#this could've been darker though but we get enough of that in keeping count

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Meet me at midnight to see how dark we can take this crackship

Only, not as dark as I thought it could be? Oh well, @elder-dragon-reposes REALLY liked it! I mean really.

ao3 | masterlist

Her footsteps on the stair were not the first inkling he had of her presence in his tomb.

There was a shift in the air, a whisper through the stagnant corridors hissing of a presence that had not been in the halls of Forelhost since the Traitor was a young acolyte in the Order. But as alike as her presence was to that lir, there was something light that was entirely this being, this volaan that was all her own.

He would handle her. Did he not handle the Nordic invaders long ago?

"You know how you dealt with the last wave of volaan."

Froda's ghost sneers in his hollow ear, a draft that persisted in invading his chamber even after millennia. He snarls into the darkness, and silence falls again.

Tremors worble through the air, sometimes brushing the stones and at others, pressing against his ears. The volaan's encroachment into the catacombs was neither explosive nor vivid. If he weren't so attuned to the wards and runes of Forelhost, he would not have known she was there until it was too late.

Time passes. It creeps forward, frost covering the ground with the advancing winter. A chill curls down his withered spine, coiling in his chest with the harshness of a cold drake. He could taste the blizzard building in the air the closer the volaan came. He would last through her winter, just as he did others before.

"You call this outlasting the winter? It has broken you, wuth jul."

The whisper dissipates, but the growing chill does not. It permeates the stone so that frostbite threatens the dead nerves of his skin. The temperture continues to drop.

Hours pass.

Then, with a gust of icy wind, the doors open. The volaan arrives.

"Will you kill her, then?" Yes. "What a shame."

He prepared to rise, to release the ward sealing his sarcophagus, and burst into the room in a blaze of glory. But then Froda's words touched him. Why was it a shame?

Power coiled in the air, the crick shrrr hiss of ice crystals drifting through the air and shattering on the dusty stone. Dusty stones in a broken temple at the heart of a fallen city, dedicated to dead gods and a forgotten religion. Long ago, was Forelhost not the last remnant of the Dragon Cult's power? And now what was left, but dust and bone and shattered stone? Yes, yes, it would be a shame. It would be a great shame to meet such power, only to incinerate it.

Rahgot would not join the ashes on the altar to his god.

He feels her skirt the room, her chill pushing back against the heat of his wards. Closer and closer she came to him. What to do when she arrived?

Her hand on the lid was a shard of arctic ice. In life, he was familiar with the clever men and mages' magic lurking under their skin, leaving tell tale signs of each person's strngths--and weakness--in the arcane. But hers was not subtle; it was a raging storm.

IF he concentrates hard enough, he can recall a similar potency in the Traitor's presence, electric and biting in its intensity.

Both are a storm.

Dovahkiin . . .

His whisper is kiss of warmth through the coolness. He can feel her hesitate above him, and he thinks he moved in error. She was leaving. He should have remained silent.

But then the lid is sliding, solid and heavy, to the floor. Snowflakes flutter into his sarcophagus, and Rahgot sees the Dovahkiin for the first time.

He is struck by her resemblance to the Traitor, chestnut curls framing an almost golden face, wherein sat a pair of eyes so blue that the sky would weep with envy.

But yet, there is a softness in her face that wasn't present in the Traitor's, a light in the eye and draw of the mouth that spoke of exhaustion and perseverance. Where the Traitor was full of pride, this woman, this fahlil was patiance.

Where the Traitor came and went with the flash of a summer storm, hers was the long cold that seized Atmora and threatened to outlast the world.

"She'll outlast you."

But Froda's warning goes ignored.

Her hand is on the staff. Though he has not wielded it since beyond the reach of mortal memory, its heart of flame still burns like an inferno. Her mouth purses when her hand grips the stave, its heat daring to thaw the permafrost under her skin.

It is as she draws her hand back, steam curling around her finger tips, that he takes the staff in familiar hands and rises from the grave.

The Dovahkiin stumbles back, her ring-clad hand held to her chest as his presence looms before her. He can taste the power trailing from his staff to her hand.

It is quick. It is almost easy. Vahlok did not have such a fortunate confrontation. Rahgot is up and over her in a vengeful blaze.

She drops to the floor, not in defeat, but to escape his fire, and Rahgot descends--

--but she is not there. In a whirl of smoke, he turns to find her poised on the side of his coffin, ice gathered in her hands. Her face is hard, her eyes frozen.

YOL TOR SHUL! "FO KRAH DIIN!"

The songs of fire and ice meet and burst against each other, dousing the chamber in a blanket of steam. He hears her gasp at the heavy air.

But a lich does not need air, nor does he need to see.

As she stumbles backward into his sarcophagus, Rahgot falls on her, a smothering shadow. She screams when his spidery hands find the collar of her armor and the pillar of golden skin above it.

"FEIM—"

But his hand crushes her windpipe, silencing the Thu'um in her mouth. Her eyes are blown wide, sightless in the dark.

How simple, how exquisite it was to have a creature so full of power within his hands.

She is bound up in a hard shell of silver ice, but Rahgot would see to that later. His hand still on her throat, he traces the other over her face, cresting over sharp elven bones and soft mannish cheeks. He reaches her ear, and feels a tremor in her throat when his finger catches on the leaftip.

Long ago, they said Traitor's power was born from dovah sos in his veins. At the time, Rahgot did not, would not believe such a blasphemy to the gods. But over the long ages in rumination with nothing but Froda's ghost and the mountain winds to haunt his ears, he pondered the possibility of a true Dovahkiin.

Now he believed, and now he holds one in his hands. A goddess in a mortal's skin. The power of the gods could be, would be his!

"You are a fool, Rahgot."

His hiss is ghastly, banishing Froda's ghost to the fringes and washing over the Dovahkiin's face in a cloud of decay. She gags beneath him. In retaliation, he pinches her ear between two bony fingers, and she chokes, gasping.

But it wouldn't do to kill the goddess of his new religion before he's preached his message. He would seal her in his own coffin as he prepared his ascension to a new priesthood.

His wards hold the lid in place, sealing the Dovahkiin without suffocating her. He would return for her soon, but first—

There is a gasp, a brush of frost, and then from the confines of the coffin, a whispy voice Shouts, her Thu'um penetrating through stone and death.

Rahgot rounds on the tomb, pivoting from his place on the stairs from his funerary dias. But it is too late. The Shout has burst from the air into the bones of Nirn itself.

"OD AH VIING!"

Odahviing tugs at a distant thread in the long tapestry of Rahgot's memory with the strength of iron tongs pulling teeth.

Odahviing. His old master.

But how did—?

"You've sworn fealty to your own doom."

Froda's taunting voice dances in his ears as thunder rumbles in the distance. The sarcophagus on the dias is still, but dust and debris fall from the ceiling like rain. Rahgot draws back, his staff raised to meet whatever new being threatened his sanctum.

"You know what's coming."

There was a crack! followed by a heavy crash. Dust choked the air, bitter in the cold and lingering smoke steam. Then, early morning light filters in, thin and golden. In its midst is a horned head and sharpened claw. Claws that would destroy Forelhost.

"Rahgot, mey! My teeth to your neck!"

THe roof was gone, and morning sun flooded the chambers, catching on the dust motes like magicka in the air. The smoke and steam dispersed quickly, and Rahgot, for the first time in nearly five thousand years, saw his god face to face.

Of all the dov, Odahviing was always a fierce and active ruler. Always quick to action and swift to speak his thoughts. Rahgot always knew his recklessness was why he fell in the war with the Nords. But before, Odahviing was a stalwart supporter of Alduin Thuri. His priesthood followed the example set by the High Priests in Bromjunaar. He sent lesser dov to heed Alduin's call against the Traitor.

Yet here he was, heeding the call of a weak fahlil with the blood of the gods. Why—?

But Rahgot could not ponder it any longer. His master was in the chamber. A large, brilliantly formed dovah, Odahviing's size forced Rahgot to sweep back across the cracked floor, all too aware of the heat and strength of a dragon's body. But his god did not look at him.

Odahviing's claws were prying open the lid. It fell away and he lowered his snout. Rahgot could just see small golden hands grasp at the crimson scales.

"Odahviing, I can't breathe—"

Her voice, faint, speaks a language Rahgot doesn't know. But whatever she says to the dovah turns the horned head in his direction. Odahviing is snarling.

"Mey lir, Rahgot! Ruth hi!" Odahviing, thur—

But the jaws are on him. As his bones are broken by his god's teeth, Rahgot sees the Dovahkiin sitting up. in his coffin, her arms draped over the side as she tries to catch her breath. Her hair is a whirlwind and her eyes crystal. What a ravishing goddess she would have made!

Her eyes catch his through the slits of his mask. Her face is as green as the cold orichalcum. But then her mouth turns up, a sneer, and she resembles the Traitor so utterly that Rahgot, for the first time in countless ages, grew truly cold.

"Save his mask for me, won't you, darling?" "Geh, Judsedov."

Rahgot doesn't know what the Dovahkiin says to Odahviing, but his god calls the fahlil the Queen of the Dov. The Queen.

His last thought was that she was already a goddess, and Odahviing, a god in his own right, was her loyal priest.

Froda's laughter is the last thing Rahgot hears over the rumble of the dovah's throat and the crunch of his own bones.

When the mask falls to the floor, bereft of its priest, it is several long minutes before Leara can muster the strength to retrieve it. Even then, Odahviing offers his head to help support her, and he guides her across the floor.

Picking it up, Leara fingers the cold orichalcum, tired.

"What happened?" "Well . . ."

She trailed off, warm and comfortable against Odahviing but embarrassed to continue. At Odahviing's gentle huff, she relents.

"He caught me off guard. I tried to stand on the coffin for leverage, and then the bloody lich tripped me up." "Lech." "What was that?" "Nothing, Kunziiyol."

Sighing, Leara turns her face into the warmth of Odahviing's snout.

"Let's go home."

Guiding the Dragonborn to the safe hollow at the base of his neck, Odahviing takes flight, leaving the ruins of Forelhost and the Dragon Cult behind.

"Drat, I forgot about the Word Wall!" "Ruth, vahdin."

fin

[s-brant]

Cherry Bowl (3/8)

(gif: @kiekiecarrera) (PART TWO) (PART FOUR) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: When Kie cancels their plans together, Y/N asks JJ on a date to the Cherry Bowl Drive-In. Unsure of how to navigate his first ever date, JJ seeks out advice. Unfortunately, the night doesn’t go as planned, and both parties are left shaken by miscommunication.

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: Smut, public sex/exhibitionism, sexual choking, angst, depictions of mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, and implied/referenced abuse.

A/N: Welcome back to Tokens! Slight trouble in paradise is brewing for these two lovers, so buckle up and read because it’s gonna be a rollercoster for a little while after what happens in this chapter. I hope you all like it, and if you did, feedback is very appreciated. Have fun!

"I'm just saying that oatmeal raisin is superior to chocolate chip, why is that such an egregious crime, Kie?"

The lunch room is filled to the brim with students going to town on questionably cooked frozen foods, soggy tater tots, and sugary drinks from the vending machines despite the Obama-era posters on the walls advocating for healthier school lunches that never seemed to make their way to Kildare County High. The extent of their healthy lunches extended to a serving of overcooked canned green beans served with the worst slice of doughy pizza known to human kind, so it was sort of contradictory.

Y/N sits across the table from Pope and JJ, the latter of which being the one who launched into a full-fledged debate with Kiara about which type of cookie was better.

The clear cling wrap sits, unfolded, on the table with one of her stickers neatly placed on the back of it. As consolation for his epic loss yesterday at the beach, she paid an extra .75 cents to get him it when she arrived first to their shared lunch period—one of only two class periods they have together, the other being gym. He was still in line when she peeled a surfboard sticker off of her sheet and placed it at the center of the wrapped up cookie as if to remind him of her triumph over him in the waves.

"Thanks, hot stuff," he said, voice somewhat quieter despite the fact that hardly anyone was in the cafeteria with them. Then his smile dropped into an deadpan expression as soon as he saw her choice of sticker and looked back up at her. "You're never gonna let me live that one down, are you?"

"Never in a million years. I'll be gloating about it until I'm elderly."

"That's my girl."

The sound of the constant chatter surrounding them from at least two hundred other people drowns out the memories of yesterday that threaten to haunt her when she watches him debate with Kie. The mere recollection of their night in the back of the van has her reaching to pull the collar of her cropped tee up to assure that the hickeys remain hidden on instinct, and he catches the action out of the corner of his eye. It has him fighting a smile.

Kie quips, "Maybe on another planet, but, here, I think we can all agree chocolate chip is better, right Y/N?"

Y/N's eyes widen around a forkful of mushy "green beans" at the sound of her name being said bringing her from the depths of her memories.

Usually, she's quick to jump in and give her two cents on whatever stupid back and forth they're all having, but her mind was elsewhere. Unbeknownst to Kie and Pope, she was mentally reliving every second of getting fucked in the van last night, so her attention to detail when it comes to the Chocolate Chip vs Oatmeal Raisin case isn't all too sharp.

"Uhhh," she stops for a second, looking at the half eaten chocolate chip cookie in Kie's hand, "If I say chocolate chip is better, can I get a piece of it?"

Kie's face lights up at her words, and she's already pulling off a generous chunk of the baked good to hand off to her. The sound of a certain someone whose lap Y/N's legs are outstretched onto from beneath the table scoffing distracts her from the first bite.

"I know you prefer oatmeal raisin, you traitor," JJ says.

Their brunette friend's brows scrunch.

"Why is she a traitor?"

They try to keep from making any faces or giving anything away, but Y/N has to stifle the sound of her choking on her mouthful of cookie at the question. You'd think one of them came out and asked if they were dating or something with how she reacts, and she feels JJ squeeze her ankle in a non-verbal way of telling her to hold it together. It was her idea in the first place, yet he's a lot smoother with keeping it under the radar.

Under it all, the aspect of keeping it a secret does unnerve him to a degree. He doesn't think he'd be brave enough to communicate it, especially not when their relationship remains undefined, but the darker side of his mind wonders...

He shrugs, saying, "Cause we were friends first. Duh. Other than John B, I've known her the longest."

None of them stop to acknowledge the identical aches in their hearts at the mentioning of his name. They skip right over it like it never happened. After the funeral a few days ago, they've filled their quota on mushy-gushy sad talk for the next week and a half.

The real reason is something far more complicated than him having a claim staked on her loyalty through having the longest friendship. It's something tied up in days of slowly getting pulled into one another's worlds like the tug of gravity itself, in how he has to refrain from slipping his arm around her waist in the hallway or kissing her goodbye after a sleepover at the Chateau. But until she gives him the go-ahead, he won't let it slip to anyone.

Pope speaks up from beside him, "You literally met her twenty minutes before we did."

"Still counts. Technically, I did meet her first, so her betraying Team Oatmeal Raisin is enough to be tried for treason in Pogue Court."

"Pogue Court isn't a thing."

He crosses his arms after he pops the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

"It is now. You can be tried for treason for breaking the rules. Rule number one is that all Pogues have to admit oatmeal raisin is superior."

He's about to ball up the cling wrap to throw away later when the surfboard sticker catches his attention again. It's the same color as his board, which he'd like to think is a result of her being an evil mastermind that went out to get this sticker sheet for the sole purpose of teasing him, but he's the one who got her the sheet as a gift for her birthday, so he knows it was pure coincidence.

Last second, he peels the sticker away from the cling wrap and looks down to place it over the top of her yellow converse that were once a vibrant, paler color when Big John got them for her, but have since turned into an ugly mustard/dirt-dusted color they heckle her over.

"What are the other rules?" Y/N asks.

One of the hands holding onto where her feet are casually planted in his lap, something that they've done long enough that their friends won't see it as anything odd, slides down to caress the stretch of skin beneath the frayed hem of her dark jeans. Something she didn't know about him before whatever it is they have together started was that he constantly needs to be touching her. She can't say she doesn't love it though.

Pope answers, "The oatmeal raisin rule is not official"—a pointed glance at JJ—"But I'd assume the rest of the rules of Pogue Court would be no lying and no macking."

"So, basically you two break almost every rule except the oatmeal raisin one, and I lie," JJ says and turns to look at her, "How does it feel to be better than everyone, Y/N?"

"Pretty good, not gonna lie."

He keeps caressing little circles and tracing up and down her skin beneath the flared out pant leg of her jeans while he swipes his phone off of the table top without attracting the attention of their friends, who continue on to a new topic. She isn't too focused on what it is. She only picks up that it has something to do with a class they're in that's more advanced that hers, so she promptly checks out of the conversation.

Ever since John B died, she hasn't been performing too well in school. She tries, truly tries, but her mind outright refuses to absorb any of the information. When she reads her assigned reading, she hovers over the same paragraphs over and over until she shuts the book in a huff and hides it in her backpack again. Losing someone you love has a surprising amount of side effects.

Her phone buzzing in her hand brings her away from the impending cloud of doom that often accompanies any thoughts of John B, and when she taps in her passcode, her brother's birthday, a message bubble appears with a banner displaying JJ's contact name.

JJ (Derogatory) ur a good liar. prob could've fooled me if i weren't the one macking on u

Their eyes meet for a second across the table, then he watches her thumbs move to type a response.

Kief Princess Little do they know I break every rule now that I've switched sides on the cookie debate. Kinda impressive ngl.

JJ (Derogatory) triple threat, baby

JJ (Derogatory) thanks for the cookie btw

She smiles to herself, so wrapped up in their own world that she doesn't notice everyone in the room starting to pack up their stuff in anticipation of the bell that is due to ring any second now.

Kief Princess Had to repay you for last night somehow ;)

When she glances up to see his reaction, she watches his chest rise with a particularly large inhale, and he chews on the inside of his lip in thought.

JJ (Derogatory) strategically bringing up last night so i'm turned on in physics? ur an evil mastermind

Kief Princess I try.

Kief Princess Apparently whooping your sorry ass at surfing isn't the only thing I'm good at.

She hears him scoff.

JJ (Derogatory) first of all, ouch. second, u barely beat me

Kief Princess I'm happy to challenge you to a rematch. I have plans with Kie tonight, so I can't till this weekend. All it'll prove is that I am the rightful winner, but we knew that already.

JJ (Derogatory) what r the stakes this time

Kief Princess No sexual favors. If you beat me (fat chance) I'll formally rejoin team oatmeal raisin.

JJ (Derogatory) :( sex makes it more fun but i still accept those conditions

JJ (Derogatory) team oatmeal raisin needs u, even if ur a traitor

Kief Princess Why bet sexual favors if you're just gonna fuck me after anyway?

JJ (Derogatory) good point

The sound of the bell ringing echoes through the cafeteria, and they both pop their heads up from their phone screens to see everyone, including Pope and Kie, already packed up and raising from their seats to scurry off in the direction of their next classes. Meanwhile, their stuff is all bestrewn across the table, particularly JJ's belongings.

The sight of Kie walking away makes Y/N ask after her, "We're still on for tonight, right?

She stops with Pope's hand interwoven in hers. The look on her face when she turns would make you think she got caught doing something she wasn't meant to. Something like forgetting about the plans they made last week to watch Fear Street together. The Cherry Bowl Drive-In is premiering the first two movies as a double feature for the horror movie buffs of Kildare, so they decided to get tickets. Kiara shares a fondness of horror movies with her. Since gory movies make the boys squirm, though JJ pretends they don't, it's their own thing.

"Actually, Pope and I were gonna go to the beach. I'm sorry."

JJ knows she's more upset about it than she lets on, but Y/N simply gives the pair a smile that doesn't reach the eyes.

The sound of JJ behind her makes them laugh on their way out, diffusing the minor tension lingering in the air from the awkward encounter, "Use protection!"

After their friends offer them a goodbye, they gather their stuff quite leisurely, not really caring about being late.

It's something they've talked about before here or there: her feelings surrounding Kiara and Pope's sudden relationship. It's not as if she harbors any ill feelings for them, she doesn't, but the ripple effects of their pairing on the group, and more importantly the girls' own friendship, couldn't be clearer from her perspective. Between the missed hangouts, forgotten plans, and the convenient way she never seems to have time to hang out with her and JJ unless Pope is there too, it's been building up for a month now.

What makes it sting the most is how close her and Kie used to be. They didn't hit it off immediately the way she and JJ did as children until her thirteenth birthday when no one she invited showed up to the party Big John helped her set up in the yard of the Chateau.

She was the one who rallied the boys together to walk to ask their school friends from the year above to come hang out for an hour or two, promising a slice of the wonky-looking but delicious strawberry cake her and John B spent the morning crafting together. She can remember the sound of their high-pitched laughs and the cloud of flour that hung in the kitchen when they high-fived over the finished product like it was yesterday. In her heart, it was yesterday.

That night was when she fell in love with her friends, and that was when she first knew Kiara was her best friend. They wove friendship bracelets on each other that night and wore them for years until they withered away. No one had ever done something like that for her before. Not even JJ.

"You okay?"

Feeling his hand on her arm, slipping down to take her hand for a moment in the seclusion of the empty cafeteria, makes her glance up at him with a distinct sorrow washed over her features.

You know what? Screw this. Why should she be torn up over Kie and let it ruin her excitement for the double feature tonight? There's no way in hell she's letting her best friend ditching her for her boyfriend get in the way of her plans.

"Do you wanna go on a date tonight?" she asks him abruptly, then adds, "To the Cherry Bowl with me instead of Kie?"

The question sparks a pause in his mind, a halt of hesitation in which he worries about her avoiding having to answer what he asked, but he attempts to play it cool and not fuss over her outwardly. There have been times where being treated like that has made her feel suffocated, so he doesn't want to risk it. When she's ready, she'll talk about it, and if she takes too long and buries her feelings, then he'll intervene. For now, he tries to keep his face neutral despite the frown tempting his lips at her disappointment.

JJ looks around once more before throwing his arm around her shoulder to walk her out.

"You bet your ass I do."

What is a person supposed to act like on their first date that's not actually a date cause everything between them is the same, but kinda is a date because they called it one? If you ever find out, please find JJ and tell him because he has no clue.

Pope wasn't too much help in the Instagram group chat he made for it seeing as his and Kie's relationship is too fresh, John B isn't even alive, so he's out of service for advice unless there's Ouija Board he can borrow, and, thankfully, Kiara was his savior.

Their phones began blowing up as soon as he reached his class after lunch period ended. He couldn't under any circumstances let it be known that this mystery girl he had a date with was their friend, but thankfully Y/N already had the alibi of going to the Drive-In alone. All he had to do was make up a fake date scenario and get basic advice.

danknugstickiestickies added kiara-c and popeheyward to the groupchat

danknugstickiestickies named the group HELP ME

danknugstickiestickies i have a date with this chick i met on the beach when i was out with y/n last week. i need ur advice

His phone screen lit up with the notification that both of his friends were typing, signified with the three dot symbol bouncing in the bottom left corner as he thought it through. They couldn't possibly figure it out, right? They'd been careful, he'd been respectful of her wishes, and they'd been too busy together to notice anything new with them. He figured it would work. It was a risk, sure, but it was worth it to him. He didn't want to fuck this up with her.

Knowing her, she probably wouldn’t even treat it differently than any of their other hang outs. It's not like they haven't been romantic or sexual with each other. They've done everything but go out on an actual date, so why was he nervous?

kiara-c ummmm

popeheyward Yeah, I'm gonna need you to ELABORATE!!

kiara-c did hell freeze over? since when does jj maybank go out on dates??

danknugstickiestickies renamed the group hell froze over

kiara-c very funny, I'm laughing so hard 😐

popeheyward Do we know her?

danknugstickiestickies don't think u do. she moved here last week and hasn't enrolled in school yet. her name's steph

popeheyward What about Y/N though?

kiara-c ^^

JJ's chest muscles tightened with the question prompting a rush of anxiety that made his breathing feel slightly harder. He glanced up at his Physics teacher, who was essentially dozing off behind his desk with his hand in a bag of chips and an educational video on the projector as an excuse to not teach, and looked back down at his phone without the added stress of possibly getting his phone confiscated.

Pope's message might as well have been a sucker punch. Forget butterflies, he set a wasp’s nest loose inside of his stomach to tie it into knots and flip it every which way. His neglected textbook served as a prop for his phone to lean on as he set it down to think.

Did they know? As far as he was aware, they were getting away with it. No evidence, concrete or circumstantial, was there to prove it. At least the stress of the situation killed any chance of him being turned on by her reminder of last night in their messages. This shit was boner repellant of the highest degree.

He played stupid. Better to let them volunteer whatever information they had before he went in saying anything incriminating that they didn't already know. If anything would sour the experience of their first date, it would be him accidentally making their strange in-between relationship public behind her back.

danknugstickiestickies ?? what do u mean

Three dots bounced in the bottom left corner of his slightly cracked phone screen.

popeheyward ...

kiara-c I mean, you don't see it?

danknugstickiestickies see what

popeheyward I guess we were wrong, but all of us always thought you two had some feelings going on.

"You don't say?" JJ murmured sarcastically to himself under his breath. "Never crossed my mind, Pope."

danknugstickiestickies bro that's jb's little sister

kiara-c so?

danknugstickiestickies forbidden fruit? making john b roll over in his grave? do those ring a bell or am i speaking in tongues

He was already a proficient liar in real life, but, fuck, it was easy in text messages. There's no chance at deciphering facial expression or tone, just a plain message with no room to budge. Thank God he didn't do this in person with them. He could've survived, but it wouldn't have been as quick and painless as the group chat was.

kiara-c jeez, sorry

Pope didn't voice it, but he noticed something.

He looked up from his phone and stared off at the wall in thought in his AP European History class. It piqued his interest that JJ simply said she was off limits, forbidden fruit as he put it, but did not outright deny having feelings for her. In fact, he didn't even address the question. He made excuses for why he shouldn't have feelings for her, but he never said he didn't have feelings for her.

Kie did not notice. Not because she wasn't smart enough to either, but because she was too busy hiding her phone behind her backpack to think too deeply about it. Her teacher was one of those teachers that would flip shit if they saw a cell phone turned off and faced down on the desk, let alone being used by a student during a lesson.

In his classroom across the hallway, JJ bounced his leg up and down beneath his desk in an absentminded urge to release the built up energy the anxiety produced in an over abundance.

popeheyward Our bad then. Even John B thought y'all were sus lmao.

Since when was that a known fact? Could he tell? Did he talk to Pope about him and Y/N before he died? Either way, it wasn't the time to pry about it.

kiara-c yeah you guys honestly could've fooled me if you wanted to

danknugstickiestickies well thank u, glad ur invested in our friendship but

danknugstickiestickies please help, i have no fucking clue how to act on a date and this girl is too cool for me to screw this up

That was when they finally dropped the interrogation session and started offering up tips. The best ones came from Kie, which made sense to him since women are more likely to know what other women like than two dudes who share one collective brain cell and never had real relationships.

Rule One: Be ready to pick her up five minutes early.

He wasn't ready to pick her up five minutes early. His bike broke down by the time he made it halfway down his street, so he had to push it back up the road and into the yard before setting off on foot to reach the Chateau quickly enough. And by quickly enough, it means he got there five minutes late, not early.

Rule Two: Compliment her after you get in the car.

She tossed him the keys to the Twinkie from across the hood, not giving him the chance to open the door for her, and it wasn't until they were setting off down the road that he remembered the next piece of advice he was given.

Side-eyeing her in his peripheral vision, he tried to find something to compliment her on specifically rather than the general compliments about her being pretty that she never fully believes when he says them. He was intending to say something about the skirt she had on, but when he chanced a glance over at her, she caught him and asked—

"What is it?"

Sent into panic mode, JJ blurted out instead, "I like your shoes."

He could've bashed his face against the steering wheel twenty times right then and there at the utter absence of reaction on her part for the next few uncomfortable seconds. It wasn't that it was a bad compliment. She appreciates any compliments at all...but her shoes were hidden from his view. Not to mention, they were the dirty, mustard yellow converse that the Pogues bash on a daily basis.

She laughed, lifting her leg to expose the sneaker on her right foot, and asked, "These? Dude, you roast me for these all the time. You and John B said they look like Big Bird shit on them."

The skin on the apples of his cheeks scorched hot with embarrassment, and he was never so glad that the overhead lights in the van were burnt out until that moment. He would've died on the spot if she saw him blush like that, face flushed pinker than sunburn. All he could do to save himself was murmur something about the color growing on him and keep driving in the direction of the theater with his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel he fantasized about banging his face into.

Rule Three: Insist on picking up the check.

In this case, it meant insist on buying the popcorn and drinks, and he miraculously managed to drop his wallet somewhere along the way when he ran over to the Chateau, so when he stepped up to the makeshift concession stand with her standing at his side, he felt around for his wallet in his jeans to no avail.

His thoughts echoed back to him, You gotta be fucking kidding me. Seriously? Is this actually happening right now?

"JJ, it's honestly fine," she said softly as he leaned over to search back of the Twinkie for the wallet. "We can look for it on your street right now if you want. It has your ID and stuff, you don't want a stranger to have that. We don't need to stay—"

It took all of his control to not shout it in reaction when he said, "No way. You've been waiting for this, and Kie ditched you, so I ain't ditching you too. We're staying."

His wallet could go kick rocks.

He came too far to be dragged down by the old leathery piece of shit anyway. Would he go out and search for it tirelessly the second the date ended? Hell yeah, that fucker had twenty dollars and his debit card in it, but he couldn't bear the thought of abandoning her or ruining her anticipated movie night by taking her out to search the streets with their phone flashlights for a wallet they might not find. He'd wait till the movies ended, take her home, then haul ass around the Cut searching for it after.

Thankfully, he found a couple bucks crumbled up in his front pocket while she scavenged for coins in the glove compartment, and they came up with enough to buy a water bottle and small popcorn to share together.

Rule Four: Don't have sex on the first date.

And it may sound easy enough to not act like a complete Neanderthal for the length of two movies, but the girl makes it pretty damn difficult if he's to say so himself.

That's what led him here, laying in the back of the sideways-parked Twinkie in the farthest corner of the outdoor theater with her practically on top of him. In any other instance, he wouldn't be opposed in the slightest, but with the cursed fourth rule in mind, he isn't too thrilled with the feeling of her hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

It isn't even meant to be sexual. They're constantly touching one another this way. She'll even slip her hands up under his shirt just to feel the warmth of his skin or when he asks her if she can get an itch on a part of his back he can't reach, but for some reason his brain is short circuiting right now.

The thing is, when Kie and Pope said he shouldn't do it on the first date, they meant it for his and Steph's made up circumstances, not his and Y/N's full-blown relationship without labels. When you've had sex with someone as many times as they have with each other, the hesitancy on the "first date" is nonexistent. It doesn't matter. But JJ, trying to follow the advice given to him to the letter for the sake of being the date she deserves, doesn't think about it that way.

It shouldn't be this nerve-wracking. They've been best friends since they were children, they've been flirting since they found out what basic attraction was in the first place, and they've been forming this relationship ever since John B died. Why can't he relax? Why is this so different compared to how easy it felt between them yesterday on the beach or today at lunch?

Rule Five: Be yourself.

It takes him another few moments of laying here with her before he realizes quite abruptly what went wrong in a quick flash of a thought that brings the fifth rule back to him. The problem wasn't the bike, or the weird compliment about her Big Bird sneakers, or the lost wallet.

The problem is him. The problem is that he's trying way too hard to make this something it isn't. The part about them that he adores so dearly is how they never have to try when they're together. With any other girl or guy, they'd have to fake something or act a certain way, yet when they're together, they can simply exist and everything is runs smoothly. That's not to say they don't disagree or bump heads, they do, but short of those outlier moments, it's easier than anything else they do in life.

His eyes flicker away from the screen for the first time since the movie began, which, by the way, is gruesome enough at times that he had to divert his eyes to prevent himself from seeing it happen. They land on where she lays, completely content with the night in spite of its mishaps, with her head propped up on the pillows they brought from the Chateau.

He wonders if she can tell he's acting differently. Surely she must notice. She's the type of person that typically never misses a thing, perfect for the gold hunt they went on in the summer with picking up the clues and helping her brother unravel the mystery, so maybe she noticed how flustered this date has him. Does it bother her? Does he bother her?

With a confirming glance back up at the movie to see nothing important happening, he can't fight the urge to speak anymore.

"Can I tell you something?"

His voice appearing through the darkness of the shut off van after spending the past half hour in complete silence makes her jolt at first before realizing who it was. Though she loves horror movies, she can't claim to not be affected by them. The night she falls asleep after watching one, she often finds herself compelled to turn a light on and keep her feet from dangling off the edge of the bed. It's worth the fear, though.

When she turns to look at JJ, there's a warm smile on her face. She's cuddled into his side with a hand placed casually atop his thigh, caressing with no purpose or intent, and her movement halts when the light from the movie on the projector allows her to see the expression on his face.

Anxiety has become an increasingly significant presence in his life with the recent events in mind; John B and Sarah, the four-hundred million dollars they lost out on, and dodging his father whenever he sneaks home to switch out the backpack of clothes and personal belongings he keeps at the Routledge house.

It manifests itself in jittery nerves, stomach pains, shortness of breath, and, at worst, panic attacks striking either at random or in response to a specific trigger. It's one of the few things he still tries to hide from her, and she tries not to push him too hard with opening up about it.

She abandons the movie for the time being and rolls onto her side to face him, upper body propped up on her elbow as she examines his face with downturned features.

"Of course," she says.

The words left unsaid are, "You can tell me anything. Whenever you need someone to listen, or to talk to about shit, you can tell me." He's heard her say it enough that he doesn't need to hear it now to know it's true.

There's a pause, then—

"I feel like I fucked this entire date up," he starts to ramble and cuts her off before she can think about saying what she wants to, "and I know it's okay to you. You have way too high of a tolerance for my bullshit, and I've been trying so hard to make this perfect, but all that did was screw it up."

She's left quiet for a second, taking it all in.

Maybe if he hadn't been so anxious about it, he would've realized what was wrong with his bike when he rode it home from school, or he would've noticed his wallet fall out of his pocket. The point is, he wishes he hadn't let the label attached to this freak him out so much. He isn't sure why it does, but it does.

But she doesn't do what he expects. She isn't drowning him in reassurances and, "It's okay's" because she knows he doesn't care for them much. When he, the most stubborn person she knows, apologizes for something he did, he doesn't want it to turn into the person accepting the apology coddling him.

Y/N sighs.

"Is that why you've been acting so different all night? I scared you with the whole ‘date’ thing, didn't I? It doesn't have to be a date if you don't want it to be."

What she doesn't know is that he wants it to be a date. He wants it to be a date so badly, he risked Pope and Kie finding them out for the sake of getting some proper advice on it, and now he's caught up in the same game of tug and war in his mind that always occurs when he wants to tell her the truth about his feelings for her.

Part of him doesn't understand why he doesn't outright say it. With every other girl he once showed interest in, he had no issues in letting them know he wanted them, but this is different. This isn't simply wanting someone, he thinks he's fallen for her. But whenever he says he's gonna grow a pair and tell her after all this time, he chokes. Involuntarily, he's reminded of his parents. Other than his friends saying it platonically, the only people to tell him they loved him were them, and with how they treated him, he sure as hell doesn't think that is love.

From his dad's brutal physical abuse to his mom's abandonment, he's too timid to tell her he loves her because of what could happen if she loves him back. Everyone else that has said that to him has either hurt him, died like John B did, or abandoned him.

He won't let that happen with him and Y/N. What they have, albeit undefined and codependent, is safe. It's the only thing he has left. Maybe it isn't right, and maybe he should open up about it to communicate the correct way, but somewhere in the misshapen logic of his mind, he correlates love to abandonment. And he doesn't want that to happen with her.

There are two sides of him at battle inside his mind. One side, the side that wants to do right by their relationship and actually communicate his feelings for once in his life, wants him to tell her everything. The other side, the side that responds based on the history of his past, wants him to hide it all.

"Will you be mad at me if we don't call it a date?" he asks.

She shakes her head.

The heavy sensation inside of JJ's chest nears a point of vitriolic violence against him as he starts to realize what he's doing to her, clearly letting her down, but he can't stop himself. Like a passive witness watching himself from outside of his body, the instantaneous trauma response to the sudden confrontation of his true feelings for her guides his actions without his permission. It shuts down any protest he has.

The sound of the movie fills the gap of silence between them the entire time. It’s a variety of bloodcurdling screams and disgusting sounds that would've made him gag if he weren't as distracted.

They can make out each other's faces through the darkness, but barely. It takes a flash of bright color from the film or a nearby car's lights turning on for them to fully see one another. Without the other knowing, they both put masks of calm and collected coolness on their faces despite the feelings raging beneath the surface—more so on his part than hers.

"Maybe," he says, pausing, "we should just keep things the way they've been."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, a soul-crushing amount of disappointment weighs her down. She said it was fine if he doesn't want it to be a date—and it is, she would never hold it against him—but that doesn't mean it can't hurt her. Things have been going so well, she almost thought...If tonight went well, she was thinking about no longer keeping it a secret, but if he said he wants things to stay the same, then maybe he isn't as ready for it as she is?

Meanwhile, JJ is on another page entirely.

She's embarrassed of being with you, a familiar voice in the back of his head croons. She's gonna leave just like everyone else does. If she doesn't even wanna tell your friends, why should you pretend you're dating?

The internal comments are the type that cause him to physically grimace when he's alone. Intrusive thoughts are just that: intrusive.

Sneaking into the guarded sanctuary of a person's mind, they set out to convince them the opposite of their reality. The only thing is, where most people's minds are guarded sanctuaries with walls of impregnable defense, his mind is the equivalent of a fortress blown to smithereens. The castle walls lay in rubble, the guards no where to be seen, and the path for these thoughts to slip past and straight to the vulnerability of his mind is left wide open.

In the privacy of his room, these thoughts attack him the most at night when he tries to fall asleep—when things get too quiet. With nobody around, when they get this bad there's nothing he can do except break down. It builds from the mere anxiety of attempting to force the thoughts away to full-blown panic attack mode. The more he resists them, the more aggressive they become. He'll gasp for air with tears streaming down his face, hitting his head with the heel of his hand as if that'd do something to stop his relentless mind.

But he can't afford to react in front of her, so the extent of his reaction is a subtle twitch of his face that she cannot see in the momentary darkness before the movie switches to another scene a second later. In a way, it does make the thoughts go away to have her here preventing him from spiraling alone. Having to focus on her keeps his mind away for moments at a time until the thoughts ease their grip on him.

When she hasn't answered for a while, he asks, terrified that he did something bad, "Are we good?"

The question seems to wake her up, snapping her out of the lonely direction her thoughts went into when he "rejected" her. It takes every bit of common sense she has left to force herself to understand that this doesn't mean he doesn't want her. He does, and not calling this a date doesn't mean they won't be together in the way they have been since John B's death, but she isn't perfect. She gets as unsure and insecure as he does.

As if the cloud of doom was lifted off of her, she makes her face lighten where she lays on her side next to him. Seeing this expression makes his chest feel less heavy, and he could let out a sigh of relief at the realization that he didn't break her heart and stomp on it. He should've known. Y/N is the sweetest person he knows, so she never would've flipped shit over him not wanting to label this as a date. That's not how she is.

And he's partly right. It isn't how she is. She would never hold it against him if he didn't want something further with her since she got herself into this position by pursuing him with his reputation with girls in mind, but she can't ignore it. Whether she wants it to or not, it had its affect on her as soon as he said it.

She leans in to kiss him, their lips meeting in the middle with the faint taste of popcorn salt mingling at the soft peck.

When she pulls away, she brushes the hair back from his face and says, "Don't worry. Nothing can change how I feel about you."

She has no clue what it feels like to hear that from her.

Despite the turmoil they unknowingly share beneath the surface due to this conversation, he could cry hearing her say it. It doesn't feel real to him that she feels the same way he does about her, because nothing could change how he feels about her either. That’s why he manages to work up the courage to repeat it back to her, and, for now, this is the closest he's physically capable of coming to telling her the truth.

"Ditto," he says.

It isn't what she wanted, but it's close enough, and if she dwells on this any longer, she might start getting too emotional and let the urge to tear up become too strong. Why does she have to be this sensitive? It's no secret that it's remarkably easy to make her cry, but this is insane to her. When all of this began with him, she didn't give a shit about him not wanting a label. She understood him, and she understood that he doesn't do this kind of thing, so why has it changed? Why doesn't she want to keep it a secret anymore? Why does she want this to be a date when she knows he doesn't want it to be?

Pulled by an invisible string back to him to silence her mind, she leans in to kiss him again with a hand cupping the back of his neck to guide him the rest of the way to her.

It shouldn't be laced with any sexual intention. She should be kissing him simply because she wants to, and, in a way, she is. Their kisses and touches are never lacking the motivation that is their underlying connection and mutual feelings for one another, but this is not the same. As he kisses her back with as much confidence and passion as always, she is reeling from the conversation that reminded her too much of a breakup.

It takes another minute of this for the kiss to heat up, their breathing becoming shallower in the moments they part to inhale, and she is undeniably the one instigating when she officially crosses the line between casual and sexual by crawling onto his lap. It's not hard for him to pick up on when their innocent moments take a turn. She's easy to read in that regard, and this has happened a multitude of times with them, so the shift of a mini make out session turning into something more is nothing out of the ordinary for them.

If he knew how shaken she is on the inside, he'd never want this. And the same would go for her if she knew what he was thinking before this. Neither of them wants to admit what they're feeling.

With her legs seated on either side of his hips, she kisses him like it's the last time she'll ever get the opportunity to. Her hands wander wherever they can, pulling at his shirt and feeling him up as his hands guide her hips to move against his in a steady grinding that she has no issue partaking in. It's an eagerness he hasn't seen from her in weeks. She's never un-excited when it comes to being physical with him either, but this is another level. The last time a girl was all over him like this, it was desperate touron at a party a few months ago.

In the span of time it takes her to glance over her shoulder to see if anyone could see them and reach to pull her skirt up until it bunches around her hips—no one can see them, by the way, since they got here late and were forced to cram the van into the back corner of the lot with no street lights illuminating the path—his brows raise at her presumptuous behavior. Not that he's one to complain, however, seeing as he's typically the one doing what she is.

Their next kiss clashes their teeth hard enough to make them wince, but he loves it. It makes him smirk into her parted mouth, alive with both the feeling her reassurance provided and the fuzzy-headed high that often finds him when they're together in this way. Incomparable to past flings or the high related to any drugs, she is the peak of everything to him. It's no contest.

His chest stutters against hers with a bout of amused laughter, asking within a brief pause in what feels like the most JJ thing he's said this awkward night, "Two for two in the Twinkie. What's gotten into you?"

Y/N's hand dips between where their bodies move together to unclasp the closed buckle of his belt in one smooth motion that has it falling apart with a clinking noise.

Her features are set with a look that tells him she means business. Whatever it is that sparked this, he wonders how the fuck to make it happen again another time. She's begged for it before, but never taken control so dominantly, and he can't deny what the role reversal does to him. The evidence is obvious in the distinct hardness she feels pressing up against the hand undoing his jeans.

"I was hoping it'd be you," she says, voice breathless and airy from the constant contact in a way that makes it ten times hotter for him.

If there were any chance of him not being in the mood prior to this, which wasn't the case anyway, it's gone now. He never wants to hear her say she doesn't deliberately try to tease him ever again.

He doesn't need to be told twice.

JJ surges forward to capture her mouth with his, this time with no intention of pulling away to breathe or speak again. No, he'll let himself get lightheaded and dizzy if it means he can stay with her for as long as possible.

With the circumstances of it all, them being visible to someone if they happened to pass by the open door of the van, they move at a pace quicker than usual. She's immediately helping him shimmy his jeans and underwear far enough down his hips to free his dick from the confines of his clothes, making him sigh out a breath of relief when her hand brushes against him in the process.

There's no opportunity to slow down, it has exploded into a full-throttle speed race that neither of them can halt.

His hand blindly flies out beside him to grope the floor of the van for the set of keys he tossed carelessly to the side once the movie started, eyes shut in the midst of the hot, messy kiss they share. His fingers find the fabric of one of the blankets they brought in case they got cold, then drifts again and lands on her Big Bird sneakers until he feels the sharp metal of her keys meet his calloused palm.

After the events of last summer, she bought a switch blade to keep on her key ring alongside the keys to the van, HMS Pogue, and Chateau. She may not like violence or weapons, seeing as she was a skeptic of JJ keeping the gun alongside her friends, but she saw it necessary. Between Rafe, Topper, and Kelce, how could she leave the safety of her and her friends up to chance knowing what some of the kooks did to them not long ago? What happened to Pope on the golf course alone was enough to make her skin crawl.

Right now, though, the knife flips out from the pressure of his thumb pushing the button to release it. He holds it out away from her at first to assure it doesn't nick her in the process, then uses his other hand to tug the side of her panties that hugs her hip far out enough to press the sharp side of the blade onto the inside of it.

She can hardly believe what she's watching as JJ cuts the delicate maroon underthings from her body as if he were doing something so normal, like it's something he's done before. Her forehead is pressed against his, her mouth parted both in shock and in a need to pant for oxygen, and she watches the knife ruin her favorite panties. The stitches come apart with a satisfying ripping noise that can hardly be heard over the sound of people reacting to the movie in the background.

Other customers of the Cherry Bowl Drive-In are too glued to the screen as a beloved character is chased down, reacting in shouts when she's seized by the killer and shoved onto the table of an industrial bread slicer, so they remain wholly unnoticed.

The lace, now ripped in half, dangles on the tip of the knife when he lifts it away from her, tosses it aside, and presses the button once more to retract the blade. It clatters to the floor, but is in no way forgotten with them resuming in a desperation to keep going until they both satisfy the need clawing at them from the inside. But her sense of need is different from his, and even with the fresh memory of him with the switch blade in mind, she's still somewhere else the whole time.

Her mind is faraway, muted through layers of sadness, anger, and disappointment as he reaches between them to line himself up to her entrance. The sensation of him running his cock, hard and messy with a few drops of precome, through her dripping pussy to coat it in her slick arousal is enough to make her moan pathetically. Yet when he's about to guide himself inside of her, she stops him.

"Wait, wait, wait," she breathes out rapidly, heart pounding so hard she can feel herself pulsating between her thighs, "Condom."

They were so antsy to get to it, they almost forgot.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, and his eyes flicker from where they were trained between their bodies to glance back and forth around the van before it hits him. "I lost my wallet..."

But right when he thinks their public rendezvous in the back of the Drive-In is over due to his unfortunate mistake, she shakes her head and slips away from her perch astride his lap to crawl over to her bag.

She fumbles with the old tote bag and plunges her arm in to sift through the hodge podge of things that are purely Y/N in nature—stickers, glitter pens, a half-eaten bag of candy, etc—for the square foil package she decided to toss in before she left just in case. She usually doesn't keep them on her because he never fails to have one, but, thankfully, she had the random instinct to bring it tonight.

The only thing to bring her out of her cloudy, malevolent storm of feelings when she settles back onto his lap with the condom wrapper ripped open for him is him saying, "So you planned this, huh?" with his mouth tipped in a familiar self-satisfied grin.

She didn't plan it. In fact, she threw herself at him the second she sensed him withdrawing from her and can't stop herself despite the fact that she constantly feels two seconds away from letting a tear slip down her cheek. If that counts as "planning it", then sure.

"Maybe so," she answers, cool, calm, and collected—the antithesis of the truth.

They usually don't lie to each other.

They're thrown right back into it without any other hiccups once he rolls the condom on, and he takes in a shaky breath at her hand wrapping around him to align their bodies up. Before she can do anything, though, he takes chance to swipe the blanket he found a moment ago and wrap it around her back to keep her covered in case they get caught.

Y/N sinks down onto his cock with her lip caught between her teeth to stifle the sound that threatens to escape. JJ, on the other hand, doesn't bother concealing the sound of the groan he makes at the sensation of having her wrapped around him like this. The tension in her entire body from the anticipation and the looming threat of being seen by someone has her squeezing him so tightly, he can't help but be a little louder than he should.

Her soft palm slaps over his mouth with enough pressure to force his groan to quiet itself, and she watches his pretty blue eyes widen in reaction to the dominant action. Who is this girl and what has she done with his sweet, submissive Y/N? Don't get him wrong, he is very turned on by it, but it's unlike her to take the lead this way. He can't figure it out.

"What's wrong, angel?" she asks in a whisper into his ear, her hand over his mouth and her hips starting to slowly rock against him, "Watch the movie."

Once the words leave her mouth, she drops her hand, just in case he wants to stop and can't say anything because she had his mouth covered, and JJ is pretty sure he's died and gone to heaven.

He doesn't watch the movie, not at all, because he's too busy watching her. For someone losing their mind internally, she does not let it show, nor does she let it distract her from what's happening. If anything, the distraction in this situation is the sex, not what's going on inside of her head.

There's a moment of adjustment and going as slowly and gently as possible while waiting for the dull pressure of feeling him inside of her to fade away, but, for the most part, she doesn't waste any time. As soon as she feels comfortable enough with the ache between her thighs giving way to a spark of pleasure when she grinds her clit down on his pubic bone, she starts to ride him at a better pace than the initial slow movements of her hips.

She raises herself up and takes him again inch by inch, enjoying the sense of fullness she gets from having to fit him in spite of the slight discomfort at first, and she could swear that he'll leave bruises in the shape of his handprints with how tightly he clutches her hips. It's all he can do to prevent himself from moaning or saying something, ever the vocal lover she's come to know.

Unless his mouth is preoccupied like it was on the beach yesterday afternoon, JJ is usually impossible to shut up, especially in this context. With him always whispering dirty things to her, whether it be praises, pet names, or plans on what he wants to do to her, she has come to find it breathtakingly hot. He could likely get away with saying something if he wanted to, but he isn't sure he wants to risk it. If he opens his mouth to spew something filthy to her, he won't trust himself not to make a louder, different kind of noise that won't fit in the with background audio the other moviegoers are listening to.

The wet sound of their bodies colliding that fills the space of the van is drowned out by the loud and violent sequence occurring on the screen far ahead of them, and hearing it makes her bounce herself on him a little harder. She's fueled on by it all, and, strangely, what happened before she practically pounced on him is the main contributor.

Similarly to the nature of his intrusive thoughts, the harder she resists the memory of how it felt when he told her he didn't want this to be a date, the more forceful it is in its return. Her eyes trail down to watch where they connect with her forehead pressed to his, then she's thrown back into the feeling of helpless disappointment and insecurity. His head tips back against the window with his bottom lip dropped open and his brows furrowed just enough to create a crease on his forehead, and she's bombarded with the look of relief on his face when he realized he didn't have to be tied down to her with a label.

It makes her want to get rougher, harder, and she doesn't even care if it'll make her sore later on. She presses herself down so far every time she slides down on his cock, her teeth draw blood on her lip with how hard she must bite it to remain quiet. The pain of her hipbones rubbing against his doesn't even matter to either of them at this point. They're both too lost in the pleasure that has begun to take control of them to care about something as minuscule as that, or the burn in her thighs from the repetitive physical strain.

She grabs his wrist and brings his hand between them, flattening hers overtop of it and pressing down on the base of her abdomen in the midst of the increasingly feverish thrusts.

"Feel you here," she murmurs to him through a quiet moan, hoping he can hear it over the movie, and pushes down on his hand for emphasis. And if the way he reacts by cursing under his breath tells her anything, it's that he picked up on it. "JJ..."

He reaches out to grab her by the throat with his free hand and tug her forward to kiss him, as if something inside of him snapped in response to her doing that. The motions of her jolting up and down throws the already messy and uncoordinated kiss off-kilter, but they don't mind. It has them separating every time she lifts up, producing this heady little head rush from from them breathing in each other's air without actually letting their mouths meet in the middle.

Though they're trying their hardest not to alert anyone outside of what's happening, it didn't occur to him until now, when his eyes catch John B's old bandana swinging back and forth where it's secured around the rear view mirror.

They're worried about moaning while the entire fucking Twinkie is rocking with their movements. Well, at least it makes good use of the corny sticker he gifted John B last year as a gag gift. He tried to peel it off after JJ snuck it onto the side window to no avail. So, now Y/N is stuck with a sticker on her car reading, "If the van's a-rockin', come on in, we like orgies," rather than the more common phrase.

It almost makes him start laughing, and he prays no one takes that shit seriously, 'cause he is never intent on sharing this breathtaking girl. Ever.

Y/N isn't anywhere near laughing like he is, in fact, she's finding it difficult to keep herself together. She feels her eyes sting with the promise of tears, and she's never felt so pathetic before. Is she seriously about to cry during sex? Is she really that girl that is so ill-equipped to handle rejection, she can't get through it without tears?

She won't cry. Perhaps if he sees how glossy her eyes have become in a rare moment of good lighting, she can blame it on the hand around her throat putting pressure on the sides of her neck.

The worst part about her being near to crying is the timing of it.

The emotion of what she feels mentally mixes with the swirling, building sensation she feels in the pit of her stomach that tells her she's close to going over the edge, and it's so overwhelming. Was she imagining that their friendship had changed? More importantly, is this all she'll ever be to him? Sex is the only thing she's sure of with him, it's the only thing that doesn't require deeper emotions, and when the ground beneath their fragile relationship felt shaky...

He can feel her starting to unravel, and he knows that he'll come before she does if he doesn't do anything now, so he decides to take control.

JJ pulls the hand he had resting on her abdomen away as though he were burned by it, wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her body against his and using the hand around her neck for leverage to thrust up into her, effectively reducing her to a teary-eyed, moaning mess atop him. They both stopped caring about making noise the second he began to fuck her like this.

She cries out in ecstasy at the sudden change in pace and depth that has him hitting all the right places. Every time he thrusts up into her, just as rough as she wished for, the tip of his cock nudges into that perfect spot inside of her that makes her incapable of silencing her moans. This time, it's JJ that puts his hand over her mouth, letting the one he had around her neck move away to keep her from alerting everyone around them of what's happening.

There's nothing she can do to stop her climax as it barrels through her in its initial sweeping wave of bliss to contrast the venomous doubts in her mind. She's never felt such conflicting, yet powerful feelings before—the intensity of the physical pleasure that makes her whine into the palm of his hand, then the part of her mind replaying every word he said in their conversation before this.

Her body is rigid and tense through it all, squeezing down around his cock with the involuntary spasms of her orgasm, and he can't help himself anymore. All it takes are a few more frantic thrusts for him to bury himself inside of her one last time and spill into the condom, uncovering her mouth so he can drown out his own groans into a kiss.

Their skin sticks to their clothes on the inside with sweat from the exertion of their actions, and he can feel her stomach tremble where it presses up against his with each undulation of her hips that meet his as he rides it out.

But even with the added distraction of the sex, she can't rid herself of the feeling that started plaguing her as soon as things went awry. That was why he was acting weird all night. He must have been so worried about her thinking this was anything more than their typical hangouts that he couldn't bring himself to act normally.

She forces herself to look happy when they pull away from the kiss, panting, and JJ, unaware of what she's been thinking, doesn't notice the small deception.

Tag list: @gabiatthedisco

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

You Have Me (Pt. 03 of 10)

Pairing: John Wick X D'Antonio!Reader

Word count: 2.5K

Summary: You, a D'Antonio, were raised completely oblivious to everything that had to do with the High Table. When your father dies, you find out that the world isn't how you thought it was. In Gianna's party, unknown men try to kill you, but someone steps in and saves your life. John Wick. The man takes you to the Continental, the only place you'll be safe. You're completely lost, no idea what to do to survive in the new, cruel world you were thrown into. But a letter from your late father tells you to find a man, who is the only one who could keep you save and carry a plan to release you from the High Table. The man is the Baba Yaga, John Wick, the same who saved your life.

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{John Wick Masterlist}

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In the last nine days, John has been in and out of the hotel, meeting some people, trying to get in touch with others. Yesterday night he finally had a break, since now he has to wait for one of your father's affiliates to fly here. So this morning, you shower and dress up as if you're going to the gym. Leggings and a tank top. But you're forced to put on a coat to leave the bedroom because it's a bit cold. John is in the kitchen, having breakfast.

“I thought you were still sleeping,” You tell him, grabbing an apple.

“I just woke up.” He takes a look at you. “Going to work out?”

“No. But now that you apparently had a break, I still want to learn how to throw a punch.” Taking a bite, you sit before him on the table. “But if you gave up the idea, I'll hit the gym. I just found out this hotel has one.”

“It does.” John puts his coffee down, getting up. “But I meant what I said. C'mon.” He goes to the living room and you follow. John pushes the coffee table and the couches away, leaving a big space in the middle. Crossing your arms, you watch from the kitchen door frame.

“I'm impressed you're really doing this. I was waiting for you to just-”

“I'm only doing this because we need to be prepared for any kind of situation.” He gestures for you to approach and that's what you do. “I'll only teach you enough to get you some time to run and-”

“To run and find you.” You point out to him, a playful smile on your lips as you pace around the living room. “But c'mon. I don't know about you, but I want this to be a good time. It helps to distract me from what it really means.”

“It sounds like you're bored.”

“To death. I barely see you anymore, it's like I'm completely alone here.” You gesture to the apartment in general.

“Sorry, I've been meeting up-”

“I know.” The tone of his voice gets all professional again, a lot darker. He has a wound on his lower lip, which he probably got because of you and you father's plans. “That's why I'm trying to take this lightly. To take away the meaning behind it. Now let's go. How can a little girl like me take down a man like you?”

“As a start, you go for the most fragile spots. Throat, eyes, nose.”

“Fragile?” With both hands on your hips, you decide to scare him a little bit. So you move to kick him in the crotch, with the intention of stopping halfway. But John kicks your leg to the side, grabs your knee and pulls it up, moving to throw you hard on the ground. But instead of hitting the floor, you're more like lied down gently. But all the sudden motion is enough to make you lose your breath. “You proved a point. No joking around with you.” You burst out as he let's go of your leg and reaches out his hand.

“Just showing you what could've happened.” John pulls you up too hard when you take his hand, causing you to almost hit his chest. “They'd let your head hit the floor, what would leave you disoriented for a few seconds at least.”

“Got it,” You mumble, stepping back.

“Let's practice how to set free from someones grip.” He paces around you, holding you from behind with both his arms, in a way you can't move yours. “Keep in mind they will be squeezing you, so you'll be in pain.” But when he lifts you up, you suddenly burst into a laugh, which makes John put you back down immediately. “What is it?”

“Sorry. I'm ticklish.” You say, still catching your breath. You're about to apologize again, but when he loses his grip and you turn around, you see a smile. It's the same you saw a while ago as if for a moment he forgot everything that's going on. It makes him even more handsome, easygoing... He seems happy, or at least as if he could be. You promised you'd try to make him laugh, that you'd try to make him feel better, even though it may only be for a few seconds. And suddenly you notice how close you are. John slowly lets go of you, but something just won't let me step away. “But it would scare them away, right? If I suddenly started laughing.”

“They'd think you're insane, but it wouldn't stop them.” It all comes back, the smile disappears and his whole face changes.

“I know...” Running a hand through your hair, you wonder what you should do next. So you try to punch him again, and just as he did the first time, John grabs your wrist before you can hit him. “One day I'll surprise you, John Wick.” As you're done speaking, you try to punch him with the other hand, but the same thing happens and now he's holding both your hands. “Shit.”

“You'll have to be a lot better than this.”

You could kiss him. You bet that would be a surprise. John is standing so close, you'd only need to tiptoe. “I will, believe me.” You're not sure if you'd do it, but a knock on the door makes him to let go of you.

You watch as he goes to answer it, coming back from your daydream, telling yourself not to go there again. You're about to sit down to wait for him to return when you see through the corner of your eyes John being pushed violently. As he falls, a man comes in, a gun immediately pointed at you. You run and he shoots. On your way to the kitchen, you see as John gets up, colliding with the man, and somehow taking the gun from his hand. You stop by the door frame, unable to move. Your eyes follow John's every move, and as he overcomes the man, you manage to calm down. Soon enough the man is a bleeding mess on the floor. John checks him before coming towards you.

“Are you alright?” His eyes quickly scan through you, but you're more worried about the wound on his forehead.

“You're hurt.” Pushing his hair away, you check the small cut, your hands cupping his face. For a moment you don't care if that man came in here to kill you, you're way too worried about John being hurt. This feeling surprises you, but you choose not to think about it. “Come, let me clean it.”

“No. I'm used to it. We need to call Winston.”

“Well, I'm not used to it.” As he goes for the telephone, you get the first aid kit. John rudely asks someone to get in contact with the man called Winston, demanding him to come here immediately. When he hangs up, you stand before him, holding the kit. “Are you going to sit down and let me clean your cut or will I have to force you?”

With a quick, small smile, John moves to the couch, and you sit down beside him. He stands still as you clean the wound, relieved to see it's indeed small. “I was going to be a veterinarian, you know?” You tell him once you're done because he seems curious about how you know yiui way around the kit. “Well, I was supposed to graduate this summer, but since I had to leave the country... It might take a while longer.”

“Really?” You feel his eyes on you as you put everything back in the box.

“Yes. Despite my father's fortune, I always wanted to have my own life. My own money. I even agreed to give up my part of his heritage.”

“What?”

“It's crazy, I know. Some years ago Santino and Gianna were fighting over it and when they started to include me, I decided I didn't want it.” Remembering this episode was already bad, now it's way worse, with both your father and sister dead. And Santino hunting you down. “They were quick to set up the documents I had to sign. But after that, father opened a bank account for me and started transferring some money ever month.”

“He wanted you to be safe.”

“Yeah.” You forget the bleeding man on the floor, eyes locked on John's. “Thanks again, John. You saved me.”

“It's my job.”

“No, it isn't.” You friendly touch his arm, your hand lingering for too long. “I-” The door is opened and you move faster than John, suddenly ready to run. But the man who comes in doesn't seem like he came to kill you. He takes a deep breath when he sees the man on the floor.

“This is Winston. The owner.” Both of you observe as Winston checks to see if the man is alive. “I didn't break the rules.”

“Good for you.” He says, shaking John's hand before coming to stand before you. “Miss D'Antonio. My deepest apologies for not coming to greet you earlier, but John and I are working day and night to carry out your father's wishes.”

“Call me (Y/N).” You don't like the tone people force when they call you by the last name. “I'm more than just a surname.”

“Absolutely. I see that you indeed became everything your late father wanted you to. A beautiful, intelligent woman. An example of purity, judging by where you came from.” He claps his hands twice, and two men come in, taking the knocked out one away. “He will be taken to the alley and will be made an example of.”

“Good.” John nods, and Winston stares at both of you for a while. To John and then back at you. “Something wrong?”

“I have two pieces of advice. One for you.” He gestures at you. “And on for you.” Winston turns to John. “One is good, the other no so much.”

You don't like his tone, so you move closer to John, hiding a little behind his shoulder. “Enough mystery, Winston. What is it?”

“Dear (Y/N).” Winston takes your hand and pulls you away from John. You exchange a glance with him, and he nods, as if telling you it's ok. It's annoying how people feel like they're somehow intimate with you thanks to the surname you care. You don't like it. “Be careful with your feelings for John Wick, do not let them grow and become... Something more. He represents everything your father fought so hard to keep you away from. He's the very opposite of who you are, who you want to be. You might be the only good, righteous thing that came out of this cruel world I live in. Don't let him corrupt the purity, the gentleness that resides in you.” Before you can answer, he let's go of your hands and turns to face John. “And you, Mr. Wick, please, fall in love with her. You could use a light in your life, something to rescue you from the depths where you've seen to have fallen again. Someone so kind and generous would certainly heal the wounds you carry.” With a smile, Winston walks away, not giving you time to come up with an answer.

You just don't get it. Who hell does he think he is? What does he think he knows? “Tell me something, Winston.” He stops at the mention of his name. His words about John are burning ony your mind, and you can't keep your mouth shut. “If you were walking on these streets and saw half a dozen men surrounding a stranger, guns at their head, what would you do?”

He seems a little confused. “I would keep walking. As should you.”

“That's the difference between you and John.” You step forward, arms crossed. “He isn't here because I'm paying him. He saved my life at Gianna's party, asking for nothing in return. So you don't have the right to talk about him that way. If I'm good and righteous despite the place where I came from, so is John.” Winston opens his mouth to say something, but you raise a hand. “Thank you for your advice. And thank you for working on my father's plan to help me. But don't talk about things you don't understand. Or about people you don't truly know.”

“You are spectacular.” He says with another smile. “I will send the cleaning crew in. And please, John, take the lady to dinner. Our restaurant is at your disposition.” That said, he leaves, and seconds later the cleaning crew comes.

It makes you sick to see as they clean the blood, so you go to your bedroom. Opening all the curtains to let the light come in, you sit on the bed, staring at the buildings before you. What Winston said... Where did that come from? You have to be careful with your feelings for John? While has to fall in love with you? How stupid. Winston thinks he has everything figured out, but he couldn't be more wrong. If he's as smart as he thinks he is, he should know that what's more likely to happen is the other way around. John would never look at you like that... But you? You were already thinking about kissing him even before Winston showed up.

“Don't be stupid,” You tell yourself, getting up and walking over the window. It's beautiful here, even though the gray clouds give the city a monochromatic look.

“You're not stupid.” John's voice startles you. You didn't notice you left the door open. “What are you thinking about?”

“That Winston is a jerk. But I bet you already know that.”

“He's just good at reading people.” He comes to stand beside you, eyes on the city. But yours are on him. Tracing and memorizing his features. When he moves to look at you, yoy turn away quickly, staring at the city again.

“I don't think so.”

“We should have dinner at the hotel's restaurant though. At least until it's safe enough for you to start going out.”

“People will stare at me. They always do, as if they know me just because they knew my father.”

“You can't blame them for looking at you.” His voice is lower, deeper.

“Blame it on my dead father, dead sister, and murderous brother.”

“That's not what I meant.”

“What could you possibly mean?” You finally allow yourself look at him again, meeting his eyes. “You have such nice eyes.”

“You already said that.” A smile makes its way to his lips. Beautiful, soft lips.

“Well, you have a nice everything, actually.” Shrugging your shoulders, you put a lock of hair behind your ear, just as an excuse to look away.

“You're pretty too. More than that. People would look at you even if you weren't (Y/N) D'Antonio.”

You're blushing. You're sure you're blushing. Stepping back with a giggle, you cross your arms. “I'll put on something elegant then. And since all my expenses are paid, you can order anything you want.”

“Sounds good to me.”

[sisterkosho]

Sweet Dreams | Chapter 1

Warnings: None for today! Unless you count "slightly creepy" as a warning.

Notes: After all this time, I've finally started writing Ayume's story. It's not her bio unfortunately, but it's something. This admittedly wasn't even what I had been trying to work on the past couple weeks. But motivation randomly struck and here we are. This is the first time I'm writing a bigger story like this, so I hope y'all can bear with me since it won't be the best. But I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Tick tock... Tick tock... Tick tock...

That god forsaken sound was all that could be heard echoing from within the darkened room. A young girl lay restless on her bed as she watched the clock strike 12. Her eyes only growing heavier as each moment passed. She was tired. Oh so tired. Yet she knew sleep would never come, no matter how hard she tried. She felt nauseous, and her head was pounding. Chills ran down her entire body as a sinking feeling of dread twisted itself into the pit of her stomach. It was cold. Too cold. 

Her eyes squeezed shut, in a silent prayer that it would all just go away. That for once, she could rest easy. But it never seemed to be enough. The thoughts that plagued her only growing worse as each night passed, flashing through her mind on repeat each time she so much as closed her eyes. Never had she felt so helpless, yet her tears had long since dried after the first few sob filled nights. All she could muster now was a sigh of defeat as she climbed out of bed, wrapping the blanket tightly around her shoulders in an attempt to cling onto whatever warmth she could. The floorboards creaked ever so slightly beneath her feet as she made her way over to her bedroom window, allowing moonlight to illuminate the small room as she drew back the curtains.  

One might assume that the unknown of the night would only cause that feeling of unease to grow, yet the soft glow of the moon and sight of the star filled sky seemed to comfort her ever so slightly. The only thing that was able to bring her any sort of peace during nights like these. In fact, It wasn't uncommon to find her fast asleep on the window seat by the time morning came, her head resting upon the glass. Though tonight, she'd be lucky if she managed to get any sleep at all. It must have been over a week by now since that incident. Yet the memory was still as fresh in her mind as the day it had occured. 

The weather had been perfect that afternoon. So of course, her mother had suggested she go outside to play in the garden. It was her favorite thing to do on days like these after all. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary in the slightest. That was, aside from the young boy that stood just outside the gate. The one the girl had been too focused on the pretty flowers in front of her to notice. Though, it didn't take long for the sinking feeling of being watched to creep it's way into her stomach. It was odd to her, how unrecognizable he was. What with all the connections her parents had in the small town that they lived in. Yet, she didn't think much of it at all. Perhaps he had just moved in nearby, or was there visiting a family member. Whatever the case may have been, he looked rather lonely. 

"Do you wanna come play with me?" The girl had innocently asked. Yet, the boy simply stood in silence. If not for the slow tilt of his head, she would have assumed he hadn't even heard her at all. It was as if he didn't understand a single word she spoke. It wasn't until she was about to ask him if he was alright that she noticed it. His eyes. His dark, hollow eyes staring straight at her. The longer he stared, the more afraid she became. Her heartbeat began to quicken, her breathe heavy as the air around her seemingly grew cold. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Everything inside her was telling her to run. To get away from there as quickly as possible. She could've easily made a break for the back door, but her legs felt numb. All she could do was watch helplessly as the boy's hand reached up to latch onto the gate. The voice that came out from his lips didn't even sound human, sending chills down her spine as he spoke. "G..Got....G...Games...?" He had asked as he continued to slowly climb over the gate, Who could've known that such a silly question could instill such fear. 

The girl's chest began to tighten, to the point she could hardly breathe. Her hands flew to her head, tears streaming down her cheeks as she began to hyperventilate. Though somehow, in her panic induced state, she managed to pick up a small rock off the ground, swinging back her arm and launching it in the boy's direction as she screamed. "Go away... Go away... GO AWAY---" 

It was at this that boy's face turned from that of a blank stare, to a look so contorted in fear that it looked as inhuman as the piercing shriek that ripped through his throat. The next few moments were all a blur. All she could remember was her father bursting through the back door, yelling things about "how the hell a curse managed to get in here." Of course, none of it made any sense to the girl. All she knew, was that what she had just experienced wasn't natural. No, it was something much, much darker. And she never wanted to see it again. Though as she would soon come to understand, the life that she had now found herself in was not one that was so easily left behind. 

Ayume Nejireta never wanted to become a Jujutsu Sorcerer. 

And yet, this was the path that had been laid out for her from the moment she was born. "You will be strong." They had said. "Protect the weak." After all, It was she who had been blessed with the power to change the world, wasn't it? Or at least, that's what she had been lead to believe by all those around her. She had heard the way her father had spoken of her, to man with the golden button that had arrived at their home just days later. 

"Of all my four children, only my eldest daughter inherited the family technique." He had explained. "The curse she encountered was weak. Likely a grade 3 at best. But by the time I had arrived, she had completely incapacitated it. Had she been prepared for such a situation, I don't doubt she could've exorcised it herself." 

The girl in question sat just outside the door, listening closely to every word he spoke. Just thinking about that dreadful afternoon and all those sleepless nights made her skin crawl. Never again. That's what she had been telling herself. It was the only thing keeping to her sane after that. Never again. But her father, it seemed, had different plans for her.

"She has potential. Under the care of Jujutsu Tech, I'm certain she'll be a great sorcerer." The smile never once fell from his face as he spoke. It was clear that he took great pride in his daughter, or rather, what she had done. Her "technique" as he called it. She had something her other siblings did not, and he would do whatever it took to ensure that it didn't go to waste. This was the chance their family had been waiting for. To make their name known to the rest of the Jujutsu world. All thanks to her, their beloved daughter. All according to plan. 

Ayume Nejireta never wanted to become a Jujutsu Sorcerer. 

And yet, this was the path that had been laid out for her from the moment she was born. And really, who was she to refuse? 

[angelcorebabyowo]

Name: Slow dancing in the dark

Chapters:1/1

Summary: Sometimes you just have to slow dance with your friend on a balcony because there's a Masquerade party going on downstairs and both of your dates left you high and dry. Sometimes you and that friend fall in love in the process, who knows. 

Paring:Fitzroy/Argo

Word count:1,578

--------------------

"Well Fitz, care for a dance?" Argo asks, interrupting the awkward silence and stretching an arm out for Fitzroy to take. His mask, one of the ones that would only cover the area near the eyes and was more for decoration than anything, was next to him on the railing and looked as if one bust of wind would send it over the edge in a heartbeat.

"Ask properly now." Fitzroy teases and crosses his arms looking at Agro, a smile playing on his lips before whipping his eyes with the coat of his crimson suit despite not even crying. His own mask, one that covered the full top half of this face only leaving room for the eyes, was discarded on one of the few chairs that were seated against the balcony. 

"Well sir Fitzroy Maplecort," Argo started with a bow making sure to keep his arm outstretched and a wide smile, he even laughed softly before getting the full sentence out. Fitzroy's breath hitched slightly. Sure Ago had already asked him to dance but something about how it was going on this time; now that it was more in proper formatting, it felt more special somehow. He couldn't focus on anything other than the man in front of him and the soft music blasting from the downstairs speakers and even he knew what would come next.  "Seeing as we've both been left to dry, would you care for this dance?"

"I don't know," Fitzroy whispers in a tone that would only be described as longing, despite what he said though, he gently took Argo's hand and bowed before standing up straight. Despite the quiet tone, his voice was also filled with the sound of a laugh that couldn't quite come out yet, then again he mostly always sounded like that whenever in the company of the other. "But...If you insist, it'll be rude for me to decline" 

Argo grinned and stood up straight before rubbing Fitzroy's knuckles with his thumb for a second before getting himself in position, one hand on the other's waist and one keeping their hands interlocked. Argo takes this as lone of the rare chances to pick fun at the way Fitzroy was taking at the moment: "Incredibly rude, I do say."

Fitzroy doesn't comment on that but does roll his eyes playfully. "Do you even know what you're doing?" Fitzroy smiles, amused while resting his arm lazily on Argo's shoulder, the height difference wasn't too significant but ever since his recent growth the whole thing was still somewhat awkward.

"Not in the slightest," Argo smiles back shifting on his feet tying to figure out the correct footing. He's danced before of course, but that was in the past with wild movements that seemed unplanned and planned at the same time. That was the complete opposite of what was going on now.

"Then don't you think I should lead?" Fitzroy asks right as the song downstairs shifted to a more appropriate song for something like this.  He was going to comment on the timing before Argo cut him off. 

"Nah, I got this!" Argo quickly states and starts the dance,  his movements a little wobbly but at least accurate to what he was originally intended to be. Fitzroy was beyond thankful for that at least. "I swear!"

Fitzroy laughs softly, more of a chuckle, and follows his lead. Now having to go oven slower then he was used to, which in his defense, wasn't all fast. He was self taught in this department, surprisingly,  one of the things not taught at knight school was the whole ballroom dancing thing. You'd think it would be a thing but no, it was not. "If you step on my feet I will shock you without a second thought" he says after a few close calls. 

Argo smiles mischievously,  sticking his tounge out, before gently stepping on the others feet,  "Whoops." He was laughing now, and completely stopped moving as the pair got closer to the edge and he didn't feel like explaining that to people. 

"Ow! Why you little-" Fitzroy cuts himself off by just how much he was laughing. His cheeks were flushed a lighter shade of red already and worth this it seemed to only grow darker. He quickly, and at a very low voltage, shocked Argo more so to prove his point then anything. It also got him a tad seeing as their hands were still intertwined so he winced slightly. 

"That hurt!" Argo whined with a playful pout, clearly not being truly affected at all. He was still laughing and was leaning on the railing again,  still not letting go of Fitzroy's hand. While he could've looked over the edge, or at the sky and stars he continued to look over at Fitzroy with a smile on his face. 

"That's what you get!" He smiles before pulling his hand away and leaning next to him but opting to look up at the sky instead, squinting as if looking for something as he did. He was calmed down enough to not fall over after all. 

"Kwss it bewwer?" Argo jokes reverting to baby talk something he knows Fitzroy found somewhat annoying, while still looking over at said half-elf.  He just wanted to hear them laugh again, just  to hear it. Wanted to be the person to cause it. 

Fitzroy snorts and pushes him playfully, having the other stumble slightly. His blush was starting to come back but at the tip of his ears. "You're revolting!" his words dissolved into laughter that then dissolved into just stifled giggles.  

"Just for you" Argo could feel his heart pounding in his chest, hearing it in his ears as if trying to escape its prison. This really wasn't how the day, well technically night, was meant to go but he wouldn't trade it for the world. "Now, are we going to get back to this dance or are we goin'  be waitin'?" 

"Nah, I vote we just kinda sit around." Fitzroy says before doing the exact opposite, taking Argo's hand and placing his hand on the other's hip. 

"Flip a coin?" Argo pouts.

"Nope, I'm leaning because I dont trust you to fuck it up again " fitzroy says leasung the dance, the song was different but this time it was one he recognized. He didn't know the name of it obviously but he does know it well enough to softly along. 

"I am beyond heartbroken." Argo jokes with a breathy sigh but allows Fitzroy to lead, quickly catching on and just as quickly being able to do it without nearly tripping. 

It was quiet again aside from Fitzroy's soft humming and the even softer music downstairs. It was awkward but instead welcomed like warm open arms on a cold day. The pair stayed like that for a second, just dancing but then the song ended and Fitzroy went silent again but Argo was too busy listening to the heartbeat in his ears and his own thoughts swimming to realize that it was over.

That was until Argo felt his arm get lifted up and a small kiss being placed on his knuckles, quickly jumped in surprise while getting pulled from his thoughts. It was soft and maybe that was the reason he noticed it, the way his hair stood up on end. The pounding of his heart only got louder and he warned more painful. 

"It was a good night, don't you think?" Fitzroy asks, now leaning on the railing but keeping their hands interlocked. 

"Didn't go according to plan but...yeah it was nice. " Argo agrees while leaning next to him while running his thumb over the others knuckle, it was a comforting feeling. He liked the feeling of it in honesty.

"We should start heading back to our room,  it's getting pretty late." 

"Do we have to head back right now? Can't we wait a few more minutes?'

"Yeah...I guess we can, but don't come crying to me in the morning if you don't want to go to class." Fitzroy looked over at him with a small smile, the tiredness in his voice was clear but that was the only indicator that he was tired. In the moon light it seemed as if his eyes sparkled and Argo had to stop himself from reaching out and holding the others face, his hand was enough after all.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Argo whispers now looking off at the horizon trying to find another place to look at then staring his friend in the eyes.

"Oh yes you would." Fitzroy accuses and gently squeezes the others hand on accident, it felt so natural he didnt even realize he was still holding it. When he realized he looked down at it and then back at the sky, leaning on the opposite hand and not even bothering to let go yet.

Argo laughs and shakes his head "yeah, I will most definitely doing it in the morning. "

"Don't you dare!" Fitzroy challenges.

"Watch me!" They both laughed at that before scooting closer to one another.

They'd have a lot to talk about in the morning, that was a given, but in this moment they just stood there going from wild laughter to slipping into yet another comfortable silence. Not moving until people started to leave the building, and even then they where the last ones out of there. Still not letting go of each others hands.

[kinksvt]

requested:

anon: Hello!!! Can you do a junhui fwb w/ fluff at the end?:”)

→ pairing: junhui x reader

✱ genre/warnings: fwb!junhui, rough sex, bit of dirty talk, lotta fluff at the end with a hint of angst

✱ word count: 3,232

a/n: sorry for another long wait! but i hope you enjoy!

Since the moment you and Jun met, you both knew that what your friendship delivered, it wouldn't be close to just friends.

Since the day he went to a party and drunk texted you that he couldn't even focus on the girl that he was trying to hit it and quit it because he wished it was instead you, things would never just be a friendship. After a night of talking that slowly escalated into suggestive texting into straight out dirty talk and more than revealing pictures of the two of you, it changed the way you and Jun would see your so-called "friendship." But of course, neither of you minded so. You both didn't have anyone in your life besides each other, nor any plans for a relationship.

Thus how you two came up with "Y/N and Junhui's Guide to Benefits." In that guide, there were, rules, to keep your "friendship" steady and without any harm.

Rule number one, you cannot sleep with anyone else without knowledge of the other. Because, for your sake at least, you don't want to catch anything from Jun's horny ass trying to bang anyone he can get his hands on.

Rule number two, you cannot act on anything sexual in the bedroom without the other's approval. I.E that time Jun almost broke your ass because he wanted to try anal without telling you which left you sitting on a bag of frozen fries for two days. Yeah, he still sticks with saying that he "could've sworn" he texted you about it and how you said "sure whatever" in response.

Rule number three, you can see other people, but you must tell the other beforehand. Flashback to when a few months ago into your new set boundaries—minus the rules that weren't yet established—Jun had began talking to a girl. Which led to her being suspicious of you two being so close and brought to the conclusion of kicking Jun in the balls and telling him to have fun with his "girlfriend." Even though you were specifically anything but.

Rule number four, no public skin ship, save it for behind the doors. It's bad enough that some of your friends have raised eyebrows at your guys' "relationship," saying that one of you two are bound to fall for the other sooner or later. But you also don't want people to think that you are taken when you both deep down, secretly wish were true.

And lastly, rule number five, if you do begin to fall for the other, say cantaloupe. You weren't sure why Jun settled on cantaloupe but you didn't bother to question his weirdness. For nearly a solid year already, your guys' agreement had gone smooth sailing—for the most part. Aside from only a few arguments and breaks in talking, everything remained steady and fine.

Ding!

[10:17 pm] Junnie: hey babygirl.

It was a Friday night, spent binge watching the rest of your favorite show just like every other day. There were times when Jun had joined you and ended up falling asleep on each other. But you were sure that this wouldn't be one of those days. Jun only called you babygirl when he needed you—hell, he used pet names when he needed you period.

[10:19 pm] You: hii, what's up?

You really didn't need to guess what was up though, you liked to act coy and make him admit to what he really wants.

[10:20 pm] Junnie: mmm i bet u already know baby

[10:20 pm] You: do i??

[10:20 pm] You: are you sure?

[10:20 pm] Junnie: dont act like that baby

[10:21 pm] Junnie: or else.

[10:22 pm] You: but juuuuunnnnnn

[10:22 pm] You: im tiredddd :(((

[10:23 pm] Junnie: thats never been a problem before

[10:23 pm] Junnie: now open the door its cold out here

You rolled your eyes, not surprised that he was already there, basically waiting to ask you to let him in. Sighing, you dropped your phone onto the couch and paused your show—getting up to fulfill Jun's plead. Jun's ears perked up when he heard your footsteps get nearer, the sudden click of the door followed by your face instantly made standing in the cold all worth it.

"Get in here you dork," you said, opening the door and moving out of the way for the tall male to enter.

"Don't have to tell me twice," he replied as he hurried inside, pushing off his jacket and shoes.

You laughed to yourself and made your way back over to your spot on the couch. Unfortunately, you hadn't noticed that your hips had a bit more of a sway to it, making Jun silently and smirk slightly. He watched you like a predator as you sat on the couch. You only wore a sweater and shorts, not bothering to go back to your room to put on joggers to cover your cold legs. But, since you hadn't worn a bra—because why would you need an unbearable underwire sticking into your torso when you could be comfortable—Jun noticed that your nipples slightly protruded from the material. He swallowed and was, thoroughly reminded of the reason why he came here in the first place. When he had taken longer than usual to come over to you, you glanced over at Jun, seeing him standing there and watching you.

"What?" You asked, unknowingly. The conversation you two had merely minutes ago already slipped from your mind, until your eyes traveled a bit far than intended and you were also reminded of why Jun came over. "Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna do something about it? Hm?" You teased him, a smirk toying at the corners of your lips.

Jun chuckled, his voice dangerously low. "I'm not gonna do something about it," was all he responded with, not moving from his spot even an inch. You tilted your head the slightest, knowing he wouldn't not do anything about his hard-on. "You are." Your eyes widened, making Jun smirk and he beckoned you to come to him. Slowly but surely, you walked to where he stood.

You kept your head down until the sound of Jun's fingers snapping captured your attention. His eyes were dark, darker than usual, as he stared into you and his arm moved. His index finger pointed to the floor, asking you silently to get on the floor. You did as he inaudibly asked and got on your knees, looking up at him. "Good girl." He bent down and grabbed your chin, lifting you a bit so he could kiss you.

The kiss was soft but needy at the same time. His tongue didn't waste any time prying its way into your mouth, grazing over your own. You moaned and Jun groaned in response, his cock twitching in his jeans at your sounds. You moved your legs out from under you and Jun got closer. He lowered you to the floor as you two never stopped making out. As soon as your head was on the floor—safely—he broke the kiss and went for your neck. "Ah. Jun,"

He shushed you as he trailed his hot, open-mouthed kisses all around your neck. His cold hand shocked you as it grazed along your hips, going up your torso, underneath your sweater and grabbing onto your breast. "Missed you so much, princess." Jun's voice was muffled as he sucked fresh hickeys onto your collarbone, his hands groping you.

"I- ah!" As you were about to respond, you felt pressure on your clit, a broken moan slipping past your lips. "I know you missed me, baby. I can feel how wet you are already."

You shifted against his touch, "Please Jun, n-no teasing."

He chuckled, "Whatever you want, baby." You lifted your hips as Jun's fingers slipped past the band of your shorts, dragging them down your legs. You sat up and lifted your sweater off of your torso, the cold air hitting your nipples, making you shiver but also get even more wet at the feeling. "You're so beautiful, Y/N." His warm but still cold hands found their way back to your breasts, toying with your nipples.

Leaning into his touch you whined, "Junnie," you whispered.

"Yes baby?" He leaned down to kiss your neck, your hands finding purchase in his hair.

"Please," you breathed, "just fuck me."

Jun groaned, your words sending sensation right down to his cock. "With pleasure," he roughly tugged down your underwear and hastily got out of his jeans. His cock strained against his underwear, cursing you both for being so needy.

If you weren't so turned on, you would've spent the entire night sucking his dick. "Wait," you stopped him as he continued to strip. "Can we move to the couch?"

He laughed and helped you up off the floor. You ran to your requested area as he searched his jean pockets and joined you. "Better, baby?"

"Much."

He leaned down to give you a quick kiss and tore his underwear off. Jun pumped his cock a few times, making your heat clench around nothing. He opened a condom he brought with and rolled it onto his length. "Ready?" Jun asked, his hand settling beside your head on the couch, positioning himself.

You silently nodded and he pushed his cock into your pussy. With a whine, you scratched his back, his girth stretching you in the slightest, but most pleasurable, way. "Fuck, Y/N," he looked down at you, admiring the way you already looked completely wrecked and you two hadn't even started. "God you're so fucking perfect," Jun said as he pulled out almost all the way and slammed back into you, knocking the breath out of your chest.

"J-Jun!" He fucked into you, making your tits bounce with every thrust.

"You feel so good, baby." Jun moaned rather loudly, he threw his head back and relished in the way your walls hugged him. Jun's cock slid in and out of you, hitting all the spots that made you whimper and cry out his name.

You desperately searched for his hand, your eyes squeezed shut from ecstasy. He got the hint and grabbed your hand, your fingers intertwining together. "A-ah, Jun, f-fuck." You squealed, and gripped his hand tightly.

"Hold on baby," he said suddenly. You opened your eyes as he slowed his pace down. Jun grabbed your legs and put them over his shoulders and held your thighs. He pulled out all the way this time, your juices exiting your pussy and dripping down onto the couch. "You're dripping for me, Y/N.." he said dreamily as he observed the way your heat began to clench again.

"P-Please, please! Jun, put it back in. I'm begging you." Your nails scraped his thigh, trying to grab it. You felt empty and he hadn’t even been out of you for a minute. You needed him badly.

Jun slapped his cock against you, making you jolt from the action. "So so desperate for me, aren't you?"

You began to get more impatient, "Wen Junhui, if you don't fuck me right now I swear to god I'll-" before you could finish, he granted your wish and rammed into you to the hilt, making you scream out his name. He didn't give you anytime to adjust and only began to fuck you harder, hitting you at a new angle as he held your thighs. You moaned with every movement he made, making you feel pathetic.

"Y/N, I've been so hard for s-so long. I couldn't stop thinking about you and fucking your pussy. Oh my god, f-fucking shit." You felt amazing around him. To Jun, it felt as if he hadn't had sex with you in forever.

"Y-Yes, yes please Jun. Please, h-harder." You breathed, feeling your orgasm building slowly. You glanced down at Jun's cock, shifting in and out of you, the sounds of it making your face flush.

Jun abruptly leaned forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. You moved your legs off of his shoulders and wrapped them behind him, wanting to feel him deeper in you. The soft, romantic kiss contrasted against his rough, harsh movements in you, making you get even more turned on. He kissed you gently, his lips like plush pillows against your own. You both breathed heavily through your noses, also cutting in between the kiss to catch your breaths. His tongue mangled with yours, fighting a war he knew he would win. The kiss, his cock moving at such an unbelievable pace made it too much for you, your orgasm building quicker and quicker with each second. "Jun, I'm gonna cum soon." You said against his lips and he whined.

"Me too, baby. Cum with me?" He didn't need a response, with the way you were looking—like a perfect ruined masterpiece—the sounds you made and the way you enveloped his length like you were made for him, he felt his own orgasm approaching as fast as yours. He sat up, never slowing down his movements as his thumb suddenly came into contact with your bundle of nerves.

You screamed, your clit pulsating with pleasure, developing a quick heartbeat. Your vision began to get fuzzy and your hearing getting muffled. The coil in your stomach was getting ready to go off, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. "J-Junnie, I-I'm gonna cum." You managed to tell him.

"Let it go, princess. Cum all over me." His words pushed you over the edge and with a hard clench around his cock, you came. Your walls clamped onto Jun and that was enough for him to cum as well. You both came with a loud moan of each other's names that you half expected to get calls of complaint from. Jun's cum spurted into the condom, his mouth forming a wide 'O,' and sighed contently. You both stayed in your positions, your heavy breathing the only thing audible in the humid room.

After a few short moments, Jun slowly pulled out of you, making you both hiss with sensitivity. He stood up and disappeared somewhere, discarding his soiled condom. He returned with a warm wash rag to clean you up and also all your clothes. "I wasn't too hard on you was I?" You giggled lightly, his hard side long gone with the condom he used.

You shook your head lightly as he wiped your juices off of you and tried his best to soak it up from the couch as well. You both were still naked but he stared into your eyes, making you feel weird. "What?" you questioned self consciously.

Jun didn't say anything, his eyebrows furrowed and he looked sad. "Fuck." He whispered under his breath, hoping you hadn't heard it.

But you did.

"What happened?" You sat up and got on your knees as he handed you your sweater.

He lifted himself off the couch and stepped into his underwear quickly. "Uhm, nothing!" Jun said, throwing his clothes on and beginning to get ready to leave.

"Wh-" you grabbed your own underwear and slipped them on, your eyes locked onto the figure briskly walking to the door. You decided screw the shorts and ran after him, grabbing his wrist. "Jun? What happened? Are you okay? Was.." you trailed off, nervous to ask your next question. "Was it not good?"

Jun faced away from you, eyes locked on the door. You let go of his wrist slowly, your heart hurting for a bit. He never just left after you two had sex, whether it was soft and romantic or rough and hard and lasted forever. Jun and you always stuck by each other, cuddling, eating and sometimes even falling asleep together afterwards. Why was he in such a rush to leave-?

Oh.

Looking down at the floor, you felt tears prick the corners of your eyes. Hesitantly, you asked—afraid of the answer, "Are you, seeing someone?" Jun still didn't budge or say anything.

After a long silence of him arguing with himself, he drew in a deep breath. "Cantaloupe."

Your eyes widened and you looked up at him, recognizing the code word you two settled on, nearly a year ago. "I," you were speechless, you didn't know what to say. Your words were replaced with sand and it made your throat dry.

"I didn't mean to fall for you, Y/N. I didn't think I would but, how could I not?"

"Jun," you began to say before he cut you off.

"No. Let me, let me finish." You nodded in response, even though he still wasn’t facing you.

As if he read your mind, he slowly turned around. "I didn't think I would fall for you Y/N but, god how couldn't I? You're so beautiful and you've put up with me and my bullshit for so long. You even agreed to just being friends with benefits and although I've enjoyed that, very much. I feel like it's not enough for me." Jun felt as if he were going to cry. All the pent up emotions and feelings he's had brewing for you for the last few months were about to spill over. "I love you, Y/N. I-I really do. I look forward to waking up and seeing your texts, I look forward to coming over and seeing your pretty face, but it hurts my heart whenever I see you with anyone else."

A tear slipped its way from the brim of his eye and rolled down his cheek. "I remember when you started dating that Joshua guy and he just totally broke you in a way that I wouldn't wish on my sworn enemy. The way you cried in my arms, Y/N, stabbed my heart and didn't leave my mind for days. It killed me seeing you like that, so broken and hopeless."

You sniffled, your vision becoming a murmur of colors and Jun's figure in front of your main entrance. "Y/N," he shifted closer to you and grabbed your hands. "I am so crazy about you. And I love being your friend but, I want to be more. I've wanted to be more for so long I just, didn't know how to tell you. I want to be here with you and not at home, wondering if you'll change your mind one day and leave me. Or laying in my bed, worrying if you're debating whether or not to stay with me. I want to be yours, Y/N. And I want you to be mine. Please, I love you so much. Without the sex, you're still my best friend and my god, I'm certain that I'm in love with you." You swallowed dryly, your heart stinging in a good way. "What do you say, Y/N? Will you be my girlfriend?"

Smiling, you pulled his hands closer to you and wrapped your arms around his torso. Jun cooed inwardly, his own arms wrapping around your frame. "Yes Jun, of course I will." He smiled like an idiot, squeezing you ever so lightly.

“Thank god because if you said no, this would’ve been awkward for a long time.”

[getmemymicroscope]

I've seen this before, of course, but with the Snyder Cut getting close to dropping, I figured I might as well rewatch the DCEU leading up to it. Which is a much easier chore than, say, rewatching the MCU before Infinity War/Endgame because there's only like 4 movies - 5 if Suicide Squad counts in the build-up to the new JL - and that's including the old version of JL (which was, to put it bluntly, a mess).

I understand wanting to be different from the MCU, and I know DC generally seems to make things darker and with much less comedy (for example, this movie), but ... I don't know. When you've got so much emphasis on backstory, you need something to keep you entertained cuz the story normally isn't enough. And that's the struggle here.

The first hour of the movie, amidst flashbacks and brief glimpses of heroism, just drags. You've got two fathers dying, a planet blowing up, Henry Cavill saving the day multiple times ... and it still just drags on. It does pick up after that, a bit. But they decided to launch the entire universe with 1- no cameo from any other characters (which sorta makes sense, admittedly) and, more importantly, 2- a superhero from another planet battling villains from another planet. Like, they just jumped right into it. I think one thing the MCU did well was start us off with a few human v/s human movies before bringing in beings from other worlds. It sort of ... seemed like a natural progression.

The DCEU just starts off too big for it's own good. Of course, their best known characters are Superman and Batman and we had just gotten a few Batman movies so maybe it made sense to go back to Superman. But, I don't know. And then on top of that, that immediately jump into the 'superhero and bad guy totally wreck a city' and ... it's just too much for an introductory movie. Like, we've got Transformers level of destruction - how is any city supposed to rebuild from that? (Though, I guess, with Superman's speed and strength he could help them do it pretty quickly. Especially if he could get help from The Flash.)

Which is unfortunate, because between all the lead actors (all listed on the poster), this could've been so much more. I mean, it started the DCEU so fine it did what it wanted, but ... maybe starting with Superman v/s Zod was a bit much for the first movie.

Speaking of Zod - how lucky for him that him & his crew get banished off-world, and then almost immediately the world literally explodes, freeing them. Like, talk about getting lucky by being banished off world.