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s-brant · 3 years

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Angels Roll Their Eyes (2/2)

(gif: @toesure) (PART ONE)

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

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

Word Count: 24k

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

Hurricane Agatha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you smiling about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He isn't sure why she buys into it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

JJ misses her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Weird in what way?"

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

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

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

She sighs.

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

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

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

That part is the most fuzzy in her mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gotta catch me first!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They tried.

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

It was simple in the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fuck?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because what?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

There it is.

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

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

Her heart sinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then prove it."

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Internally, JJ is losing his shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll—"

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

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

"Promise?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's the one to break the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wasn't staring."

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

"Whatever you say."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's okay," he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could she be so stupid?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She is never skipping this song again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #obx s2 #obx #fanfiction

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broiderie · 3 years

Text

Lost Princessa 14

Part 14. Don't kill me.

Please don't copy, duplicate, or translate my work anywhere else. One of me is enough.

Thank you @drabbles-mc and @iamthegraham for keeping me sane.

Warnings: show level talk of cartel, cursing, guns, FLUFF... let me know if I missed something.

Megan woke the next morning alone, with Letty sleeping on an air bed a little ways away. The club house was completely silent, which is what probably woke her. She sat up and looked around. The coffee pot was half-full, but there were no bikers in sight.

She stood carefully and reached under the couch where she had stashed her 9 mm the night before. She chambered a round and nervously moved towards the front door. Something was WRONG, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

Out in the yard, she heard the crusher running, but most of the bikes were missing. She couldn’t see anyone working in the immediate vicinity either. Had they all gone out to work in the scrapyard early to make up for missing the day before? If so - why hadn’t someone stayed on guard at the club house like they said there would be? Had Jimmy found help and come to make good on his promise?

She slipped back inside and got dressed quietly. Apparently, Letty slept like the dead because she hadn’t moved except to snore softly.

Once dressed more appropriately for the scrapyard, Megan continued to look for someone - anyone - nearby. Chuckie wasn’t even in the office. The door to EZ’s trailer was wide open - but no sign of the prospect. Where was everyone?

She decided to make her way to the crusher. Someone had to be operating it. That meant someone was there. Who she’d find was a toss up.

Sure enough, she found Creeper running the crusher as she swept the area with her pistol.

“WOAH, Little Princess! Don’t shoot!”

“FUCK. Creeper! You scared the shit out of me! Where is everyone?” Megan holstered her weapon quickly.

“Sorry, Sweetheart. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” Creep turned the car crusher off and Megan caught sight of the electric blue metal scraps inside.

She caught her breath in shock. “Did - Did you get him?” she asked breathlessly.

“Shhh. Settle down. Don’t panic on me. Deep breaths and I’ll tell you what I know. Breathe, Princess.” He watched her take a few deep breaths. “Good girl. C’mon. Let’s go sit down.” He led her to the little break area the guys had set up in the shade with some old car seats.

Once she was seated, she looked at him expectantly.

“Alright, alright. Don’t give me the puppy eyes. I told you I’d tell you, and I will.” He sat across from her and sighed as he rubbed across his bald scalp. “As far as I know they haven’t gotten him yet, but the last update was a few hours ago. Last night, a few of the guys went to meet up with Galindo’s head of security. He’d spotted Melton’s car parked at the motel near the diner in town. He couldn’t stop at the time to see if it was him, but he called anyway. Bishop and some of the guys went to check. As soon as they went into the diner, Melton cut out the back. Angel and EZ chased him, but he lost them. Bishop called for the tow and we took his car to keep him from running far. Stripped it for parts and crushed it. Now he ain’t got a way outta town. The guys are all in the streets looking for him while I took care of the car and Gilly guarded you girls.”

“I ain’t seen Gilly, Creep! I ain’t seen no one but you this morning and Letty is still passed out.” Megan looked alarmed and stood to rush back to the club house to check on the Mayan and the girl.

Creeper caught her. “Woah, there Little Princess. Don’t panic yet. Lemme call Gilly. He may have gone on a patrol around the walls and you just missed him. Relax a second.”

Creeper’s burner rang just then and he answered it. “Dude! Will you fucking chill?! I got la princessa here with me. Some guard you turned out to be. Yeah. We’re on our way.” He hung up with a long suffering sigh. “See. All good. Asshole went to take a leak and you disappeared on him. He’s as panicked as you are. C’mon. Let’s get back and get you fed before your pops has both our heads on a platter.”

Shortly after Creeper got Megan settled at a table with a cup of coffee, the roar of bikes was heard from outside. The rest of the club came in. The younger members were jostling each other jokingly as they made for the coffee pot. After looking them over to be sure they were whole, she noticed that the only one missing was Marcus.

“Good morning, Chica. Sleep alright?” Taza sank into the chair next to her.

“Yeah, though I think Letty could sleep through a nuclear bomb strike.” She smiled and pointed at the younger girl still passed out and snoring.

Coco overheard her and snorted. “You ain’t wrong, ma. She don't get that shit from me.” He walked over to gently shake the teenager awake.

Hank came over with two cups of coffee - one for him and one for Taza. “Morning Princessa. Have you had breakfast yet?”

Megan sipped her coffee and smiled up at the giant of a man. “Not yet. Creeper went to see if there was anything to make for breakfast since y’all normally don’t eat it. Apparently, I’m not allowed to cook it myself.”

Taza chuckled. “More like you aren’t allowed to be turned into a short order cook for this crew.”

She smiled a bit. “You guys are in an awfully good mood for having had your prey get away this morning. Something change since you updated Creeper?” She sipped her coffee again.

“You could say that. Good morning, Poquito.” Bishop joined their table with a shit eating grin.

“Good morning. Where’s Marcus? I thought no one was going to ride alone.”

“Cálmate. We got a call about an hour ago from one of our crews. They have a guy matching Jimmy Melton’s description locked down in the desert waiting for a Galindo crew to come pick him up. Marcus went to meet with Galindo’s man to be sure that we get first dibs and that we won’t be stepping on any toes taking care of him. Dogwood wanted to be sure that we knew they were the ones to find him and not Galindo.” Bishop sat back confidently and drank his coffee.

“Why would it step on Galindo’s toes? Jimmy’s got nothing to do with Galindo’s trade….” Megan was puzzled. She’d learned a lot about club business in the last few days since Taza refused to hide anything from her. THat included the fact that “Galindo” meant the Galindo cartel and the person that the club got their heroin from.

“Apparently the asshole works fast. He weaseled his way into one of Galindo’s street crews on a false recommendation.”

Megan paled. “Oh shit…”

“Don’t worry, Princessa. The worst that happens is that Galindo disposes of him himself rather than handing him over to us. We’re all good. Promise,” Hank soothed her carefully.

“And if he decides to side with Jimmy? You’ll have to hand me over. You can’t fight the cartel.”

“Fuck that shit. Won’t happen. Galindo don’t like liars and there’s no way his crew knows who Melton is. They just saw muscle who could be paid in drugs, Poquito. Nothing more. You’re safe.” Bishop reached across the table and patted her hand. “You’ll be completely free of the asshole by dark. I promise you.”

Creeper slipped out the kitchen door muttering. “Looks like Chuckie used all the eggs in cookies and shit last night, Princess. I’ll go get some more so he can make breakfast.”

“Nah - don’t worry about it, Creep. We ain’t gonna need them. We got the asshole locked down. He’s under lock and key with Dogwood currently.” Taza stood. “Let’s go get something to eat in town.”

“You sure, Taza? I can run and get her something…” Creeper said, rubbing his head.

Taza grinned and showed Creeper the picture of a beaten Jimmy tied to a chair. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

In town, the club practically took over the tiny diner they preferred. The waitresses didn’t seem to mind from the amount of buttons being undone on uniform tops. Megan snorted into her coffee as the older lady who was the manager tried to flirt with her dad. She was squeezed into a booth with Hank next to her and Taza just across the table.

Hank smiled and ignored the pleading look the older man shot him. If it made Megan giggle, Taza could deal with Patty’s flirtations. “What would you like, Princessa?” He handed her the menu with a smirk at Taza. “They’ll make you just about anything you want.”

Megan smiled as she looked the laminated paper over. “Ummm… pancakes sound good. Maybe some bacon?”

“You want fruit with that, honey?” Patty asked before batting her overdone eyes at Taza again.

“No, Patty. Keep the fruit far away from Megan’s food please. She’s allergic to pineapple.” Taza answered for her.

“Sure thing, Sweetheart. You want your usual?” She cocked her hip and smiled sweetly at him.

Megan covered her giggles with a cough this time.

“Sure, Patty. That’d be great. Thanks.”

After everyone had ordered there was a lot of seat changing as the guys struck up conversation. It didn’t really matter much since the waitresses knew them all by name anyway. They were all regulars at the club house bar.

Megan soon found herself alone with Hank. She smiled up at him a bit shyly. “I fell asleep on you again last night. Sorry.”

Hank chuckled. “You were supposed to fall asleep on me last night.” He sipped his coffee with a smile. “Next movie is in a theater though with dinner before it.”

She smiled again. “Oh really? And when did you plan for this to happen?”

He turned his body to face her. “Not real sure yet, but soon. You know it’s Thursday?”

She turned to put her back against the wall so she could look up at him better. “What happens on Thursday?”

“Every Thursday I have dinner with my mom at her place. She asked me to bring you along this week. You and your dad, but your dad has a bit of a standing invitation.”

“So… is this your way of asking me on a date?” She smirked a bit.

“This is me asking you to come meet my mother so that I CAN ask you on a proper date.” He chuckled. “Mama is practically planning our wedding already from how much she’s heard about you.”

Megan laughed. “You gotta earn that, but I’d love to meet Mama Loza.”

Patty came by with their food and a younger waitress came to refill Hank’s coffee cup. She blatantly ignored Megan while batting her eyes at the biker, so Hank took the coffee pot from her to refill Megan’s cup himself. Megan smiled and thanked him before looking at the younger waitress and shrugging. She couldn’t blame the girl. Hank was a handsome man and she’d known him longer than Megan had.

Hank caught Patty the next time she went by. “Hey Patty?”

“Yeah, Honey?” The motherly woman smiled at Hank.

“Do me a favor and remind your girls that ANY girl with a patch is either his girl or his kid and ignoring them has consequences, will ya? The next time Blondie over there ignores la princessa won’t be as pretty.”

Patty looked shocked. “Of course, Hank! No problem. Sorry about that.” The older woman promptly went to the other waitress and held a whispered conversation with her.

“You didn’t have to do that, Hank,” Megan said quietly. “I’m not someone who has earned respect in this town yet.”

“Princessa - you’re the daughter of a Mayan. Our VP, at that. And you and I are very obviously here together. No one in this town will mistreat you without repercussions. You are la princessa de los Mayas. THAT demands respect. Remember that.” He brushed a bit of hair from her face with a gentle finger and smiled.

The blonde clocked out shortly after that and Patty winked at Megan as she went by.

After breakfast, Marcus joined them. “¡Buenos días!” He was cheerful and Patty brought him coffee immediately.

Hank slid an arm along the back of the bench seat so that Megan could lean into his side for support. He’d seen her flinch when Marcus didn’t give them a positive answer as soon as he came in.

“So… what’s the verdict?” Taza asked Marcus.

Suddenly all the diner staff went into the kitchen. They knew that the club was about to talk business and wanted plausible deniability.

“We meet at the pew at seven tonight. Mr. Galindo has some questions of his own, so he’s not all ours but the result is the same.” Marcus said with a grin. “Only stipulation that he has - Megan has to ID him tonight before anything goes down. Galindo wants her to be completely aware that he’s off the streets.”

Hank growled. “She shouldn’t be there. It’s dangerous. What if something goes wrong?”

Taza sighed. “I agree, Hank, but if all she’s gotta do is ID him, I’ll take it. We can leave right after. She’ll have all of us there with her and we’ll keep her close and bail if things go sideways.”

Marcus nodded. “And if he so much as looks at her sideways or breathes in her general direction I will personally hold him down so you can start removing offensive parts.”

“She can leave after the ID?” Hank wanted confirmation from Bishop specifically. Not that he didn’t trust Alvarez, but Bishop was his president.

“Si, Hermano. She doesn’t even have to talk. Just a nod will do,” Bishop assured Hank.

Hank looked to Megan. “You okay with that? You ID him, then we go have dinner with Mom to celebrate your freedom?”

Megan looked around at the club. “Are YOU okay with that?” She waited for confirmation from all of them. She left Hank and Taza for last. “And you two? Are you okay with driving away and not seeing the result?”

Hank thought hard. Was he okay with trusting his brothers to get justice for his girl? Was he okay with not being the one to serve final justice? He didn’t kid himself. He wouldn’t walk away with clean hands. He’d get some hits in, but not to see him dead with his own eyes? He took a deep breath.

“What it there’s another way?” EZ asked. Angel promptly smacked him in the back of the head for speaking out of turn.

“Hey! For once let the Boy Scout speak…” Bishop said. “What other way?”

“Stage an accident to get rid of the body. Bet he hasn’t changed la princessa from his next of kin. She’d be called in to identify the body. She’d also still be eligible for his life insurance if he had any since the divorce isn’t final and he probably hasn’t removed her as the beneficiary. She had plausible deniability being at the Loza house for dinner too.” EZ shrugged and he turned to look at Megan. “Then you KNOW he’s dead. No ghosts to haunt you with doubt.”

Bishop nodded and looked at Megan too. “That what you’re worried about, Princessa?”

She shrugged a little. “A bit. Hoping it helps the panic of him stalking me.”

Hank nodded. “Yeah. That will satisfy me. Taza?”

“As long as he gets what he deserves and Megan is safe - yeah.”

“Good. We’ll meet at the club house then and ride over.” Bishop smacked the diner table. “Get some rest. See you tonight.”

As they left the diner, Hank kept Megan close. Taza noted the arm around her back and grinned. When they got to the bikes, Taza handed her helmet over to Hank. “Would you mind running la princessa home, Hank? I’ve got a meeting with the padre about christening plans.”

Sure. I’ll get her home and stick around until you get there.” Hank smiled down at Megan. “That okay with you, Princessa?”

She nodded a bit, but seemed off in her own world. She was obviously thinking hard about the plans for tonight.

Taza nudged her arm gently. “Hey, would you rather I came home with you? I can reschedule with the priest, Chica.”

She startled a bit. “Oh! No. I’ll be okay with Hank. Sorry,” she hugged Taza’s waist. “Ride safe.”

“Always. See you soon. Shouldn’t take more than an hour or two.” Taza mounted his bike and rode off towards the church.

Hank helped her put her helmet on and checked the strap before they headed to the ranch.

At home, Megan decided to shower so her hair would have time to dry before dinner.

“Go on, Princessa. I’ll be fine. Gonna call Mom and let her know when we’ll be there for dinner.”

“Ummm… what should I wear?” She awkwardly tugged at her band shirt. “I don’t exactly have nice ‘meet the parents’ clothes.”

Hank frowned. He hadn’t thought that she might be self-conscious about her wardrobe. He stepped close and gently lifted her chin so she’d look at him and not the scratched wooden floor. “Hey. Whatever you wear will be fine. We’ll count ourselves lucky if Mom isn’t in her muumuu.” That startled a giggle out of her. “You don’t need fancy clothes, Princessa. You’re beautiful in anything. Besides - we’re driving the bike anyway.”

She smiled and caught his wrist before he could lower the hand from her face. She held his hand there and placed a wisp of a kiss on his tattooed knuckles. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For keeping me calm today. For keeping me safe. For understanding.”

He gently stroked her jaw with the tips of his fingers. “Mi princessa. I’ve got you. Tonight’s going to be a LOT for you, but remember… I’ve got you. WE’VE got you. Tu familia. Always.” He slowly leaned down, giving her plenty of time to pull away, and placed a soft kiss right in the center of her forehead. He watched as tension melted off her shoulders and she finally relaxed. “Go get your shower, Princessa. I’ll be here.”

#lost princessa #hank loza #taza x daughter!oc #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc #che taza romero #megan x hank

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makebank · 4 years

Text

silver lining

Request: “it's a day on set and you haven't been feeling good you pass out mid filming, and it turns out to be serious”

Warnings: nothing really, but mentions of surgery and emergency rooms

Rudy Pankow x reader

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: i know i said i wouldn’t do the actor but i changed my mind bc this seemed innocent enough. not sure if i’ll do more, as i prefer the characters. but i figured i’d at least try once. if this bothers you i’m sorry. also not even a blurb lol, i can’t make them short unless they’re phrase prompts omg

You woke up this morning feeling like you had been hit by a truck. All last night you tossed and turned alternating between sweating and shivering. When your alarm sounds, you roll to the side to turn it off and are hit with a wave of nausea. Instantly, you rush out of bed and barrel towards the bathroom. You thought you were going to be sick, but thankfully nothing came up.

You sigh taking in your disheveled and damp appearance. Lifting up your shirt, you inspect your right lower stomach expecting to find a bruise. Oddly, there was nothing there but you felt a dull ache taking over the area. You were curious about why you suddenly felt so horrible, but knew you had to get to work. Turning on your shower, you steamed up the room and stepped in. You were hopeful that a nice, scorching shower would be enough.

In the shower you contemplate how important it is for you to be okay. You finally landed an acting role and didn’t want to mess it up. It wasn’t the largest part, but you were in the second half of the TV series season quite a bit. This spring you had auditioned for a love interest on Outer Banks and shrieked when you got it. Your character was supposed to start slowly falling in love with the character JJ Maybank, while he secluded himself off from his friends. He goes through a tragedy of dealing with John B. being gone and feels left out by his best friends dating. So, he meets you while surfing alone and they continue to meet up often. Anyways, you were among so many great actors that you felt insecure at times. And the last thing you needed was to be calling in sick and halting filming.

Besides, you had a huge crush on the actor who played JJ. You never did anything about it though. During filming it was professional and after you would smile and joke with the lively blond. It was hard not to like him. He was full of so much life, was intelligent, kind, and could have any room rolling with laughter. He was always so sweet and respectful towards you but that was it. You two had spent hours together rehearsing and filming. You were growing closer, but it didn’t seem that he wanted it to move any further. It wasn’t like him and his co-stars who were already all friends from the first season and had a visibly strong bond.

Pulling yourself from your thoughts as your long shower grew cold, you shut off the water and start to dry off. You would just have to fake it for the day. There was no way you weren’t going.

Arriving at set, your stomach pain only worsened. Instead now, it was sharper rather than dull. You head into your trailer and pop a couple painkillers before splashing water on your face and making your way to hair and makeup. Walking in you see the one person you got most excited to see, Rudy.

“Hey y/n.” he greets with his usual bright smile.

“Hi Rudy, what’s up?” you try to match his tone. “Oh, you know, just getting my flowing locks perfected” he jokes while the hairstylist sprays the hairspray to hold his flawless gold waves in place. You chuckle in response but try not to wince at the pain it causes. But to no avail, your face gives it away.

He frowns at your obvious discomfort. “Are you okay?” You beam at his genuine concern. “Sorta. I just have this weird stomach pain. But I’m fine!” you rush to reassure. He raises his eyebrow at you like he doesn’t believe you. “If you’re sure, just take care of yourself first please.” You actually fully smile this time, “Thanks, I will” you slightly lie.

He rises from his chair with his hair finished. “See you on set, lover” he gives you a two-finger salute as he heads to film scenes with the other cast members. You feel your neck heat up at the nickname. You knew it was only because you played his love interest, but you couldn’t help but feel flustered every time he did it.

After sitting through hair and makeup, you head to set overhearing a scene being filmed. It’s Rudy yelling at JD about something to do with his character JJ being distant and it being none of their business. You take in the sight of him now in different clothes. He’s wearing that cutoff you love that shows off every inch of his defined arms. They’re bulging even more, because he tenses with anger. His fingers covered in rings as they run through his hair. You admire Rudy’s acting and his seemingly effortless portrayal of JJ.

Suddenly, while waiting another wave of sharp pain hits you. You curl up in your chair and whimper. No one notices because they are too entranced with the scene. Taking a couple deep breaths, you try to distract the pain away. It didn’t alleviate it at all. Shortly after, they’re done filming and Rudy is walking towards your chair next to his. Bounding with a sense of pride in his work, he innocently smiles towards you. Once he’s close enough to see your expression, his demeanor falls.

“Y/n you don’t look too good. You sure you should be filming today? We can take you to the doctor.” he offers becoming increasingly concerned. You quickly shake your head no. “I’m okay. C’mon let’s go” you try to get him to drop it. He looks unsure but ultimately follows you to the towel on the sand to start your scene.

The director starts to give you both some instructions that you can hardly pay attention to. He yells “action”. The scene starts off well, Rudy is acting perfectly as always, and you deliver a few lines without issue.

Without warning, your stomach wrenches in agony. You start wincing and your eyes tear up. You curl your body up and start groaning. The camera men stop filming, and everyone rushes towards you. Rudy is the first to try to help. He places his hand on your arm to try to see if you’re okay.

“Y/N! What’s happening? What do you need me to do?” he’s frantic and rushing his words. You only cry in response until you muster the energy to speak. “I don’t know, it just hurts so much” you whimper. Immediately, Rudy is scooping you into his arms and hauling you to a vehicle. You hear everyone panicking in the background but can only focus on the soreness.

Rudy rushes you to the emergency room where people surround you and start performing a series of tests. Soon you’re being sped to surgery. You’re told you have appendicitis and need emergency removal. It all happens, so fast your family isn’t able to get there before it starts. They live all the way on the west coast, so sadly they won’t make it until way after.

You wake up from being put under on anesthesia in a hospital room. You slowly blink open your eyes to find an unexpected visitor. It’s Rudy nervously biting his nails and bouncing his leg in front of your bed. When he realizes you’re awake, you can see with weight being lifted off him

“Y/N! You’re awake! I’ve been so worried about you.” he looks so stressed and miserable. “I’m sorry.” you croak. He looks taken aback, “What? You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m just glad I forced you here when I did. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit” you tease and you both erupt into giggles. He grabs your hand and rubs his thumb softly on your fingers. “I’m really glad you’re okay.” “Me too. Thank you for everything you did and for waiting for me.” He stands up and places a gentle kiss on your cheek. “Are you kidding? There’s no way I was leaving you. I’ll go get the others, they’ll want to know you’re awake. Your family is about an hour out by the way.”

You sink further into your hospital bed feeling the butterflies taking over. You’re still slightly sore from surgery, but his lips and the pain medication make you feel on cloud nine. You weren’t sure if Rudy felt this way before and the emergency brought it out or if he’s just being kind, but you were loving every second of it.

A few days later you get to return home, but on bed rest for the next two weeks. Rudy spends every minute he can in bed with you watching movies and cooking for you both. He has to continue filming, but he reassures you that in a few short weeks you’ll get to pick up and finish the last few episodes you have with him.

You weren’t excited about having your appendix removed, but it did bring the boy you cared for full force into your life. He was your best friend. And now eagerly becoming more.

i didn’t add my everything tag list bc i dont normally write for actors and didn’t want to tag you guys for this just in case.

#rudy pankow #rudy pankow fic #des writing #obx #obx fic #outerbanks fic #obx cast #outer banks #outerbanks netflix #jj maybank #obx netflix

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brianandthemays · 4 years

Text

The Secrets We Keep (Four/Bill x reader)

A/N THank you so much for the first request since I reopened my inbox! I really hope you like! I did the first bit in headcanon but the last bit is in story form! Let me know what you think!

Requested by anon: I'm missing Six!Ben so can I request something with him where reader is also a skywalker and they have a secret relationship? 💜

Warnings: Some angst, lots of kissing, cursing, smuttyish but no smut!

So yeah!

You joined the underground just before their next mission

After the events and several near-death experiences for Four, he demanded that he had a partner, so he wasn’t always on his own

So, One found you

A professional gymnast who happened to also have a side career in parkour

After joining, you and Four started working super closely together

He was helping you train and you started helping him with his flexibility.

You’re first impression of Four was that he was arrogant and rude

He was cheeky and seemed to underestimate you at first but not for long

But the more you worked with him

The more you realized he could make you laugh like no one else.

And how whenever he smiled at you, you felt butterflies in your stomach

The tension grew and grew until it exploded one night in bed where he made you feel like the most important thing in the world

When you woke up the next morning and he was still there with his arm around you, you knew this was going to be more than a one-time thing

But you had to be careful about it.

One was barely okay with two and three and you didn’t want to push it

So you snuck around

Closed doors and alone moments were your friend

But boy did he make you feel loved.

Sometimes he would just grab you, pull you into his trailer and press his lips up against yours.

Visible hickeys were a no no but that didn’t stop him from lining you stomach and thighs with marks.

Every mark he made with such delicacy and aggression

It made your toe’s curl every time his teeth and his tongue worked together to give you that sweet feeling

Then leaving it off with a kiss

One day you were making out in your trailer

Your lips moving feverishly against his, sat in his lap, him groping your ass like it was his lifeline

When Five knocked on your door

You both panicked and it ended up with him shoved under your bed

You called her in with a smile and she came and sat on the bed next to you.

The two of you talked for like 20 minutes before she finally left

Four crawled out from under the bed not very please

You giggled but he wasn’t very amused

He crawled you up on top of the bed

“I think you need to be punished”

“Leaving me under there”

But right before anything could begin, Five walked back in on the two of you

You under him, him pressed on top of your chest

But Five could keep a secret

But staying a secret was hard

Especially on missions when you didn’t want it to look like you were worried

But you really were

Now that the two of you worked together it was easier to take care of each other

Eyes in the sky left a lot of time for secret kissing on top of buildings

Hundreds of feet in the air where no one can see you

But everything comes to an end

And when One finds out

He’s furious

“You’ve been nothing but a distraction to the team since you join,” One shouted, facing you down. “And now you’re putting the whole mission at jeopardy!”

“I haven’t done jack shit, asshole!” You retorted just as determined. “I’ve done mu job exactly how you asked.

“Oh, and tell me exactly how sucking his face off at the top of the Eiffel Tower is having ‘done your job’” One pressed. You looked down, knowing he was right in this instance. But you did do your job, and no one got hurt. “That’s what I thought.”

“One, you’re being a dick head,” Four barked, finally speaking up. “I’m the one who started it now leave her alone!”

One glared at him, clinching his job before point at both of you. “This, whatever is between you, is over.”

“Excuse me?”

“Mate, you can’t—”

“My decision is final” One says firmly.

“Well too bad it’s not your decision to make,” you snapped. “I let so many people tell me what I could and could not do when I was alive. I’m sure as hell not letting you do it when I’m dead.” You grabbed Fours hand and held it up to One’s face. “I love him! And you are not going to stop me from being with him.”

Then you stormed out of One’s trailer, heading to yours. Four was quick to follow a cheeky smile on his face. Before you could reach your trailer however, you were being picked up and swung around.

“That!” Four declared as he set you down and spun you around to face him. “Was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen you do.” He bent down and pressed his lips to yours. In the open, where everyone could see. And damn it felt good. You pulled away, tugging his bottom lip along. You looked up at him through hooded eyes and brought your lips right next to his ear.

“Wanna see me top it?” you whispered, biting his ear lobe.

He was quick to pull you back to his trailer after that. After so long, hiding in the shadows, it was nice to be seen in public. And now, Four never kept his hands off of you. Either on your knee, or in your back pocket or around your neck. Four was determined to show to everyone how much he loved you. And you had never felt more alive.

#6 underground #6 underground imagines #6 underground x reader #Six underground #six underground imagines #six underground x reader #Billy #Four #Ben hardy #Billy x reader #Billy Imagines #Four x reader #Four Imagines #Ben Hardy x reader #Ben Hardy imagines #Four/Billy x reader #Four/Billy Imagines #Billy/Four imagines #Billy/Four x reader

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wenttworth · 4 years

Text

growth;

Jon said Martin's name in a wide variety of ways since they met. All of them had done something to those nervous butterflies in the pit of his stomach, from killing them off slowly to sending them to a wild frenzy.

Although they first woke several months ago now, they were no closer to relaxing like they had for any of Martin's other crushes. Martin had taken one look at the small man stood in front of him, dark eyebrows furrowed over dark eyes, slightly greying hair to his shoulders tucked artlessly behind one ear, clocked the colourful stains on his fingernails that came from scrubbing at them with cheap nail varnish remover, and had been overwhelmed for more than the time it took to finish the conversation. He'd never met anyone before who quite so markedly ticked every box of 'his type'.

This way just made Martin spring into action.

"Oh, that's his 'spiders, Martin' call," he muttered.

Tim grinned at him as he leapt to his feet. "We could always lock him in there with it," he said. Sasha snorted and Tim leant forward to prop his chin on his hands. "Maybe he'd die of fright. It would lend more credence to some of these tales." Shaking a statement derisively as he fixed his eyes on Martin's.

"Martin." A slightly more panicked Jon called from his office.

"It's not fair to play with people's phobias," Martin said. Tim just kept smiling at him.

Jon was stood back from his desk, anxiously staring at a tape recorder, upon which an impressively large spider was sat. Well, large by British standards.

Martin was well used to this process by now. He calmly scooped the spider into his hands and pointedly did not look at Jon as he scurried away from him.

Jon only relaxed when Martin had thrown the spider out. "Okay?" Martin asked.

Jon stared at him for a moment, before giving an abrupt nod.

His hands were shaking, and there was a pale undertone to his brown skin which worried Martin more than it ought. "Do you want some tea?" he continued gently.

Jon blinked. "Please," he said. "Thank you, Martin."

The butterflies flurried to life.

"I have a crush on Jon," Martin announced, louder than he should, with more certainty than he could have mustered four drinks ago.

Sasha made a face halfway between pity and a grimace. A pitying grimace? That was an oxymoron, surely. "Martin, you can do so much better than Jon."

Sasha didn't know about his forged CV, and Martin pointedly did not think about it, did not look down at his body that had never felt right, did not think about anything but the thankful smile Jon had given him when he had passed him his tea. "You got that the..." he swung an index finger left and right. "You got that the wrong way round."

Sasha sighed, and sighed even louder when Tim dropped between them and immediately swung his arms around both their shoulders. But she still smiled at him with something that, though not love, was something still close. "Am I interrupting?" he asked. Martin shook his empty beer bottle.

"I just thought we should invite Jon to some of these evenings," Sasha chirped.

Tim didn't seem convinced, and Martin very carefully sent her a glare. There was no way Tim hadn't picked up on his crush on Jon, but he still wanted to maintain some illusion of self-prepossession, and had enough pride to not want to admit it. "He's our boss now, Sash. It would be weird."

"Just remember that he has no firing power. Whatever we say or--" teasingly meaningful look at Martin, "--or do, he can't do anything about it."

Martin squinted at her as Tim protested between them. “We can’t go out with our boss, Sash. That makes it a work thing.”

Martin would much rather Sasha and Tim not come to an evening with Jon, but that was frankly a little rude to say when they had known him much longer.

“Next thing you know she’ll be inviting Elias.”

Martin shuddered and Sasha smacked Tim over the head.

“Please don’t,” Martin insisted. “He was so weird about Jon’s cake; it made me feel way too uncomfortable.”

Sasha cackled, “The boss with an insatiable thirst for cake,” she boomed in a voice that wouldn’t be out of place in an action movie trailer voiceover.

“What will he eat--”

“No, consume, Tim.”

“Oh, good idea! What will he consume next?!” he continued in an imitation of the voice, only marginally more impressive.

“Don’t,” Martin begged, but he still laughed.

There was something...unnerving about being in the institute alone after dark.

Less unnerving than being stuck in his apartment, only his overactive imagination and the handful of paperbacks for company, an eldritch entity with worms for fingers, hair, guts tapping at the door and tempting him to join her embrace.

He would be so loved, she had insisted. So adored, held in the grasp of a million creatures, a part of something so much bigger than just him. Thank anyone who listened that he had a horror for anything that writhed.

He tried to scare himself sometimes, to relieve the boredom between gaps of writers’ block. Moving a torch so the beam threw uncanny, elongated figures a shadow against the wall. Creeping through the hallways and muttering horror stories under his breath. His poems took on a decidedly spooky feeling, less purple prose about the rain in the city, the warmth of someone’s touch. He would wait until everyone, even Jon and Elias, had left to twist his way through the halls, watching for any small, wriggling worms to crush with triumph against the floor.

At least, until tonight.

He was sure someone was creeping around, too. Sticking to the shadows and tapping slow rhythms against the hardwood floors. He always seemed to just catch their shadow as they disappeared around a corner. It took only an hour of building up his nerves, pushing the horror narrative that was constructing itself in his brain, before Jon appeared in the kitchen.

Martin immediately poured boiling water over his hand, yelping as it burned.

“Martin!” Jon exclaimed, rushing forwards to inspect the burn and quickly dragged him to the sink, shoving his hand over a jet of cold water.

“Is it you who’s been creeping around here all evening?” Martin asked, more than a little snippy from the pain in his hand.

“Creeping?” Jon exclaimed, annoyed and indignant. “I haven’t been creeping anywhere, I was walking around the institute!”

“Yes, but quietly. I thought Jane had come back!”

Jon’s furrowed brow relaxed, and he sighed. “I’m sorry. I thought you knew I was here.” It was a moment later that he let go of Martin’s hand, pointedly ordered him to stay where he was and informed him that he was going to locate a first aid kit.

It made Martin feel uncomfortable, in all honesty. He didn’t want to be taken care of by Jon. By all accounts, it should be the other way around. There was no reason for Jon to be in the institute outside of a normal work day. There was no reason for him to be anywhere but at home. Martin should insist. Should urge him to leave.

The selfishness was stronger this time. He didn’t want to be alone here. Not when everything was so uncertain.

He watched the water fall and drip around his hand. It was already blistering, even under the cold. That would hurt tomorrow; it was his dominant hand.

“C’mere,” a soft voice said behind him. Martin turned--Jon was like an assassin when he was barefoot-- and held out his free hand for the first aid kit. Jon frowned at him. “Don’t be stupid; I’ll put the cream on.”

Martin could only be relieved that he was too gobsmacked to blush as Jon took his hand with a gentleness that struck him speechless, and with soft fingers--thin and small against his hand--rubbed the cream in small circles until it absorbed. He cut out a small bandage after, placing it against the burn with even more gentle movements. “You should be more careful, Martin,” he said.

Martin was still speechless, sat at the break room table as Jon finished up making the tea Martin had started and brought it to him. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Uh…” Martin stammered. Maybe it was something about the evening light that softened Jon so much, something about the casual, comfortable clothes he wore, his hair in a dishevelled bun on top of his head. “No. I was going to make some ramen.”

Jon wrinkled his nose at the instant ramen packet that had been left on the side ready for his dinner. “No you’re not,” he replied. “I have enough for the two of us; I’ll make us something.”

“Really?” Martin asked, a little disbelieving.

“What?” Jon barked, squaring his shoulders.

“I… I didn’t expect it, is all.”

“Oh.” He relaxed again. “It would be rude to just make something for myself.”

“Jon?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you here?”

Jon let out a sigh. “It’s...I’m worried. I don’t know when Jane will reappear, and every time I leave the office or my flat I’m looking over my shoulder to see if she’s coming after me. At least here I know I can…” he trailed off. “I feel safer here? Or at least, like I have more control.”

“Where are you planning on sleeping?” Martin asked. Maybe a bit forward to tell him that he didn’t mind if Jon wanted to share the cot. There was probably just enough space for the two of them, and it wasn’t as if he’d never shared a bed with a friend before. Just never with a friend he had such a strong crush on.

Jon started clattering around the tiny kitchenette, pulling spices from the cupboards and vegetables from the fridge. “I set up another cot in my office,” he answered. Martin made to join him to help with preparing the vegetables, but Jon waved him away insistently. “I’m doing this, you’re hurt, Martin.”

So instead he watched as Jon’s practiced hands pulled the ingredients together, a heavenly aroma coming from the pot. He was more relaxed than Martin had ever seen him, going so far as to hum a tune under his breath and laugh at some of the things Martin observed. What resulted was remarkable; Martin had never had the time or patience to cook anything other than the bare minimum. Whatever dishes he may have learnt from his mother were made impossible when she fell ill, his father’s spiced curries a faded memory long in the distance. If Martin remembered rightly and trusted his nose, it wasn’t far from what Jon was cooking.

The selection that was placed in front of him would have made a king’s mouth water.

“Who taught you to cook like that?” Martin asked, wondering and almost swooning when he tasted some.

Jon watched him for a moment, a small smile playing around the corners of his lips before joining him. “My grandmother. She lived in Bangladesh until she was in her forties, and never adapted her cooking to the UK.”

“Which I can only thank her for now,” Martin replied.

“She taught me from a very young age. I think I was cooking curries before I could read.”

There was a fondness in his voice that made Martin’s chest ache. Jon loved his grandmother, that much was certain.

Would he have felt any differently, had he had any connection to his father?

Jon was furrowing his brow at the menu above the counter. “Do you want your usual?” Martin asked.

He blinked. “I wanted to try something different but… I forgot my glasses.”

“Oh.” He cast a glance at the board again. The writing was large, easy for Martin to read even from the other side of the restaurant. “You… you really are blind, aren’t you?” he added.

Jon glowered. “I didn’t choose to be.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Jon replied immediately. The butterflies leapt into action at just how confidently he said it, the confused twist of his mouth as if he were also surprised by the confidence of his reply. A small pause, and he turned away, pressing his lips together.

Martin copied him, half to hide the blush that was very obviously painting his cheeks, probably clashing something awful with the pink shirt he’d had the lack of foresight to wear. “Okay,” he said carefully, pushing down on any waver to his voice.

“For this, at least,” Jon added nonchalantly, a careful smile in his voice.

“Flatterer,” Martin muttered.

He picked two of the sandwiches and carried them both back to a table, Jon trailing behind. “We’re not going back to the office?” he asked.

“No,” Martin said, with a confidence he barely felt. “I could do with a break from that place.”

Jon sank into his seat, watching Martin as he cut both sandwiches in half and split them. “It’s almost Christmas, so I went for the Christmas flavours,” he explained.

“I… I don’t celebrate Christmas,” Jon said.

Martin shrugged. “I know. Neither do I; I just enjoy British Christmas dinners.” He didn’t seem entirely convinced, and Martin hid a smile. “The other one is spiced lamb.”

“Oh,” Jon said with a much happier tone, picking up one of the sandwiches and digging in.

“So?” Martin asked once they were on their way back to the Institute.

“The Christmas one was good,” Jon admitted, only with a little reticence. “Still preferred the lamb, though.”

It could have been minutes or days that Martin and Tim were sat in the corridors. The walls changed sometimes, varying from one garish pattern to the next, undulating in impossible fractals. It had been giving Martin a headache, but now?

Well, he was used to it, he supposed.

Tim had his head on Martin’s lap, humming a song under his breath that seemed repetitive but forever changing. The sound bounced off the walls almost visibly, as if the waves were making the fractals warp. The horrific silhouette of the entity was still watching them, impossibly long limbs and fingers that reached like willow branches.

“Kinda wish it would do something,” Martin said.

It shook its hands and Martin snorted.

“What?” Tim asked. Martin gestured to the silhouette. “Ah. Yes, I know what you mean.” Sitting up, he patted his hair until it was back to the artlessly dishevelled look he usually sported. “Should we go for another walk? Maybe we’ll find the exit this time.”

The laugh the entity gave grated like a spoon against a china cup, nails on a blackboard, a knife on a metal sheet. Martin clenched his jaw as it made his teeth ache. “Sure,” he said, brushing himself off as he stood up.

It didn’t seem like the entity moved, but somehow it was always in the corner of his vision whenever he scanned for it. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that whatever it was, it was dangerous, but that was the thing about fear, wasn’t it? When repetitive, it lost its hold on you. He and Tim had been here for hours or days or years, he was accustomed to it now. If it was planning on killing him, surely it would’ve happened by now.

Also at this point he would welcome death just to escape the maddening boredom.

The corridors circled, never changing angle, no slope, but somehow never doubling back on itself. The light was always different, the fractals and colours shifting and undulating maddeningly.

Hours, days? Maybe decades at this point, Martin sat. Tim joined him after tapping on a wall and a mirror. “Hey, it’s like one of those funhouse mirrors!” he exclaimed.

“Are you sure that’s not just you?” Martin said, warbling his voice mockingly. The entity was still observing them, the glint of a wide, unnaturally white smile made of sharp teeth.

“Excuse you, I am unbelievably attractive,” Tim said, dropping to the floor. He was lounging against the wall, arms crossed over his stomach, his legs comfortably settling against Martin’s.

“Urgh,” Martin grunted. “I can’t believe I have to be stuck here with you, of all people. Wish it was…” he trailed off. “Wish it was Sasha,” he continued. “Or Sasha as we thought--”

“Don’t,” Tim interrupted, all teasing vanished from his voice. “I can’t think about that here and now, okay? And we can’t…” he gestured at the entity, who chuckled. “Not in front of that thing. I know it hasn’t hurt us yet but honestly? It’s only a matter of time.”

“Okay,” Martin said.

“And at least you’re not stuck here with Elias and his--”

“Insatiable thirst for cake,” Martin continued, joining in Tim’s laugh.

“And Jon and…” his face twisted. “Whatever is going on with him.”

Martin’s mouth went dry. In all this, he’d almost managed to forget everything with Jon. He twisted the hem of his jumper. The butterflies hadn’t gone anywhere. Maybe they were worse, actually. It was a worry fueled by vanity, but he hoped that Jon wasn’t too troubled about his and Tim’s whereabouts. Tim’s, at least. He probably wouldn’t worry about Martin, after everything.

“Jon is… going through something. And he doesn’t want our help but I still want to give it to him.”

Tim sighed. “He’s a paranoid idiot.”

They would probably die in these corridors. Maybe that was okay. “I’m in love with him,” he admitted, burying his face in his hands.

Tim let out a short laugh. “Oh. Oh no. I thought it was just a crush?”

“It was but then…” Something changed? Jon changed? “It’s not just that anymore.”

“Oh, Martin, that’s so stupid!”

“Loving someone isn’t stupid.”

“Hmm. I beg to differ when the person you love is Jonathan Sims.”

Martin pulled away, bringing his knees to his chest, and Tim smiled apologetically. “Martin, you can do so much better than him. He’s not a good person, right?”

Martin didn’t reply. He knew well enough that it wasn’t true. Jon was a good person. Good to a fault, utterly ridiculously good.

Tim sighed. “I know, you can’t choose love, it chooses you,” he said, air quoting until Martin slapped his hands down. He shrugged. “I thought I was in love with Sasha, but…”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Tim interjected. “How about when we get out of this, we go for a drink? Just us. Away from all the madness which is Jon and Elias and… and Sasha, or whatever that thing--”

“Okay,” Martin interrupted, patting the part of him that he could reach which, currently, was his ankle. “We should do that.”

The entity cackled again, and Martin almost hit his head on the wall. “I wish that thing would stop being so annoying,” he projected, eyeing it meaningfully.

“Who knew! These terrifying fear entities are actually just badly done horror movie creatures,” Tim interjected. “How long are you keeping us?”

“Not much longer,” it replied, and Martin almost kicked Tim in the chest in shock. “You’ll want to be present. When the Archivist brings all to a close. It’ll be fun.”

It prickled in the back of Martin’s mind, and he let out a ‘huh’. “That’s basically what Jane Prentiss said to Jon,” he said to Tim.

Tim shuddered. “We’re in a relatively clean place here, Martin. Please don’t remind me of the worms.”

“I wonder…” he trailed off, before standing up again. A door had appeared, or revealed itself to have always been there. The entity backed away, gesturing to the door with another glint of a grin. Sharp teeth, impossibly wide mouth. Before long it was shrouded in darkness, and the white of its teeth and shining eyes were all that were visible. Martin shuddered.

“God,” Tim said. “I swear, that’s nightmare material for at least a month. Maybe two.”

“I wonder what we’re coming back to,” Martin mused.

“You look tired.”

Jon jumped what looked like half a foot out of his skin, spinning round and only relaxing a little when he saw Martin. “I don’t think I’ve been well-rested a day in my life, Martin.”

“That’s not an excuse to stop trying.”

Jon gave a wry smile, putting his head to one side when Martin placed the mug of tea he’d been carrying on the desk. “Thank you, Martin. And regardless, you’re the one who almost gave me a heart attack and I don’t see you apologising for that.”

“I’m...I’m sorry; I thought you’d heard me?”

Jon smiled again. “It’s fine,” he said. “How...how have you been?”

The question almost made Martin drop his own mug of tea. Jon had said it so carefully, like he was physically forcing himself to, but he still asked it, still looked at Martin expectedly as if he was actually interested in the answer. “O-oh! I… I’m okay?”

Jon waited for a moment. “The...the statements, are they bothering you as much as before?”

“I took your advice,” Martin replied. “The others are taking some on. Though I don’t know how long that will last.”

“They’ll continue,” Jon said, glum as he stared into his tea. “I wish no-one would, but…” he met Martin’s eyes again.

“You should take a break,” Martin continued. “We could go down to that sandwich place?”

Jon kept his gaze for a moment, much too short, much too obvious about what his answer would be. “I can’t,” he admitted, resigned, and holding up a statement. “This one needs to be digitised pretty...pretty urgently, I think. I know.” He placed it back on the desk, reaching for a tape recorder and brushing some cobwebs off it. “How…? I swear I only put that down a minute ago, how did the spiders get to it so quickly?”

“I could bring lunch back for you?”

Too desperate. Too obvious that he was worrying, that he wanted to take care of Jon. Too obvious that he lo--

“It’s okay, Martin. But thank you.”

His voice was painfully sincere, digging deep into Martin’s core with an intensity that made him blush. Thank… whoever was listening that Jon had turned back to the statement, placing the recorder close and starting the statement. Martin tried not to be too alarmed that he hadn’t even needed to press record.

The clock was infuriating.

Martin was sure it ticked slower now, when waiting by Jon’s motionless form. At least it was better than the incessant beating of the heart monitor for normal patients, just waiting to fade to that slow beep of the flat line. But this, the tick, tick, tick. Martin found himself timing his breaths to it, timing the tap of his foot, even his heart he was sure, was beating to that aggravating tick.

“I can’t wait till you’re out of this place,” Martin grumbled. “You couldn’t hurry it up, could you?” The joke was weak, punctuated with a gentle touch to the back of Jon’s hand.

He pulled it away in a rush, feeling like he wasn’t allowed anything so tender. Especially now that Jon was here and unresponsive and Tim was…

He found it difficult to finish that thought. It wasn’t something he ever wanted to acknowledge. And all that time, when Jon had been fighting his way through an apocalyptical scenario and Tim was… he’d been in the archives, fine and safe.

Fine because… Elias hadn’t told him anything he hadn’t suspected already. Of course his mother resented being taken care of, of course Jon wouldn’t care about his feelings.

“Come back, Jon,” he asked.

He didn’t know how long he’d have to wait, but he’d wait. He’d be here for Jon when he woke.

Jon was calling him.

Martin stared in part horror, part wonder at the name on his phone, the blank anonymous picture because there was no way he would ever have a photo of Jon on his phone, not now, not ever. But regardless. It was midnight, and Jon was calling him.

He waited until the phone went dead, and the notification popped up. No message left. Maybe it had been a mistake; it wasn’t the first time he’d been butt-dialed. Maybe he would have ended up as the unwilling participant of an embarrassing conversation.

But then it started again.

Maybe he was hurt. Maybe he’d tried calling everyone else, and no one had picked up. It could be any number of reasons. It had only been a month since he woke from the coma, and even if he was doing weirdly, preternaturally well, it didn’t mean that things didn’t go badly sometimes.

It rang out again, and Martin watched it for a few more minutes, warring with every part of himself.

Sentiment won, which he was sure he would regret the moment morning came, and he reached for the phone, unable to tear his eyes from the familiar letters that spelled Jon’s name.

Jon picked up within the first ring.

“Hi,” he said. Martin paused. “Are you there?”

“Yes? Why did you call me?”

There must have been… something in his voice, because Jon’s breath audibly caught in his throat. Something distant maybe. Hopefully.

“I just…” Martin waited, but he didn’t continue.

“Jon, if it’s not an emergency, you shouldn’t call. Especially at this time.”

“You can’t have been that worried that it was an emergency,” Jon snipped. Martin almost laughed out loud at his sudden annoyance. He could picture exactly how Jon looked right now, ruffled from lack of sleep and an angry furrow between his dark brows, hair spilling over his shoulders. He’d always been beautiful--Tim’s amusement at Martin’s confession aside--but these days…

Maybe it was the lack of time spent with other people. Everyone looked more beautiful to him these days.

“Sorry,” Jon said after another moment of silence. “I shouldn’t have snapped there.”

“Tired?” Martin asked.

“Yes.”

“You know what you have to do if you’re tired, right?”

Another sigh. He was probably twisting a strand of hair around his finger, now. He’d picked up that habit pretty soon after it grew out. “Not just that. I miss you.”

The butterflies would probably never die, at this point. Not until he did. “You said,” he replied carefully, flat, emotionless. Everything he wished he could be. Something that could ignore the voice telling him to say it back, to finally admit what they both knew but had never had a chance to say.

It would be so easy, if only for...

The reason. The reason that he was staying so far away. He rubbed his forehead. “Don’t call me, Jon.”

“Your voicemail message.”

“What about it?”

“I didn’t expect you to answer. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Another beat of silence. “Hang up, Jon,” he tried to command, hating himself all the more when it came out wistful.

“I’m here if you need me, okay?” Jon answered, hanging up the moment he was done.

Too bad, really. Hilariously inconvenient. The kind of dramatic irony that was only usually seen on crappy US sitcoms. There was no uncertainty in Martin’s mind; Jon had fallen for him the moment Martin had lost all hope, with no chance of regaining. Martin sat on his bed, and laughed until he cried.

See, the safehouse didn't start safe. To start, it was all cobwebs and scuttling legs and an insistent pull to the farmer they had passed who Jon knew had quite the story to tell. Something about the endless pit at the corner of his field of cows. He'd already lost so many of them in that gaping maw. Jon was digging his nails deep into the palms of his hands, wishing that Martin would take them but recalling how Martin flinched away from touch now.

Time. They all need time, right? Maybe a therapist, though how much they could communicate Jon had no idea.

He shook his head, repeated, "No, no, no," over and over. It was all...dark and webby. Jon could see eyes peering at him through one of the paintings on the walls. Martin gave him a blank look, the barest hint of concern hiding in the set of his mouth. He asked what Jon needed. Although Jon had the desperate thought, 'You, only you,' run through his head he didn't voice it. "A broom. Light. And to get that painting out of there."

"Wait here," Martin said. 'Don't go,' Jon thought.

Would he ever get to a point where this was all okay? Where it was a distant memory? Where he and Martin would grow old together? He had no gods to pray to, not anymore, but something in him still sent up a desperate little prayer.

Martin emerged with two brooms and the painting carefully covered up with his sweatshirt. There were goosebumps on his arms. He set the painting aside, handed Jon a broom, and carefully didn't look him in the eye.

He was fading at the edges. The pull of the lonely was still so strong, Jon could almost see the thin cords wrapped around his body, slowly but surely dragging him into the pit. Their nearest neighbours were 3 miles away, the nearest town a further 2 miles. The only living creatures near were four cows curiously watching them.

"Martin?" Jon asked. He brushed gentle fingers over the back of Martin's hand. God, he needed touch. He needed to feel Martin against him, needed to be held so tight he couldn't breathe.

Martin flinched away, but gave Jon a brittle smile. "Let's get rid of the cobwebs," he said, achingly gentle.

Jon gripped the broom tighter. "Yes."

The dust fell into his hair and against his face and clothes, making him sneeze with a frequency that alarmed Martin. He was banished to the garden within a few minutes as Martin continued, though Jon carefully listened, watched the movement inside the cabin as he worked his way around the rooms. Maybe this place wasn’t the best for someone so recently escaped from the clutches of the lonely, but where else?

“Where else can we go, we orphans of the storm?” he asked himself, sighing heavily and propping his chin on his knee.

“What?” Martin asked behind him.

Jon plastered a marginally more cheery look on his face, looking over his shoulder at Martin. He joined him on the wooden steps that led down to the small patch of grass which functioned as the cabin’s garden. Careful distance, as if he couldn’t bear to touch Jon.

“It’s nothing.” He turned away from Martin, watching a kite make regular circling turns, diving into undergrowth. The colours painted against the sky were a work of art, all reds and golds. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”

Martin didn’t respond other than with a nod. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, it was just… allergies. Too much dust.”

“Right, I should--”

“Stay?” He didn’t mean it to come out quite so plaintive, quite so much laying his heart out with directions on how best to shatter it. If Martin left now, even just to sit inside, something would break. “Please,” he continued. He might as well beg, at this point.

Martin looked down at his hands where they were resting against his thighs. He was thinking...Jon’s breath caught in his throat. He was thinking about being in the hospital, watching Jon with no hope that he would ever wake up. How he felt like he was stealing something he had no right to when he touched Jon’s hand.

Jon reached out his hand, stopping halfway between them. This wasn’t… it, by any means. Martin needed time, maybe he just wasn’t ready to lay out his feelings. But he wanted to hold Jon’s hand, wanted...more. He paused for a long moment, before finally reaching, curling his fingers into the spaces left by Jon’s.

“Martin?” he asked.

Martin’s lips quirked at the sound. Not enough to be a smile, but not fake, either. “Jon?”

Jon edged closer by way of response, slowly resting his head on Martin’s shoulder, waiting for Martin to push him away. It took a while, at least, a while of tracing the lines on Martin’s palms and the branches of his veins on his wrists. A while of Martin remaining utterly still, as if this was borrowed time, and any movement might jolt him out of the reverie. A while until he relaxed the same as Jon.

Romantic, really. The stained clouds, the vast expanse of space, the slowly moving animals. In any other case, feeling like they were the only two people in existence would be good. Like some distant honeymoon, but this was far from a honeymoon. Jon may have pulled Martin from the lonely, may have bared his heart but Martin hadn’t responded. He had loved him. Maybe that was the important part. In the past, before fog and loneliness had stripped all warmth.

It was only then that Jon noticed just how cold Martin’s hand was.

He was staring in the distance, brown eyes dulled to grey, the lines of his body faded and wispy as if there was nothing to hold onto, nothing to find purchase on. “Martin,” he insistently cried, cupping his cheek, drawing him closer. “Martin, look at me.”

He obeyed, but sluggishly, as if Jon’s words were coming across a vast expanse, a valley or ocean. “Jon?” he echoed quietly.

“I’m here, I’m here. Don’t… don’t look away, okay? I’m here.” A gentle squeeze to his hand, though Jon felt like he might pass through. Martin took a deep breath, slowly reached up to twist a strand of Jon’s hair around a finger. “I never responded.”

A beat of silence. Jon traced a thumb across Martin’s cheekbone. “Responded to what?”

“I love you.”

Furrowing his brow. “That’s not right,” Martin said, quietly enough that Jon could almost expect that he didn’t think he would hear. How far was he, to Martin’s eyes?

“I love you,” he repeated, edging closer. “Don’t look away.”

A derisive smile. “That’s… no. I love you, not the other way around.”

The tense line of Jon’s shoulders suddenly relaxed, so sudden that he almost collapsed forwards. It would be a vain hope that Martin would catch him now, when he was so far away.

“Martin,” he called out again, waiting until Martin was looking at him. “I love you. I’ve loved you for...for much too long to only be telling you now.”

He blinked, the grey fog, filmy over his eyes, started to disperse. There was still...something. Some scar that probably wouldn’t heal for a long time, if ever. But colour was coming back to his cheeks, his dark hair and eyes starting to shine and reflect the red sunset again. His hand was suddenly firmly there, clasped tight between Jon’s fingers.

“You love me.” Not a question, but Jon still nodded.

“I love you,” he agreed. “How many times do you want me to say it?”

“I… A couple more times would be nice.”

Jon smiled, far from missing the way Martin shifted his weight closer. “Okay. Let me count the ways,” he recited, only a small lilt of teasing to his tone. “Your resourcefulness,” he started, bringing his hand up to kiss the knuckles. Martin froze, watching him with wide eyes. “Your kindness.” A kiss on his neck. “Your bravery.” His forehead, after a small struggle to get Martin to lean down so he could reach. Martin was laughing at his display by that point. “Your devotion.” Finally, reaching slowly, enough that he could pull away if he wanted. It had been a long time since Jon had kissed anyone, but regardless this all felt new. Even Georgie hadn’t been love, not really, but the young adult’s approximation of what love might be at some point in the future.

It only took a few flurried beatings of his heart before Martin kissed back, hands buried in his hair to keep him close. Only a few more slowly calming beats before he deepened the kiss, and Jon let him take the lead, pressing him against the bannister behind him. “That took way too long to happen,” he complained once Martin had pulled away, contenting himself with pressing kisses against his face.

“You were my boss, Jon. It would have been way too weird.”

“Honestly? I had no real power. I was just a glorified assistant.”

Martin laughed against Jon’s shoulder. “We knew. We all knew.”

Jon sighed, shifting around until he was more comfortably propped against Martin’s side. Best to watch the sunset for now, and how it played against Martin’s eyes. “We’ll be okay,” he promised. “We’ll get through this, we’ll…”

“We’ll be okay,” Martin repeated.

#this is what happens when you just shove 8 fics into one doc #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma #my writing

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21st-centuryliability · 4 years

Text

You’re My Sunshine || Ben Hardy X Reader - Chapter 5 - Part 1

A/N: I finally got this damn chapter done!!

Warnings: Mostly just fluff, some angry and protective Ben and angry Roger 👀

It was back to the daily grind, Ben was already gone when you woke up and there was already a coffee order text waiting for you on your phone. As much as you didn’t want to move from your bed you were interested to see just how hungover Joe was. Messy bun and minimal make up, you threw on some clothes, put some food and fresh water down for Frankie and headed out to the nearest Starbucks. Making your usual ‘hot coffees coming through’ dash across set you found the boys. Some looking more worse for wear than others.

“You really need to not drink so much on work nights!” Ben teased Joe as he hid his face and groaned.

“No nooo you’ll smudge your make up” The frustrated make up artist faffed over Joe.

“Good morning guys!” You smiled, laughing slightly at Joes suffering “Hanging are we Joe?”

“Did you get my coffee?” Joe grumbled.

“Right here” You laughed as you handed him the cup, a smile forming on his face as he perked up a little as he caught a smell of the dark beans.

“You’re a lifesaver, I actually love you” Joe was in bliss with his coffee.

“Hey easy tiger, she’s spoken for remember?” Ben grinned at you as he wrapped him around you, grabbing his drink from the tray with the other.

“As a friend, Jesus!” Joe groaned.

“Ouch!” You smiled as Ben placed a kiss to your temple.

“How’s your morning been?” Ben asked.

“Better than Joes by the looks of it” You taunted Joe some more as Ben chuckled.

“You can cut it out now” Joe moaned some more already mostly done with his coffee.

“Could’ve said the same to you last night” Gwil walked over as he joined in on winding Joe up.

“Ha ha very funny” Joe rolled his eyes.

“Don’t turn up to work with a hangover if you don’t want the piss taken out of you” You heard Rogers voice from behind you.

“What Roger said!” Ben agreed with your Uncle, trying to be in his good books even though he most definitely wasn’t.

As Roger said himself, just because he allows your relationship with Ben doesn’t mean he has to like it which was clearly shown by him nudging Bens arm from around your shoulders as he walked past you both. Although it didn’t take Ben long to put his arm back where it rightly belongs. You had countless ‘talks’ and heated discussions with Roger about Ben but he wouldn’t budge, adamant that things would go wrong and Ben would hurt you even though you knew better than anyone that Ben wouldn’t hurt a fly and would never even consider hurting you.

“I’ll talk sense into him eventually, don’t worry” Brian smiled at the pair of you as he followed after Roger, the two of them definitely fulfilled the role of good cop bad cop.

Even on the night you were caught by your uncle, Brian was immediately on your side. After all someone had to stop the wave of red that took over Rogers face. After delivering the coffees you made your way over to Bens trailer, he had given you the spare key when he realized that your ‘office’ was the canteen and he wanted you to have somewhere more comfortable to work not to mention that it meant you would already be in his trailer waiting for him between scenes. Looking round the trailer you couldn’t help but flashback to the night in question.

***

You repeatedly looked at your phone hoping it was a little closer to Ben’s break. After spending the last few hours wading through emails and sorting out potential promo opportunities you wanted nothing more than to spend a little time alone with Ben. Slowly packing up the mess of paper and empty cups from the make shift desk you had made you eagerly awaited the familiar knock on the trailer door. Just as you made yourself comfy on the sofa it was there, the gentle tap tap from Ben.

“Hey how wa-“ before you could finish your sentence Bens hands found your waist as he gently pushed you inside, kissing you passionately almost knocking you over as he engulfed you in his embrace.

“I’ve been waiting all day to do that” Ben chuckled as he let his nose and forehead rest gently against yours.

“I can tell” You smiled as you wrapped your arms round Ben’s shoulders.

“So are we watching a movie then?” Ben asked before placing a soft peck upon your lips before pulling away to get ready to settle down.

“It’s your turn to choose remember” You replied as you watched Ben intently.

Watching movies in the breaks between filming had become a routine for the two of you or make shift dates as you both would say. After all there wasn’t much time for proper dates and the relationship was still very much secret ...well secret from Roger and Brian that is.

You watched Ben as he pushed his messy blonde hair out of his face before removing his T-shirt making it difficult for you to concentrate on the popcorn you were trying to pour into a bowl. Ben chuckled as he caught you trying to cover up the mess you had made, holding your hips and placing a gentle kiss on your cheek. Before Ben made himself comfy he grabbed the blanket from the back of the sofa and wrapped it round himself. As you placed the popcorn and usual movie snacks on the coffee table Ben had draped the blanket round his shoulders, tapping his chest for you join him. Taking off the jumper you had been wearing all day leaving you in just a cami top, you pressed play on the laptop that sat on the cabinet at the end of the sofa before you took your place between Ben’s legs leaning back against his bare chest. Ben was a sucker for skin to skin contact but in a sweet innocent way, he loved the way your skin felt against his as you relaxed into him. Ben gently placed an earphone in your ear, you didn’t want the sound of the movie to attract unwanted guests, before softly kissing your temple and wrapping his arms around you with the blanket, the blanket that Ben had brought from his flat specifically for such events.

“Are you comfy?” Ben spoke softly into your earphone free ear, his nose gently brushing the side of your face.

“Of course” You smiled up at the hazel eyes that watched over you with absolute adoration, your fingertips tracing patterns on Ben’s chest.

“Just checking” Ben chuckled as his arms tightened around you bringing you as physically close to him as he could, the both of you letting out a sigh as you both became fully relaxed against each other.

It wasn’t until you were just over half way through the movie that the two of you heard muffled voices outside, Ben jumping to pause the movie even though you had earphones specifically so people outside couldn’t hear it.

“What do you mean Y/N is in Ben’s trailer?” The voice became all too familiar.

“They’re always in there together...” Joe accidentally let slip.

“Thank mate” Ben sighed quietly as he whispered.

“Oh crap” You panicked as the voices got closer, pretty much outside the door.

“I’m sure it’s nothing Rog” Brian tried to calm him down followed by Roger almost banging the door down.

“Shit!” Ben froze around you.

“You locked the door right?” You looked up at Ben.

“OPEN UP!” Roger banged his fist on the door.

“Rog, calm down” Brian tried again just as Roger twisted the door handle to find it unlocked, sending the door flying open.

“Erm...” You stuttered as you and Ben remained still on the sofa still wrapped up in the blanket.

“Oh my god” Rogers voice dropped a little as he was faced with his niece snuggled up with one of the boys he specifically told you not to get involved with.

“I can explain” You tried to stand up for yourself but Ben wasn’t about to let you fight this alone.

“...no we can explain” Ben desperately tried not to look Roger in the eye as the drummers temper was visibly rising.

“Oh god you better be clothed under that blanket!” Roger looked away as Ben tightened the blanket around the two of you.

“What do you want uncle Rog?” You sighed.

“What did I tell you?” Roger growled.

“Look we didn’t mean for this to happen” You replied somewhat calmly.

“It just did” Ben spoke softly after you, tightening his arms around you.

“How long has this been going on for?” Roger asked as he took a deep breath as both you and Ben looked at each other before looking back at him.

“Roger, before you kick off...” You tried to explain but before you could get any further Roger cut you off.

“But nothing, I told you not to get involved with any of the guys” Roger replied with anger in his voice.

“I know but...” You tried to speak again.

“You know if this goes public all hell will break loose, fans will go crazy, the paps will follow you everywhere and stick their noses into everything” Roger began to rant “You’ll get worn down and your heart broken and when that happens don’t come crying to me!”

“What are you trying to say?” Ben stood up as you followed behind him.

“This will just end badly and he’ll break your heart Y/N!” Roger finally came out with it, groaning as Ben stood next to you topless “Ben put a shirt on!”

“Ok I think we all need to take a moment to breathe and come back to this when we’re all a bit calmer” Brian tried to calm the tempers that were rising as Joe flung Ben his hoodie that was lying about.

“I would never hurt Y/N!” Ben exclaimed, sounding a little hurt by Rogers claims “She means the absolute world to me!”

“Everyone knows if you mess with Y/N you mess with Ben” Joe finally chipped in, instead of standing there in awkward silence.

“You knew? Who else knew?” Roger looked straight at Brian.

“I didn’t know, I just figured it out for myself” Brian gave the two of you a reassuring smile, you knew if anyone could talk your Uncle Roger down and make him see sense it was Brian.

“We only told the boys and Lucy” Ben smiled down at you sweetly as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh god” Roger acted as if he was disgusted by the subtle display of affection Ben had shown towards you.

“They were gonna figure it out anyway” You sighed as Roger’s face grew redder and redder.

“AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO TELL ME?” Roger finally broke as Ben stood in front of you almost in instinct to protect you.

“I know you’re angry and upset right now and you’re just looking out for your niece but I promise you I would never ever hurt Y/N, this happened because I saw something in her that I’ve never seen in anyone else. I know this will probably sound cheesy and a little cringey but I fell inlove with Y/N the moment I met her” Ben spoke softly and emotionally “I know there’s the whole no relationships at work thing but we’ll keep our relationship outside of work ...all though that will be hard”

Ben looked at you as he finished that sentence, making you laugh a little and earning a groan from Roger.

“Ok I think we should go get a coffee ...or maybe a shot of vodka... and calm down before talking anymore” Brian hinted at Roger as he guided him out of the trailer by his shoulders “Come on Joe!”

“Meeting in the canteen in 20 minutes” Roger grumbled as he left the trailer, followed by Brian and Joe shutting the door behind him.

“Well that could’ve gone better” You sighed as Ben wrapped his arms around your shoulders from behind.

“Ah I’m sure he’ll be fine in a little while, Brian will get through to him” Ben spoke softly in your ear as you gently placed your hands on his arm as he nuzzled his nose into your shoulder before placing delicate kiss.

“You were really sweet by the way” You smiled as you turned to face him.

“Hmm?” Ben was too distracted in you, tucking your hair behind your ears as he held your face in his hands.

“What you said earlier to Roger” You reminded him as Ben let his nose rest against yours “It was really sweet”

“Well it’s true, I’ve loved you since I first saw you Y/N” Ben spoke softly as he brought you into a sweet but passionate kiss.

“I love you too Ben” You looked up at the hazel eyes above you “Always”

“Here put this on!” Ben smiled as he took his hoodie off and handed it to you before grabbing his T-shirt from earlier on.

“Roger will notice that this is yours, you know that right?” You raised your eyebrow at your sweet but mischievous boyfriend.

“That’s the point babe” Ben winked at you as he went to pick up both yours and his shoes by the door.

You shook your head at Ben as he handed you your shoes with a huge grin, knowing that the road ahead was going to be bumpy, you knew Roger wasn’t going to accept Ben happily and Ben wasn’t going to make it easy.

“Are you ready?” Ben asked, holding the trailer door open.

“Let’s just get this over with” You sighed as you walked past Ben and out of the trailer.

“I’m sure it will be fine” Ben replied calmly as he locked the door.

“You’ve met my uncle right?” You groaned as you started walking.

“Well...” Ben made you jump as he snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around you waist and swaying you gently “He’ll have to deal with it”

“Do I have to remind you about I’m in love with my car?” You looked up at Ben as he chuckled.

“Well he’ll be hiding in a cupboard for a long time, I’m not going anywhere” Ben’s husky voice in your ear made you melt like butter as he held you a little tighter, gently pressing a kiss to your temple.

As the two of made your way to the canteen, preparing yourself for the bollocking you were about to receive, Ben entwined his hand with yours running his thumb across the back of your hand calming you down. Despite playing your hotheaded uncle in the movie Ben was much more level headed and not a lot could bother him.

Ben walked infront, still holding your hand as you walked over to your friends, most of them a little confused as to what was happening, except Joe.

“There’s the lovebirds” Gwil smiled as you both sat down.

“Anyone know what this meeting is about?” Lucy asked as Joe and Rami sat down with a tray of coffees.

“What are we talking about?” Rami asked as he made himself comfy next to Lucy.

“The meeting? What’s going on?” Lucy asked again.

“Oh that, Ben and Y/N were caught” Joe blurted out as Rami choked a little on his coffee, you kept your eyes on the table while Ben rolled his eyes at Joe.

“Ooh” Gwil grimaced “Should I ask more?”

“Can we just leave it...” before Ben could finish Joe jumped in.

“They were having one of their make do movie dates and Ben was topless” Joe let it all out.

“Joe!!” Ben was beginning to lose his patience with Joe and if they weren’t such good friends Ben would’ve had him already.

“Sorry but they’re gonna find out anyway” Joe held his hands up.

“That’s not the point though” Ben grumbled, clearly not wanting to be in the situation he was currently in.

“Hey it’ll be ok” You spoke softly to Ben as you ran your thumb gently across the back of his hand for reassurance.

“It’s good that Roger knows now right?” Lucy pondered.

“Well he didn’t seem too pleased and the fact he called this meeting says he’s not happy about it” You sighed as Ben looked at you with a little sadness in his eyes.

“It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t like it, I’m not letting you go” Ben smiled sweetly as he kissed the back of your hand earning a not so subtle grumble from Joe “Don’t you start!”

“Ben leave him, it’s ok” You tried to calm him but Joe was only about to aggravate him more.

“It’s his fault this is happening anyway” Ben furrowed his brow at Joe.

“Wait what?” Gwil asked confused.

“Ben we knew this was going to happen eventually, you can’t blame Joe for that, yeah he may have blabbed a little but we’re the ones sneaking around remember?” You tried to talk sense into Ben, that this was inevitable and waiting to happen and had nothing to do with Joe “This is something we just have to face”

“I’m sorry for blabbing though” Joe apologized to keep the peace.

“Sorry for losing my temper with you” Ben gave the apology back.

“Hey wasn’t that the hoodie you were wearing earlier?” Joe asked receiving a piercing look from Ben “Alright ok I’ll shut up”

Just as the tension between Ben and Joe had resolved Roger came bounding in followed by Brian.

“Right you probably all know what this is about so I’m just gonna remind you of the no relationships at work policy” Roger grumbled as he sat down.

“You mean the one that only applies to Y/N and I?” Ben mumbled under his breath.

“Ben don’t” You spoke quietly.

“It applies to all of you” Roger stared Ben down.

“Really? Gwil was already in a relationship, Rami and Lucy don’t seem to be a problem and god knows Joe isn’t getting a girlfriend anytime soon” Bens anger came out full force.

“Ok ow” Joe screwed nose up.

“Rami and Lucy are different” Roger tried to explain.

“What, because they’re both cast members?” Ben snapped back as Roger remained speechless “It is isn’t?”

“You’re lucky Y/N is my niece” Roger started to snap back.

#bohemian rhapsody #borhap #ben hardy #joe mazzello #gwilym lee #rami malek #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x reader #ymsfic #fanfic #fluff

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johnshelbysbabygirll · 4 years

Text

For the rest of this life - JOHN SHELBY X READER

Words: 1981

i written this a few weeks ago, but i didn’t wanted to post it cause i hate to think about John being dead...in the same time, i thought that maybe you would like it so...here we go.

Everything started a long time ago.

Your mother was a teacher in Small Heath and you and John met each other back then. You couldn't stand him, he was full of himself even as a kid and you hated him, so you always fought each other. You always ended up crying and with him apologizing to you.

When you grew up you went to school in Italy, but somehow you and John managed to wrote each other letters every now and then. He told you about the war, about his wife Martha and their children that he left back home, about Polly and his brothers, Ada and the little Finn. You told him about Italy, about new things you learnt at school everyday and how happy you are that you can do more than most of the girls do: get married and have kids. You knew you can do more than that. You were so scared when weeks used to pass by and his letter didn't came; you were scared for his life.

All this time John told you everything, but his business. Your family told you nothing at all and back then you were so blind.

In 1920 when you came back in Birmingham, you and John met each other and that was the night when you gave him your virginity. You didn't stop meting each other, but you were hiding from your families even if John told you about their alliance and how things are on the line between them. You weren't that sure, knowing how your brothers are, but you trusted John and you started to fall hard for him, even if you didn't wanted to; you couldn't help it. He was everything you wished for and you quickly realized that.

You remember the night he asked you to marry him.

"John?"

You received a letter from him that told you to be at the Garrison at 8 pm and there you are alone. You start to get scared, thinking that it's a trap from who knows what enemies, but when you enter the back room he was there. He is wearing a nice suite, his hair is perfect styled and his grin is on his lips as always. There are candles and flowers all over the room and you are confused, but you can feel happy tears in your eyes.

"What-What's this?"

"Me showin you how much I love and care bout you."

"John..." You start talking but you stop shocked when he is on one knee in front of you, pulling out from his pocket a velvet red beautiful box.

"Maybe our relationship it's not perfect and for others we will never be perfect for each other, but who the fuck cares? Not me. Cause I love you and I want you be my side forever. I swear I will protect you with my life...You helped me through my worst times and it's all on you cause I'm still 'ere today."

Tears are falling on your pink cheeks and you don't even try to stop 'em.

"I love you and no one...No one knows how much. [Y/N] Changretta...You wanna be my wife for the rest of this life?"

You smile through tears and you help John stand up to wrap your arms around his neck, looking right into his eyes as you answered.

"Yes, for the rest of this life...I wanna be your wife! Yes!"

You kiss each other, both of you a mess of smiles and tears and you hear loudly applause from the door. You turn around to see all his family, watching you smiling.

"[Y/N] Changretta it's dead. You are a fuckin Shelby now" Arthur speaks as he hug you and John and you all laugh with him.

"Welcome to the family. Don't fuck up our trust." Tommy is next and you can feel a threat in his voice, but you didn't mind. You will show them who you truly are and that blood don't really matter sometimes.

....and you became a Shelby when your family didn't even know about your relationship. They were too busy, but you knew that this happiness won't last. You felt the knife at the back of your head, but you kept going.

You had a wonderful little wedding in the gipsy style and you danced all night barefoot around the fire. You danced with Tommy, Arthur and Polly as well and everything was perfect, even without your family being there. The morning caught you and John between sweaty sheets, covering your naked bodies...

"You know I love you, right?" You whisper as you play with your fingertips on John's toned chest.

"Well, you married me. That should mean somethin' right?" He answers with a cocky tone and you laugh. When he laughs too, you can feel it in your entire body.

"Just answer it."

You carry on with it, wanting to hear it.

"I know you love me, [Y/N]. And you know that I love you."

But the secret that you became a Shelby didn't lasted too long after the wedding and you expected that.

You walk into your bedroom, still with a little smile on your face after the dinner you had with John. But something caught up your eyes.

You come closer to the bed and all the air stuck into your throat.

You can't breath as you see the black hand on your white sheets.

No words or explications.

Just a black hand and it was enough to know.

You don't even pack your things, you just run away far from that house, your family's house.

As you enter Polly's house, everyone is there cause they are having a family meeting and all their eyes are now on you. You are out of air and John quickly stand up to come to you; he was beyond concerned.

"They know."

And that's how the war started.

When John cut your brother, Angel, for Lizzie you were angry and jealous but you weren't hurt because of what he did. You knew your father won't let this go and that this was the end of the peace between the families. And the end of the peace between you and John.

Just a few days later, Grace died and she was killed for Angel and for the pubs Peaky Blinders took from them. Tommy was grieving and he didn't trusted you or anyone at all, beside Charlie. So John kept you away from it as much as he could, but it wasn't enough; he couldn't keep you locked until the danger it's gone. He was so protective and possessive that it drove you insane and you fought every night when he came home until the morning when he left again.

And days later, you found out that they killed your father. Tommy wanted to cut him, to kill him with tiny steps, but Arthur couldn't stand it and shot him in the head to end his pain. You hated your brothers, but you loved your parents in your kind of way. And you didn't wanted to, but you cried for a whole night and you were grieving. At this point you were literally down, knowing this wasn't the end. How much blood will be spilled?

You were at home with the kids most of the time and even if you loved them and they made you smile despite everything, John's absence was hurting you.

The Shelby family was falling part; everyone was on their way, but no one was safe and you all realized that weeks later when you received black hands on Christmas Eve. John hoped that the hand wasn't for you as well, that you are safe, but both of you knew better than this. You were a Changretta, you became a Shelby and it was a Vendetta going on. You all had a red target on your back, including you.

"Where do you think you're going?"

John is right at the door leaning on it as you grab your coat, but you stop at the middle of the action, slowly turning your head to him just like a robber would.

"I need some air."

"No, it's late. Go to sleep."

"Only if you come too" you whisper knowing too well that he try his best to stay awake and watch over the house and usually he just fall asleep on a chair.

He was unsure, but you pull him closer to you and you grab his face as you talk with a lower voice, looking right into his eyes.

"It's like a nightmare...Being without you. Come in our bedroom, please John."

You keep repeat it until he finally nod and you deep kiss each other, feeling like it was the first time in weeks.

And that was your mistake.

The next morning you woke up dizzy because of all the noises and Michael was there. You and John were confused and he tried to cover you up with the sheets.

"What's happenin?" You ask and you are already scared.

"Nothing, love. Dress up and wait here, okay? You heard me?"

You slowly nod while catching his fingers with yours; John quickly kiss your forehead and hand before reaching to the door with Michael. You watch him with teary eyes and you don't want to let go of his hand, but he's smiling at you.

"I love you, [Y/N]."

"I love you, John, but stay here, please. Don't leave me alone."

You want to get up, but you can't because Michael is here and you're not wearing anything else beside the sheets. So you just watch him walk out the door with Michael, feeling like he left for good. And you know for sure that he feel it too.

That's why you dress up in hurry and follow them outside. Michael looks panicked and is trying to convince John to leave, to gather the family together at Polly's.

"I agree with him." You talk and they both turn with their faces to you. John eyes grew wider and he runs a hand over his head, not knowing what to do.

"[Y/N], I told you to-..."

"Shut up and listen to me for once, John!" You scream in his face as you walk outside and you take a gasp of air, keeping your calm. "Please, baby...I beg you. Let's go to Polly's. I have a bad-..."

"John!" Michael screaming John's name it's the only thing you hear when you look over your shoulder and see a trailer filled with hay that pulled up outside your house. You frown when the hay suddenly disappeared and several men with guns appeared in it's place.

"[Y/N] come on!" You don't even hear Michael screaming at you and trying to move you, to get you back inside, but you don't wanna take any steps.

"Get her inside now!"

John pull his gun up, ready to fire back at them and all the noises are far away in your head as you only see John, as you only think about him. You grab his under shirt, trying to pull him inside with you and Michael, but you weren't fast enough. You don't even have the time to scream when pain spread across your stomach and chest from the bullets that are shattering you.

And John.

You take just one look at him and a tear drop on your cheek when you see his white under shirt being red now.

Michael can only watch in pure terror as you both fell at the ground next to each other, your bodies quickly covering in blood. You don't even feel all the pain anymore; probably it's too much that you are numb now. You look over at John, tears falling from your eyes because his are already closed.

"I've loved you...All my life." You whisper and you grab one of his fingers, closing your eyes and holding him for the last time and for the rest of the time.

#John Shelby #johnxreader #john x reader #reader x john #john shelby imagines #Peaky Blinders #peaky season 5 #peaky blinders imagines #peaky x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #PEAKY FOOKIN BLINDERS #peaky blinders spoilers #peaky fic rec

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addictofsupernatural · 5 years

Text

The Southsider (pt. 14)

Sweet Pea x reader

Chapter Summary: Y/n isn't taking the news about her father all too well.

A/n: The accounts that don't work when I try to tag them will be tagged in the comments.

Warnings: smut (labeled where it starts and ends)

Word Count: 2022

Chapter 1 • Chapter 13

You looked at the phone, tears making your eyes foggy. Sweet Pea ended the call and looked at you. "Babe." He said quietly.

When you looked at him, he was taken aback. You began to breathe heavier and tears were streaming down your face. But that wasn't it. You had the look of pure terror on your face.

"Sweetheart."

"Sweets." You looked at him with the most vulnerable expression. "I'm scared."

"No, babe-"

You began to breathe faster, panicking and shaking your head. "He's gonna come for me! He'll find me! He'll gonna kill me!" You began to shake uncontrollably as you went into a panic attack.

All Sweet Pea could do was grab you and engulf you into his arms, holding you as you cried in fear. He rested his head on top of yours as you just let everything out.

By the time FP and Jughead barged into the trailer, you were calmer in Sweet Pea's arms as you both sat on the couch. Your face was puffy and you wore a broken expression. "Kid." FP said gently as he knelt down to you.

"He's gonna take me." You said in a hoarse voice. "I'm going to die." You didn't look at him. You then looked at Sweet Pea. "And you! We have to break up."

"What?" His grip loosened on you.

You nodded your head quickly. "If he finds out that we're dating he'll come for you." You were beginning to shake again.

"Kid, look at me." You looked at FP with hopeless eyes. "What is the first law?"

You sniffed. "No serpent stands alone."

He brushed some hair out of your face. "What is the fourth law?"

"No serpent is left for dead." You snuggled into Sweet Pea further.

FP gave you a gentle smile. "What is the sixth law?"

You smiled back. "In unity, there is strength."

"In unity, there is strength." Sweet Pea and Jughead echoed.

"Well there you have it." FP said. "He's not gonna hurt you. The Serpents won't let him."

"And you can't get rid of me that easily." Sweet Pea whispered as he kissed below your ear.

The four of you then made a plan. The Serpents were going to stay at your house with you so nothing would happen to you at night. At every shift at Pop's, a few members were to stay there with you. Sweet Pea or Fangs were to be with you at all times.

Although you still felt a heavy fear deep within you, you couldn't help but feel more safe. You finally had a family that you could love without being afraid to lose them. Maybe you could be happy.

The next day you set up a huge pile of blankets and pillows. You bought a ton of groceries and took more shifts at Pop's, despite feeling a little more unsafe there. If people were going to sleep in your living room to make you feel safer, then the least you could do is get food to make for them.

Different Serpents would be there when you were working. Sometimes it was old Serpents, sometimes it was regular Serpents, most of the time it was your friends, but the one who was always there was Sweet Pea. Either way, you always gave whoever was there free dessert.

You really got to know everyone. At night Sweet Pea would sneak into your room, sometimes just to feel your warmth, and sometimes it was for not so innocent purposes. But you'd wake him up earlier than FP so he wouldn't know.

Everybody woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs. "Who wants breakfast?" You called out. Everyone cheered.

Jughead was leaning on the counter next to you, munching on bacon as you served people some pancakes. "So," he said as he ate. "When are you gonna tell my dad about Sweet Pea going to your room every night?"

This caught Sweet Pea's ear. "About the same time I tell him about you sneaking off at night to go to Betty's." He glared at you. "At least I'm assuming you go to Betty."

"Fair enough." He passed a paper plate to you, and you put more waffles on it. You gave him a big smile as you gave the plate back to him.

"Nice." Fangs said, sticking out his plate for some pancakes. Sweet Pea pushed his shoulder and gave you a quick peck on the cheek.

"We're going to school dad." Jughead called out.

"Alright." He called back.

"Guys please clean up after yourselves!" You shouted before leaving.

After school you, Jughead, Toni and Fangs would all go to the Carrie rehearsals. Sweet Pea offered to be there as well, but you insisted that you wanted him to see your performance on the day of the play.

You began to grow exhausted, whether it be from the rehearsals or school or work or having to cook for about 30 people almost everyday. It was mainly from worrying about when or where your dad would show up. It showed, and your loyal boyfriend took it upon himself to do something about it.

"Come on." Sweet Pea said, tugging your hand.

"Where are we going?" You said, tired and stressed. "I should probably cook dinner for everybody."

"No, not today. You've been taking care of everybody lately. You deserve a break." He hopped on his bike and handed you your jacket. You slid it on and hopped on, loving his warmth as you held onto him.

You rode to his trailer. You went inside to where you felt most at home, most at peace. You felt his hands snake around your waist as he buried his face in your neck. He began leaving kisses up and down your neck. "You haven't been taking care of yourself. I noticed that you've been skipping meals."

You breathed out a sigh. "I've been busy. I did eat dinner though."

"I know, but I still feel like you should have a treat." He took you to his room, where there was a big tray filled with small pastries. "I went to Greendale earlier and got them at a bakery."

You turned around and kissed him. "Sweets you are so perfect."

"Gotta make sure my girl feels appreciated." He then took you to the bed, where you two sat and ate with each other while talking and joking. Once you were finished with everything, you set the tray on the floor. "Babe, you have a bit of cheesecake on your lip."

- - - smut starts - - -

Before you could do anything, Sweet Pea grabbed your cheek, licking off the cheesecake before kissing you deeply. "Sweets." You breathed out.

He pulled your shirt over your head and unclipped your bra, gently pushing you to lay on your back. He hovered over you, putting wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone. "Let me take care of you. I want to make you feel special."

You nodded and laid your head back. You closed your eyes as you felt him kiss his way down your chest and stomach, opening them once he yanked down your pants as well as your panties. You gasped at the cold breeze onto your core.

"Already so wet for me." He licked up from your core to your folds. "Only I could make you like this." He then kissed your clit, causing a moan to escape you.

"Sweets, please." You whispered.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'm nice." He then slowly inserted a finger into you. He waited a moment for you to adjust before slowly moving it in and out. He then picked up the pace, and pretty soon he added a second finger.

"Oh God, Sweets yes." You began to get noisier as the tension built up inside of you.

He left kisses on your clit, driving you closer and closer to the edge. He then began to suck on your clit, causing your thighs to shake. "That's it." He said. "Come for me, princess."

You just let go of the tension you were holding in as your orgasm washed over you. When he made sure you were okay, you sat up. "Come here, babe." You said, reaching out your hands.

You both went in for a deep kiss. You could taste yourself on him, but you didn't care. "That's the first time you called me babe." He smiled against your lips.

"I want you to feel good too." You said as you palmed him through his jeans.

"Tonight was about you though." He said as he moved your hand away, begining to breathe harder.

You straddled him and ground into him. "Then make me feel good again. Please." You buried your face in his neck.

"You're amazing." He breathed out.

- - - smut end - - -

You opened your eyes to you snuggled up against your boyfriend's chest. You were engulfed in warmth and didn't want to get out. You gently got out of the arms that were wrapped around you and checked your phone. 7:47. School starts in 13 minutes.

You quickly got up and looked around for your panties, not being able to find them. You did find your bra, and put it on. Sweet Pea stirred away and smiled at you lazily. "We're gonna be late for school." You said. "You gotta get up. Up up up!" You threw the blankets off of him, then pecked the top of his head. "Where's my underwear?"

He sat up and picked up the ripped material from the ground. "Sorry. Got a little carried away." His smile didn't match his apology. "Wear one of mine."

You huffed, putting a pair of boxer briefs on and tossing on your jeans and one of his shirts. You then got ready at lightning speed, pushing Sweet Pea around with you for him to get ready.

You both got there at 7:58. You ran to your Biology class and sat down right before the bell rang. Toni looked at you, about to make a comment about the mess that you were. "Don't." You said.

After work you opened the door to see Sweet Pea leaning on his bike in the parking lot. He had a grin on his face. "I have a surprise for you."

You went up to him and hugged him. "Another one? Last night's surprise was amazing enough."

He kissed your cheek and pulled out a small box, handing it to you. "Open it." You smiled and pulled off the ribbon, opening it. It was a pocket knife. "I figured you would feel safer with it, and every serpent has a pocket knife on them."

It was a Galaxy color, and when you opened the blade it was also the same color as the handle. It was thicker than most, as well as sharper it seemed. "I figured that when I'm not there to protect you, you'd think of me when you're being a badass."

You giggled and put it in your pocket. "Always so thoughtful, Pea." You deeply kissed him. "I can't help but fall in love with you."

He froze. "What?"

You immediately back away. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that. You probably weren't ready, and I probably shouldn't be rushing into saying that I love you, and-"

You were cut off by Sweet Pea's lips. His hands were on your hips as he pulled you closer to him. You ran your hand through his hair, your other hand on his shoulder. He suddenly pulled back. "I love you too." He gasped out.

You giggled as you took a look at Sweet Pea. His eyes were wide and his lips were swollen. His hair was in a mess and he had a goofy smile on. You jumped on him and kissed all over his face while he laughed in response.

He pulled back as you paused and pecked him on the lips. "Is my girl happy?" You excitedly nodded. "Is she ready to leave?" You nodded again. "Then let's go."

What you both didn't know was that same night, your father had been released. They asked if he wanted to be taken to you, but he said no. They asked if he wanted your address, but said no. What he asked for was money, only ten dollars. He then went to Riverdale High, and bought a ticket to Carrie: the Musical.

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Author's Note: Sorry I didn't update last week. Writer's block. This was kinda my least favorite chapter so far, but I'll try to be better next chapter.

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Tag List:

@madaboutlili @sireennotsiren @elsie2018 @greyfairie @iamaunicorn4704 @wanna-plan-world-domination @whenallsaidanddone @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @live-love-bailar @thecraziestcrayon @cvvlxx-deactivated @grim-adventures58 @official--fangirl @jesus-jagiya @skeletalwolfcat @theunofficialduke @punkrock-cinnamonroll @rhi-an-onn @amongthewildthingss @apocalypticriot @anahgiedd @dreamsfromanemptyteacup @maddiebee2019 @fromheroestodust @blue-pink-green @alaynaadams22

#riverdale #riverdale fandom #riverdale fanfiction #sweet pea #sweet pea fanfiction #sweet pea fic #sweet pea x reader #riverdale sweet pea #sweet pea fluff #the southsider #the southside #the southside serpents #sweet pea x y/n

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writing-for-amusement · 5 years

Text

Keep It Secret, 4

Summary: Ever since your soulmate told you to stop writing on your skin because they didn’t want to communicate, you did as they asked even though it hurt your heart. During the first day of your new job as an “emergency woman” on a film set, you forget your notepad and planner, so you have to write on your skin. When you’re then called to the makeup trailer to deal with an emergency, you meet Zendaya Coleman, with your supply list on her wrist. You vow to keep your status as her soulmate a secret, even if it hurts, because all you want is for her to be happy. Even if it’s to your detriment.

A/N: Okay, so, this chapter is a little short, but... I REALLY wanted to break it off where I did because I like to keep the suspense going lmaoo... Anyway, I hope you like this, I’m actually pretty content with how it turned out!!! Fun fact, I actually didn’t know how I wanted to do the cat, so I legit went on a pet adoption website to find inspiration!!!!

You can still get on any of my taglists!!!! Also, what do you think will happen next?????

Disclaimer: I do not know or claim to know Zendaya Coleman; I am essentially using her as a face/name claim to my fic idea. The same goes for the other people in this fic. That being said, I hope you like this!!!!!

Warnings: drunkenness, mention of vomit, a kitty cat, some angst, swearing

Word Count: 2023

Permanent Taglist: @pparkerwrites, @jordyns-library, @natblidaclexa, @peterseuphoria, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @beccaboo929, @softrdj, @icecoldban

KIS Taglist: @hailqueenconquer, @imaginerequestpage, @adventurousbooknerd

Chapter 4

Zendaya kept looking at you with those perfect furrowed brows, her hair gently moving in the breeze. Internally, you were floundering for an answer, flipping back and forth between what your heart and soul wanted, and what you knew Zendaya wanted.

Externally, well, you hoped you didn’t look as panicked as you felt.

“Is it me?” Zendaya asked in a small voice.

You hadn’t thought anything could have hurt worse than your daily pain of being around her and not telling her. But this, this was much worse than that. Every atom in your body was screaming in pain, in anger, as Zendaya looked so sad, confused, and broken.

Your hands briefly reached out to take her by the shoulders to add emphasis to what you were about to say, but you let them fall back to your sides.

You bent slightly so you could look her in the eyes. Zendaya raised her gaze to yours and you gave her a pained smile.

“It’s not you, Zendaya,” you explained. “It’s not you, I promise. I promise that it really isn’t you, it’s me.” You inhaled shakily to steel your nerves. “Look, I, well, we—”

Jade suddenly laid on the horn, making you both jump in surprise. You whirled around to see her animatedly motioning for you to get going. Then, she rolled the window down and yelled in slightly slurred words, “Let’s goooooooooooooo!”

“Okay, Jade, Jesus Christ, just a minute!” you yelled back. After watching your friend slump back into the car, you turned back to your soulmate.

She was chuckling and that made your heart lift slightly. “Such a character,” she sighed lightly. Then, her eyes were back on yours.

“Zendaya, I promise, it’s not you. But I gotta go, okay? We… we can talk later, alright? I’ll see you next time you’re on set.”

“Okay, Y/N,” she said hesitantly. Then, her demeanor brightened. “Okay. I don’t know why, but I really believe you. I’ll see you soon, Y/N. Be safe driving.”

You smiled and nodded, turning back and getting in the car. Zendaya waved at you as you reversed and drove away.

“What took you so long?” Jade whined.

You sighed at her and shook your head. “Just relax. You’ll be with your cat before long. If you must know, Zendaya asked why I never let her touch me.”

Jade gasped dramatically. “What did you say?”

“Well, I was going to tell her the truth, until you butted in with a car horn!” you explained with frustration lining your voice.

“Oh no,” Jade breathed. “Oh no.”

You glanced at her and were about to reassure her, when you saw how white her face was. Quickly pulling over, you urged her to open the door and vomit out there. It might not be your car, but you knew you’d be the one to be cleaning it, and you definitely didn’t want to be driving with that scent.

Your phone chimed as your friend leaned out the door and released her stomach onto the pavement. Glancing at the notification, you saw that it was a message from Zendaya.

“Hey, I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that,” the message said.

You dropped the phone into the empty cupholder and vowed to answer it once you got to Jade’s place. It seemed that the many daiquiris had finally caught up with Jade fully, as she was wobbling on her feet and slurring her words.

Thankfully, Jade didn’t throw up again as you helped her to her apartment. Her cat, an orange and white tabby named Cyborg, meowed from his spot on the back of the couch. He was named Cyborg because he only had one eye, but the other was a gorgeous green. Cyborg was the sweetest and most affectionate cat you’d ever met; he was also very chatty.

As you helped Jade through the apartment, Cyborg meowed loudly at you, following from a respectable distance. You nodded at him and hummed your understanding as you let Jade fall into her bed. He followed you as you went to the kitchen to get Jade a glass of water to drink before bed.

“I know, Cy, I know, she always leaves you alone,” you said sympathetically to the cat. After another meow, you said, “Well, if you want me to visit more, little kit-kat, you have to talk to your mama. I doubt she’d let me come in here willy-nilly.”

He gave a small mew.

“We can’t know what she’d say; your mama is a little crazy,” you explained as you bent down to rub his cute head. He purred loudly and licked your fingers briefly before following you back to Jade’s room.

“Drink,” you ordered as you brandished the cup at her. Jade, surprisingly obedient when this drunk, followed your command and drank it all in one gulp.

As you were tucking her in, Cyborg curled up in the crook of her knees, Jade muttered out, “I’m sorry I ruined your moment with Zendaya.”

“It’s alright, Jade,” you ruffled her hair. “You actually saved me.”

“No,” she argued gently, “you need to tell her. You need to tell her, or you’ll never become prom queen, Y/N.”

“Okay, Jade, whatever you say,” you chuckled. “Sleep time now.”

“Mmkay,” she said as she curled into her blankets. With an amused shake of your head, you kissed your friend’s forehead and left her room.

After plugging your phone in, you settled onto the couch with one of the blankets Jade hoarded for her couch. As you were drifting off to sleep, you shot straight up and snatched your phone from the table.

“It’s not your fault,” you typed out to Zendaya, “you do deserve an explanation, I just don’t know when I’ll be able to give it.” Then, after brief hesitation, you also sent, “I hope you sleep well, Z.”

Satisfied that you actually remembered to reply after dealing with a drunken Jade, you leaned back into the couch and fell asleep peacefully.

You woke up the next morning to a pounding on the front door and a weight on your chest. A loud purring vibrated through your chest and you saw that, of course, Cyborg was curled on your chest, content as can be. His eye was squinted shut in happiness, but it popped open as the knocking on the door picked up again.

“Okay, kit-kat,” you announced with sleep in your voice as you sat up. Holding the cat in your arms, you padded to the front door and looked out the peephole.

Standing on Jade’s porch was Zendaya, looking incredibly well-put-together for what was apparently 7:30 a.m. Her hair was tied back, she wasn’t wearing any makeup, and seeing her there made your heart pound in both a good way and a bad way.

Opening the door after maneuvering Cyborg as if you were cradling a piece of luggage with one arm, you said, “Zendaya, what are you doing here?”

“I got your text last night,” she explained as you let her in. Cyborg meowed from his comfortably limp place under your arm. “Who’s this?”

“Cyborg, Jade’s cat,” you replied, holding him up. He meowed loudly. “Haven’t you met him? Jade said you’ve visited before.”

Zendaya scratched the cat’s head and shrugged a shoulder. “I think he was in the hospital that night, getting the rest of his eye removed.”

You nodded in understanding before putting the cat on the ground. He wound around your legs and mewed softly. Looking up at Zendaya, you saw that she looked conflicted.

“Can we sit?” she asked, gesturing to the couch.

“Sure thing,” you said easily, picking the cat up again as you plopped on the couch. Zendaya sat down at the other end and pulled her knees to her chest.

“I’m gonna level with you,” she stated almost immediately. “I just… can’t get you out of my mind, and I don’t know why.”

“O-oh?” you asked, translating your nerves into petting the cat that was curled in your lap and purring like crazy.

“Yeah,” Zendaya said flatly, the confusion lacing her tone. She let out a growl as she ran her hands over her head. “I just don’t understand why, why you’re so enchanting to me.” She yanked her hair tie out of her hair. “Like, even when I’m not around you, I’m thinking about you, about what you’re doing, about if you’re smiling or not. I’ve never… never thought about someone like this before.”

“I… I’m really not that special,” you admitted with a half-smile and one shoulder shrug. Cyborg meowed as you stopped petting him, prompting you to continue.

“You are, though!” Zendaya said passionately. “You are just so bright and smart and clever and sweet and fuck, I don’t know! You’re just wonderful and,” she suddenly leaned closer to you, “and I feel like you feel a lot of the same things about me.

“When I noticed that other people touch you, but you always shy away from me, I had no idea I’d get so frustrated. I started testing it, you know… Every time you shied away from me, I got more and more hurt, more and more frustrated. And I can’t figure out why it bugs me so much. All I can think is… that you’re something special. There’s something about you, something that you won’t tell me about, but I want to know… I need to know.”

Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears as you ran your fingers through Cyborg’s long fur. You couldn’t look her in the eye because you knew that once you did, you wouldn’t be able to keep the secret anymore.

It’s what she wants.

“Y/N,” her gentle voice prompted you. “Please, talk to me.”

You swallowed nervously. “I,” your voice was dry as your mind and soul fought in the most intense boxing match of the century, “I’m worried that… if you know… you’ll hate me. That… That you won’t want anything to do with me.”

“Oh, Y/N,” she murmured your name. “Nothing about you could ever make me hate you. Please, just, just tell me what it is.”

You opened your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted again.

“Y/N, is your ass still here?” Jade’s loud voice demanded from the hallway. “If you took an Uber home, I’m gonna be so mad—” she cut off as she entered the living room and saw you and Zendaya on the couch.

“Hi, Jade,” Zendaya greeted awkwardly.

“Fuck,” Jade said plainly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I fucked it up again, didn’t I?” Her eyes, wide with panic, locked with yours. “Fuck, did I interrupt?”

“Yeah, Jade,” you informed her, “yeah, you did.”

“But, I mean, this is your house,” Zendaya added.

“That’s true,” you nodded, “it is your house.”

“Shit,” Jade whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt the whole confession again, I’m so sorry—”

“Jade!” you interrupted her, your eyes wide.

“R-right,” she muttered, taking a step back.

“How about we go onto the porch?” you offered to Zendaya.

“Y-yeah,” she seemed confused at your loud interruption. You rarely raised your voice like that; hell, you barely yelled across set.

You got up and dumped Cyborg’s relaxed body into Jade’s arms before nearly marching to the front porch. Zendaya followed a few steps behind you, still surprised at your abrupt, almost irritated actions.

You plopped into a chair and rested your arm on the armrest, laying your head into it. Under your breath, you muttered, “Fucking Jade and her shitty-ass timing…”

Zendaya laughed at your words, making you glance up as she sat on the porch swing. Jade was lucky with the house she had bought; she’d told you that it had needed a lot of work, but because of that, the price had been incredibly cheap for an LA suburb.

“Sit with me on the swing?” Zendaya asked hesitantly.

You hesitated slightly before nodding, getting up and sitting down on the swing. You internally winced as you felt like your weight made it creak almost ominously.

“So,” Zendaya prompted a bit nervously, “you were saying?”

#zendaya x plus size reader #zendaya x reader #zendaya coleman x reader #zendaya coleman x plus size reader #keep it secret fic #reader insert #plus size reader #please let me know what you think

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jay-and-dean · 5 years

Text

Love me once, shame on me Chapter 5 : Scream.

Dean x named reader (is this a thing ?)

Love me Once, Shame on me MASTERLIST

Serie Warnings : Violence, swearing, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex (you are smarter than this), Fluffy fluff.

Chapter warnings : Violence, swearing, angst, smut (oral), fluff.

Words : 6.9k

Chapter summary : A scream saved her life. A scream made her his. A scream he hold back. And all the screams in their heads.

gifs not mine

It's 4am. The bunker is so silent I swear I could hear my own shattered heart beating. I can't sleep...

It's been 4 months now, 4 months since Dean kissed me and I told him to go. He never tried again. With me, he never got close again.

The first time he went out with a stupid giggling waitress, I had a panic attack. A silent devastating drowning-in-tears panic attack. I spent the whole night imagining him thrusting in that slut, biting her jaw, leaving bite marks all over her... I puked a lot. I took a cold shower and almost accidently killed myself with sleeping pills.

But Dean found a girl almost one night in two since then... All sorts of girls. Now it's become a habit : I go to bed and cry, I get up in the middle of the night and do something, anything, then I get exhausted and take pills.

We came back from a hunt yesterday, and yet he already found someone for tonight. My sweet baby have kind of become a slut, even Sam is freaking out, asking him what is wrong with him all the time.

I get up and rub my eyes, readjusting my long sleeves t-shirt. What am I still doing here ? Why do I inflict this to myself ? I should go, at least, away from Dean I wouldn't know exactly when he is giving himself to anybody.

My feet meet the cold ground and I decide to head for the kitchen. I'm hungry. When Dean told us he wouldn't be there tonight, I couldn't eat, and now I know anything I'm going to eat I'm going to puke, but I'm hungry anyway.

The light is on, and Dean is right here.

I stop, looking at him with a mix of relief and extreme anxiety. He's making a sandwich and drinking a beer. When his eyes meet mine, he looks like a deer caught in headlights.

"Why aren't you sleeping ?" he asks almost in a reproachful tone.

"Why are you here ?" I groan.

"Well it's my kitchen."

"Do you want me out of your kitchen Dean ?" I ask with a cold voice.

He looks down. And hands me the knife.

"Peanut butter ?" he says pushing the jar toward me.

We eat in silence. As he stuffs his mouth with enormous bites I remember that time he choked on a burger, I was panicking because his eyes were crying and his lips went blue for a second, but he recovered fast enough to make fun of me, his voice still hoarse, and everyone looking at us because I was screaming like an anxious mom.

"How was your... date ?" I ask.

He shrugs and stays silent. It's better this way, I don't know why I'm talking about this, I must be a masochist.

"I would have preferred a date with you" he shrugs again and I look up at him, incapable of swallowing my bite.

I lift my eyebrows and he smiles, taking a sip of his beer.

"What ? You know I do..." he just says like it was nothing.

I swallow painfully, my throat tight, and sigh. I put my sandwich down and drink the large glass of water in front of me.

"Talk to me about your ex. You said he was a hunter, do I know him ?" he suddenly asks and I have to sit.

He takes two beers in the fridge and follows me to the table.

"Why do you want to know ?" I ask sadly.

"We're friends, and you know everything about me, you read the Supernatural books and you live with us. I introduced you to all of my friends, you even fucked me in the restroom of a shitty bar..." my heart pounds in my chest at his words. Did I really fucked him ? Is that how he sees that ? "And you still don't want to talk to me about that guy who broke your heart."

I take a shaky breath, I have to be careful.

"I was a lonely kid, you know..." I start, barely believing what I'm about to tell him. "I had a shitty childhood..."

While I tell him the story of how that guy came into my life, I watch him watch me. The deep worn out green of his warm eyes piercing my soul. I try not to give him any clue, and I try not to think too much about what I am saying, because I would break down if I would. I don't know how long I talk, but he listens carefully.

"We were so happy. Everything was perfect. I could have died for him just because he asked. And I felt like a queen at his arm" I smile. "Sex was epic and I was horny all the time" I laugh slightly remembering how true this is. My body wanted him all the time, like he wanted to become one with him. "Onesunny summer day... I remember that day... We had a weight off of our minds because I feared to be pregnant and I wasn't. So we had sex outside of my trailer, out there in the sun, for hours, and he get sunburned..."

And just like that, my smile dies on my lips and a shadow of despair darken my face.

"Later that day, I went shopping, I wanted to buy some cream for his burnt back and ice cream because we talked about getting some all day... The drugstore was closed and I texted him that it would take longer than I thought because I had to find another one... I... I didn't want him to peel... I just didn't want him to be in any kind of pain... When I came back..."

I take a shaky breath and feel my eyes shine with held tears.

"He had left a note."

"A note ?" he asks, clearly captivated. "What did it say ?"

I clear my voice, hearing in my head the echo of the deafening sound my heart made then.

"The note said it was over" I whisper.

"How could it be over like that. Did he explained ?" he asks.

"He talked about the almost pregnancy, about the future. He said it was going too far, too quickly. He said he didn't know if he loved me as much as I loved him, and that this relationship was scaring him... He said he needed space, freedom..."

I wipe a single tear with my sleeve and shiver at the contact of his hand suddenly on mine.

"But you were like... Bonnie and Clyde, or Dirty Dancing's Baby and Johnny..." he says and I can't help but smile a bit at his words.

"I felt my heart explode..." I say sadly. "I felt my world crash down. I tried to call him but he didn't answer. I tried to call a hundred times maybe, and he cut his phone... So I screamed. I screamed in the night like someone was torturing me... He was actually."

Telling him that is becoming salutary, and I can't stop now. I take his thumb in my hand and squeeze it.

"I screamed so much I think I fainted at some point. I never felt a pain like that... Then my brain went off. I..." Slow tears run down my burning cheeks, and Dean stroke my shaking hand. "I went to the bathroom and puked, I think I was in shock. I... I brushed my teeth. I remember brushing my teeth like it had any fucking significance. Then I went back to my bed and took the knife he offered me. It was very sharp and made to cut through skin, monster skin..."

"Jay..." Dean says with a very sad voice, making me look in his eyes for a second.

"I just..." I sob. "I just couldn't imagine a life without him. I loved him so much..."

I breathe to stop sobbing, and clear my voice.

"I cut myself deeply. I cut myself so deep one of my fingers still can't feel anything, because I cut a nerve. It was horribly painful but I just didn't care anymore... After a few moments it became hard to breathe, and I fell asleep I think..."

I let a short silence, biting my lips.

"Apparently someone had heard my screams and called the cops not long before that... I woke up in a hospital, alive by chance as they said... I wanted to die so bad I tried to jump out of the window... So they sedated me... It took me a few months to be allowed to go out all alone. When I finally could, I went to my trailer. It was exactly like it as always been, except my blood was rotting on the sheets. I took a bag with just minimal clothes, my toothbrush and a few pictures of him,... And I burnt it down. I stayed there and watch my home burn before I left for good."

Silence falls on the kitchen, I just hear his steady but deep breathing. I try not to cry but tears keep coming down my face in silence.

"Did you heard of him after that ?" he asks low.

"Yeah..." I smile, squeezing his hand, focusing my eyes on the lovely freckles on his knuckles. "I saw him again years after..."

"I know you don't want me to talk about him, let alone... But- but I think I would punch him if I saw him" Dean says about himself.

My head hurts.

"He just didn't love me like I loved... love him. And he told me from the beginning, that he wasn't a boyfriend..."

"But after that he told you he loved you... And he... Anyway... Thank you for opening to me." he says.

*******************************

2005

"So the teacher asked to... Are you listening to me Dean ?" she says, making me look up at her wondering face.

"Yeah... Of course."

"No you weren't... You had your head in the clouds. Is there something wrong ?" saying that she comes next to me and strokes my arm gently.

"I'm sorry... I was thinking about... About Sammy."

She kisses my cheek and sighs. I think about him a lot lately, maybe it's because Jay reminds me of him sometimes, maybe it's because I would really love them to meet, I know they would get along so well...

"I'm sure he is okay, Dean... What you said about him, how smart and brave he his... I'm sure he's doing great, even if he misses you for sure."

I take her in my arms and nuzzle in her neck. She smells so good.

"Stop that, you're tickling me..." she laughs, letting her all body fall on my arms.

I take her off the ground and lay her on her bed. Her skin is a bit sweaty from the very hot day despite the fresh shower we took together less than an hour ago.

"Dean, we just had sex in the shower and I have homework to do..." she says while my hands travel from her collarbones to her covered breasts.

"I want you again" I groan.

She smiles, kissing my lips, and bites her delicious lips. Taking her covered nipple in my mouth I spread her legs to lay between them. She moans and take my hair in her hands as usual, telling me how she wants me close to her with her fingers. I take her tank top above her head and smile because she didn't put her bra back after the shower.

"I love them..." I say kissing her chest, sucking purple marks all over the plumb skin of her breasts.

She moans and tug at my shirt, arching her back in a soft wail. When I sit up to take it off, I stay up for a while, admiring her flushed face, the sun piercing through the window and enlightening her shaking stomach, and my claiming marks appearing all over her chest. She already told me once, all embarrassed, how she loves to see the signs of me on her after we had sex, confiding, her face hidden, how horny it made her.

I start undoing her shorts and taking them down. I love that she feels comfortable enough with me to take off her long jeans and large hoodie when she comes home, staying in shorts or panties all the time. I love that she lets me see and touch her body all I want. And I love her body.

She’s naked now. Her legs spread and her arms on the side of her delicious body. She doesn’t hide from me anymore. Sometimes she’s still shy, like when I look at her for too long or that time we had sex from behind for the first time, and I was looking at my cock disappearing inside of her again and again. But I always manage to make her proud of herself, because she can see how hungry I am for her, how perfect she is to me.

I bend to kiss her and go down her chest again, kissing her tits I grow hard.I always do. I didn’t know I was so drawn to breasts before her, but there is something about the intimacy of her letting me feasting on her skin that makes me go crazy.

I know what I want right now, I’ve dreamed of it often, sometimes nibbling at her chest actually.

I want to go down on her.

But until now I knew she would freak out. I knew she wasn’t ready for it as she always told me how awkward she felt when I was looking at her intimate parts, how uncomfortable I knew she was when I kissed her too close to it.

She’s ready now. And I’m starving.

I kiss my way down, her hands still in my hair, her breath steady and loud. My hands roam all over her skin until I reach my goal, spreading her thighs wider.

“Dean, what are you doing ?” she asks, suddenly worried, trying to close her legs.

“Trust me baby” I just say kissing her folds.

She jumps a little, almost crushing my head with her thighs.

“I… I don’t know this is awkward. I… I don’t think I’ll like that. You don’t have to do this Dean” she whines.

“Baby please just relax. I want to, I really want to… This is not awkward, just…” I feel my mouth watering. “Just trust me.”

I slip my arms around her legs to keep her open, and lick once, twice, reaching her clit. She jumps again and wails, letting go of my hair to cover her face.

I lick at her gently a few times, tasting her juice for the first time and I can’t help but moan.

“This is…” she starts. “I don’t… Wow !”

She stops talking when I starts eating her out for real. I can feel how tense her legs are, I can feel how she won’t let herself go. So I work harder.

“How does it… Dean ?” she tries, unable to speak clearly. “Dean ?”

I lift my head to look at her.

“How does it...taste ?” she finally asks, worried.

I smile. My shy little baby, so she’s concerned about that… I go up her body and kiss her. I kiss her deeply to make her taste herself on my lips and she moans again.

“Delicious baby” I say looking in her eyes.

She touches her lips and smiles shyly. When I go down again, I can feel her body relax a bit.

After only a few moments of licking and kissing and sucking at her clit, I know she’s close. Her hands come back to my hair and her knees fall wide open. I take her legs and put them on my shoulder, giving myself a better access to her entrance.

“Dean…” she whines. But this time not to make me stop, far from it. “Fuck, this… Ah!”

My heart is pounding and my head is dizzy from arousal and the lack of oxygen I inflict myself to keep my mouth on her. I’m not using my fingers, no way, I want her to fall apart like this, she’s so close.

Suddenly I can feel her thighs become slippery, sweat breaking though her skin, her pussy clenches around nothing and her back arches. When I devour her even more fiercely, she comes hard.

She screams for the first time.

Her orgasms are always so silent, her voice stuck in her beautiful reddened throat, and I love that she doesn’t act at all, letting her shaking body show me how much she loves what I do to her. But this time she screams…

I wipe my mouth and climb back to face her. I kiss her lips and she pants in my mouth.

“Wow baby, I think everyone heard you miles away” I smile.

“I’m sorry” she says absently.

“No, no, don’t be… That was incredibly hot. So… You still think you don’t like it ?”

She wraps her legs around me and tries to rub herself on my still covered crotch. I love when she's like this, high on desire.

“It was good… Okay, it was incredible. But it made me crave Dean… I need more now. Please.”

I groan and open my jeans the fastest I can. Before I can come down to her, she takes my face in her hands.

“But what about you Dean ?”

“What about me ?”

“What makes you scream ?” she asks and I feel my own shyness flush my face. “Do you want me to go down on you ?”

I half laugh half whines thinking about it.

“Not today baby.”

“Is it has special for you than it is for me, that sensation ?”

“Mh… Yeah I guess.”

“Will you teach me ? Dean I want to make you scream…” she says biting her lips and I kiss her.

“I will. But right now I need to be deep inside of you” I pant.

“One last question and you can have me all night…” she says.

Saying that she takes my cock in her hand and I let my head fall on the crook of her neck in defeat, panting and thrusting gently in her hand.

“Do you hold back Dean ?”

I lift my head and stop my hip movements.

“What ?”

“I may be new at this but I’m not stupid. You didn’t want to hurt me the first times we did it but you keep holding back…” she says looking in my eye.

“I don’t…”

“Yes you do. And thank you for being so attentive. But please baby I need you to let go…”

“No, Jay, you don’t… I’m a man... I’m horny and stupid, I don’t want to hurt you” I admit.

“I need to be enough” she states. “I need to know you truly… And I need to be the one who gives you what you need. Please.”

I sigh and bite my cheek. I want her so bad right now, I need her. I would do anything she asks.

“You are enough” I say kissing her deeply.

With that I take her hips and thrust in her forcefully. She gasps and I stay still to look at her. She’s not in pain, just surprised and overwhelmed.

“Let go baby. Fuck me. Take me like you need” she whispers in my ear and I groan low.

I start to pounce in her, my arms tight around her, making her look so small. I have to trust her, she’ll tell me if she needs me to stop.

Since I know her I’m horny all the time, I never had sex so much, and yet I always want more. She’s turning me to a beast : jealous, possessive, needing to have her for myself, to mark her, I never was like that. As my feelings for her are growing, my appetite grows too. I can’t stop touching her and kissing her.

I think I love her, and I want to yell at her for making me feel that way.

I fuck her because she asks. But also because I needed to for a long time.

She's clinging to me with both hands, not touching my hair anymore, both her arms under mine, hands on my shoulder.

"Fuck babygirl..." I groan hoarsely on her neck.

A shark pain on my back makes me roar and bite her neck, she's digging her nails in my skin, deep. As I thrust hard, I have to hold her because she's sliding upward, pushed by my forceful movements.

For once I don't see her orgasm coming, and when she cries my name, convulsing and holding me deep strongly with her thighs around me, she takes me with her. I can't breathe for a moment, filling her up.

The sun is going down slowly, and the light is now orange, making her hair slightly red. I'm on my back, still naked and she's nestle against me, also naked.

"You know what Dean ?" she says playing with my hand. "I think the sun is making more freckles appear on your hands."

She kisses my fingers and keeps my hand on her lips.

I didn't move for at least an hour because she apparently decided to examine me neatly. She apologized for the scratches on my back, showing me the blood under her nails with a pout, and started looking at every inch of my skin. She kissed my stubble on different spots to find her favorite and, once she had, she played with my hands.

I never felt so pampered.

"You know what baby ?" I say and she lifts her eyes to look at me through her lashes, not moving her lips from my hand. "I think I love you."

************************

"You two are up already ?" Sam says entering the kitchen.

Dean looks at his watch and smile. It's 6am. We talked all night.

"Will you run with me ?" Sammy asks making breakfast.

"Not today, Sam. I didn't sleep at all, I need a short nap" I rub my eyes and sigh.

I take my pillow in my arms and squeeze it. I still can't sleep. How did Dean do that ? How could he torture me by spending another night with a girl, come home, make sandwich and get to have me confide in him ? I hate him so much. With his perfect face and his heavenly smell. Fuck him. He sincerely said he was sorry, that he would punch the guy for making me suffer so much. This is confusing.

2pm. I still haven’t slept but I’m not brave enough to get up. I heard Sam talking to Jack in the hallway and I stayed on my bed in a fetal position, holding my pillow tight in my arm.

A ray of light invade the room as someone opens the door slowly. Footsteps quietly join the bed behind me and I feel the mattress sink next to my back.

Dean.

His manly sweet smell surrounds me like the wings of an angel. Oh please, I'm not ready to see him again… His hands bushes my shoulder and I shiver.

“Jay” he whispers, gently pushing hair from my hidden face. “Are you hungry ? I cooked.”

“That’s sweet” I say with a husky voice from not talking for a long time.

“I’m sorry I woke you up” he says low.

“I wasn’t sleeping��”

“Yeah, you rarely are.”

I open my eyes and look in front of me, his shadow adorning my wall. I can see the dark print of his arm lift, like he was about to touch me again, then he lets it fall beside him. When his shadow moves again, it is to bend on me. I only realize what he’s up to when I feel the soft touch of his lips on my shoulder.

I can’t move.

His lips barely brush my shoulder before clearly kissing the same spot again. Then he kisses my cheek. My heart is pounding, I’m holding my breath. Another kiss just below my ear, and another. His hand comes on my side and wonder on my stomach, his lips don’t leave my skin now, I can feel him breathing shakily through his nose.

The only reaction my body allows me is to join his hand on my shirt. He freezes for a moment, and when I don’t take his hand off he slightly pull on my shoulder to turn me toward him.

He is beautiful. The light making a halo around him.

He bends again and, this time, he kisses my lips. Shyly at first, like he was trying to tame my temper. I still don’t move so he does it again, capturing my lower lip in his with a light sigh.

He just had sex with someone, like, 15 hours ago. I hate him… But I need him.

As if this were their natural home, my hands come up to his hair, my fingers run through it and for a second I forget.

When he bends again, I give him full access to my mouth, opening it to let him kiss me like he seems to want. His delicious tongue bringing me back to life. He deepens the kiss and starts to run his big manly hands on my sides.

Then something hits me.

I can’t lose him. If I have him again, and lose him, I’ll probably won’t need to kill myself because the pain will end me anyway.

I push at his shoulders and turn my head.

“Dean, stop that.”

He sighs loudly, and let his head fall before sitting straight. He rubs his face with both hands.

“I’m sorry Dean. I can’t.”

“I know” he whispers. “I’m just… I…”

“If you want me out of the bunker I would understand” I say trying to sit up without getting too close to him.

“What ? No ! Of course I don’t want… Listen I’m the one… Fuck. I’m the one that should leave you alone. You already told me you didn’t want me. It’s just… I’m sorry I shouldn’t tell you that but… Forget it.”

“You shouldn’t tell me what Dean ?”

His beautiful eyes lock to mine and, as I get used to obscurity, I can discern guilt there.

“I just… want you. I’m sorry, I’m a horrible friend.”

My heart breaks a little more to hear that. I reach his cheek and he leans on my touch.

“You’re the best friend I ever had. You just want more than I can give you. I’m sorry” I murmur, hating myself.

That cute Latina police officer is hitting on Dean. She’s looking at him with her most radiant smile while he explains why he needs some access. This girl is a stunner, even dressed for work.

Sam has that look on his face, half annoyed half amused, the one he wears when a girl shows interest in Dean. Often.

I try not to let my emotions show, and look behind her to try and read some information on the file she let opened on her desk. Once she gave Dean the key, we head to the door.

“Agent ?” she calls and Dean turns back. “Since you have my number, maybe you’d like to call me and have a drink… tonight ?” she bites her lips and I want to bite her carotid.

Dean smiles at her and, without realizing it, I clench my jaw, ready for another punch in my chest.

“I’m flattered, but married” he says and Sam’s eyes widen.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn't know, agent.”

When we reach the Impala, Sam asks in a mocking tone :

“Do we need to call your wife or can we hit the road ?”

“Hilarious Sammy” says Dean while I take place on the back seat.

“Seriously Dean” Sam laughs. “What is wrong with you, that woman was very attractive…”

Dean turns the music on and offer him an insolent smile of his.

“Short and respectful way to say no” he mutters, turning the volume up.

Raising his beer to his lips Dean closes his eyes in satisfaction. This bar is actually nice, the music’s not too loud but loud enough to create a warm atmosphere, people seem relaxed and happy, I think it’s a birthday on that corner.

“That case was too easy” says Dean, making Sam roll his eyes.

“Too easy ? We’re on it since Monday ! And a teenager almost got killed again” Sam sighs.

“Almost” Dean objects proudly. “Jay saved the boy.”

“Hum excuse me.”

I turn my head and my eyes meet with turquoise ones. A charming man is smiling down at me.

“I certainly don’t want to seem rude” he has a charming English accent. “But I was wondering if I could buy you a drink… Unless one of these gentlemen is your partner.”

Dean is about to open his mouth when I answer.

“Only working partners.”

He smiles and his eyes don’t crinkle so much, they are too blue, and his tone is too polite… Everything reminds me he is not Dean.

I feel Sam give me a little punch under the table. When I lift my eyes on him, he mime “Go” in silence.

“I don’t know, I hum… Okay” I say getting up.

I don’t really know what he is talking about now, his job maybe, I switch off a few minutes ago. Poor guy, he is actually nice, but I can’t focus. I wonder if Dean is paying attention to us, if this will push him right in the arms of a one night stand ; I wonder why he turn the pretty police officer’s offer down, if he really wants me like he said and what it means…

“Hey” Dean’s familiar voice makes up come back to Earth.

He stand just beside me and I feel his hand discreetly slip on my lower back, his thumb stroking the reachable skin between my belt and my shirt. Why is he doing that ?

“Sam and I are going back to the motel. If you want to go back, anytime of the night, call me, I’ll pick you up…”

I know he’s trying to tell me to come back with him, I know his hand is saying I want you, have sex with me instead. And to be fair, every inch of my body is telling me to throw myself at Dean, each of my fucking cells yelling in unison for me to forget why I can’t give in to him… But my heart howls, my shattered-in-thousand-bloody-parts-heart is in pain with each beat.

“Okay Dean, I’ll call if I need.”

I honestly don't know what I'm doing here. That guy is nice but I just want to be anywhere else. I feel like I'm cheating on Dean and making that lovely man waste it time, I want to hide, alone, under a blanket or even in the woods.

"I'm sorry" I finally say. "I... You seem to be a nice guy but..."

"But your heart is taken" he cuts me with a knowing look.

"Broken actually" I sigh." I should go home. Thank you for the drink. I'm sorry."

The night is dark. I walk on the side of the road, my phone in my hand. I didn't call Dean right away, I walked alone a few minutes, thinking.

I thought about that first time Dean told me he loved me, and that one time he told me he'll love me forever.

I thought about how hopeless I was when he left, how empty the whole world was, how painful each breath...

The roar of the Impala stops beside me. Before I can open the door, Dean comes out. He looks pissed.

"Why didn't you call me sooner ? What happened ? Why are you on the road ?" he asks, frowning.

"I just wanted to walk a few minutes, Dean, no big deal" I shrug, trying to look unimpressed.

"You're lost in the middle of nowhere, what if a car had stopped ?"

"Dean, I'm a hunter, I'm not afraid of the dark."

He bites his lips with what looks like anger and gets in the car.

His eyes on the road, his hands on the wheel, Dean drives in silence. I try not to look at him too much but it's nearly impossible.

"I thought you were saving yourself for the douchebag who made you suffer years ago" he snarls through his teeth.

I can see a shadow of regret darken his face the second he pronounce that sentence.

"I..."

"I'm sorry" he says softer, not letting me answer.

"I didn't have sex with that guy you know" I say looking at his profile. "I mean I don't have to answer to you for anything I do but since you're implying..."

"I'm not implying anything, forget I said that. I'm sorry."

I know Dean, I mean I knew by heart, and I know he acts like that when he's afraid. What is scaring him so much ?

Sam is asleep in the bedroom, and when we enter the room he only turns on his side. They found a nicer motel than usual, with a sort of living room and a bedroom. Sam is sleeping in the big bed and I can see Dean was lying on the couch. I close the bedroom door to let Sam alone.

"You can have the bed..." Dean says low. "Sam is tall but this bed is giant. And I don't recommend the couch."

"Okay" I just say.

I don't want to sleep with Sam, I don't want to know Dean is alone on the other room, on an uncomfortable couch. I just want to take him in my arms and caress the spot on his neck that makes him relax, while he sleeps on my chest... I take a shaky breath and head for the bathroom.

When I come back, Dean is sitting on the sofa, rubbing his neck. Something's wrong with him, he's afraid and sad. And yet he has to sleep alone on this old mattress. My Dean...

Before I can think twice, I sit beside him.

"Are you okay, Dean ?" I ask with the most gentle tone I can use.

"Yeah, of course. Why ?"

I can't tell him how much I know him.

"You look tense."

"Yeah this hunt was rough" he lies.

My all body is screaming at me to take care of him, so my hand comes on his knee.

He freezes and looks at me. I turn a bit to face him and smile warmly.

"I don't save myself for anyone, Dean. I just have nothing left to give..."

He bends and catches my lips. It's like his lips are draw to mine.

I can't let him have me with his heavenly kisses, I have to stay in charge.

Before he can move his hands I put mine on his crotch, making him moan in surprise on my lips. I start opening his belt and he takes me in his arms, rubbing my sides, his rough fingers trying to lift my shirt but I don't let him, and slip a hand on his boxers.

"Fuck" he moans on my mouth, making me instantly wet.

When I wrap my hand around his cock again after all this time, it all comes up.

I remember the time when, in the course of a conversation, we looked on internet to learn more about male anatomy, he thought he knew everything... we had so much fun.

I remember holding him tight when I made him come with my hands, or with my mouth, how desperate I made him ; and the first time I actually made him scream.

My mouth is watering.

I start slowly pumping my hand, making him break the kiss to look at me. He's already panting slightly and I can't help licking my lips. When he bends to kiss me again, I allow just a little peck on my lips and fall off the couch, on my knees between his legs.

"What... Jay. Wh..." he starts but I pull at his jeans to take them down a little with his underwear.

I missed having him on full display. I take him in my hand again and lick his length from the base to the head.

"Fuck !" he tenses.

Licking again I swirl my tongue at the head and take it between my lips. He looks down at me, stunned, his jaw clenched. When I slowly take him in my mouth, I flatten my tongue to touch the more skin I can. His fist close and his stomach moves in contraction, I know I'm doing it right.

I remember him guiding me, telling me what everything I tried felt like, I remember learning to make him come fast or slow, to make him beg.

Sucking on his cock, I let my hands wonder on his balls. He almost let out a scream, and harshly puts a hand on his mouth. I take him deeper and deeper, until my nose touches his pelvis and my throat hurts.

"God Jay..."

I know exactly what he likes, what he loves, what he can barely endure. I learned on him. And repeatedly, I play my favorite partition.

"I... can't..." he moans out of breath and I know he needs to come.

One of his hands comes to my head and he takes my hair in his fist, he's holding back with all his strength not to thrust upward.

"S-Stop I... Fuck... GOD !" he holds back a scream.

With that I feel ropes of cum flood my mouth.

He looks down at me, panting and shaking, releasing my hair he rubs his face. I smile and get up to straddle him, I take him in my arms and swallow loudly next to his ear. He moans again.

"Wow, that was the most... Where did you learn... God" he starts without ever finishing a sentence.

I'm starving. I need him so bad I could cry right now.

"Touch me, Dean" I whine, nibbling at his jaw. "Please touch me."

He bends and kisses me again, not minding at all to taste himself on my lips. He never did.

Then I feel his fingers slip inside my panties and run along my pussy and my head falls backward.

"Fuck you're soaked. Is that me that..." he doesn't finish because I'm already nodding.

"Dean..." I moan, not believing whining this name again. "Dean... Please."

He slips a finger inside me and I violently clench around him, desperate to feel full again. He adds another and I fall on his chest. I kiss and lick his jaw, wailing in his ears.

"You're incredible, baby. I'm already hard again" he says.

If I wasn't so high on him, the nickname would have had the effect of a slap, but I just retain that he was hard.

"Fuck me" I beg in a shaky whisper.

With that he's up, lifting me with him, and he carries me toward the table. He puts me down just a instant to take of my clothes and sits me on the table, my legs wrap around him and squeeze to take him closer.

"I hope Sammy sleeps deeply" he murmurs.

I don't get to answer as his cock bottoms out inside me. I let out a strangled cry and take him in my arms to cling to him. His thrusts are fierce, their force and precision surprise me, making me feel innocent again, in the arms of a tall manly warrior.

We won't last, he's already quivering and pouncing quicker and I'm holding back my own orgasm since that first sharp thrust.

"Stay with me Dean..." I cry, nuzzling in his neck.

"I'm right here" he pants, not getting the measure of my words.

And I come. My voice die in my throat but my body screams and implores him. I'm on the verge of passing out.

Groaning low he comes for the second time, digging his fingers so firmly on my hips I know I will be bruised.

We stay still for an instant, I don't lift my head because I can't look at him right now, it would make me cry. I feel him soften inside of me and I silently beg the universe to let me have him forever. I have a lump in my throat, and my poor heart is sobbing, begging me to stop torturing him.

"That was..." he tries but his voice makes me jump.

I push him gently to make him withdraw and get up.

"Perfect to unwind" I finish.

I get on my tiptoes, still butt-naked, to kiss him.

"Yeah..." he whispers.

And I disappear inside the bathroom.

When I surreptitiously comes under Sam's blanket, I hear him clear his voice.

"I thought you would stay with Dean after that" Sam says turning.

"Oh Sammy I'm sorry you heard..." he hums. "I don't... we're not. It was just this one time..."

"And the other" he adds.

"He told you..."

"He just told me, yeah" he says. "You have quite an effect on him."

I hide my face and turn my back on him to hide the tears. We stay silent for a moment.

"Night Jay."

"Night Sammy."

Night Baby, my mouth mime.

Feedback is what keeps me going <3

@tftumblin @mirandaaustin93

#supernatural #dean winchester #smut #fluff #spn #supernatural fic #fanfiction #dean x reader

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reframethefuture · 5 years

Text

recalibration

“C’mon, Tony, get up. Stay with me.”

Steve tried to ignore the nagging feeling that no, no, something was entirely wrong here in favor of getting Tony to a more stable location. Rather than, let’s say, dangling halfway into a giant crack in the pavement, stretching thousands of feet beneath the surface (and growing, since the ground on the other side of them is promptly falling into the ocean). And out from underneath an 18-wheeler that was presently using Tony’s chest as a wheel chock.

Steve tried to pretend it was nothing more than a nagging feeling, instead of a perfectly valid concern about someone being nearly crushed to death and lost to the sea. If he could ignore it, maybe he could prevent either of them from panicking until they could get Tony some proper medical attention. Besides, the suit could withstand a whole lot of falling to Earth from various altitudes, why couldn’t it handle a little tractor-trailer?

And he did ignore it, very successfully he might add. He managed to pull Tony from under the truck, laying him out on the asphalt on his back. He even got in contact with Dr. Cho, who said a medical team would be there in about 5 minutes. Yes, he did a great job ignoring that feeling until Tony opened his mouth. More specifically, Tony started laughing.

“Is this funny to you, Stark?”

Tony was downright giggling at this point, as he popped open the mask. But every gasping breath he took between bouts of hollow laughter got more and more ragged.

“Tony. Hey, Tony— listen to me,” Steve said, placing a hand over the arc reactor flickering on his chest. “Stop wasting your energy. Take a deep breath.” He took a moment to settle himself before adding, “Please.”

When Tony eventually did stop laughing, it wasn’t because he suddenly developed the desire to listen to Steve for once. Steve didn’t have much time to hypothesize, but he assumed it was because whatever was wrong was getting worse. He couldn’t be sure of the extent of Tony’s injuries. He tried not to think about it. Instead, he thought about Tony’s soft, shallow breathing, his rapid pulse, and the sound of his laughter fading into soft mumbling. He caught a word here, a number there. Steve ran a hand through his hair when he thought he heard the quadratic formula and wondered what in the world his brain was possibly running as Tony-Stark-Autopilot-Mode. Maybe eight grade math was just his version of daydreaming.

Steve slowly began to feel the weight of his own exhaustion on his shoulders, and he slumped down onto the ground beside Tony. It was then that he became aware of the battle still going on behind him. It wasn’t necessarily raging, it was more like a light workout than full-on sparring now that the hard part was over, but he still felt like he should be helping more. Thor had managed to delegate the rest of the Avengers while Steve and Tony were down for the count. They had fairly successfully minimized civilian harm, even though a few buildings were in the sea. And yeah, he felt a little guilty for not having his focus on making sure Tony wasn’t about to bleed to death. But surely JARVIS would override the comms system to let him know if that were the case. Really, Steve figured he could lay down and breathe for a second. At least until he’s needed again.

So that’s how a team of paramedics found an unconscious Tony Stark laying in the middle of what was a hotel parking lot next to an equally passed-out Steve Rogers. Or, as Steve would say, “just resting his eyes a little, can a guy catch a break for two seconds, here? All hands on deck, and all eyes on Stark for the next 24 hours. Got it?”

He finally acknowledged the terrible, sinking, gnawing feeling in his chest when Tony made it into the OR. Something about seeing one of your best friends laid out on an operating table will do that to you. He knew he shouldn’t have ignored the non-reactive babbling, the laughter, the breaths getting shorter and shorter, but he just couldn’t handle that right then. He couldn’t handle the thought of something happening to Tony that even the genius himself couldn’t fix. He especially couldn’t handle having been there, watching him die, and doing nothing about it. Steve has another feeling in the back of his mind, but this one was harder to describe. Some part of him knew he wasn’t shaken to his core over this just because of his or Tony’s helplessness to the situation. Maybe there was more there. But that was for another day.

Luckily, when Tony woke up the next morning, Steve still by his side, neither of them would have to face that helpless scenario. Not this time, at least. This time, Tony opened his eyes to the sight of Steve asleep next to his hospital bed in a chair that was certainly too small for him, hand laid palm-up on the bed. As if he had been holding Tony’s before he fell asleep. Tony definitely wasn’t going to read into that right now.

The dying itself hadn’t actually been all that bad. Maybe it was the painkillers talking, but Tony thought that almost dying wasn't the worst part of the whole ordeal. The worst part had been that wide-eyed look of panic on Steve’s face. He had tried to keep his voice steady for Tony’s sake, but he couldn’t keep the fear off his face. Fear that maybe this time would actually be the one that killed him. That he couldn’t find a way out of this one.

Steve must have sensed Tony was awake, because Tony’s minor thought spiral was interrupted by Steve lurching forward in his chair and nearly onto the bed to make sure Tony was okay.

“Easy, Steve.”

“I feel like I ought to be telling you that instead.”

“Too bad, Cap. I’m not the one whose ass just about hit the floor.”

“One more comment like that and you will be.”

Tony chuckled fondly, with what little breath support he had (The quick concerned look Steve shot him did not go entirely unnoticed). He had missed this. It was what he had always enjoyed about talking with Steve, after they had gotten used to each other. They could bicker like an old married couple for as long as they liked, but at the end of the day they both knew everything was alright. Neither of them was particularly spectacular at communication, but at least they had the unspoken understanding that, no matter what, they were okay. Underneath it all there was a sense of respect, of admiration, of love. Not that he’d admit it willingly.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t own up to his feelings. It was more like he barely knew what those feelings were to begin with. He certainly wasn’t going to say anything until he knew what the hell was going on in his own head. Besides, what was Tony Stark if not seemingly above it all? How could he be a representative of Stark Industries, of the Avengers, of the whole goddamn Earth sometimes, if he couldn’t even get his emotions under control? He pushed down the fluttering in his gut that Steve’s warm gaze gave him. It’s not like it means anything, he thought. Best to leave that can of worms alone.

While Tony had firmly shut that door, Steve was counting his blessings and slowly realizing that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t ignore those nagging feelings after all.

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softjeon · 5 years

Text

Love Bite | Pt. 5

• Pairing: Vampire!Namjoon x Jimin • Genre: Angst / Smut | Vampire!AU ( → Gifset Trailer) • Words: 10k | Co-Writer: Cat @cassiavioletblue | AO3 • Disclaimer: blood, abuse, (sexual) violence, mindcontrol, mentioning of death

↳ “You’re right. I was lying. I didn’t want to scare you. But I guess there’s not much to do now, right? I’ll tell you the truth,” Namjoon spoke softly, the grip around Jimin’s wrists loosened a little but not enough to free himself, “…because you deserve it, because I pull you into a lot of shit right now just by being here. I am a vampire, Jimin.”

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A/N: Please be aware of the disclaimers for this and the following chapters! Thank you!

The way back to Jimin‘s apartment seemed so short that Namjoon could barely remember anything about how he had been sent back. He hadn‘t even been afraid of the rogues, too caught up in his thoughts, panicking over how Hoseok might visit Jimin simply out of curiosity and take a liking in him. Because if he did Jimin wouldn‘t stand a chance. No one could withstand Hoseok's talent for hypnosis. And it was not just that, as soon as Jimin would get a first taste of what feeding-induced ecstasy felt like he might not even want it to end. He might be content with being Hoseok's toy, warming his bed, his body. Moaning Hoseok‘s name as beautifully as he had done it with Namjoon‘s.

“Shit!“ Namjoon cursed under his breath, using some old, sumeric curse words that he rarely used but right now they were fitting, he felt utterly, desperately fucked!

Tonight, he skipped the turning-into-a-bat-part and instead just opted for the stairs. He had bigger problems right now than somebody seeing him visiting his employee late at night. Because if he didn‘t figure out what to do in less than seven days his job or his reputation might not even exist anymore, so why worrying about it right now?

Jimin had fallen asleep a little while after Namjoon had left. He had heard the door close and couldn’t help but purse his lips into a pout, feeling like he had done something wrong. Curling in on himself, he wasn’t even stirring when Namjoon came back into his apartment as quietly as possible to not wake the younger (as soon as he realized there was no one else around).

Jimin still could feel the cold settling in next to him, making him blink his eyes open tiredly but when he saw that it was Namjoon he instantly wrapped his arm around him, keeping him from moving away, sharing his own warmth with him, despite him being afraid before. “I’m sorry,” Jimin mumbled into the vampire’s chest, still feeling guilty for not trusting Namjoon enough. “I know you promised you won’t bite me,” He looked up at Namjoon, their faces only inches apart, “You just sometimes....still scare me.” Jimin bit his lip, averting his gaze a little, “You’re so human...I simply forget that...that you’re a vampire from time to time. I am sorry.”

It hurt, hearing from Jimin what Hoseok had told him already about an hour ago: that he was too human. It didn’t even help that Jimin meant it in a positive way because it still proved one simple fact: he wasn’t acting like he was supposed to. Hell, he wasn’t even who he was supposed to. He was a predator, a creature of night, someone not bound by morals or fears or guilt or anything else that kept humans tied down and caught up in their own little heads. He could have shed all this like an old skin the moment he turned immortal, just like most of his brothers and sisters did. But he just… he couldn’t let it go. Compassion and empathy were webbed so deeply into his very being that he hadn’t manage to rip it out of him. He tried, god, he had tried so many times before... but in the end, it still came down to this; him being torn between his duties and his emotions, between rationality and his heart.

Jimin was cuddling up to him instantly and Namjoon just stared at him while the warmth was seeping back into his bones. Jimin looked so beautiful like this. So soft. So trusting. Unexpecting. He could do it right now and get it over with. Bite him harshly enough that his skin would bear a mark and he was “owned” for everyone else to see. But how cruel would it be, to break Jimin's skin together with his trust right after he had apologized for being scared, for flinching rightfully away from him when Namjoon had crossed his boundaries. Inside he was screaming, yelling, trying to break his own confinements. But on the outside, he was completely still, breath calm, eyes fixed on Jimin. He only had one week to decide on this. And three options to choose from.

One, he could abandon Jimin. He could throw him out of the company, make sure his rental contract was terminated and send him back to the country, far far away from this. But this felt wrong to him in so many ways that it wouldn’t feel like protecting Jimin. His own longing for the human aside it would rob Jimin of everything he had left. He knew that the youngers parents had died and that he had fled the countryside to not be reminded of them in his hometown all the time. With no job and no apartment, he would have to go back there. So not only would he ruin the younger financially he would also break his heart in several, hurtful ways. Especially because Jimin had done nothing wrong. He had done his work perfectly, he had helped Namjoon, cared for him, let him in. What kind of rewards would it be to be stripped from anything Jimin had left in return? But just getting Jimin out of the company wouldn’t help. Hoseok would come after him. He might still do it even after Jimin moved back. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t safe.

For Jimin to be safe he would have to bite him. But the younger had explicitly stated that he didn’t want that. The last time was just a few minutes ago. So, it was either trying to persuade him and lose his trust and possible support and also his own face - or doing it against Jimin’s will. Which he couldn’t. He couldn’t do it to random strangers so how should he be able to do it to the one human he actually cared for? Jimin would fight him if he tried to bit him, he was sure of that. So, he would have to physically overpower him, hold him down and then hurt him to do it. He... he just couldn't do that.

Which left him with another option. A cruel one. Or a gentle way out, however you wanted to see it. Jimin’s breath fanned against his skin, calm and regular. So Namjoon dared to trace Jimin’s features for a second, barely there, fleeting touch just to remind himself of the youngers softness. Life was pain, that much he knew. And being involved with vampires beared the risk of even more pain. There were horrible things just lurking to catch up with Jimin. The rogues, the other vampires if they would get to know that there was a human who knew about them but hadn’t been claimed (those humans were easy targets because you didn’t have to do the whole ‘will my hypnotizing abilities be strong enough to keep the human from freaking out or will I need to kill him on the spot and risk getting reprimanded by Hoseok’ shenanigans) - and last but definitely not least, the vampire king himself. He knew that Hoseok was very much capable of killing Jimin in the most cruel, most melodramatic way possible just to get back at him and to ‘make a point’. So, in a way it would actually mean doing Jimin a favor if... if he just...

Carefully Namjoon placed his hand in Jimin’s neck, right were the spine was weakest. Jimin wouldn’t even feel it. Just a little snap, the tiny little second that it would take for the bones to break, for his nerves to be cut. Jimin just wouldn't wake up anymore. No pain, no suffering, just eternal sleep. He could hold him until his body would grow cold. Postmortem Rigidity wasn’t a nice thing. But Jimin deserved at least that much, to be cared for in death if Namjoon couldn’t protect him in life. The vampires fingers trembled as he put a little more pressure on Jimin’s neck. The human reacted instantly, a soft sigh escaping his mouth. Jimin drew closer to him, his head coming to rest at Namjoons shoulder. With being so close he could see the eyelashes fanning over Jimin’s skin. He looked so soft like this. He was such a sweet boy, so kind hearted, so gentle...Namjoon breathed out a shuddering, helpless sigh. Then he let go. He couldn't kill Jimin. Not now, not ever. He just... he just couldn't do anything!

That morning, Jimin woke up alone again. It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to this - Namjoon only stayed overnight, but sometimes the human couldn’t help himself but wonder what it would be like to wake up next to him, snuggling a bit closer again only to finally surrender to the daylight and getting up.

Jimin sighed deeply, when he threw the blanket off him and got up. Yep, he definitely was feeling too lonely and this whole ‘I let a vampire hide in my apartment’ - thing was getting into his head and he was interpreting too much. Taking a sip from his morning coffee, he let his gaze wander around his apartment, seeing a few of Namjoon’s clothes lying around. How should he not interpret anything to it, when it literally felt like Namjoon was something like his boyfriend. His clothes everywhere, sleeping over and holding him close while they were asleep. But he was a vampire after all, and Jimin was only a human.

Jimin shivered as he looked up into the dark, grey sky, ready to drop more rain on him. Walking faster, he made his way to the bus station, ready to pretend like he hadn’t cuddled with his boss last night. He got greeted by Taehyung first, who was already busy handing out the mail for everyone while gossiping. Jimin waved at him and they quickly agree on having lunch together later that day, when his gaze fell onto Namjoon who was emerged in discussing something with another employee. Jimin smiled, his cheeks blushing lightly, when Namjoon registered him. But he didn’t get any smile in return, only a stern, harsh gaze which he quickly switched back on the other person.

It was difficult to make a decision when he was around Jimin, so he tried to avoid the human at first. It wasn’t difficult with work piling high and Jimin being just as busy. Only at night did they come together again because he was still staying at Jimin’s place. None of them mentioned how strange it was to pretend to just barely know each other at work while they were sharing a bed at night. Even though Namjoon could take the couch or get himself another mattress neither of them had suggested to change their sleeping arrangements. They had formed a routine so easily that it wouldn't feel right to change something like this. Especially because Namjoon loved sleeping close to Jimin. It had been so, so long since he’d fallen asleep listening to another person’s heartbeat. So, he enjoyed it and kept quiet and watched time go by, getting more and more nervous the longer he couldn’t decide on what to do.

Even though Jimin should have been used to that by the fact that Namjoon was completely ignoring him and treating him like every other employee – it suddenly felt different. The last days, Jimin felt like as if Namjoon was ignoring him more and more. He had gotten used to the fact that he was working alongside his boss so often, that now when he gave him a new task it felt like it was Namjoon’s way of avoiding having Jimin around. Not being able to hide his hurt well, Jimin slammed the copier shut and pushed the button again, making paper after paper come out.

“Oh my, who pissed you off?” Taehyung’s head peaked out of the kitchen, cocking an eyebrow at Jimin. But the other didn’t really acknowledge him, so Tae stepped out and leaned against the wall right next to the copier. “Is it because, Mr. Kim prefers Mina as his assistant today again, hm?” Taehyung teased him and Jimin could feel the little stab to his heart that came with the words. “It’s not about that,” Jimin sighed heavily.

“You sure about that?”

“Yes, I am. Not everything is about Mr. Kim,” The older said and gave Taehyung a warning glance to make him shut and not talk about this anymore. He really just wanted to finish his work and go home. In hope that Namjoon would come tonight again. Somehow, he was scared that he wouldn’t come by one night. That he wouldn’t need to hide with him anymore.

It was one of the busiest days of the week and Jimin barely looked up from his computer. He enjoyed the work and when he finally raised his head from the piles of folders and computer work, the sun was already setting low. So, Jimin quickly gathered his things and clocked out. It was raining outside, therefore he kept his head low and walked ahead. He was soaking wet in a minute, the rain feeling like hail as it hit him. He tried to shield his face from the stinging little pellets, but it was of no use, when his gaze suddenly fell on two familiar faces. Jimin gulped, quickening his steps immediately, when he realized they were the vampires who brought Namjoon his blood from time to time. He really didn’t need to stumble into them once more. He just wanted to get home, take a hot shower and wait for the vampire to show up.

In Namjoon’s office, the courier vampires placed the cooling box on Namjoon’s desk with a smirk. “Our king lets you know that this is the last delivery as he heard that you won’t need no more in three days’ time. He also asks of you to come by for dinner on Sunday.” They bowed in respect, before they turned on their heel and walked out of his office again.

Namjoon froze when the words ‘last delivery’ sunk in. But he couldn’t exactly say anything against this. Because no matter if he turned Jimin into one of theirs or if he took him as his personal source of nourishment, he wouldn’t need bagged blood for quite a while. The only little flaw with this was he couldn’t do either of it! Because either Jimin or he himself were against it. He was getting so desperate that he considered telling Jimin everything and then asking him what he would choose - but then he remembered how every encounter with Jimin and Vampires/vampirely topics had turned out and quickly dismissed that thought. If Jimin would freak out and try to run from them or tell the newspaper to save himself or pull some other stunt like this, it would cause havoc and result in more than one death. Very certainly. And to be honest Namjoon couldn’t even blame Jimin if the younger would freak out for being told, “So the vampire king hates you because you know too much - which is my fault by the way - so he gave me a deadline to either make sure you’re on our side, which includes making you my blood slave if I do it the traditional way or make sure that you won’t talk about any of this ever, which kind of means killing you. So what do you think I should do?” Namjoon groaned desperately burying his head in his hand.

How on earth did he get himself into this mess?

Two days later, the vampire still had no answer. The only thing he knew was, that he was hungry. Very much so. He had tried to ration the blood bags but Hoseok had barely send him any. And now he had only a day left to figure this out.

At night, Namjoon pulled Jimin close, inhaling his sweet scent, trying to fight the hunger. While at day, he was completely ignoring the younger. He couldn’t lose his temper now. Not here. Not with Jimin. A familiar heartbeat coming closer and a knock on his door a few moments later, shook the vampire out of his thoughts.

Fumbling around with the hem of his shirt, Jimin entered the office. Closing the door behind him, Jimin walked over to bring him a few documents. “Hey ehm…I hope you don’t mind me talking about our… personal arrangement…at work, since you usually don’t like that, but Taehyung is coming over tonight and I need you to come by a little later. I’ll make sure to open the bedroom window, so you can come in through there, okay?” Jimin was speaking quietly, leaning over towards Namjoon a little closer, a tiny bit scared someone could hear.

“Yeah that's...that’s fine, thank you!” He gave Jimin a court smile and quickly avoided eye contact when he realized how his eyes had dropped automatically from Jimin’s eyes to his plush lips down over his throat to his neck where he could almost see the blood pulsing, so hot, so close, so... Namjoon took a shuddering breath, getting more and more restless which each second Jimin was staying with him in this office. With them being alone and the doors being closed like this it would be incredibly easy to just... he would be over the table in no time, fangs buried in Jimin’s neck while the warm, wet delicacy was running down his throat... The vampire started sweating, looking up at Jimin sharp and focused and obviously annoyed. “Is there anything else?”

The younger was stunned with how annoyed the vampire sounded with him and he averted his gaze for a second, suddenly feeling insecure. “Namjoon, are you okay? ” Jimin asked, when he realized how sickly the other was looking as well. “You…you only came by late last night and…were out early again…is everything alright?” Jimin was lowering his voice, feeling nervous, “Did I do something wrong?” He was probably making it worse right now, knowing that Namjoon was so obviously annoyed with him. “I am sorry, I won’t…bring this up at work anymore. I just…I am worried about you.”

Hell, Jimin acting all worried and angelic didn't really help his case! it only made him more appealing to him. And in Namjoons case appealing also meant looking mouth wateringly eatable.

Jimin had leaned forward while talking to him and Namjoon had leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and keep Jimin’s scent in check. It was quite futile. When he didn't really answer the younger even stepped closer and Namjoon’s face twitched, his fangs showing if it wasn't for his hand over his face. “Could you please... not do that?” He growled, really at the end of his patience. He knew that it wasn't the humans fault at all but he couldn't really do anything about… anything really and it made him feel so frustrated!

“Not do what?” Jimin asked a little dumbfounded, stumbling back and in his nervousness he almost tripped. A blush appeared on his cheeks, while he mumbled a quiet sorry. “Can you please tell me what’s wrong? You…you keep acting weird and I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” Jimin tried to regain his posture, trying to sound as confident as he could, “If I’m lacking at work, please tell me how I can improve.”

“This has nothing to do with your work. Otherwise I would have told you so the moment I thought you weren't good for the company. There is something non-work related that I have to figure out my own. I would appreciate it if you wouldn't keep pushing please. This is not something you can help me with.” Namjoon made sure to speak as sharp and distant as possible because he knew that he would break easily if Jimin kept asking and that the younger would continue to worry about him unless he made it crystal clear that he should keep his nose out of Namjoons business. It might be a cold move - but better than losing his self-control because he was underfed and overly stressed and ripping into Jimin by accident.

Jimin nodded hastily, bowing his head in shame. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Without looking further at his boss, Jimin simply turned around and dashed out of his office. His heart beating fast and aching with every beat. His hands shaking. He really needed to get a hold off himself. In the bathroom, Jimin locked himself in one of the stalls to take a deep breath. He didn’t want to anger Namjoon, not just because he was a vampire – but simply because Jimin wanted Namjoon to like him. Because he liked him. A lot. And now he was fucking everything up, because he was pushing Namjoon. Something that he really didn’t want to. He was just worried.

After a while, Jimin looked at himself in the mirror, chuckling at his own pathetic self, before he ran cold water over his wrists and the back of his neck. But no matter how hard he tried, Jimin couldn’t help but wonder about Namjoon all day. His anxiety was pitched high, feeling nervous the second his boss was around and in eye-sight. Even though he told him that it was not about the younger’s work, there was a weird feeling he just couldn’t shake off. So, Jimin was actually happy that tonight he could hang out with Taehyung.

He needed the change.

That evening, Taehyung switched on the TV and reached into the bag of crisps, munching on a few, when Jimin sat down next to him. “What are we watching?” Jimin asked and took a sip from his soda. “I don’t know let’s see what’s on,” Tae said and zapped through the program. Jimin took the time to swiftly turn around and get into his bedroom. He had promised to open the window so Namjoon could get in through there. The vampire had to hide in the bedroom tonight – hopefully not for too long. Jimin had to bite his lip to keep from smiling, feeling like he had a secret-lover (though he knew they were far from that).

Movie nights with Taehyung were always fun and Jimin cherished their time together. Tae had quickly become one of his closest (and only) friends in town. Looking over to the bedroom door again for the x-time that night, Jimin was wondering if Namjoon was already there, but he didn’t dare to take a peak – way too scared that Taehyung could find out, or that Namjoon was still angry or annoyed with him. He still couldn’t shake the anxiousness off him like that.

“Where is your head?” Taehyung chuckled, pointing at the TV, “This is the best part of the movie.” Ruffling through Jimin’s hair, the younger winked at him playfully before he teased him further, “Or were you thinking about our handsome boss again?”

Jimin snapped his head around with wide eyes, “N-no. I wouldn’t…I…was just…”

“Don’t even try to pretend we haven’t talked about how it would feel like to suck Mr. Kim’s dick before,” Taehyung laughed loudly, cheering with his glass, “If I recall the night right, you even said you wouldn’t mind bending over his desk for him. I mean…we were a little drunk, but I won’t forget things like that.” Jimin gulped heavily, praying to whatever god there was that Namjoon wasn’t there, yet and had listened to him to stay out as long as he could. “I…I was…we were drunk, Tae,” Jimin mumbled, his cheeks blushing and his heart beating quickly.

“Yes, but do you remember when Namjoon brought you home the first time and you told me that you felt so desperate that you…,” He wiggled his eyebrows at Jimin, who was sinking down in his seat, wanting the couch to just swallow him whole as he referred to him jerking himself off to the thought of Namjoon taking him. “That was one time,” Jimin lied quietly. Tae didn’t need to know about the other time. Or that one dream he had, when Namjoon stood right next to him. He was still embarrassed because of that.

“I’m just tired, Tae,” Jimin tried to wave the topic off. Turning down the volume of the movie, the younger one looked at Jimin thoroughly, “And I can tell you why Jimin…that’s because you’re completely overworking yourself and…it’s completely normal to feel lonely, Minnie. You’ve been through a lot lately. I’m just teasing you. You know I wouldn’t say now to our boss’s dick, too – if that means that he would hire me after my internship ends. Hell, I’d let him spank me right here and right now.”

Jimin groaned in embarrassment, hiding the blush behind his hands. “Tae, please…stop,” He mumbled quietly, but Taehyung just laughed and got up from his seat. “Chill, Jiminnie,” He shrugged his shoulders, “It’s not like he would ever find out what you and I think about him. Though, I tend to like the bad boys more. The ones who pretend to be emotionally unattached, you know? Mr. Kim is too soft for me.”

In the other room, Namjoon was about to land on the bed in a perfectly gentle landing when the phrase “suck Mr. Kim’s dick” came up and broke his concentration. He tumbled downwards like a flailing penguin and plopped down on the cushion where he laid still for a second. Did he hear that right? Surely, he must have misunderstood something. And even if they were talking about... about other people's private parts they were definitely not talking about him. Kim wasn't exactly a last name that was rare to find. Therefore, he tried to ignore what the younger were talking about, trying to keep himself from eavesdropping naturally while instead focusing on turning back. Just when he was finished, sitting naked on the covers, Tae’s comment reached his ear.”...said you wouldn’t mind bending over his desk for him…” The vampire blinked owlishly. Jimin. Bending over his desk. He groaned desperately at that image, a fantasy that he would be all too willing to make come true for Jimin. Especially right now where he was practically starving to have Jimin in one way or another. He would lie if he’d say that he hadn't thought about office sex before. His favorite little scene was Jimin on his lap, half naked and lost in ecstasy as he was riding him, Namjoon sitting all comfortably in his office arm chair, holding Jimin close and licking over his throat just because he could, feeling finally, finally feel sated.

Jimin hid his face behind his hands, groaning in shame, when Taehyung just laughed at him and vanished into the bathroom for a bit. He really didn’t need all these images tonight, now the anxiety not only mixed with his insecurity but also with his desperation. Great. Fucking great.

“Jimin?”

The younger looked up again, when he could hear Taehyung calling for him coming from the bathroom. His heart dropped when he saw that his friend was holding. “What is Mr. Kim’s shirt doing in your laundry, Jiminnie?” Taehyung cocked up an eyebrow, “Is there something you need to tell me?”

All Namjoon wanted to do was to go out there, snatch his shirt before Taehyung had the chance to find it - and then pretend this never happened. Considering he was stark naked right now and had witnessed the whole conversation neither of those option where anywhere near possible. He might have been amused by Tae’s revelations about his own interests - if he hadn’t been so busy sweating over the information, he had just gotten about Jimin. So, jerking off to the thought of him was a thing there. And also, some not so innocent thoughts about office desks. And also, oral sex. Great. He was fine with that. He could totally be cool about this. He didn’t need to look down to see that his body wasn’t buying it. Instead it had gone into overdrive together with his mind. It only came to a screeching halt when he heard Tae finding that shirt, he had worn at the office the last day before he had spilled coffee all over it. Shit. Just... shit!

“That’s just a simple dress shirt, Tae,” Jimin chuckled, trying to wave Tae off, while on the inside he was shaking from the nervousness. What if Tae found out? They couldn’t hide this away? Wouldn’t this get Namjoon into even more danger if someone else knew? Another human? Jimin groaned inwardly. He needed to fix this fast.

“That’s his,” He pulled at the shirt a little, showing off the big coffee stain on it, “I know he had this on…because he apparently had spilled something on him. He was walking around with a stain all day, yesterday. We both saw it…and it’s a high prized shirt. And also…that’s not your size. If you’re fucking our boss and didn’t tell me then…” His eyes suddenly searched the room and Jimin began to panic. Now that Namjoon had started to bring clothes over for him to wear, they were practically everywhere. “I am not…oh god, Tae no!” Jimin gulped heavily, but quickly put on a smile as he hastily walked over to Tae, taking the shirt out of his grip and keeping him from searching around. “I was…I was the reason he’d spilled his coffee that morning, so I told him I’d clean it. That’s all. No sex. Nothing. I…I don’t even think he particularly likes me. Not anymore at least.”

“What do you even mean, Jimin? Just because he prefers Mina over you at the moment. I told you not to think about it too much,” Taehyung suddenly felt bad for teasing Jimin, who was giving his friend his best puppy eyes. A part of it was honest, but the other part was an act. He needed Tae to let go off the topic. “He made it pretty clear that he’s annoyed by me so…it’s fine that he prefers Mina. I was just nervous and that’s why…I made him spill the coffee with my nervous habits, you know?” Jimin shrugged his shoulders, holding onto the shirt tight, “Cleaning it up, is the least I can do.” Taehyung nodded, reaching out for Jimin to reassure him. “Well… I would have liked it more if ‘you fucking our boss’ would have been the reason, but I guess I’ll buy that ‘nervous story’ of yours for now.” Jimin smiled in relief, when out of a sudden Taehyung jumped past him and quickly opened the door to his bedroom. He couldn’t react fast enough to hold him back, when Tae was already inside the room.

Namjoon barely had time to react but being about three times quicker than the average human had its benefits. The second he heard Tae’s footsteps turning towards the bedroom he had jumped up, hiding in the closet like some cliché secret lover in a rom-com. Naked. There was nothing that could make this even more uncomfortable. Oh wait, if Tae would open the door to see him standing there. Namjoon had to fight the urge to hide his face or thump his head against the wall.

Jimin didn’t even dare to peak if Namjoon was there, but Taehyung’s reaction answered the question for him. “Okay, I guess there’s nothing,” He said with a low chuckle and turned around, “I guess we have to stick to our daydreaming, right?” Jimin nodded, his heart beating hard against his chest, as his eyes flickered through the room, when his gaze fell onto the closed window. That meant that Namjoon must be here already. Holding his breath, Jimin was very keen on getting Taehyung out of the bedroom and out of his apartment soon, which – luckily for them both – he did soon after.

A quick “See you tomorrow at work” later, Jimin ran back into the bedroom opening his closet in a rush (it was the only place he could have hidden from Taehyung). “Namjoon, I am so sorry!” Jimin sounded a little out of breath and when his eyes flickered down to his boss’s hard-on he squealed. “Fuck…oh my god, I am so sorry – again,” He turned around, covering his eyes, “I told you to…to…wear clothes. Oh god, did you…did you hear…” He couldn’t end the sentence. He just couldn’t think about what it could mean if Namjoon had listened to everything Tae said.

Living for hundreds of years ensured that you would run into a few embarrassing situations. But being found by the person you were crushing on in said person’s closet, standing naked and sandwiched in between a pair of light jeans and some soft sweaters while you were obviously aroused from overhearing a nsfw conversation you crush has just had with his friend (who also happened to be one of your employees)... well, it ranged very high up in the ‘let me just wipe my mind clean and then pretend this never happened’ list. He just wished he would have had the time to turn himself back into a bat, but it was both time- and energy consuming and before he had gone out of his shock-frozen-state Jimin had already turned around and the doors of the closet had fallen shut once more. It was good for Namjoon that he didn’t have trouble seeing in the dark or else he would have stood around completely useless in pitch black darkness. As he didn’t have any other options (getting out of the closet naked and with a hard on was definitely nothing he wanted to do. Ever!), he took a pastel pink and fluffy sweater to cover himself up and even though it barely covered his ass (It must be like mid-thigh sweater dress for Jimin!) it was better than strolling around naked.

Jimin could hear the closet door open again, but without looking he quickly got out of the bedroom. His cheeks were flushed red from embarrassment. He wouldn’t be surprised if Namjoon would be even more annoyed with him now that he probably heard about what Tae said. He would think that he’s a pervert. Someone that jerked off to the thought of his boss and talked about sucking his dick with his friends. Jimin groaned, wanting to slap himself for his own stupidity.

Jimin proceeded to clean up his living room, trying to calm his mind and heart, while he ignored Namjoon, who was hopefully getting dressed and ready for bed. Biting his lip repeatedly, Jimin finished the dishes quickly but instead of going into the bedroom, he sat down at the coffee table and got out a few files he had brought home from work. If there would have been a teeny tiny chance for Namjoon to like him, then Jimin had fucked it up. So, he tried to keep his mind calm by working until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore. Shuffling into the bedroom, Jimin hesitated for a moment to get into bed with Namjoon. He could feel the other’s eyes on him in the dark, making him feel even more nervous. “Do...do you want me to sleep on the couch tonight? I...I know you’re probably...annoyed again by me,” Jimin stuttered the words and when he could feel Namjoon looking at him directly, he quickly averted his gaze. “I am so sorry, Mr. Kim. I would never… I was just...we…,” He paused, feeling the tears burning behind his eyes. He just felt so, so embarrassed. It would be a surprise if Namjoon didn’t fire him now after all that he had heard and witnessed plus the way Namjoon had acted around him the past days. Jimin had fucked up and now his own insecurities got the best of him. And even though Jimin was the one giving the vampire shelter, he felt like an intruder now. So, he carefully reached out for his pillow to take it with him.

Namjoon’s fingers closed around Jimin’s wrist immediately. He was gentle but firm, keeping him in place. “What are you doing, Jimin?” He couldn’t keep the sadness out of his voice that laced his words. Jimin very obviously had an interest in him, if it was sexual or even more, he didn’t dare to question but he was interested in him and the absolutely normal thing to do would be to just tell him that he was interested too. Yeah, he just enormously embarrassed himself by this while Tae-and-Closet-Including-Situation but maybe if they both jumped over their shadows they could laugh about it. Maybe they could laugh and kiss and talk and end up holding each other in bed like they used to. It would have worked perfectly - if Namjoon was human.

Instead he was lying in bed, his muscles locking up because of the effort it took him to not just roll Jimin on his back and have some of his blood. The sheets smelled like Jimin everything in this bed just fucking smelled like him and he couldn’t trust his own senses enough to have an actual reasonable discussion with Jimin. It was pathetic but he had backed himself up into a corner here. The hunger was making him insane but he didn’t have any blood left and he couldn’t hunt because he was way too bad at hypnotizing people to just get sip and too weak or bound by morals to kill another human being for food and he also couldn’t go to Hoseok and ask for more blood - or ask other vampires because they would tell Hoseok or rob a hospital because he was clumsy and what if he took exactly the kind of blood someone else needed to survive and…

Namjoon got out of bed, his head dizzy, his stomach hurting with the hunger and his form swaying slightly from how fucking weak he felt. He couldn’t do this. Any of this. None of the options that Hoseok had given him were something he could live with. His time limit would run out tonight, but he would just go back to Hoseok tomorrow.

And then he would ask him for help, would offer up any kind of services in exchange, maybe agree to joining Hoseok's tactical team, something that he had always tried to avoid so far. But if in exchange he got more time with Jimin, more time to maybe find the right situation to talk to him, to explain... then it would be totally worth it. He just needed a full stomach first. And a way to survive this night without either going insane or accidentally killing Jimin in his sleep.

He placed his pillow back, deciding to not take anything with him that smelled like Jimin to make it easier. “It is your bed. I’ll go sleep on the couch.” Before he closed the door behind him, he hesitated, not wanting to leave Jimin behind like this. “I know I’ve been difficult this last week, but you’ll see, everything’s going to change. You’ll understand tomorrow. I’ll explain, I promise.”

Jimin had absolutely no idea what Namjoon was talking about. Not tonight and not tomorrow. All he knew was that he felt utterly confused and lonely. What did Namjoon mean with ‘You’ll understand tomorrow’? What would happen? Was there something happening involving him? Or Namjoon? The rogue?

The human groaned desperately, raking his hands through his hair as he stared at the computer screen the next morning. He had gotten no sleep, while his anxiety went through the roof. Jimin’s mind turned over and over the events of the past couple days, but he could find no answers to his questions. He'd never remembered feeling like this before. And it got even worse, when work was stressing him out, when Namjoon hadn’t even bothered to show up this morning. His personal assistant was running around, giving out orders and Jimin wondered where the vampire was. A sudden shiver ran down his spine. Suddenly he felt scared. What if Namjoon was out to find the rouges? What if he got hurt? Jimin gasped involuntarily, making a few of his co-workers turn their heads towards him. He mumbled a quiet sorry, before he returned his attention onto the screen. But no matter what he tried, Jimin couldn’t stop thinking and worrying about Namjoon. Only the fact that the vampire had promised to explain it to him, made him not lose his mind over this completely. He repeated the words like a mantra in his head: It would be fine and Namjoon would explain it to him. It would all be okay.

Jimin yawned, when he slowly walked up the stairs that led to his apartment that afternoon. As tired as he was, he didn’t mind it. He had become addicted to this kind of tired. Hard work always had a way of keeping everything he didn’t want to think about at bay. He slid his key into the lock on his door and opened it. Inside he walked through his routine of getting out of his jacket, hanging the keys onto the little hook next to the door, before he sleepily shuffled into the kitchen and turned on the water heater for some tea. Quietly singing to himself, Jimin was opening the cupboard, got out a cup and poured in the hot water, when suddenly he tensed up completely.

His heartbeat spiked as he sensed movement behind him.

He wasn’t alone.

He could feel a presence in the room, and it made his skin crawl.

Jimin held his breath for a second. He knew he wasn’t imagining it and there certainly was someone else in the room. And it definitely wasn’t Namjoon. He had never been this early and even if, he would have called out for him. What if…what if the rogue found their way here? Very, very slowly, Jimin began moving aside where the kitchen knives were, carefully reaching out for one.

Hoseok chuckled in pure amusement.

“A kitchen knife? Are you sure about that choice, sweety?” He stretched out his legs, still completely relaxed and splayed out on the couch. He didn’t have to wait for long and although he initially had wanted to go through Jimin’s things a little just for the fun of it he was glad now that he had decided to just sit down and wait. It had been worth it watching Jimin go about his usual routine, all soft and carefree and relaxed - before he stiffened up. He had expected something for dramatic like the younger turning around and starting to scream when he saw him, but this was way more fun.

Jimin was definitely interesting.

The human’s breath hitched, the man’s voice sending a shiver down his spine and he quickly grabbed the knife and turned around, holding it upfront. “Get out of here now or else I call the police!” Jimin exclaimed, his voice sounding shaky as he stared at the person sitting comfortably on his couch as if he was owning this place. If it wasn’t for the awful situation he was in, Jimin probably would have thought of him as handsome, but the wicked smile on the intruder’s face made him look awfully creepy. Jimin gulped heavily, hoping and praying to whatever god or power there was that Namjoon was on his way. “You can take everything! I don’t care! Take my money and…and the other things…,” Jimin’s eyes were flickering around the room, before they came to a halt by the door, where his new phone was lying on the little dresser.

The vampire completely ignored Jimin’s threats. Neither the kitchen knife nor the police could stop him if he wanted to have something. Besides Jimin wouldn't be quick enough to even get close to the phone - or to him for that matter. At least not while he enjoyed sitting here. They would get closer later.

“I can have anything? You sure about that babe?” Hoseok licked his bottom lip, letting his eyes trail all the way up Jimin’s body until they reached his neck. “Then I’d like your blood virginity please.” He laughed when it dawned on Jimin that he wasn't a simple intruder. To be honest he had thought that Jimin would have gotten it right away with no signs of entry and the human always being around one ‘vampire’ shouldn't be too far down on his mental danger list.

Jimin blinked his eyes, his whole body shaking when it dawned on him. “N-no,” He stuttered, “No…I…I don’t allow you.” His lips were quivering, his mind racing, trying to come up with anything that could get him out of here alive. But there was nothing. He had nothing against the vampire. Jimin could try and run, but he had locked the door as always, it would take him way too long and he was sure that the vampire was faster than him. Nonetheless, he saw no other chance. So, Jimin reacted quick and dashed towards the door.

“You don’t allow me?” Hoseok gasped in fake shock, “But just a few seconds ago you offered me anything. I won’t let go of my prize that easily.” He realized what Jimin would do even before the human started running. It always went like this, they always went for the door. As if they actually had a chance! He decided to not catch Jimin right away but instead play with him for a little longer. Namjoon wouldn’t come here before night time so he got lots of time to kill, and he would enjoy it. So instead of pulling Jimin back he just stood in front of the door, locking it carefully before turning around with a smile. “Sorry, what were you saying again? I was a little too occupied with locking you in with me to listen properly.”

Jimin stumbled back, eyes wide as he stared at the vampire. Fuck, he needed to get out of this. Or else he would get killed tonight. Jimin was panting from the fear, every sense tingling and aware of the danger. Very carefully, Jimin walked backwards, his eyes fixated on the intruder. “There’s….there’s someone coming soon! They will look for me!” He stuttered, trying to sound as confident as he could be, holding onto the knife tight. “What…what do you want from me?”

Hoseok’s eyes widened. This human was so sure that Namjoon would protect him. It didn’t matter that he had no idea about who he was. It just angered him that Jimin still stood there, defying him while he should be scared or running or showing in any other way that Hoseok had the upper hand here. Because he was the vampire king and Jimin was just some tiny stupid little mortal who happened to hit a nerve in Namjoon. Which wasn’t supposed to happen. However, Namjoon hadn’t only disregarded his commands once but twice already, first by not telling him about Jimin at all and then after he literally gave him an ultimate. He had been sure that Namjoon would obey him till the very last moment. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. It didn’t matter now. Well it would be for Namjoon later but right now all he would be concentrating on was to make this human understand that life as he knew it was over.

He was a vampire’s toy now.

So, he made sure to play dirty, giving Jimin a gentle smile, “Oh, you don’t mean Namjoon, do you honey? Cause I’d hate to break your spirit, but he won’t be coming for you. You are going to come to him. I’m going to take you there. To our comfy little vampires nest. Where you can stay with the others. I bet they’re all going to love you, humans and vampires alike.”

Suddenly, it seemed as if the world were spinning out of control and Jimin could feel his heart shatter into a million pieces, the betray and hurt seeping through his bones. He couldn’t believe it. Shaking his head, he stumbled a few steps back, mumbling something about how Namjoon wouldn’t do that, how he had promised to protect him. The realization of the situation shook him to the core. “No!” Jimin screamed and threw the knife, taking the second he got, to dash into his bedroom and locking the door. He tried desperately to push the chair against it, to keep Hoseok out, but he knew it was no use. This only got him a few seconds, but for what? There were tears cascading down his cheeks, but he didn’t care. He needed to get out of here fast.

He hadn't expected the knife, but he simply got out of the way and then he followed after Jimin. Slowly, because there was nowhere to run, and he was curious about what the younger would do. Locking himself in the bedroom, reasonable enough. If your unwanted visitor wasn't a vampire. Hoseok opened the door casually, breaking the lock with a quick jerk of his wrist. It wasn't even a good lock. Then he stood there, blocking the doorway again and crossing his arms over his chest.

“What now, Jimin? Are you going to throw yourself out the window? Why would you when you can have a life as a vampire toy? Some of us are quite affectionate. Hell, I’d even take you for myself if Namjoon hadn’t already called the shots.” He jerked his head over to the bed. “What do you think, should we just go against the rules and keep it a dirty little secret between us?”

Jimin screamed when Hoseok broke through the door, now feeling completely defenseless and backed in a corner. He sniffled, choking on a few sobs, when the vampire mentioned Namjoon again. “No! I…I am not a vampire toy! You can’t do that! Namjoon promised me!” His head shot up at his words, his voice filled with anguish as he cried out, taking whatever, he could get and threw it at Hoseok. Books, then his night lamp and then the little flashlight he always kept by the side of his bed. “Get away from me!”

Hoseok was having so much fun while he witnessed the little human throwing a tantrum. Who would have thought that there was so much spite in such a soft looking boy. Unfortunately, Jimin was quite good at aiming so it was starting to get tiring after a while to duck and dodge or catch all that stuff. So, while Jimin was busy looking for the next thing to throw he took the chance to get up right into his personal space, sneaking an arm around Jimin’s waist and holding his chin up so that the human was looking at him, because hypnotizing only worked with eye contact. “Honestly I’m a little hurt that you didn’t even consider my offer. But I guess Namjoon’s had you long enough to train you well and be loyal to him, right? He looked right into Jimin’s eyes focusing on pushing Jimin’s will far, far back into his mind, letting his words curl around the Jimin’s thoughts and settle into his head. “But we need to go back now. And you will come with me. You will be quiet and calm and behave like a good boy, won’t you, Jimin. Because you want to see the mansion so badly. You can’t wait to go there and meet everyone. Nothing would bring you more joy. Isn’t that right beautiful? You can’t wait to come with me.”

Jimin was fighting until the last moment, throwing his fists at Hoseok’s chest, but the vampire was way too strong. He could feel himself relax immediately, falling into the vampire’s embrace a little more, when his body and mind was giving in. The tears were still falling down his cheeks, but Jimin didn’t feel any anger anymore. There was no fear, no pain. He nodded when Hoseok spoke to him. “Are we going to your home now?” Jimin asked, his eyes big in wonder as he reached out for the vampire’s hand, wanting him to take him along.

“Yes, we are.” Hoseok hoisted Jimin up into his arms. He would be way faster when he carried him. Jimin didn’t seem to mind. Almost gently the vampire wiped Jimin’s tears away so that the human could lay his head onto his shoulder comfortable without the little droplets hitting Hoseok’s skin. “You can sleep for a little while now. I’ll tell you when it’s going to be time to wake up again.” With a last look around the room he placed Jimin back on the bed again, which wasn’t a problem because the human was deep asleep already, then, he ripped out a page from a notebook, chose a rose colored pencil and wrote Namjoon a little message.

When Jimin woke up, his head felt like it had been split open. He moaned at the painful sensation, and he felt light and discombobulated. Carefully, Jimin blinked his eyes open, as he could feel that he was lying on something soft. A bed. Jimin jerked up, when the memory of what had happened only an hour ago rushed to his mind. A vampire. Vampire toys. Namjoon. Betrayal. The tears came just like that again and Jimin choked on a sob. He knew he had lost this fight already. When he turned around to see Hoseok sitting there right in front of him, he couldn’t help but whine in desperation. “Why…why me…why are you doing this to me?”

“That’s easy. I do this because of Namjoon. You are lucky that Namjoon has showed such an interest in you. It‘s been a while since he really wanted someone like this.”

He reached over and placed a tissue next to Jimin’s face. “Stop crying please. It won’t help you. Nor will it change anything. We can do this the hard way or the nice way. It’s on you to choose. Either way Namjoon is going to have you tonight.”

Jimin gulped heavily. “What…what do you mean you mean he’s…he’s going to have me?” His whole body shook visibly at the thought of what it all could entail. In a weird way, he wished that Namjoon was here right now, maybe he could explain it all to Jimin. But then again…this was what the vampire wanted. He had said so himself that something would change. Today. Tonight. “I want to go home,” He cried out, moving away from the vampire, “Please just…let me go home.”

Hoseok got up from his chair and sat down on the edge of the bed so that he could reach over and brush his hand through Jimin’s hair. “It means just what I said. Everything you’re probably fearing. He’s going to have all of you, your blood, your body, possibly your soul.” He continued with a gentle voice that one could mistake for comforting if not for his cruel words. “Don’t cry beautiful. You can’t go home anymore. It’s too late now. It was too late for you the moment Namjoon laid his eyes on you.”

Jimin was almost seeking for the reassurance of someone’s touch, almost leaning into Hoseok’s caresses. He needed something to hold on to. Or else he’d get totally lost in this. “This is not fair,” Jimin spoke quietly as he averted his gaze for a moment. “But I’m not going to be Namjoon’s toy! Or anyone else’s! Fuck you!” With a look of pure disgust, he spit right into Hoseok’s face.

He’s almost had Jimin where he wanted him, he could feel it in his fingertips. Then, however this crazily defiant human had to make him angry. He had tried and be nice to Namjoon’s human he really had. But enough was enough and if Namjoon didn’t want his precious belongings to be bruised then he should teach him some manners!

With a growl Hoseok was over him, pushing Jimin on his back and pressing him down with a hand around his throat. It was a gentle hold for a vampire (he didn’t want to crush his carotid or else this whole scenario had been in vain), but he still wanted Jimin to feel it that he was angry. He wiped the spit from his face with the back of his hand and then dried it on Jimin’s shirt.

“Not going to be our toy, hm? Think you can act up with me? Careful, I’m not Namjoon. I don’t fucking care about your life. You’re absolutely worthless to me. I could kill you right here if I wanted. But Namjoon has waited so long for this I can’t really take that from him, can I? But for all the hassle I had with you I guess I deserve a treat. And you do smell nice, don’t you.” He pulled Jimin’s head aside, baring his neck. “This is all on you little one. I wouldn’t have touched you if you had just followed my orders.” Then he plunged down.

Jimin screamed.

Loud, full of fear and pain, while his hands were trying to push Hoseok off him. He was trying. Really. He was trying so hard. But there was nothing but pain. So much pain. It was unbearable, and he screamed out once more and didn't know how in the world he would ever get out of there alive. The terrible pain was growing, and Jimin thought he would faint. He was holding onto Hoseok’s shirt tight, panting heavily, while he was screaming, crying, calling out for someone to help him – all until he couldn’t do it anymore. He could feel his body grow weaker by the second, his eyes staring into nothingness, while his hold on Hoseok loosened.

Jimin reacted beautifully, just like he liked it. And he tasted amazing! No wonder he smelled that good. It had been a foretaste, a promise that luckily his blood managed to fulfill. Before he could drink too much, he willed himself to take it slow, savoring the last mouthful of it before pulling back. Jimin was obviously in shock, his eyes wide and pupils blown. It was exactly how Hoseok liked his humans - or rather everyone but Seokjin. But Jin was different anyway.

“In case you’re wondering now why it had hurt and if Namjoon had lied to you when he said that it wouldn’t then I can reassure you, it won’t hurt like this with Namjoon. He’s a softie. Although the pleasure you’re going to feel with him is a natural thing. As far as I know no one else can keep it from happening to the humans they feed of - besides me. It‘s just a matter of focus, actually. I can‘t keep the poison from entering your bloodstream and making you a little light headed – but I can help your body to focus on the pain. And it hurts a lot, doesn‘t it? Your cute little neck being pierced by sharp, hungry fangs.“ He chuckled as if he was having an inside joke with Jimin. “Are you wishing Namjoon had bitten you first right now? You never forget your first one, do you? He‘s going to be angry at me for tasting you, but there has to be a little punishment, don‘t you think? He should have claimed you while he still could. I have given him that option after all. Now you‘re just a toy accessible to anyone who wants to play with you. And believe me I‘ve got lots of vampires in here who would love to do that. Maybe Namjoon doesn‘t like you anymore after someone else had you – or he‘s going to play with you for a little while and then give you over to the others. I want you to know that I‘m going to watch then. Maybe they’ll rip you to shreds like the rogues like to do it. You probably would have ended like that anyway if Namjoon hadn‘t played knight in shining armor and had gotten you home every night.“

Jimin tried to look up but failed to make his head lift up. He felt like a tangled puppet caught in its strings. The pain was still there but it wasn’t so unbearable anymore, as if something entered his body to take the slight edge off, but still very much present and so he had no control of his own actions. While all this was happening, since the pain was subsiding, he was trying to bring his body to run away, only his own body wasn’t his anymore. He sobbed. Something was controlling him. He was screaming, but there was no sound. A deafening scream. He was shaking. God, he felt so cold. So, so cold. He heard everything Hoseok said, but it all seemed so far away. Pulling his knees in, he wanted to protect his body more from anyone else coming in, but he was shaking so much that he couldn’t even do that. Closing his eyes, Jimin shook from the cries. Everything he thought was true had been a lie. There was no way he would get out of here alive. Jimin was broken. Shattered. Completely lost. “Ple-, please, just…end it…n-now.”

“End it?” Hoseok looked at him with slight surprise, “You want me to kill you beautiful? But where would be the fun in that? Besides, you’re Namjoon’s toy, not mine. And I want him to have fun with you, even if it’s just a little. Even though he might deny it for himself I‘m still his king and I know him. He’s practically dying to taste you. I wouldn‘t want to ruin that for him. Otherwise it would be only you and me tonight. Oh, and we would have so much fun.“ His grin turned wicked as he reached out for Jimin‘s face trailing down the others cheek with impossibly gentle touches. “You piss me off a little. Normally Namjoon isn‘t that defiant. We have our differences, but he knows when to back down - not when it comes to you apparently. If I had, you all to myself I would have made you feel it. Each and every thing I do to you. I would have killed you deliciously slow, savor every drop of your blood and make sure you’re conscious through all of it. Maybe I would have fucked you before though. Would have been a waste not to. You‘re quite the sight, aren‘t you? I bet you moan so beautifully when someone takes you apart. Tell me, do you like it? Being fucked? Enjoy someone taking over, being in charge and wrecking your body until you can do nothing but whimper and cry in ecstasy? I could have done that if I had been in a generous mood. But not tonight. Tonight, Namjoon should have you. He‘s going to wreck you too. You don‘t really see it in him with his lanky body, but he is way too strong for his own good. Way too clumsy to carry the burden of snapping a humans neck with a grip that’s a little too tight. It was kind of his bad habit when we were younger, you know. When we were wild and free and Namjoon was drinking blood from the source as it should be. It happened so often to him that he accidentally killed his victims and I used to tease him about it. But now, looking back I‘m not even sure if he didn‘t do it on purpose. I like playing with my food. But thinking of how he turned to cold shitty bagged blood just a few decades later he probably did it to save them the pain. It hurts to be killed by blood loss you know. But it‘s a beautiful thing to witness, the heart is getting weaker and weaker with each beat and we can hear that, feel that actually when we‘re drinking from a main artery. It‘s like the blood is whispering to you, singing, sighting.” The vampire king shook his head angrily. “I should have never let Namjoon stop drinking from humans. He‘s but a shadow of his former self.”

He snarled and Jimin flinched hard, bringing Hoseok back on track. “Anyway, I‘m straying what I wanted to say was whatever he‘s going to do to you tonight be thankful. That it wasn‘t me. Because Namjoon is nothing compared to me, absolutely nothing. So, you better show him some respect and be a nice little toy. Are we clear? Nod if you understand what I‘m saying.“ Jimin’s nod was accompanied by a pathetic whimper and he closed his eyes.

“You know what we’re going to do? We’re going to prep you for him so that you’re all nice and ready for him to take you. That’ll make up for me tasting you a little. I mean if he keeps you, he can have your blood anytime he wants. He shouldn’t be greedy. Sharing is caring or so they say.” He got up a little, letting his gaze wander over Jimin’s seemingly lifeless body. ”Where should we start?” Without warning he ripped Jimin’s shirt in half leaving him even more vulnerable that he already was.

A/N: Oops, so...now that’s a mess. The question is where is Namjoon? What will Hoseok do now? Don’t forget to leave us a comment on how you liked it! And don’t scream at us too much please ;) I promise Namjoon will find him...I just can’t promise that he will be okay MUAHAHA

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