’s to write their papers. “Sorry, Y/L/N, is something funny?” The boy stepped towards her, causing her to finally lift her head and meet the eyes of everyone who was around. Y/N’s eyes were immediately drawn to Rafe’s, and then fallen to the hand that gripped around Kelce’s arm, making him step back from the shy girl in front of him, “Man, leave her alone.” Her eyes met Rafe’s again as he smiled at her, causing butterflies to swarm her insides as she turned and walked away, leaving Rafe victim to Kelce’s teasing of his “crush.”

“It’s impossible to get you off my mind, I think about a hundred thoughts and you are ninety-nine

I’ve understood that you will never be mine, and that’s fine — I’m just breaking inside”

“You look so hot, Y/N,” Sarah complimented, curling the last piece of her own hair while Y/N stared at herself in the mirror. Sarah had insisted she come to the annual bonfire, and in return had offered to help her get ready. “Rafe is going to die when he sees you tonight.” Y/N thought her heart stopped right then and there. She spun around quickly, staring at Sarah. “What?” Sarah laughed, fluffing her hair as she stood up. “Y/N/N, you can’t hide that from me. I figure out everything.” Y/N sighed and made her way towards the door, opening it for Sarah to lead the way. “For what it’s worth, I think he’s got a thing for you too.”

—

The bonfire was not Y/N’s scene, to say the least. By the time her and Sarah arrived, many people were already wasted. The number of people in the small space was enough to send Y/N into fight or flight mode, but Sarah was quick to pull her into the crowd with a drink and start dancing. Several songs passed before Y/N found Rafe, who already had his eyes on her. She blushed, suddenly feeling very self conscious. Was this crop top too cropped? Has she danced too bad it’s been embarrassing? Is it obvious she doesn’t belong here? She must’ve been lost in her thoughts for some time, because next thing she knew, Rafe’s hands were resting on her hips, bringing her back to earth. “Anyone home?” He joked, tapping her hips with his fingers. She laughed lightly, her nerves flowing through her body. Rafe leaned into her ear, his breath warm against her cold skin, “You look really good.” This small compliment mixed with the alcohol coursing through her veins gave her a new found confidence. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Cameron.” Y/N swore she saw a faint blush on the notorious bad boy’s cheeks, but she would never be too sure, because as quick as their moment started, it ended. “Rafe! Beer pong let’s go!” Topper yelled from behind Rafe, a crowd cheering at the mention of Rafe’s name. The boy sighed and rolled his eyes. Y/N placed a hand on his chest, “Go,” she smiled, “You can find me later.” Rafe smiled at her before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be back.” Y/N watched as Rafe ran into the crowd chanting his name, laughing as he turned around and pretended to have Topper “crown” him as the beer pong king before beginning their game.

—

An hour had passed when Y/N had begin to feel tired of chatting up random people from school. She had consumed a few more drinks while waiting for Rafe to come find her, however he never came. She decided to take things into her own hands and find Rafe herself. Standing from the log surrounding the bonfire, she swayed slightly as she walked around the small space searching for Rafe. She didn��t see him anywhere, so she had assumed he had left on his own accord. That is, until she heard whistling from Topper and Kelce. “Okay Rafey boy!” She turned quickly to see Rafe helping a skinny blonde from their calculus class into his car. Suddenly, her shoes were the most interesting thing at the bonfire. Y/N felt stupid for ever thinking Rafe cared or was attracted to her, and she felt even more stupid for thinking he was really going to come find her. “Hey,” she turned to see Sarah smiling at her sadly. “John B’s here to take us home,” Y/N cut her off, tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m going to go back to mine actually.”

“He always walks the crowded halls and is blinded by this light

A girl who keeps her head down low and never shows her eyes”

Rafe spent most of his time at school surrounded by an entourage. However, as of recently, his main focus hasn’t been the popularity or the girls flocking his way, but more so a specific girl: Y/N. He watched her in class while she worked ahead of the teacher, he noticed how she got anxious in the crowded hallways, he loved how she opened up while she hung out with Sarah after school. He had never felt so attached to a girl before, especially one he had hardly talked to. Something about Y/N just kept drawing Rafe in, making him want to be a proper gentleman and get to know her— all the weird little things and the seemingly unimportant things too. 

“He tried to talk to her but there’s no easy way

‘Cause every time he raises his voice, she runs away”

“Y/N! Hey, wait up!” Rafe yelled down the hallway, running after the girl as she beelined it to her locker. “Y/N,” She opened her locker, shoving her books into it with a sigh. “What do you want, Rafe?” His eyebrows furrowed at her tone. He didn’t understand. At the bonfire, things had been going so good. Now, he could barely get the girl to glance in his direction. “Why are you avoiding me? I thought at the bonfire…” She cut him off, slamming her locker shut. “Yeah, I thought things at the bonfire were going good too, until you left me there to go off with some girl,” She shrugged, turning and walking away before Rafe could even respond. He ran a hand through his hair out of frustration. The reality of the situation: the girl from the bonfire was truly just a friend who was far too wasted and vulnerable to get home on her own, and Rafe recognized that and offered to take her home. He couldn’t blame Y/N for thinking otherwise though, seeing as he did have quite the reputation. He glanced once more in the direction she walked off into before going to meet the younger Cameron sibling for advice.

“Oh, it’s impossible to get you off my mind

I think about a hundred thoughts and you are ninety-nine.

I’ve understood that you will never be mine and that’s fine,

I’m just breaking inside”

Rafe spent the next few afternoons in the comfort of the country club with Kelce and Topper, avoiding his home at all costs until he was sure Y/N was done tutoring Sarah. He wanted nothing more than to go home and steal the girl from his sister so they could talk things out, but he knew that would ultimately make things worse, so he kept his distance. However, the phrase “distance makes the heart grow fonder” rang true, because Y/N was the only thing on his mind. By Wednesday afternoon, he finally gave in, going straight home from school. Wednesdays for Y/N and Sarah were typically their “relaxation” day before cramming for tests on Thursday, so Rafe expected to walk into the living room to find the two of you curled up on the couch. However, the house was oddly quiet and the driveway empty. He texted Sarah, asking where they were.

“John B’s. Be back by dinner.”

John B’s?

Y/N was at John B’s?

Rafe shook his head, opening Snapchat. He looked at Sarah’s story, a picture of her, Kiara and Y/N on the HMS Pogue. He smiled at how happy she looked. The next picture was one of Sarah in John B’s lap, with Y/N in the background sporting JJ’s hat and seemingly swatting at him while he reached to take it back. Rafe’s heart dropped slightly, staring at this picture a little longer than necessary. Maybe if he would’ve stayed with her at the bonfire, that could’ve been them. Now he had basically walked the girl of his dreams into the arms of JJ Maybank. 

‘Maybe it’s better this way,’ He thought. 

But maybe he didn’t want better.

“One day, maybe she’ll stay and start to head over his way

And one day, she’ll look into his eyes and instead of breaking, she’ll call him ‘Mine’

One day, he’ll grab her by the waist and force them to meet face to face

One day he’ll look into her eyes and say that ‘You’re my only light’”

His phone ringing at 1 in the morning woke Rafe from his sleep, not even bothering to see who was calling before answering. “It better be important if you’re waking me up,” He mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Rafe, you’re too sweet sometimes, you know?” Rafe rolled his eyes, staring at the clock. “Topper, why did you call me?” His patience was wearing thin, but he knew Topper wouldn’t have called him without reason at this time of night. “I just wanted to tell you I just passed Y/N walking home by herself, I asked if she wanted me to give her a ride and she said no, but she looked pretty shaken up. I’ve still got an eye on her but I thought you might want to come,” Topper didn’t have to finish, the minute the girl’s name had fallen out of his mouth Rafe was throwing on a sweatshirt and slipping into shoes faster than he ever has before. His mind was running a million miles a minute. 

Why was she out this late by herself?

Why didn’t she call someone?

Did something already happen?

Rafe grabbed his keys and sped to Topper’s shared location, slowing down once he saw his jeep ahead of him. “I’ve got her, man. Thanks.” He hung up before pulling his car off onto the side of the road. “Y/N,” Rafe spoke as he got out, loud enough that she could hear it was him and not startle her. She turned quickly, staring at him as he approached her slowly. “I just wanted to go for a walk,” she mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone.” Rafe nodded. “I’m not mad at you, but it’s late,” he spoke gently. He could see on her face she was upset and he didn’t want to make it worse. Y/N was looking everywhere but at him. She was nervous, embarrassed, everything in between. “Hey,” Rafe whispered, placing his hands on her waist like he did at the bonfire. Her eyes met his and he could read her like an open book. He saw the nerves. He saw the sadness. “Let’s get you home.”

-

The car ride back to the Cameron household was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Rafe kept one hand on the wheel and one locked in Y/N’s, glancing over at her every few minutes to make sure she was doing okay. Back at the house, he provided her clothes to change into while he grabbed some drinks for them. Y/N sat on his bed, preparing herself for what she was about to do. It was the reason for the walk, the reason for the silence in the car. Honestly, this could be an awful time to do it, but there was no turning back now. “Okay, so I’ve got chips, cookies, water, Pepsi, mountain dew,” “Rafe.” Y/N cut him off, staring at him as she sat criss crossed on his bed. He sat everything down and stared at her, encouraging her to continue. “This could be a bad time to tell you, but I like you. I went on that walk because I needed to get you out of my head but then you showed up so clearly it didn’t work and honestly I’ve liked you for a while, and you don’t have to like me back, oh no you’re laughing,” She cut herself off at the sight of Rafe chuckling and moving towards her. “Why are you laughing?” Y/N whispered as he got close enough that he could feel his breath on her skin. “Because,” Rafe smiled, “I like you too.”

[stephspurs]

ONLY ANGEL - A John Stones Fanfiction

STEPHSPURS. - THE MASTERLIST ONLY ANGEL - FANFICTION MASTERLIST

warnings; this is 2300+ words of pure smut from start to finish, read it at your own risk besties.

PART 2.

“You know, I wore this dress with the intention of you taking it off.” Josephine whispered into the darkness of John’s hotel room. His lips pressed to the hollow of her collarbone, nipping and soothing to leave his mark. Her hands were threaded through his perfectly messy hair pushing him as close as physically possible to her sweet spot, whilst his hands were bunching up her skirt so desperate to feel the silky smooth skin of her never ending legs.

Still stood in the hallway to John’s suite, he pushed her back until she met the wall. With a flattened back and a new source of support, she pulled him closer and closer to her body - so close that neither could tell where her body ended and his began. Slowly yet surely she removed the suit jacket from his shoulders and down his arms, dropping it to the floor. His lips had not left her body once, migrating from her collarbone to their new found home behind her ear lobe. Her breathing getting heavier, hotter even, he could hear the audible effect he was having on her and he was thriving from it. Suit jacket on the floor, his shoes removed long ago, she was working on the buttons to his tight white button down. John was painfully aware of her slender fingers just grazing the skin of his chest as she made her way down the front of him, getting closer to where he wanted her most.

Feeling both of her palms flatten against his chest and spread themselves out was a feeling John never wanted to forget - the cool temperature of her hands in contrast with the heat of his chest, the steadiness he felt when she dug her nails into his pecks right above his heart that was beating in double time for her. She had forced his head off of her by a gentle but commanding pull of his hair, quick enough herself to attach her lips to the adam’s apple of his neck forcing a guttural growl to escape from the same lips he was using to praise God for the heaven-sent angel he had pinned between his body and the wall. Whilst she was busy paying his neck close attention, her hands had shifted themselves to push his shirt from his shoulders and onto the floor around them. His hands had successfully found the backs of her thighs and began to raise them, angling her hips so that their cores aligned perfectly. The feeling of her barely-there panties against his suit slacks and hardening member was enough to send him over the edge.

Flicking on the wall sconces above them allowed John to find the hidden zipper on the side of her torso, pulling it down and sliding his hand under the fabric and around the side of her chest to feel that she was not wearing a bra - although John could have told anybody that from the way her nipples hardened beneath the soft fabric of her dress whenever he leant in to speak to her and their chests brushed together. That was her first sign to him that what he was feeling for her was mutual, and deserved to be explored. Separating their lower halves for only a moment, her dress fell to the floor around her feet in a perfect mess and she took the opportunity to work on his belt. It was light work, she had both his belt and zipper undone in a matter of seconds and was forcing his trousers down his toned and tattooed thighs with her foot as she moved her mouth to his sternum. The skin on skin contact had turned the temperature in the room from the previously hot to now steamy. Paying special attention to the tattoo beneath his toned peck, John took advantage of the woman being otherwise occupied and lifted her with ease to carry her further into the room to his king size bed.

Placing her down with a feather-like gentleness in the centre of the bed, John was shocked to see her reach out and pull him down to her by his neck so he settled his body between her legs, core to core. As he had done to her just before, she took advantage of his otherwise preoccupied body and flipped them before straddling him and sitting back on her heels to marvel at the wonderboy below her. A devilish look on her face, John still thought she was the definition of an angel. To his surprise, she removed herself from him and stood at the end of the bed baring herself to him in nothing but her very small panties and a pair of black strappy Tom Ford heels - she had intentionally matched her underwear to her heels, with the hopes that she would be able to show John later in the evening. One foot up on the end of the bed, she leant herself forward so her breasts were pushed against the top of her thigh and her core was shifting within her underwear, John had half raised himself on the backs of his forearms to watch the show. Her fingers travelled down her shins to meet the buckle of her stilettos in a teasingly slow pace before moving on to her other leg, John drinking in every move her fingers made - eager and ready to feel them against his skin again.

Standing proud in front of the man who was glaring with anticipation at the small and very sheer black lace fabric covering her modesty, she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties and toyed with them before stretching them and letting the elastic snap back to her skin. The sharp sound being the only thing filling the room, other than John’s heavy breathing and the sound of her own heart pulsing in her ears, caused John’s eyes to snap back to hers. Holding his gaze, she jutted her tongue out and ran it painstakingly slowly along her bottom lip and then across the front of her perfectly shaped teeth before using them to bite down on her own lip. During this interaction, she had pulled her panties down and left them on the floor. One knee after the other, she crawled her way above the defender, who was completely defenceless and at her mercy, so she could latch her lips onto his own for the first time that evening.

A battle between two tongues, and hands moving at a feverish speed to finish undressing John whilst exploring every curve of Josephine’s body continued for the next few minutes. If there weren't any window coverings already shielding their escapades from the outside world then there would be a layer of fog over the floor to ceiling glass protecting their privacy - at least that's how hot they both thought the room was. She was still on top of him, he was still resting on his own forearms beneath him, this angle was a thing of beauty as it allowed the perfect position for their cores to rub and cause enough friction that both Josephine and John could feel themselves building together. As though he could read her mind, John asserted his dominance and flipped them over so she was flat against the mattress and he was hovering over her. One arm next to her head, the other making its way down the side of her body with enough speed that she couldn’t enjoy his hands in the same place for too long before they were dragging her attention elsewhere - although he did pay a certain amount of attention to her breast. Kneading it and flicking her nipple while he watched it visibly harden before him and for him.

His right arm was supporting the entirety of his upper body weight, his veins starting to protrude from the pressure. Josephine couldn’t help herself, she latched her mouth onto his wrist and began to suck at the skin beneath his Cartier bangle. John was surprised at how good her actions felt, having never experienced the sensation before. He was amazed at how her brain worked, how she knew exactly what points to please on his body that not even he was aware of. Feeling jealous of the fact she was tasting his skin, his warm tongue traced itself from the base of her neck, down the crevice of her chest, circled itself around the dainty navel piercing he hadn’t noticed earlier (and was now cursing himself for underappreciating it). Words had yet to be exchanged between the two, besides their praise and shouts to whatever God they chose to believe in. However her first gasp of his name came as his head dipped between her legs, his arms moving to wrap around her thighs from underneath, effectively placing the back of her legs on his shoulders as he held her in place. His tongue, licking up her folds before his lips settled around her bud and he began to suck.

Josephine could have sworn she died and went to heaven when he brought on her first orgasm of the evening with just the sheer power of his lips, his tongue, his hands gripping onto the skin of her tights. She was obsessed with how he made her his priority, she refused to believe that he gave this kind of attention to any other girl in the world. This feeling, this treatment, was reserved for her and only her. Removing her hands from the back of his head where she was pushing him closer to her heat and he brought her closer to her orgasm, the simple sight of him gazing up at her out of breath figure whilst his mouth was still attached to her sensitive skin was enough to bring her to another high. However, nothing turned her on more than being the reason for his undoing, and she was sure that there was nothing more sweet than the taste of him - maybe only the sound of her name falling from his lips in utter despair to let him release.

She coaxed him up to her with a sinister curl of her pointer finger, a tongue heavy kiss shared between the two as she yearned to taste herself on his tongue. She flipped them again and sat him back onto the pillows, wanting him upright to see the show. Straddling him so that he could feel his own saliva and her juices on his abdomen, she took a leaf out of his book and sucked her way down his chest leaving small marks on every curve of his toned abs, her long eyelashes brushing his skin as she travelled down with butterfly kisses. His hands gripped the sheets beside him in anticipation as she got closer and closer to where he needed her most. The gentle kiss she placed on each side of his pelvic bone was enough to drive him wild - his hands threading through her hair from the side of her face to get it out of her way, hands settling at the back of her head so he could feel himself hit the back of her throat. Her tongue circled the base of his length, making its way to the tip of his penis whilst her hands paid special attention to his balls. The gentle massaging coupled with the way she was now taking his whole length into his throat with no reaction other than the gentle roll of her eyes into the back of her head told John that a) she was enjoying this as much as he was and b) she had no gag reflex.

Feeling him begin to twitch in her throat, she began to slow her sucking and remove herself from him. The small bead of saliva and his pre cum on her lip had John lurching forward to capture it with his own tongue, just as eager as she was to taste herself. He gently turned them yet again, laid her down on the mattress and made sure her hair was splayed around her so that she was comfortable. His hands spread her legs and moved her right knee to be in line with his right hip, slowly filling her up with him. Physically combining their two bodies to act as one, to feel as one. His steady rhythm was driving her insane, desperate to feel him in her stomach she raised her left leg to meet his hip and locked her feet behind his back, pushing him further inside her than he thought he could get. Leaning down, he captured her left breast in his mouth, the swirling of his tongue and his hips in opposite directions was making her see stars. She was lightheaded, her body was reacting more to him than it had to anyone ever before. Knowing she wasn’t going to last long and eager for them both to cum together, she began to tighten and flex her pelvic floor at the exact moment his full length was buried in her, releasing at the perfect time for him to withdraw and repeating again until the time she didn't let him go.

The sudden lack of movement of his tongue on her breast had meant that he was close, and she moved her hands from his back to his neck - pulling him up so they were face to face. Her hands on his cheeks, his own supporting his weight on top of her, their eyes said everything that needed to be said, needed to be shared between the two. Deep groans and breathless moans into each other's mouths signal that both of them were at the edge and with their lips locked and tongues dancing they came together. They were like thunder and lightning, electric and terrifying together in the best way possible. There was an indentation in his soul of her, of their night together that was far from over. He had left his mark on her like a golden tattoo, shimmering in the hallway light and beautiful, but only for her.

PART 3.

[strawberrypaul]

miami

request: "if you're still in the mood to write.... maybe something cute about going to miami with john and the boys in '64? 💗" okay i'm so sorry if this didn't turn out the way you imagined. i just started writing and got carried away and it might not be super "cute", it has some angst but also fluff. if this is nothing like what you asked for, please let me know and i will do my best to write something else <3

word count: 3.3k oops

pairing: john lennon x f!reader

warnings: accidentaly angsty, mild verbal abuse (?) not really tho, arguments, achohol, annoying men at the pub and probably bad grammar and typos.

summary: john comes home from the studio and can't wait to tell y/n some great news; they're going to miami! but y/n is unsure and that causes some conflicts.

7 p.m. Since it’s August, and the end of summer has begun, when you lifted your head from your book and turned to look out the window - you could see the sun already setting. The entire sky was a perfect blend of warm oranges, purples and blues. The sunrays’ vibrance and warm colors seemed to find their way straight to your heart and a smile slowly showed up on your face.

It was hard not to fall in love with evenings like these. The living room was dark, only the light from a floor lamp in the corner of the room and a couple of candles lit up the room. But it was nice, cozy even. Right next to the couch’s arm rest stood a little wooden side table with a record player on top of it, softly playing “Love me Tender” by Elvis Presley - a classic choice. Everything was at peace and you were content, the only thing missing was John. Sure, you supposed you enjoyed a bit of you-time every now and then but you would be lying if you said you didn’t prefer to be alone with John. He was your partner, and your safe spot. As an all-the-time-busy woman you didn’t get the perks those other housewives got; You didn’t get to spend all day at home and you didn’t get to make dinner for your husband when he got home from work. But the thing was, that’s not what you wanted anyways. You enjoyed working, you enjoyed running errands all day, and most of all you enjoyed getting home after a long day at the office and cook dinner together with John.

With all these beautiful thoughts passing your head you found yourself missing John a lot more than just minutes before. When was he going to come back from the studio? He left at seven this morning, he’s been away for over twelve hours now. But right as you turned your head away from the clock on the wall, to dive back down in your book, the front door flew open. And with it, John came storming in. Hastily he tried to rip off his coat, throw off his shoes and started to unbuckle his belt. You simply stared at him in disbelief. Maybe you took back what you had said earlier about not enjoying time alone in complete silence. What the hell was the hurry about? Now John had rushed to your shared bedroom and you could hear him rummaging through the drawers. You shook your head and put down your book to stand up and walk over to the bedroom door frame. Crossing your arms over your chest you continued watching him throw out clothes from different drawers, waiting for him to even notice you.

“Care to say ‘Hello’?” you spoke up with a slight annoyance. His head shot up to look at you with wide open eyes, it was like he froze for a second. He let go of whatever he had in his hands to walk over to where you stood, opened his arms to embrace you. With a kiss on your head he let go of you.

“Of course, of course. Hello, dear. I’m sorry.” he hastily said. Just as you were about to ask him what on earth he was doing, making the bedroom a complete mess, he opened his mouth to speak again.

“We got great- no, fantastic, news today! You won’t be able to believe it, we’re going to Miami!” he said with excitement, face lit up with joy. “They’ve already got it all figured out with flights and hotel. And the best part; you’re coming with us!” John almost burst with excitement at this point. He waited for you to jump in his arms cheering. But you didn’t. And in no time John’s facial expression completely changed. He now had a confused look on his face. His brows were furrowed and his eyes filled with questions. He took a step back from you in an attempt to understand why you weren’t just as frantic as he was.

“Love, what’s wrong? We’re going to Miami!” he asked. You sighed, letting go of a heavy breath you didn’t know you had been holding. Your shoulders fell as you looked down on your feet. Fiddling with your fingers, you were unsure of what to tell him.

“I- uh… John, I can’t go to Miami” you started, eyes still on the floor.

“What do you mean you can’t go? You always talk about how you want to go on vacation to all these different places” he said in confusion. “Besides, it’s only two weeks” he stated. You didn’t know what to tell him. Two weeks. That’s a long time, you thought for yourself. You thought about your parents, and your job. You visited your parents about every other day, they lived nearby and since they were getting old you felt a responsibility over them. You have helped them get groceries and run errands for a large number of years now, you couldn’t just leave. What if something should happen to them, like an accident and one of them needs to get rushed to the hospital? Anxiety rose inside you as horrible thoughts crossed your mind. And work, you couldn’t just leave work behind you for two weeks. Not even for two days. Working in an office meant piles and piles of paperwork every day. You couldn’t imagine what your desk would look like when you got back from Miami, if you went. No, you simply could not go with them. You walked over to the bed and sat down. You sighed once more before you started to explain to him.

“I can’t leave my parents here, or work. You know that.” you said looking up at him with doe eyes. “What if something happens when I’m not here? No one will be there to help. And work, I will have sky high piles of paperwork on my desk when I return” you continued.

John let out a loud sigh, he sounded almost frustrated? He started walking back and forth in front of you and you stood up. Placing a hand on his shoulder you started saying “John, I’m sorry but I just-” but you got interrupted immediately.

“No. Stop. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You’re just being ungrateful. I arranged a vacation for you, to bloody Miami, and you say you can’t go because you won’t be able to take care of your adult parents for two weeks?” he snapped unexpectedly.

Your jaw dropped. Did he just say that? No, unacceptable. You would not let anyone talk down on things you held close to heart, and especially not your parents. You felt your face heat up with anger and your body fill up with adrenaline. This was not gonna be pretty.

“You did not just say that…” you started, still in disbelief. “How dare you say that?!” you spat, raising your voice at him. “Don’t you dare talk down on my parents! You know damn well how special they are to me. They have helped me so much in my life, they gave me the childhood every child deserves. The very least I can do to return the favor is to take care of them” you were almost shouting at this point, tears had begun streaming down your face. “But I guess you don’t understand that, you don’t have your parents” you muttered and you regretted every word of that sentence the second they were said.

“What did you just say?” John began quietly. You frantically shook your head. “No… no, I’m so sorry John. I didn’t mean to say that” you tried but it was too late. “Did I hear that right?” he raised his voice. “You’re standing there, shouting at me for ‘talking down on your parents’ and then you proceed to add that you assume I don’t understand because I don’t HAVE any parents?” he, too, was shouting now. “Do you hear yourself right now?” he asked angrily. You didn’t answer, you were in chock. You had to admit you were a little scared even. “I said, do you hear what you are saying right now?” he repeated with a military-like voice. You couldn’t handle this, you had to get away from this situation. You quickly grabbed your purse and wallet, put on your shoes and grabbed a coat, stormed out the front door and one second later you were gone. You didn’t know where you were going though. You couldn’t go to your parents house, you didn’t want to bother them having to explain what had just gone down. Your only, and best, friend was away on vacation, so you couldn’t escape to her house either. Ha, ironic, you thought to yourself.

You were just walking with no destination. You passed a pub, stopped, took a few steps back and decided to have a look. You entered the bar and was greeted by the smile of a middle aged man standing behind the bar. He was holding several bottles at once, making drinks for the people sat on the bar stools in front of him. You simply smiled back to him and took a seat on a free bar stool.

“What can I get for a lady like you?” the man asked politely. You gave him a fake smile. What was ‘a lady like you’ supposed to mean?

“I want a glass of whatever the strongest alcohol you have in store” you answered while straightening your back. The man looked surprised but then nodded, immediately getting started on your drink. One moment later the drink was put on the table in front of you. “That’ll be £4 then” the bartender said, still with that ridiculous smile on his face. You started digging in your wallet for some money as a male voice was heard behind you. “I’ll pay for that” the man said. You turned around to see who this man was and when you looked up you saw a tall man with slicked back hair, wearing an expensive-looking suit. He looked like the typical red-flag-guy. You’ve met a lot of those in your life, so you knew one when you saw one. You shook your head telling him you had money of your own, but thanking him for his kindness. “No, no, I’ll pay. A lady like you shouldn’t have to pay for her drinks” the man insisted, a distasteful grin showing up on his face. What’s it with all these creepy men and saying ‘a lady like you’, you thought. At this point you had almost finished your drink, but that man was not going to give up on you any time soon. You were getting tired of his ‘but you’re such a pretty lady’ and ‘I bet you I could treat you better than your man at home, I mean, why are you at a pub alone anyway?’ bullshit. You took a last sip of your drink and slammed it down on the table, catching the people around you's attention. “Fine, you can pay for my drink” you said monotonically. “But don’t you ever call me a ‘pretty lady’ again”.

Grabbing your purse you stood up and walked out the door. You had had enough. With a fast pace you instinctually started walking back home. After a few minutes of walking you felt a wave of fear wash over you. The anxiety kicked in and suddenly you were crying. You were not far away from home when you started running for your life. And as if things couldn’t get any worse, rain started pouring down. What was wrong with these men?! Can’t they leave a woman alone? The adrenaline made you run faster than you thought was possible but you suddenly stopped when you realized you had reached your front door. Your first instinct was to just open the door but you soon got reminded of what had happened before you left. So instead you took a few deep breaths and gently knocked on the door while trying to pull yourself together. But as the door opened and a man you deep down loved so dearly stood in the doorway with a tired smile, you lost it. You ran into his arms and to your relief he put his arms around you and held you close to his chest. Hearing his heartbeat immediately calmed you down and you closed the door behind the two of you. John helped you out of your clothes and into new warm ones. He made you a cup of tea and sat down beside you on the couch. He did keep a small distance though.

“I’m so sorry, John, I really am. It was a horrible thing for me to say” you shuddered, still cold from the rain. You could hear a quiet sigh come from John.

“It was, yes. But I forgive you, y/n” he said calmly, nothing like how he had shouted at you only hours ago. “Besides, the things I said - that was not okay. You’re never ungrateful, and I know how much your parents mean to you. I’m sorry, really sorry” he said and looked down to his feet. You could tell he was ashamed of earlier. But you were too, and you were going to forgive him. You stroked his cheek with your cold hand and made him look at you. “I forgive you, John. And I know, I shouldn’t worry so much about my parents. They’re adults and can take care of themselves just fine. I just feel guilt over not giving them the love they deserved when they gave me everything as a child. I guess this is my way of saying ‘thank you’ to them”. John took your hand from his cheek and held it in his. “You don’t need to explain, love. You’re too good for this world, and what you’re doing is more than enough” he told you. John’s words hit you like an arrow in your heart. It was like his words were the only piece missing in the puzzle that was your life.

Squeezing his hands you looked up into his beautiful hazel eyes, and you breathed out. “I want to go with you to Miami” you said. John’s eyes shot open and a smile appeared on his face. “What?” he said, surprised. “I said, I want to go with you to Miami” you laughed, knowing damn well he heard you the first time. John jumped up from the couch, his hands still in yours as he pulled you up with him. He grabbed you by your waist and spun you around. When he put you down, you were laughing so much your stomach hurt. John placed his index finger under your chin to make you look at him, and when you did, he pulled your face closer to his and kissed you right on your lips. It was a kiss of pure happiness and you couldn’t help but smile like a child on christmas. This was love, if anything.

John broke away from the kiss and inspected your face for a moment before speaking. “Well, we better get to packing then. The plane is at nine tomorrow morning”. You let out a giggle before giving him a peck on the lips, typical John.

The next morning you were woken up by a loud knocking on the door. You rubbed your eyes trying to see anything in the bright bedroom. You were looking for the clock on the bedside table and after trying to see what time it was you successfully read 8 a.m. You put the clock back on the bedside table and as you were about to lay back down you were hit with realization. 8 a.m?! The plane to Miami was leaving in an hour! Oh no… this was not good. You turned your head to look at John, who was of course still fast asleep. You shook his shoulders and gently patted his cheeks a couple times. He let out groans and mutters, letting you know he was at least half awake.

“John, wake up! It’s 8 a.m, if you don’t get out of bed in ten seconds we’re going to miss the flight” you informed him while getting up to open to see who was knocking on the door. Looking through the peephole on the door you saw three men with matching outfits and similar haircuts. Knowing exactly who these three men were, you opened the front door, preparing yourself for the worst. Through the door stormed George, Paul and Ringo. They immediately rushed into the bedroom to find John sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his tired eyes.

“Why’s it always you John?” Ringo asked irritably.

“Go on, out of bed you go” said George while pulling on John’s arms to help him.

Paul simply stood in the doorway with crossed arms and a smile of disbelief on his face. “What were you two up to last night? This room’s a bloody mess” he laughed. John didn’t. “Shut up” he simply replied.

You were in the hallway packing the last few things for your trip. The only thing everyone waited on now was for John to get dressed so you could leave for the airport. You had called your parents the night before, telling them about your trip. You were nervous but struck by relief when your mom basically begged for you to go. She explained how they could take care of themselves, besides, you were not going to leave them forever. It was only two weeks after all. “I’ll come over and water your plants every few days, alright?” she had said over the phone. A smile had made its way to your face and you answered with an “Alright, mom”. It had been quiet for a while as your mom spoke again “Just don’t miss us too much, okay, honey?” she sounded almost concerned. And as a wave of sadness washed over you, you said “Can’t promise you that, mom”. You said your goodbyes and hung up.

As you came back to reality after reliving the memories of your conversation with your mother from last night, John, Paul, George and Ringo stood in front of you in the hallway with sweet smiles. You smiled and nodded before opening the door. You let the four boys out of the house and before closing the door you took a last peek inside. Why was it so hard to leave home? you sighed for yourself. Maybe it was the separation from what you loved most that gave you this extreme anxiety? You didn’t come up with an answer and your thoughts got interrupted by a car honking at you. You quickly turned around to see Paul’s hand waving at you, signaling for you to get in the car. You mouthed a “I’m coming” and turned to the front door again. Crouching down you lifted up the doormat and stuck a key under it, in case your mom should stop by.

Exhaling deeply you got up and started walking away from the house. You stepped into the car and sat down next to John. He grabbed your hand and squeezed it lightly, giving you comfort. “It’ll be alright, darling. It’s only two weeks, remember?” he whispered so only you would hear him. You didn’t look at him, afraid you would break down again, but you smiled and stroked your thumb over the back of his hand. You were so grateful to have a man like John in your life, and not one of those obnoxious men at the pub. He knew how to treat you the way a woman deserves, and for that you loved him more than words can explain.

The car started rolling and you looked over to John to meet his eyes. He smiled and quietly said “Let’s go to Miami”. A broad smile soon appeared on your face as genuine happiness filled your body. “Yeah, let’s go to Miami” you replied, putting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes. Yeah... maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?

[dakarimainink]

I’m gonna fuck you the way you need to be fucked

pairing: johnny silverhand x female v

word count: 3,5K (probably too long for a one-shot)

warning: smut, rough ;), bodily ~~, multiple :o

note:  (I forgot to post this here!! I posted it on my ao3 and have received a lot of great feedback on it. ;_; )

Originally posted by john-seed

V slumped down in bed; her body worn after a stressful but successful mission. She let out a deep sigh as she kicked off her shoes and threw her jacket on the floor. She closed her eyes when the familiar sound nagging at the back of her head echoed in her ears.

“That went fuckin’ well.”

“Shut the fuck up. We got the goods.” V growled and sat up in bed. She found Johnny leaning against the wall, arms crossed with an I-don’t-care attitude. “I need some rest, so can you just fuck off for the rest of the night?”

He shifted, crossing one foot over the other and lit up his usual cigarette. “At least take a shower, you fuckin’ stink.” He took a deep drag and blew out the smoke towards V. “And you got blood covering half your face.”

V rolled her eyes in annoyance and slid out of bed. She glanced at her jacket and noticed small splatters of dried blood covering the black leather. The memory of bullet exchange and screaming ringed in her head. She shook her head at the flashback and walked over to her bathroom.

Her reflection appeared in the mirror and it was covered in blood. “Told you your face was covered in blood.” V saw Johnny’s reflection, leaning on the wall behind her. “And again, you smell like shit.”

V grabbed her hairbrush, turned around and threw it at him. He disappeared and reappeared sitting on the edge of the counter. “I knew you were going to throw that hairbrush before you threw it, dumbass. We share same mind.”

“Fuck off.” V hissed and pulled off her t-shirt. “I mean it, Johnny, piss off.” Johnny let out a sigh before disappearing in his usual glitchy way. She took off the rest of her clothes and stepped into the shower. She placed both hands on the wall as the water fell from above and flowed down her body. As her muscles finally begun to relax, she felt that itch she had before she took on the mission.

V looked over her shoulder. No sign of Johnny, even though she knew he was somewhere inside her head. She lowered her right hand and slid a single finger into her slit. A low moan escaped her lips as she curled her finger and pressed the palm of her hand on her nub. A small fire licked her insides and her head snapped back with a delicious sigh. Another finger slid in and she picked up her pace. It was heavenly to let go off some steam and to scratch the aching itch. She kept rubbing her clit, feeling an orgasm grow within her and her legs starting to shake.

“Enjoying yourself?” Johnny’s voice made V’s eyes snap open and she retrieved her hand as if she had been burnt.

“Fuck!” She barked out and looked over her shoulder. Johnny was leaning against the wall, looking up and down her body. “Johnny, for fuck’s sake!” The fire within her turned to anger and she turned off the shower. Without trying to hide her body, as she assumed he had already seen her naked all the other times she was in the shower, she grabbed a towel and quickly dried off. “Five fucking minutes, Johnny. That’s all I am asking for.” She stomped out of the bathroom and over to her closet, where she put on a pair of panties and a t-shirt.

“I felt your orgasm build up, V. Of course I’m gonna come out and have a look. Seeing you in the shower, playing with yourself.” He bit his right knuckle and tried not to think of the beautiful sight he had just seen.

V let out a deep sigh as she sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling her sore muscles sigh out with her. Johnny appeared in front of her, standing with crossed arms. “You’re not gonna finish?” He asked curiously as he looked down at her.

“No… No I won’t.” She crawled further into bed and laid beneath the duvet. “I’m going to sleep, so you may truly fuck off now.” She turned her back to him and closed her eyes shut. It didn’t take long until her worn out body fell asleep.

~

V opened her eyes. A few slivers of moonlight shone through her blinds. It was quiet and V turned to lay on her back. The aching itch was back and she bit her lip. “Ah fuck it.” She whispered and slid her hand down her stomach. She rubbed the outside of her panties and a low moan left her lips.

The friction felt good, but the ache needed more than just some soft rubs outside the silky textures of her panties. She knew she wouldn’t fall asleep again without setting an end to this itch.

She slid her slender fingers down her panties, through the dark curls and begun to make circular motions on her clit. The touch made her lightly pant and spread her legs further apart. Her middle finger slid down between her folds and bent into her wet hole. She followed with her index finger as well. Even though she wished it were more filling, it would do for now. At least she would be able to fall asleep after this.

She curled her fingers, not quite reaching the perfect spot within herself, sending a spike of frustration through her, but the sparks of joy were flickering within her. Her eyes were closed, images of past brain dances popped into her head. The erotic images and sexual noises hummed inside her head, making fingering herself more enjoyable. A moan escaped her lips as she rubbed her palm against her clit with her fingers inside.

“This isn’t gonna make you cum.” Johnny’s voice startled her. Her eyes snapped open and she found Johnny standing next to her bed.

An exasperated sigh came out of V as she rolled her eyes. “What the fuck do you know about that?” She retrieved her hand.

“I’m inside your head, V. Don’t pretend like your fetishes are unknown to me.” He crossed his arms and looked down at her. His gaze sent a shiver down her spine. “It’s fuckin’ frustrating for me as well when you keep fingering yourself, but nothing comes out of it. It’s about time someone makes you cum.” He stepped onto the bed and before V could utter a word, he was lying on his side, leaning on his right elbow next to her.

He placed his left hand on her thigh. His cold metal against her warm skin. Goode bumps popped up all over her skin. Both watched his hand slowly creep up to the apex of her thigh. His fingers slid over her panties, gently pressing down over her nub, circling it a few times before continuing up her stomach. V was already panting when his hand cupped her right breast.

“I know what you fuckin’ crave, V.” He mumbled as he pinched her nipple between his thumb and index finger. V took a sharp intake of breath as her tits perked up and Johnny moved his hand to her left breast. He gently squeezed it before pinching the nipple. “Now…” He whispered as his hand travelled further up her body. “I’m gonna do three things to you.” His hand went up to her neck and wrapped around her throat. He squeezed, lowering the oxygen intake as he forced her head to turn to him. Their gazes were locked, both filled with lust and desire. “I’m gonna eat you out.” His words tickled her insides. His breath hot on her face as he spoke. “I’m gonna fuck you the way you need to be fucked.” Her panties were already soaked from his whispered promises. “And I’m gonna make you cum so hard you’ll never have a more pleasurable experience again.” A gasp left her mouth and he caught her in the moment of shock. His lips crashed onto hers and forced them quickly apart to taste her tongue. He squeezed a little harder as their kiss grew more desperate.

He finally broke the kiss and her pleading met his dark desire. “I’ll be the only one who can make you cum after this.” He added with a smirk.

He crawled between her legs and sat on his heels. V looked at him and saw him cock up his eyebrow. Her panting quickened as he hooked the sides of her panties and swiftly pulled them off. He bundled them in his hand and inhaled slowly. “Ffffuck, you smell amazing.” He stuffed the panties in his back pocket and laid down on his stomach.

Her pussy was glistening from his dirty foreplay and the thoughts of his promised words. But Johnny wasn’t done teasing her. He wanted her to beg, just a little, before he dove into her beautiful petals to taste her delicious honey. The thought made his cock twitch beneath his pants. It made him ache to be inside of her, but he had to restrain himself. This was more about her than of him, which was unusual of him to even think of.

He placed butterfly kisses on the inside of her left thigh. Her whole body twitched with need as he slowly made his way to the apex of her thigh. His beard lightly scratching her, leaving a gentle red trail. When he reached the apex, his mouth lingered above her pussy. His hot breath sending tingles to V’s stomach. He barely flicked the tip of his tongue on her clit, making her squirm. He leaned his head back and begun the same slow torture on her right thigh. Light butterfly kisses to the apex, before gently breathing on her drenched pussy.

“Johnny, please.” V whimpered as he flicked his tongue on her clit again. “Ffffuh…” V bit her lower lip as she looked down on him. His lustful eyes smirked, and with their eyes still locked, he drew the flat of his tongue along her whole sex. V’s back immediately arched up, eyes closed and her whole body was set on fire as he dove into her delicate folds with his tongue. Her whole body was heating up, sweat prickling her brow. She slid her t-shirt over her head and threw it to the side. Her heaving breasts kissed by the slivering moonlight.

She tasted like heaven. It was like licking honey straight off the cube and his cock strained against his pants. He sucked on her clit, making her moan loudly and arch her back more. She entangled her fingers into his black locks as he continued his slaughter of eating her out.

V had never felt such pleasure from being licked, sucked and penetrated by a mouth. The sweet motions of his tongue were in stark contrast to his beard scratching against her sensitive skin. She could feel herself nearing the edge of ecstasy as his tongue dove into her. The fire had quickly broken out within her and she was gasping for air as the orgasm was on the verge of tipping her over.

Johnny reached up and grabbed her right breast, squeezing it hard in his hand as the other held her down, keeping her from moving away from his skilled tongue.

“Johnny.” She squirmed. “I’m…” She didn’t manage to end her sentence as he focused on her clit, sucking and circling it with his lips. He knew exactly where she was, and he wanted her to explode. He massaged her little bundle of nerves with the flat of his tongue up and down. Her fingers had gone from his hair to the bedsheets, clawing at the fibres beneath her.

He pressed his face deeper between her folds as she screamed out his name. Her body shaking and shivering from the high of orgasm. He licked and swallowed every drop of her delicious elixir. Her chest pumping up and down, sucking in all the air she could as she slowly made her way down. Her legs were still shaking as Johnny discarded his clothes to the side. V looked through heavy-lidded eyes the athletically built man standing on his knees between her legs, his cock brushing up against her inner thigh.

“Holy fuck, Johnny.” V whispered as the ecstasy was wearing off. V would never admit it, but she didn’t have to either, but Johnny looked good, with and without clothes. She couldn’t help but bite her lip when she realised the size of Johnny’s twitching cock. She licked her lips in anticipation.

“Not tonight, V.” He winked, with a hint of disappointment, but as he agreed with himself of earlier, this was about her, not him.

Johnny bent forward and begun trailing wet kisses from her hips, to her navel where he dipped his tongue in and up to her breasts. He caught her left nipple in between his teeth while fondling her right breast. He squeezed her right breast hard, making V gasp in pleasure.

He knew she loved it, he knew every little thing that turned her on and it drove him wild as well. The thought of controlling a woman to the finest points made him crazy. He was in full control and he knew she loved it.

He nipped and sucked on her nipple. Her fingers entwined into his hair, gently pulling at it for each nibble he took on her. V knew Johnny could make her come just playing with her tits. Hell, just the fucking dirty talk could make her completely soak her panties. His cock was gently rubbing against her drenched folds. The teasing was almost unbearable for both, but Johnny wanted her to beg more. Seeing her become so small and helpless beneath his touch made him want her more.

Another moan escaped her as he sucked on her right nipple and his cold steel hand squeezed her left breast. Her nipple hardened more from the cold touch. V enjoyed the contrast and swallowed thickly. “Johnny, please.” She begged. “I need you inside of me.” Her words grew a grin on his face, but he continued to bite her nipple. Her back arched as she sighed with pleasure.

He trailed wet kisses up to her neck and licked up to behind her ear. He caught her earlobe between his teeth before whispering into her ear. “Tell me how much you want this.” He slid his right hand down between her legs and slowly rubbed her clit. “Beg me for my cock, samurai.”

His slow torture was delicious. “Please, fuck me Johnny. I need it. I need your cock inside of me.” She pleaded between her panting and moaning. He caught her lips in his and invaded her mouth with his tongue.

He ended the kiss and caught her gaze. He spit on his fingers and lubricated his dick, even though V’s slit was more than enough coated in her cum and his spit. He pumped his shaft a few times before placing his head by her entrance. They both held their breath before he slowly entered her, feeling his cock invade her delicate folds. They both groaned at the tight and perfect fit of them both. It was if he was made for her, and only her. When he touched her deepest wall he slowly pulled out and slammed into her. It caught her by surprised and a loud moan ripped through her whole body before exiting her mouth.

He was leaning on his elbows on either side of her, keeping a medium pace for her to match. Her hips meeting him in perfect synchrony. Their breaths mingled and their eyes were locked. It was the most intimate sex V had ever had. She could never look at her one-night stands in the eyes, but with Johnny it felt natural. As if she was drawn to keep eye contact while he slammed feverishly into her.

“Fuck, V.” He breathed. “You feel fucking perfect around my cock.” His words made her arch her back, close her eyes and tilt her head back into the pillows. Johnny looked down on her bouncing breasts and watched his cock go in and out of V. His cock glistening every time the moonlight peeked through the cracks of their moving bodies.

Johnny grabbed her left thigh and pulled it up to his side, squeezing his fingers into her soft flesh. Their grunts and moans filled the quiet room as drops of sweat formed on his forehead. They both were heating up each other, but neither wanted to stop. Their flesh slapping against each other, each thrust getting louder and with more force. He was hitting her inner wall and it made her toes curls.

Her insides were twisting as the second orgasm was coming close and fast. His rhythm was punishingly good, and it was the perfect motion for her. She was starting to wonder how long he would last, as she never wanted this to end. She spread her legs further apart when Johnny leg go of her thigh. He slammed into her hard with a quickening pace, deeper with every thrust.

Her whole body shivered, toes curled and back arched as she howled out Johnny’s name. Her fingers were digging into the mattress as Johnny continued fucking her through the orgasm. He was slowly slowing down as she climber down from her high again.

“V…” Johnny panted, a drop of sweat landing on V’s glistening skin. He bent down and kissed her feverishly. She responded with as much urgency as he did. He broke the kiss and gave her a cocky smile. “Get up, hands on the window.” He pulled out of her; his cock still hard. The emptiness was unforgiving and she quickly did as he had said.

V got out of bed, faced the window and placed both hands on the chill glass. She watched Johnny’s reflection in the glass as he placed himself behind her. His soft touch almost surprised her as he stroked the backside of her thighs. He bent forward and kissed the bottom of her spine all the way up to her neck. It sent pleasant shivers down her back and a smile grew on her lips.

“Open the blinds.” He commanded with a deep voice. His finger stroke ghostly over her body, covering her body in goods bumps. She bit her lip and opened the blinds with a command. “Good girl.” The praise from him made her moan.

He placed his cock by her entrance and without warning slammed into her. The slap between their skin left a stinging sensation on V’s butt. They stood still, revelling on the sensation of being one. He stroked his hands from her back to her breasts and begun to massage them. V leaned back and rested her head on Johnny’s shoulder. He kissed her neck while slowly beginning to move.

“Fuck, you feel so good, V.” He murmured into her ear. They moaned together as he picked up his pace. He placed his left hand on her stomach and his right on her throat. He choked her gently while pressing her closer to him. “I want you to cum with me.” He groaned, half choking on the sentence as he felt her insides tighten around him. She was getting close again. His left hand slid down, his chill steel snuck between her wet and warm folds and begun rubbing her clit. She let out a loud whimper, making Johnny’s cock twitch.

“Johnny…” She gasped as he tightened his grip around her throat.

“Come on, samurai.” He mumbled through clenched teeth, trying his best to hold back. “Come with me.” He rubbed her clit faster and her knees were slowly crumbling beneath her. He squeezed harder until she could barely breathe.

Her fingers dug into his arms as her walls clenched around him. The lack of oxygen sent her higher than she had ever been. She couldn’t utter a single word and her knees finally buckled beneath her. Johnny let go of her throat and she leaned forward on the glass, gasping for air as her orgasm rippled through her body. He thrusted hard into her before letting out a loud grunt, spurting his cum inside of her. Johnny was leaning over her bent and shivering body, kissing her spine as she was still too high. He pulled her tightly to him, wrapping his arms around her from behind, feeling the shock still lingering within her. She was still at a loss for words and they stood still, watching their reflection on the window. He finally pulled out of her and they both let out a sigh. He kissed her shoulder and neck while her trembling slowed down.

Johnny led her to the bed and they laid down next to one another. Their eyes finally met and a smile painted her lips.

She opened her mouth to say something when Johnny interrupted her. “V, you’re fucking mine and mine alone.” He whispered with almost a threatening look in his eyes. “No one will ever get you this high, because I know when you’re at the verge of passing out, because I can fucking feel it too.”

“Johnny.” She interrupted him and placed a hand on his cheek. “I know.” They sealed their undisclosed contract with a deep kiss. And Johnny was right, no one would ever get her that high, except for him.