#this is part of the reason why Time is paranoid about Sky not feeling well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

s-brant · 3 years

Text

Angels Roll Their Eyes (2/2)

(gif: @toesure) (PART ONE)

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

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

Word Count: 24k

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

Hurricane Agatha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you smiling about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He isn't sure why she buys into it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

JJ misses her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Weird in what way?"

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

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

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

She sighs.

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

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

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

That part is the most fuzzy in her mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gotta catch me first!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They tried.

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

It was simple in the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fuck?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because what?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

There it is.

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

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

Her heart sinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then prove it."

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Internally, JJ is losing his shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll—"

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

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

"Promise?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's the one to break the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wasn't staring."

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

"Whatever you say."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's okay," he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could she be so stupid?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She is never skipping this song again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

418 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 4 years

Text

Lucky Me (Sequel To Unlucky)

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff

Summary: You aren’t always born with luck. Sometimes, you meet people who bring it to you. In short, they are your lucky charm.

Requested: Yes, but not in a typical way. A big thank you to all the wonderful people who read, liked, reblogged and commented on part one - Unlucky.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 and many more ❤❤❤

They are the reason this story is being written. What was originally supposed to be an elaborate one-shot turned into the most liked piece I’ve ever written. I can’t thank you enough, guys. You are amazing and I hope you like this one just as much or even more than the previous. Love you ❤❤❤

Y/N’s POV

I’m grinning at my reflection in the mirror as I put on a pair of earrings. My face is already touched-up with a little make-up and my hair is looking on point. I can almost see my own reflection in the shine of excitement in my eyes. I take in my upper body via a quick once-over in the full body mirror opposite me, and I finally relax my muscles that I didn’t ever realize I was tensing.

“OK, now I’m ready.“ I say as a form of encouragement as I reach behind me for my phone that’s sitting on my bed.

You might be wondering where I’m going? Who I’m going with? What’s the occasion behind this many preparations and pampering?

The answer: Nowhere. No one. Nothing. I’m literally not even going to leave my house.

It might seem ridiculous to someone else, but to me, to my hypnotized mind, it’s perfectly reasonable to be getting so amped up over a FaceTime call. Yeah, you heard me correctly - a FaceTime call.

Well, you see, this isn’t the first time we FaceTime, but it will be the first time we’ll see each other’s faces. I wanted to level the field so I didn’t let him on to what I look like, where exactly I live, etc. Basically, he only knows my name, which I am still prepared to call unfair, considering I don’t know his real name.

A brief backstory to my first ever real interaction with Corpse: I was introduced to him by my friends. They are the ones I always turned to with all the scary shit happening in my life. Often times they didn’t know weather to comfort me or laugh at my curse. My friends suggested I start sharing it to a youtuber named Corpse Husband. You see, I love YouTube narrators and I’ve always been a fan of Mr. Nightmare and I, to be perfectly honest, always kept the idea of sending him my stories in the back of my mind. Nevertheless, I bit the bullet and checked out on of this Corpse Husband guy’s videos. And then another. And another. And before I knew it I was having a marathon after which I was too paranoid to get online, walk home alone at night, leave my curtains open etc. It wasn’t all thanks to the stories themselves. A lot of the fear factor these stories strike with should be credited to the way they are read. Let me tell you, this guy had it all figured out with the reading. Not sending him my stories would just be wrong. So I did, I sent him my first ever creepy encounter which was with a stalker from my high school and it took me only two days to forget about it. It only crossed my mind when my friends blew my phone up, demanding I watched Corpse’s new video. I kid you not, I got more scared by the story when he read it than when I lived it. That’s what settled it for me - I decided to send him each and every story.

And then one day, out of the blue, my life changed for the better in more ways than one. It got turned completely upside down, like a rollercoaster, and I just had to hold on and enjoy the ride, embrace the adrenaline rush and excitement, knowing full well that I chose to get on and there’s no way I can get off halfway through.

I’m being too metaphorical. He sent me an email. He freaking reached out to me. And I was posed with a rough choice. Took me a minute, but I chose to reply to him, I chose to trust him, and I couldn’t just leave him on read one day simply cause I chickened out. Yes, I’m unlucky and these things don’t happen to unlucky people. I mean, they do, but they are nightmares disguised as a dream come true. I’ve lived all my life cautiously: if something sounds too good to be true it’s either not as good as marketed or not true at all. If it’s dark and late and there are no people around, FaceTime someone. If your Uber driver’s sketchy, cancel the ride. I take all the precautions and I still find myself in the worst situations. Or at least...

My thoughts are interrupted by the ringing of my phone. A simple ringtone I hear every time he calls me. A simple sound that causes me butterflies when I hear it and ultimate devastation if the caller ID doesn’t read the name I want. It always gets me excited, probably more than it should. This time is different, however. It’s scary almost. I’m nervous, anxious, scared, hesitant - all things I never feel when I’m about to answer his call.

With shaky hands I pick up the call and find myself looking at the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Now I know why I would have never initiated this meeting, because I know what color my face is right now. I know my voice has let me down before I even attempt to speak. I know I look like a mess. I know my obvious crush is showing.

Corpse initiated this meeting. He said he was getting too curious and he wanted one of his best friends to see him and for him to finally see her. It’s been about seven months since we first started texting and I haven’t let out a single peep about it to a single soul. It’s just between him and I. We are each other’s safe space away from the rest of the world.

“Thought you weren’t gonna pick up for a second there.“ His voice is not as confident as other times when we’ve talked. His trying to hide his own nervousness and all I wanna do is hug him and tell him he doesn’t have to. I kept telling him over and over again that we don’t have to do this if he’s not sure that he actually wants it. I even offered to show him what I look like, not expecting to see him in return but he declined, saying it was now his turn to even the field.

“I was in another room.“ I manage to say, my voice only shaking a little.

We spend a few moments just looking at each other. Admiring one another. For someone who prefers digital interaction, I am surprised to realize I wish he was actually standing in front of. I wish I could hug him. A long hug of comfort, mutual understanding and hidden feelings.

He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head which causes a few strands of hair to fall over his eyepatch, “I’m sorry...It’s just-...Fuck I’m stumbling.” He chuckles nervously, “I just...can’t believe you are real. You are a real person. And the most beautiful person I’ve seen. That’s corny, isn’t it.” He looks away from the screen, his face now a shade of red. “But I mean it. I’m embracing my corniness. You are beautiful, Y/N. Not that I’m flexing or anything, but I’m lucky to have met you.”

I laugh, feeling my eyes stinging from the tears that have suddenly formed. I don’t want to let them fall, but I don’t have much say in that. “Well, mister Corpse, I can’t begin to compare. I mean...that hair! I still cannot believe it’s you. You are not just a deep voice in my mind. You are....you are...”

“Everything you imagined and more?“ he jokes, making my whole body heat up. “I told you you could trust. I mean, if the hair doesn’t confirm I’m who I say I am, I don’t know what will.”

“Actually, I never tried to imagine what you looked like. I knew those visions...I knew they didn’t matter. Faces don’t matter to us, Corpse. I think you realize that.“

And just like that, all I’ve been keeping hidden is pouring out. I don’t try to stop it - you can’t stop a hurricane with bare hands.

“I never needed a face to imagine us. I always saw as talking on the phone, playing Among Us. Reading scary stories to each other on Discord. I never needed a face to imagine your company. To imagine what we could be...“ I trail off, letting the first tear slip down my cheek.

The most sincere look appears in his eyes, “Fuck, I wish I could hold your hand right now. Never mind, I wish I could hug you, Y/N. Hug you and not let go for a long time.”

I laugh halfheartedly, my chest burning from the intensity of this moment’s intimacy, “I can always tell you where I live.” I’m only half-joking. I really want to see him in real life, not just through a screen, but even this call is out of his comfort zone, let alone a physical meet up.

He surprises me yet again, “Saturday. I’ll bring the take out, you pick the movie.” he says with a smile that is literally saying ‘you didn’t see that coming, did you?’

“How are you sure I don’t live in a different state, or a different continent all together?“ I tease, making an attempt to put my composure back together.

He smirks, “I pay way more attention to your stories than you’d think.” I laugh, shaking my head as a pointless method of fighting the pesky tears that he has 100% noticed by this point. “By the way, just because we’re....” he thinks for a second, “in a weird zone between friendship and...something more, doesn’t mean you have to stop sending me stories. I absolutely love reading them for my audience. They love em too.”

I just realized I am yet to tell him the crazy miracle that has happened. “Well, the thing is...I don’t have any.” His eyebrows shoot up in shock which makes me laugh, “Yeah, I know, it’s crazy. Since the day we started talking I have not experienced a single scary thing. Deadass. I swear on my life.”

If I wasn’t so head over heels for this man already, the baffled expression on his face would definitely send me falling for him. He’s just that adorable. “Wow.”

“I know right.“ I nod, “Seems to me you have enough luck to share with me.“

His eyes light up at that comment, showing just how meaning full it is to him.

“You’re my lucky charm, Corpse.“

“I will never be more proud of any other title, Y/N. That I can promise you with no hesitation.“

“Deadass?“

“Deadass.“

1K notes · View notes

unnamed-blob · 3 years

Text

Obsidian Snare

⇢ Pairing: Dream x reader

⇢ Genre: mild fluff, angst

⇢ Length: Oneshot

⇢ Synopsis: After Dream is locked in the prison, (Y/N) is convinced that’s the last she’ll ever hear of him. A certain visitor at her distant home turns that desperate hope, and her peaceful life, on its head.

AN: I had to get this out before the prison breakout occured

Sam’s hand felt like a chain upon her wrist, the tight grip hardly a comfort to cold, unforgiving metal. Her gaze flitted between the ground and the appendage constantly, casting paranoid glances over her shoulder at times, attempting to catch sight of the comforting wooden walls of her cabin, even when she was all too aware it was hidden by the trees and distance.

A glint of metal caught in the sunlight and (Y/N) darted her gaze forwards, heart nearly catching in her throat. Her tense shoulders loosened ever so slightly when she noticed it came from the Warden’s trident, though a chill still settled into her spine, more than aware of the resources and strength the male before her held.

Chains should really quite be the least of her worries at this rate.

She focused her gaze onto the ground below again, tracing jutting roots and pebbles as they stepped over them. Her gaze slid upwards again, eyeing the edges of the netherite armor clasped on the figure, the helmet thankfully absent for an easier view of his face, likely to appear less daunting when he had suddenly shown up on her doorstep without a prior word.

In some mild manner, it had helped, though with a longer look at him, (Y/N) realized it was a mere courtesy, an extension of good will. The absence of the piece held no weight of repercussions, the figure much too tall and daunting for someone to even attempt to aim for his unprotected face.

Not that it’d work anyway, she mused to herself, avoiding the sight of the sharpened and enchanted blade strapped to his side, staving off thoughts and speculations on the items he held in his inventory.

A shiver travelled down her spine at a particular thought and Sam’s hand tightened.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat.

She regretted opening the door for him.

- - -

(Y/N) flitted about the kitchen, wincing as the bowls clattered against each other as she dropped them on the counter. She took a moment to organize them unnecessarily, if only to keep her hands busy, before she leaned back and raised her finger to her lips in thought. Her gaze darted about the kitchen, attention catching on the latest chest she’d added to her kitchen, spinning on her heel to stalk across the floor and throw the lid open.

The contents were the same as before, the ingredients inside not having miraculously disappeared into thin air from the last time she’d checked. Some of the tension bled from the female’s figure at the sight, leaning her weight against the lid as she sighed. Of course, it also meant she couldn’t busy herself with hastily gathering them all last minute again, too occupied physically to allow her thoughts to run rampant.

(Y/N) dropped the lid unceremoniously, groaning as she stood, finding nothing to nitpick over in the kitchen as she crossed her arms. She untied her hair from the updo she had thrown it into, running her fingers over her scalp as she straightened the strands.

It was only Niki after all, the kind, pink haired female (Y/N) had never managed to befriend, both occupied with the constant warfare and heavy tension over the lands. Granted, things weren’t pitch perfect in any manner at the moment, but avoiding some mind controlling egg was easier than constantly utilizing supplies during a war.

(Y/N) winced at the thought of the tense, guarded glances always thrown at her as soon as she’d take a step into the populated SMP city. It’d been part of the reason why she’d taken occupation in the middle of a populated forest, trees stretching for miles as far as one could see. It was daunting at times, chilling even when she’d be awake in the middle of the night and hear the cries and groans of hostile mobs near her walls, aware that any form of help was too far to make an impact in an emergency, and that her body likely wouldn’t be discovered for several months until someone remembered about her or stumbled upon her abode.

(Y/N) huffed at the dark thoughts swirling in her head. Really now, even when the bastard was dumped into some high security prison, he still managed to hold a tight grip over her life.

It had been a desperate stab at friendship, approaching Niki with a friendly invitation for baking lessons at her house, wringing her hands nervously despite how much she’d tried to quell her nerves. If the female had noticed, she’d only shaken off her surprised expression, casting a friendly smile instead and asking for the coordinates.

Truth was, (Y/N) had never had an interest in baking before, opting to delight in the bought goods from Niki’s bakery whenever she could rather than attempt to do it herself. Though if she were going to make an attempt at finally bonding with at least some of the members of the SMP, further than just George and Sapnap, (she ignored the stab in her chest at how distant the three of them had become in the latest months) then she’d make sure to do so properly. Even if Niki weren’t fond of her, or the entire event managed to become an absolute disaster, at the very least Niki would have participated in an activity she was obviously fond of.

A knock sounded against her door, snapping (Y/N) out of her thoughts as she froze. She was already here?

She cast another paranoid glance over her kitchen, pausing in her haste to dart to the door as she lingered in the doorway.

She had everything prepared, right?

Niki wouldn’t despise her just for missing one ingredient, right?

Of course not, what was she thinking?

(Y/N) inhaled before releasing the stuttering breath, smoothing down her clothes and messing with strands of her hair in an attempt to ensure it looked presentable without a mirror to confirm. She plastered a nervous grin on her face, reaching forwards to clasp her hand around the doorknob and swing the door open.

“Thanks for coming N-”

The words died in her throat as she met face to face with a glimmering, enchanted netherite chestplate. (Y/N)’s mouth dried as it remained frozen half open, finally willing the courage to raise her gaze to meet eyes with a certain creeper hybrid.

“(Y/N)” came Sam’s soft greeting, a tense smile lifting at the corners of his lips. He seemed hunched over, his hands empty of any typical hold on a weapon. Though the details hardly had an impact on his threatening image, much less when the mere mention of his occupation would catch her breath in her throat.

“Sam.” She countered, hands clenching on the smooth doorknob within her palm, grateful for the lack of engraving on it as she was certain it would’ve left an imprint on her palm with her vice grip.

A voice within her head whispered to call him upon his Warden title instead, though she dismissed it, deciding against angering the male. She certainly wouldn’t be able to take Sam on alone, much less when she was in the middle of the woods with no hope for backup arriving in time. (She ignored the sting that arose from questioning if she had anyone to call upon for backup.)

She shifted further into the safety of her home, discreetly swinging the door ajar, lessening the open space into her home. Sam’s eyes briefly flitted to the wooden object before his gaze met (Y/N)’s, sending a shiver down her spine.

“How are you, (Y/N)?”

“I’m… well,” she swallowed, ignoring the “I was better before you came” lingering on the tip of her tongue.

Sam reached a hand upwards to rub at the back of his neck, his eyes scanning the area around the two of them before he dropped his appendage, releasing a barely-there sigh. He straightened, meeting gazes with the female before him again.

(Really, she wished he’d stop doing that. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was meant as an intimidation tactic.)

“(Y/N), I have a responsibility as the Warden of the server, which I’m certain you’re more than aware of.” Sam paused, (Y/N) stared at him in silence for a moment before realizing his intentions and gave a hurried nod. He continued, “As such, I take every precaution to ensure the protection of the building and that the prisoner remains… inside.”

(Y/N) didn’t like where this conversation was going.

“Dream asked for y-”

“No!” Sam’s hand caught the door as (Y/N) desperately attempted to swing it shut, lock the male and every word he had said out of her house and head. With a single sentence he had shattered the haven she had finally built for herself, by herself, the pieces too small to rebuild it as before.

“(Y/N) as the Warden-”

“I don’t care!” She hissed, ignoring the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, her distraught more than evident in her voice.

Sam had the decency to slump a tad bit, before he easily shoved the wooden barricade open and grabbed her elbow as (Y/N) flailed, kicking her legs against his shins and trying to plant her feet to the floor.

“I’m sorry (Y/N).”

- - -

The prison finally loomed over the last remaining barricade of trees, solid and unrelenting, brash against the soft blue sky. (Y/N) stared at it as Sam guided her past roots and bushes, keeping her from walking into a tree. A terrible, cold feeling pooled in her gut and she stopped as the two of them reached the last of the forest, feet stilling with the last tree before the open plain before the prison. The Warden turned to her silently, scanning her over, when no apparent issue came to light, he locked gazes with her, his eyes asking the question without a need to open his mouth.

Why did you stop?

(Y/N) tried to inhale a deep breathe, but her throat was too tight and it felt as if she wasn’t getting enough. She chocked down a desperate gasp for air as the prison loomed over her, fighting the urge to kneel over and dig her nails in the dirt, hacking for air. At the very least, she’d have the gritty dust on her fingers as a totem of the outside world in such a spotless, manmade build, composed only of unbreaking blocks and choking lava.

She turned her head over her shoulder towards the breeze as it grounded her, blowing strands of her loose hair out of her face and lifting her hair off her shoulders. The trees rustled, branches swaying towards her as they beckoned her, calling her to her humble abode in the woods, one with the nature surrounding it, with moss and vines already creeping up the sides of the walls.

She didn’t need to imagine it as it seemed to flicker in the distance, a haven away from an unrelenting prison and the madman trapped inside. She could already hear Niki’s bubbling laughter echo towards her, her own mixing with it as the smell of bread and baked goods wafted through the air. The fox she’d been feeding leftovers to poking curiously nearby, ears flickering towards the open kitchen window.

The Warden tightened his grip and the house vanished. The trees grew silent and (Y/N) fought his grip once more as he dragged her from the protection of the forest, the breeze giving her no parting touch. (Y/N) tried to bend down, to flop lifelessly on the ground and make him drag her, leave as many touches of the dirt and blades of grass on her as she could but he yanked her upwards easily, leaving her stumbling like a dazed lamb to catch her balance.

Before she could plead, or scream, or cry, or mourn, they were standing before the entryway, the shadow of Pandora’s Vault chilling her to her bones and chasing any semblance of warmth the sun had left within her. The Warden dragged her through without a hint of struggling, her small body and desperate escape attempts no challenge to the uncountable, heavy-duty blocks he had built the prison with with his own hands.

The purple sheen of the Nether portal washed over her, the haze of it settling in her vision and body, leaving her dazed eyed and slow, depending on the Warden’s tugging to guide her. She hadn’t used one in months, it wasn’t necessary when she was insistent on leaving no shortcut for others to find her nor having any need for high quality netherite weapons when there were no human threats. She expected for the sight of a too-large reception area to snap her out of her haziness, but the drowsiness stayed within her head, leaving her swaying without constant support and tugging her brain down into ignorant bliss of the surrounding action.

She didn’t bother to fight it, not as she numbly shook her head when the Warden’s voice drifted over her head, asking if she had any items on her (she was preparing for baking lessons, why would she?), not as she was pulled down identical corridors and softly pushed onto a bed. She curled into a ball on it, shutting her eyes.

This was just a bad dream, wasn’t it?

What an awful nightmare.

But the hands were back, pulling her upwards and holding her close to the Warden as she passed over a hallway of lava, pulling her down more and more corridors (how many pathways did this place have?), prodding her towards a passageway of water as she blankly stared at it, unable to will her body to the basic motions of swimming (the Warden had to tug her through a hidden doorway, muttering something along the lines of never mentioning it, why?).

She felt the fog lift as books were constantly pushed into her arms in a steady stream, the words settling into the back of her mind as she signed. She snapped back to attention finally as the Warden admitted that the sole prisoner was behind the fall of lava before her. She whirled her head in his direction, feeling her breath hitch as he stared forwards dutifully. Sam took a deep breath, stepping away from the lever to come closer to her, his gas mask hanging around his neck as his eyes flashed regretfully.

“For whatever it's worth,” he looked into her eyes as he hovered his hand near her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) looked downwards, digging her nails into her arms as she crossed them over her chest, blinking back tears. She didn’t answer, but she allowed Sam to place a comforting hand upon her shoulder and squeeze it.

“Just for a few hours,” Sam muttered as he pulled away, pulling the lever suddenly as her eyes snapped upwards to watch the lava fall.

The singular cell floating among the pool of lava came into view, the prisoner not in immediate sight, though it wasn’t hard to notice the telltale flash of bright orange against the far wall as (Y/N) craned her neck upwards.

“Just enough to calm him down,” Sam finalized, motioning to the moving pathway that sputtered to life under her feet, confidently crossing the chasm of lava bubbling underneath.

(Y/N) hated it for heartlessly depositing her on obsidian bricks, heading backwards without a single glance or hesitation to take her along. For how Sam stood at the only way in and out and didn’t extend his hand, didn’t give her the option to forget whatever had occurred and let her head back to her carefully constructed life, leave her in peace to mend the tangled and broken strings of her relationships to the other members, torn before she had a chance to form them.

Sam didn’t leave but the sight of him was blocked out by the lava soon enough, the heat pushing against her face and plastering loose strands of hair to her warming face.

(Y/N) dug her nails further into her flesh and slowly turned around to face the inside of the cell as the Netherite barrier lowered, leaving her no option but to cautiously step forwards, as if a sleeping predator were trapped in the same space as her. (There was the lava behind her, but she had no doubt the Warden would find her moments after the respawn process, dragging her back kicking and screaming however many times it took.)

Dream lay against the far end of the cell, face turned towards the obsidian wall as he hummed leisurely, tracing unseen patterns in the harsh surface. He didn’t bother to acknowledge her presence as she stood in her place, freezing impossibly still as he flopped onto his back, dramatically yawning with a hand over his mouth.

“Oh come on Sam,” he chuckled, crossing his arms behind his back, settling into a comfortable position as if he were splayed on a bed for a nap. “I’ve said my terms, and what follows. I’m sure you already know what you have to do, and I’ll comply! Just like that!” He removed a hand to wave it in the air as he spoke, (Y/N)’s eyes following it as if it were a poised weapon.

“Wouldn’t want your only prisoner to die now, would you?” Dream shrugged casually, placing his arm back into its previous position as (Y/N)’s gaze was drawn to the gathering pile of raw potatoes at the filled water hole. She wasn’t certain how many he received in a day, couldn’t calculate off of that, but she could only assume it had taken days for such a worth to accumulate.

His chuckle left shivers down her spine, needles stabbing into her back as he continued. “Built an entire, high security prison but couldn’t keep the only prisoner alive. A failed prison if it can’t serve its basic purpose, right?”

The silence stretched between them uncomfortably as Dream was content to pretend to sleep and (Y/N) didn’t dare move to draw attention to herself. She finally sputtered in a breath, her murmur practically echoing in the confined space as she spoke.

“I’m not Sam.”

The effect was instantaneous, Dream was sitting upwards, his mask staring at her before she could so much as blink, the moment too long as he made no other motions in the ticking seconds. When she shuffled backwards uncomfortably, it seemed to break him out of his focus. The male was crossing the cell as she opened her mouth, drawing breath into her lungs, ready to scream and yell at him to not come closer to her-

Dream’s arms wrapped around her, shoving any words she had hoped to say back into her, leaving her struggling to draw in air.

“You’re here,” he murmured the female detesting how his tall build allowed him to wrap his arms around her back, hands gripping onto her upper arms as he tugged her off her balance. (Y/N) stared upwards at the smiling, blank mask, attempting to keep her balance on awkwardly placed feet, if only not to have to touch him any more than already.

Dream sighed, the action expelling all of the tension from his body as a hand separated away from her to tug the mask upwards, exposing his entire face rather than just his mouth and chin. He grinned at her, his acidic green eyes seemingly glowing from the lava behind her. (Y/N) stiffened as he gazed down at her, eyes softening into a lovesick look as he studied all of her features, as if convincing himself she were truly here.

He grinned, dangerously, before yanking her closer, sweeping her completely off kilter as she was pressed against his chest, her arms trapped between the two of them. Despite spending several months within the prison already, his grip was strong enough to give her no room to struggle, pressing tighter as she attempted to wriggle away. She gave up eventually, stilling as Dream gently tugged his fingers through her soft strands, pressing his lips to the top of her head affectionately as his breath disrupted the still strands.

“I missed you, you know.” He murmured into her scalp, (Y/N) fighting down the urge to stiffen at his words. His voice had slipped into the old, coy, syrupy sweet tone she knew, any unthought words or actions were certain to be snared in his attention, words twisted to poke and prod at her vulnerable parts, backing her into a corner before she relented and allowed him to coo sugar-covered lies into her mind.

He turned his face to press his cheek against her head, leaving his next words to be heard clearer in the open air.

“I’ve been so alone in here, why didn’t you ever come visit me?”

(Y/N) tightened her hands into fists, keeping completely still even as his tighter hold seemed to loosen in favor of skimming his fingertips wherever he could reach on her figure, drifting dangerously close to the exposed skin at the collar of her shirt.

“I’ve been busy, built a house.” She answered back, the sentence short and containing enough information to not be pointless, tone betraying nothing about her screaming terror and pleas to be anywhere else within her head.

Dream hummed in response, lifting a section of hair to peer at it. “You must’ve been quite busy then. Your hair’s grown, you know? Shame I don’t have anything to tie it with in prison.” (Y/N) shrugged in response, imagining the bottle’s worth of shampoo she’d have to liberally apply to her locks to erase any history of his contact with it.

The male huffed dramatically, releasing her hair to draw her closer (as if that was possible) and dropping his head onto her shoulder. “Oh (Y/N),” he whined, the female nearly cringing away at the all too believable tone flowing from his lips, “it's been so dreadfully lonely in prison. You know that no one’s visited me? It's terrible.”

She didn’t know what else to do other than shrug half heartedly, awaiting the drop, the final implication of his words. He turned his head to lower his volume, leaving his words still heard as clear as day from his close position to her ear.

“You won’t abandon me though darling, will you? You’ll visit me, right? It’s oh so torturous to be alone in here, you know.”

(Y/N) considered making a quip about how Dream still had Sam, but she decided against it, biting her tongue to prevent any unnecessary sentences that would lead into a further conversation, expertly manipulated in Dream’s honey tone and sweet words.

“I’d like to,” she replied, pausing for a moment as Dream silently awaited her next words, “but it's uncomfortable like this, isn’t it? I don’t want to come just because you decided to go on some hunger strike.” Dream’s fingers sunk into her flesh, the female wincing as his nails left crescent marks before he loosened from her reaction.

He chuckled, “Oh come on now, you can’t tell me you’d come properly without it.” he purred, (Y/N) gave a half hearted motion resembling a shrug, pushing her head away from his chest to peer at the corner.

“I can come regularly, once a week, but it can’t be comfortable to starve yourself every time just to get one visit.”

(Y/N) wasn’t entirely certain if it would work, even in prison, Dream still tugged on the strings connected to her, controlling her actions. But it was this or having Sam drag her back unwillingly, her built haven of safety giving way to constant paranoia and fear of the next time she’d see the flash of netherite armor coming for her.

Dream pushed her head back into his shoulder, curling over her to whisper in her ear, “You promise?” (Y/N)’s words would be too muffled against the fabric of his orange jumper, so she merely gave a nod, the action more than pleasing the male before her.

“Oh it’ll be great,” Dream admitted, pulling away to push her chin upwards to face his gaze, smiling as if she’d promised she’d be coming to visit everyday (she held down the shiver of such a thing occurring if Dream were to protest enough). “It’s not as if you have plans with other people anyway,” he chuckled as if it were an inside joke between the two, and (Y/N) clamped her mouth shut to not shove the news in his face that she was healing. That she was interacting with the other occupants of the server, after Dream had made so many precautions and actions to prevent the exact happening, tied her to him with every human’s bone deep dependency on social contact.

The moment lasted too long and (Y/N) tugged herself away from the embrace, Dream releasing her now that he’d gotten what he wanted. (He could always hug her again during her next visit.)

She slowly turned around to peer at the flowing lava barricade, watching the bubbles form and pop. Surely it had been long enough already? Surely Sam was on the opposite end, already pulling the lever to allow her to leave?

Dream protested her actions immediately, a hand appearing on her wrist to pull her further into the room as a frown tugged at his lips, a tense smile slipping into place as she peered at his face with a confused expression.

“Come on,” he pulled her across the floor, opening the chest in the corner. One hand kept a constant hold on her as the other riffled through the contents, leather bound books thumping against his other as he searched for a specific one. “I’ve been writing stuff in the meantime, nothing else to do you know? Here, I wanted you to read this o-”

An explosion rang out, muted by the thick obsidian walls and the surrounding lava, but abrupt enough to startle (Y/N), yelping as she tripped over her own feet. Dream clasped her to his form easily, holding her protectively as the sounds of exploding TNT rang out, the damage left to the imagination. Silence rung out for a moment and (Y/N) yanked herself out of the male’s hold, stumbling slightly from the unexpected ease it took to leave it.

She stammered, already making her way to the lava curtain pulled shut. “That’s it, I don’t- that’s enough. Sam!-”

A louder, closer explosion cut her off, leaving her to throw herself backwards and scramble away from the expected blast, flashes of battles leaving her tense for an incoming attack. There was none, nothing other than Dream curling his arms around her frame again, pulling her close as she stared, wide eyed and frozen to her only escape, barricaded by flowing lava.

“Sam... Sam, let me out,” she croaked, the words hardly reaching the male behind her, much less the one controlling the prison itself. The blasts finally quieted, the tense silence ringing in her ears as Dream casually reached forwards to tuck a few strands of her hair behind her ear, as if explosions ringing out within a prison were a completely natural occurrence.

She wanted to snap, to smack his hand away and yell at him for what was happening (even though it wasn’t possible, he was in prison, he had no power or visitors-), though the crackle of the hidden intercom in the room cut off any thoughts, her eyes darting about for the disembodied static filling the room.

“Sam, Sam, please”, she whimpered, the mask clad figure behind her shushing her as she trembled.

“(Y/N), I’m-”, Sam hesitated, before she heard the Warden’s voice filter through, cold and collected, steadfast when he wasn’t the one trapped in a small cell with their manipulative ex lover and the villain of the entire server. “There’s been a security breach. I can’t let any visitors in or out until the cause is found. I’ll be investigating in the meantime.”

The com crackled off and (Y/N) hated her mind for flashing to a particular line of text written within one of the books she had been handed, dread curling in the pit of her stomach.

In the event of security protocol- I hereby acknowledge that I could potentially be locked within the cell for up to 7 days, or until the security issue is resolved.

“Well,” Dream’s calm tone cut through her fear gripped panic, too proud and tilting for the current situation. “It looks like your visit has been extended.”

He pulled her limp body against his chest, resting his head on top of her head as (Y/N) shut her eyes, imagining the safe cottage she had built in the woods, far far away from the prison.

But the heat from the lava was too hot to compare to the soft breeze. And the suffocating grip on her was worse than any nightmares she had woken from.

#dream smp #dream smp x reader #x reader #fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt #dreamwastaken #dream x reader #writing #angst

119 notes · View notes

aka-indulgence · 3 years

Text

I was a bit sad and I had an idea with Kraken Sans so....... here it is /w\

Hurt/comfort, reader feels lonely and usually tries to hide it, etc. etc.... giant sea monster man comes to comfort.

-----

There were many reasons you went to the cliff by the sea, with it’s huge waves crashing onto its craggy side.

There were times when you came with friends to go down to the beach. There were times when you came just to enjoy the view (the sunsets were especially breathtaking).

And then there were times where you came when you weren’t feeling so great and just needed to go somewhere.

That was the case right now.

You lean against the railing, the only barrier stopping you from falling down. Looking down always made you dizzy during the day, but during the night, all was dark; nothing but shadows below you, with the occasional glimmer of the waves, or a bit of sea foam whenever the sea struck the rocky face.

Your eyes shimmer as they look up at the stars. Out here, far away from artificial lights, they were clear to see, twinkling wherever you looked at the sky. The wind was blowing in your hair, sweeping your tear-stained cheeks.

You hadn’t even noticed you were crying.

“S… stupid…” you mutter, wiping away the infuriating drops away from your face, even as they keep springing from your eyes.

W… what were you supposed to do when you felt lonely? It wasn’t like you could just… swim over to the main island just like that. Even if you got on a ship, you’d only be there temporarily before you had to go back, and you weren’t exactly made of money to go every day.

You were here to work, and you get visited sometimes, and that’s nice…

But there are times when you really just… wanted someone to be with you, on this relatively tiny piece of land.

“G-get it together… stop… crying already…” you sniffled, frowning in dismay as more kept flowing out of your eyes. You pressed your hand to them, closing your eyes, your body shaking as a silent sob wreaked through it. Your tears ran down your elbow, falling to the waves below.

A few more moments of that gnawing, painful feelings of loneliness, and you took a deep breath, folding your arms on top of the railing. You took in the salty air, letting it slowly fill your chest before exhaling it out. The tears hadn’t stopped, but you’re sure you wouldn’t feel like you were stuck in a lobster cage anymore when you went back to the bungalow you stayed in.

… Maybe… just a few more moments out here. At least until I’m really calm. You thought, waiting for yourself to stop crying, just breathing in, and out.

The sound of the waves and the winds were relaxing, unwinding your muscles. It was quiet and loud at the same time, in a way that you enjoyed.

You were sighing when all of a sudden you a hear a much louder, big splash, waters below you being disturbed, as if something big had come near the shore.

… Or more accurately, like something big had come out of the water.

You watch with wide eyes as a giant skeleton?!?!? Rose out of the waves, with something dark and gleaming rolling about, parting and making waves around it. You squeak when a massive hand lands right beside you, crushing the and bending railing like it was made out of thin wires. You were completely frozen when a skull much bigger than your entire body appeared behind the cliff, and huge lantern-eyes stared down at you.

They both shone white, but there were little changes in its brightness, as if it was a floating ball of liquid sloshing around an invisible container. In a weird way, it reminded you of the sea itself, with globs moving back and forth in those huge glowing spheres.

It only took a few more moments of staring into this giant’s eyes (eyelights?) before you noticed the predicament that you’re in, and fear settled in as your utter shock started to bleed away.

A- A kraken?!!

You assumed as much, those long tendril like objects that were slopping around this creature must’ve been its tentacles.

You started taking a step back.

W… what’s a kraken doing here? W-was he here to eat you??!

Maybe it was the step, or maybe it was the pure terror that was on your face, but suddenly the huge beast reacted. His face contorted into a look of sadness and worry, and the huge interlocking sharp teeth that made his mouth parted in the slightest. He let out an impossibly deep rumbling sound that practically quaked the ground and shook your entire body. The sound stops you in your tracks, trying to stop yourself from losing your footing.

He made another, slightly higher sound that reminded you of whale songs, the hand on the cliff shifting against the ground, his fingers gently curling behind you. The paranoid side of you thought for a second that he was trying to block your escape route, but he didn’t try to grab you or squash you; just making a (protective?) curl around you.

Your hammering heart started to slow down as you realized this giant of the deep doesn’t seem to mean you any harm. But if he didn’t, then… why was he here?

“H… hello?” you greet(?) him tentatively, rubbing your hands together, both fidgeting and keeping them warm.

Your voice seems to have delighted him, as his furrowed brows raised a little and he looked like he was smiling.

Did… did he even understand…?

A series of clicking sound filled the air from somewhere in his throat (you’d wonder how, but you were staring at a giant skeleton-kraken monster). Somehow, it sounded happy to you, light and playful.

He brought his skull closer to the cliff, trying to get a closer look at you. Something about his gaze made you blush, and you hug your hands a little.

“…. (y/n)….” He rumbled again, and after bracing yourself against the deep sound, you perk a little when you realize he not only spoke, but he also said your name.

“H-??” you breathe, “How did you know my name??”

The monster seemed to process your question slowly, blinking once.

“like…. (y/n)….”

At that, the beast’s mouth definitely turned into a smile, and you hear the waves churning under him as he seems to get excited, his sockets crinkling. His tentacles must’ve hit the cliff, because you feel a minute shaking in the ground.

“Like me…?” you echo, and the giant nods as fast as his body allowed, making what you guess is a happy little trill in response.

You let out a sigh. He doesn’t seem especially dangerous at the moment, though you are aware of how easily it’d be for him to squash you like a bug.

His eyes seem to shine brighter when they look at you, and the movements below him slow down.

“How did you…” you start to say, but you’re not sure how much you want to know about apparently having a giant deep-sea admirer, and the fact that you never noticed he was even there. So instead you ask, “Well, who are you… Mr. Sea monster? Do you have a name?”

He didn’t take as long to answer that.

“sans….” he tells you. Then, “have… sea name…”

He demonstrates his other name by making a series of rumble and clicks that you don’t understand, but you assume must mean a whole lot in… ‘Sea language’.

You giggle at this apparent-gentle giant, smiling at him. “Oh ok! So, Sans, or…” you try to mimic whatever sounds Sans had made and apparently made him chuckle (new languages are hard!), “why are you up here?”

Sans’ grin falls a bit, and his eyes looked… sad? His other hand rises over the cliff, around your level, and he points at you.

Or more specifically, your face.

You furrow your brows a little. For you? Was this the time he chose to introduce himself to you?

“H-huh?” was all that came out of your mouth, looking from his pointed finger (it was pretty much as big as you!) to his face.

When it’s clear to him that you didn’t understand, he brings his hand close to you. So much closer that he was going to touch you. You held your breath a little, concerned as to what he’s about to do, and then-

Poke.

You felt a firm, yet light touch on your face. His finger was on your cheek.

“Wh…?”

“… water…” Sans rumbles. “from… your face…”

… Oh. Your tears. You still had tear tracks on your face, and you found you even still had some left when you blinked, another one falling down your face.

“O-oh, these?” your face reddened a little in embarrassment and you wiped the remaining drops away. “Th-they… it’s… nothing to worry about.”

Sans actually frowns, and his brows dip between his sockets.

“… sad.”

Your heart sinks in your chest.

You were used to hiding your hurt from others. You were used to drying your tears and smiling for others when they came around the corner. As much as you hated having to just take and endure it, you wouldn’t know how to face others if they tried to look closer.

… And yet…

Just one word from this monster that just appeared himself to you… just brought down any sort of walls you were unconsciously trying to build.

It was so genuine, like…

Like he was speaking to your soul.

A new wave of tears welled up in your eyes, and you let them spill. No use hiding it when it feels like he could see right through you.

“Y-yeah. I was… I’m… sad.” You say in defeat, slouching in front of him. His pointing hand shifted around you, and blink through wet eyes, seeing him cup his hand around you, and his giant thumb gently press against your cheek, as if he was trying to wipe them away.

His hand was warm. It felt like… he was hugging you, the closest thing he could do to hug you, and you slump into his palm. You hug the thumb that was on your face and started to sob against the giant bone, shaking and shivering a little. Just… having someone with you… it opened the floodgates, again.

“I-I just…” you tremor, “I-I just feel so lonely s-sometimes…”

It wasn’t if you couldn’t speak to your friends, you could. But the distance was wearing on you, and you weren’t quite as close to your colleagues, and you just…

You just wanted someone to…

…

You wrap your arms around his thumb and rub your face against it, finding yourself comforted instead of afraid when his fingers curl further around you.

Lulling, empathetic songs sounded from the great monster, slowly getting lower in pitch before it raised back up to do it all over again. With practically no pressure, he rubs his thumb on your face, either to dry your tears or to pet you.

… Slowly, you let your trembling fingers go of his giant one, and Sans seems to sense that you’re pulling away, because he pulls his fingers away from you to let you stand. You hold onto the tip of his thumb and rub your sleeve against your face, sniffing.

“Th… thanks Sans.” was all you manage to eke out, unsure of what else to say.

Sans croons, bringing his hand back to press behind you, radiating heat and keeping you warm and safe from the slightly chilly night.

You feel slightly awkward in the silence, not sure what you’re supposed to say to a giant kraken monster after you just cried all over his hand.

You suppose, “I… I should go back. T-to my house,” you stammer, breath still interrupted by the occasional hiccup.

Sans’ calm and almost sleepy face suddenly looked distressed, looking at you like you just threatened him. Sad, weeping sounds came out of him, his fingers starting to close in around you.

Apparently, he didn’t want to say goodbye.

“W-wait! Don’t worry! We can always meet again!” you held your hand out against him, almost reassuring him while you were panicked. “I can come see you again here, tomorrow night, if you’d like?”

The wibbling and calls of despair he was making got quieter, and when you look back you realize both his hands were coming up behind you, like they were about to scoop you up and take you away. At your offer, Sans looked mildly placated, looking at you hopefully.

“tomorrow…” he echoes, “… promise…?”

Ah… maybe…

Maybe you weren’t the only one here who was lonely.

“I promise, Sans.”

You add, “You were good company. I’d like to meet you again tomorrow.”

He takes another moment to process your words before his smile was back on his face, wider than before. A series of rumbles came from him in waves, like… like a chuckle. He pulled his hands away from you, giving you your way back to the bungalow.

“tomorrow.” he says, almost in a sing-song voice, “(y/n). tomorrow.”

“That’s right,” you smiled at him, as you turned inland. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sans!”

“(y/n). tomorrow. (y/n). (y/n).”

You could faintly hear his voice as you walked back, with a little spring to your step. At the moment you had promised to see him tomorrow to stop him from possibly taking you away, but you really did like Sans. And you did want to see him again.

If you looked behind, maybe you could’ve seen those two huge lights, watching you walk back home.

#yea i jus been a bit sad and lonely lately ;v;#so i write.... for comfort... weh #sans x reader #kraken sans #hes been following you... because he loves you

309 notes · View notes

dancingamongstdust · 3 years

Text

Creepypasta Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 3)

I’ve opened requests now, if anybody is interested. Here’s the post:

Requests

Lost Silver

As stupid as it sounds, the game didn’t scare you.

It had started as a joke, something passed around your friend group after it had been discovered. The cartridge was just a janky version of a Pokémon game that was apparently spooky and so, everybody had taken turns messing around with it. They all said creepy things started happening but nothing too bad.

When it was your turn, you had been fully expecting something out of a horror movie. Instead, you had gotten a game that just had audio cut offs and weird notes warning you to stay out. It wasn’t all together scary.

You mentioned this to the next person you gave the game to in your friend group and they had laughed, saying it would probably ring true for them also.

But for some reason, your ally didn’t manifest.

Less than two days later, they practically threw the game at the rest of you and ran away sprouting things about curses. After that, the appeal of playing it kind of went away.

Nobody wanted to buy it and apparently throwing it out wasn’t a suggestion. So you ended up getting it.

Curiosity soon got the better of you and you booted up the game again, really sure that it would do something absolutely crazy but it never did. It ran like it always had with only that one file being completed.

So you deleted the file.

And nothing happened.

The next day, when you booted up the game, the file had simply returned as though you hadn’t deleted it in the first place. A similar thing occurred the next time. And the next.

Eventually you gave up and just started your own game. There, everything ran like it was meant to and you were beginning to think that your friends had all been imagining stuff. Maybe their paranoid got to them or something like that?

But eventually, the nightmares started. And they were bad.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened during them. They were a swirling mess of games and glitches, horrible things spelled out in letters and blood covering everything. You would always wake up right when they seemed to be coming to a pivotal point. You’d find yourself dragged into a graveyard and then you’d wake up screaming

It was awful. You hardly got any sleep during them and they seemed to haunt you every night, keeping you up until the early hours of the morning.

But the worst only came when you didn’t wake up.

When you were dragged to the grave and looked down to see the ellipsis where the name should be. A punch to the gut that reminded you of what the game file was called. A confirmation of what was causing this dream.

You stared at it for ages before your eyes drifted up and you met his gaze. He was covered in blood, it leaked from every orifice and limb. It stained his dirty clothing even worse.

While you were staring, the world seemed to distort even though he didn’t. The game world melted away and your bedroom slowly reappeared.

It wasn’t until you saw car headlights move past your window – casting awful shadows across the room – that you realised you were no longer dreaming. He wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

The temperature in the room plummeted and you began to slowly reach for a weapon of some kind. He turned to look at what you were watching. His head tilted to the side and a glitch raced across his body before he vanished into thin air. Flicking on the lights didn’t show him hiding or cowering.

Perhaps your friends weren’t crazy after all.

Masky

“You know, if we had been a little more patient, none of this would have happened,” your sibling lectured. “We could be relaxing inside the car without having to worry about a bloody flash flood coming down from the sky.”

You shoved their back, forcing them to stumble a little as they went through the door. “Chances are the river’s going to burst its banks anyway. We would have been stuck in traffic for hours because the bridge is blocked off.”

“At least we would have been dry,” they muttered, running their fingers through their hair. “And not trapped inside an abandoned building.”

You rolled your eyes and made your way over the rubble to settle down on a camping chair. “Don’t even start. This place has been a hangout for my friends and I for ages. There’s never been a single problem bigger than a few spiders.”

“Till a landlord shows up,” they scoffed.

“Then we’ll move to the forest,” you joked. “I’m sure there’s a good bear cave we can use.”

“I’m going to be an only child,” they said, rolling their eyes. Still, they made their way over and sat. “How long do you think we have until the storm dies down?”

You relaxed back into the chair and smiled up at the asbestos-filled ceiling. “From the sound of it, a while.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time you had taken a nap in the building. You were scared of giant cockroaches coming to eat you once. You had gotten used to it since then but this time when you woke up, you were uneasy.

Glancing around, nothing was out of the ordinary. Your sibling was snoring in the chair next to you and outside the rain was pounding the roof.

You sat upright. Sometimes was definitely wrong.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you got up from the chair and began walking as quietly as you could through the house. It had always been tiny and practically void of furniture, but the few rooms provided ample hiding spots.

Nothing but rubble was in most of the rooms but, in what you presumed had once been a bathroom, you found a person.

He had his back to you but when you pushed the door open to peer in, he spun around, his hand flying to his side. He was wearing a white mask, dark features etched onto it, and an orange jacket. A dark stain ran up the right side of it, emanating from under his hand. The oddness of his clothing made you immediately back away from the door, finger twitching on your cell phone in case you needed to call for help.

The two of you stared at each other in silence.

You were lost about what to say or do. The stain on his jacket was spreading and the more you stared at it, the more you became convinced it was blood. “Are you okay?” you finally managed to ask.

It took him a while to respond but then he nodded. The mask was unnerving you. You didn’t like not being able to see a person’s facial expressions.

“I don’t mean to pry or anything, but it really looks like you’re bleeding,” you said. “And quite badly. I can call for an ambulance or something although…” you turned your attention to the window behind his head. “I’m not sure they’ll be able to get anywhere with this weather.”

He stepped backward. “I’m fine,” he said, so soft you barely caught it. “I thought this place was abandoned.”

“It normally is,” you answered. “But we had to avoid the storm. I’m guessing that’s why you’re here also?”

“Yes,” he responded.

You waited or him to say something more, but all you got was silence. He had moved further away and now he had his back against the window. Part of you wanted to turn around and go back to your sibling but you were unsure about turning your back on the strange man.

The mask made you scared he could stab you or something.

Somebody calling your name made you turn your head on instinct. Your sibling must have woken up and realised you were missing.

Quickly, you turned back to the man, but he had disappeared. Rain spat through the now open window.

Nurse Ann

Everybody always warned you about exploring old buildings. They would yell about how many things could injure or kill you. Stray animals, drug addicts, old equipment, and all that. You had heard just about every warning imaginable. Ghosts were pretty commonly mentioned also.

But killer nurse was a new one.

“Come on, just give me a little more information,” you nagged. “I’m going there whether you’re with me or not so you may as well just tell me what you’ve heard.”

Your friend (and partner in crime for most ventures) groaned. “It’s not much. They just say that she guards the place and if you get too close, she’ll run you off with a chainsaw. Some people have died from injuries they got while there. Let’s just give this one a miss, alright?”

But you were not in agreement at all.

“Maybe she’s cute though,” you teased.

They didn’t find that funny and you didn’t push them to come with you. So later that evening, you snuck in by yourself.

The hospital was old with crumbling walls and smashed windows. It was hidden from the public by means of a tall barbed-wire fence and a substantial distance of open garden. Nothing too extreme for you and definitely worth the potential items you’d find inside. When hospitals went under, they often left tons of awesome stuff just scattered around.

You’d never sold anything you found in your abandoned building dives. They were more collectables than anything else but they meant quite a bit to you.

There weren’t any signs of crazy nurses as you approached the place. Nobody came running at you with a chainsaw at least. You didn’t even find evidence of squatters who could sometimes pose some danger.

After deciding it was safe enough, you lifted yourself through one of the windows and began to explore.

Honestly, it was creepy. Everything was way too old to be worth collecting and there were too many unidentifiable stains for your liking. The water damage was bad. It looked like the ceiling was there for aesthetics only and several rooms creaked too much for you to comfortably cross them.

And that was even without the awkward feeling of being watched.

You told yourself that it was just superstition but you couldn’t shake it. Every few seconds saw you looking over your shoulder in anticipation. It distracted you from keeping your eye on the path in front of you and the loud crack reached your ears too late.

The floor gave out and you fell through. Your shoulder hit some kind of metal object as you landed in the room below. Painful shocks ripped through your body and your head knocked against the floor with a heavy thud.

Stars danced in front of your vision and you raised your hand to the top of your head. Blood coated your hand when you lowered it to look.

Shit.

Shakily, you tried to pull yourself up but quickly found that your arm was too sore. Instead, you pulled your phone from your pocket and sent off the emergency text to your friend.

The world faded to black not long after that.

When you woke up next, you were in your room with a bandage wrapped around your head. You had felt like absolute crap but still gotten up to thank them for the save. They had nodded and warned you to be more careful, happy that you had been outside the hospital so they didn’t have to look for too long.

Before you could even think about how you had crawled there, they asked how you had managed to do your own stitches so nicely.

Puppeteer

Your camera was on 10% battery.

Grumbling, you shoved it into your bag and cursed your past self for forgetting to put it on charge. In order to get the best sunrise photos, you had found yourself waking up earlier and earlier. It was tiring but it was worth it… most of the time.

You just hoped that at least one of your pictures was usable but you could only check on them once you got home.

The streetlight above your head flickered as you walked past. It wasn’t unusual but when you were the only person awake for miles around, it was awfully creepy.

Putting your hands into your jacket pockets, you continued strolling back home. The neighborhood had never been dangerous and despite living in the area for your entire life, no incidents made you want to stop walking around at night.

Deciding that you wanted to take a precautionary shot, you headed for your neighbour’s house first. They had an arch covered in jasmine flowers that made for some perfectly safe photos and they never minded your presence.

After making your way there and getting a few photos, you were treated to the fright of your life when their began howling and barking. It wasn’t aimed at you but you didn’t like the noise regardless.

As you rounded the corner of the house, planning on racing back to your own home, you encountered the dog’s target.

A man – cloaked in the darkness and barely illuminated by the streetlight – opening one of the windows with ease. Irritated by the dog, he didn’t notice you until your finger twitched around the shutter of your camera. There was a flash.

His head snapped up and you screamed.

The man’s complexation was literally grey. He wasn’t just ill, he was the colour of storm clouds. Golden eyes with no pupils glared at you and froze you in place. Whatever he was, this man was the furthest thing from human.

Your scream woke your neighbors. The sound of movement began coming from inside the house.

He abandoned the window, stalking towards you. The air tingled like it was expecting a lightning storm. Golden tendrils grew from his fingertips and shot towards you. They had you pinned in an instant.

You struggled against them and opened your mouth to scream again but they wrapped around your head, forcing your jaw shut.

This was how you died… tears spilled down your cheeks at the realization. You were going to be an unsolved murder. All you hoped was you got a good picture of him.

Your neighbor’s front door opened and great dane let out an ear-splitting bark as he raced toward you.

The man, or creature, or monster, or whatever he was, released you to face the dog. He let it approach before vanishing into a cloud of smoke as its jaws reached him.

“What was that?” the timid voice brought you back into reality.

“It was trying to get into your house,” you said. “I screamed when I saw it and then it grabbed me.” Your voice changed to a whimper as reality hit you. You nearly died.

The small child of the house came over to hug your leg. “I’m sure Puppet didn’t mean to scare you,” she said. “He always comes to visit but he doesn’t like it when people make noise. You shouldn’t scream when you see him again.”

You made eye-contact with the parents and they wore expressions of horror at their daughter’s words.

“Puppet?” you asked in a small voice.

She nodded rapidly. “He says he stops by because he likes watching people. I think that he’s watching us all right now! But he can hide in the shadows too well.”

“I’m going to go and call the police,” somebody said.

You weren’t all too focused. The feeling of being watched grew heavier and you clutched tightly at the camera in your hands.

Slenderman

You couldn’t tell if they were being serious. You hoped that they were joking. They weren’t genuinely going to…

“No,” you stated.

The two younger children both turned to look at you simultaneously. Guilt flashed across their faces as though they weren’t aware you were listening. It was as though you were asked to babysit them because you didn’t pay attention. These two should have realised that by now.

“Do you think all the stories are true?” the boy asked. “I think that they are. One of my friends said she saw a huge dog in the forest and then it ran away after eating a whole cow!”

“No way!” his twin sister shouted. “Dogs don’t eat cows, so it can’t be true!”

You put on your best intimidating expression and crossed your arms. “I don’t care if they’re true or not. There is absolutely no chance that either of you are going to go running off into the woods with bears, wolves and all kinds of other creatures.”

The two children glanced at each other and bolted for the tree line before you could grab their shirts.

Thankfully your legs were longer even if they had a head start and you managed to catch up pretty quickly. Once you caught the boy and picked him up with ease, the girl dashed behind a tree.

“Can we please just leave?” you asked nicely. “If we forget about the forest adventure thing, I promise I won’t tell your parents and I’ll get you ice cream.”

The boy was trying his hardest to get out of your hold. You were starting to think babysitting didn’t pay enough.

“I don’t want ice cream,” the girl said. “I want to go and find a unicorn.”

She darted off into the forest and you let out a deep groan. Shifting the boy’s weight over your one hip, you started walking after her. If you wanted to give chase via running, you would have to put the kid down and trust him to follow or stay.

It was obvious that wasn’t happening.

It didn’t take you too long to find the girl. Mostly because she had stopped in the middle of a weird grove in the trees. She was just staring off into the dark shadows beyond it.

As you approached her, static popped in your ears. You shook your head in an effort to displace it but the closer you got, the louder it became.

The child in your arms whimpered, clutching his head.

You softly called her name and then it appeared. It was a man-like monster, standing just in the shadows of the trees. Easily over 7ft tall and insanely thin with no facial features. Your heart jumped into your throat and your stomach tied itself into a knot.

Without taking your eyes off it, you reached out a hand and fumbled around until you grabbed the girl’s shirt.

The static was getting louder and louder. You tried to shut it out as you started moving backwards, tugging the child along after you. She wasn’t willing to move her legs. She was entranced but whether by fear or magic, you couldn’t tell.

And then it was much closer.

You stumbled in fright, letting go of the girl’s shirt and landing on your ass. The boy fell on top of you but scrambled away and hide in the bushes within the blink of an eye. You sent a silent prayer to him to run back home to the other adults.

Once again, the creature was stationary but now the static was growing to such a volume that you could imagine your ears were starting to bleed.

You reached out for the girl again slowly, but something wrapped around your leg and yanked you into the air.

It took almost a full second for you to realise that the screaming ringing in your ears was you. Whatever was holding you tightened and whipped your body through the air. It was like your leg was being ripped away.

Then you were falling.

It was some feat of luck that you managed to twist your body, so you didn’t land on your head. You lay there for a while before something poking your back made you unbury your face.

The twins were staring at you with wide eyes and the monster was nowhere in sight.

“What was –“ you couldn’t finish.

“Slenderman,” they said in perfect sync.

Splendorman

Another stop…

You couldn’t help yourself. Every time you walked past one of the posters fluttering lightly in the wind you had to stop and stare at it.

A few days ago, your dog, your beautiful and sweet puppy, had disappeared from your house without a trace. The missing posters were depressing reminders that he wasn’t home. It hadn’t taken long for your mind to spiral into the negative thoughts about how close the road was.

Damn your coworkers. One of the had suggested the road in the first place and while they hadn’t intended anything malicious, it was definitely not helping your fears.

The dog had been with you through thick and through thin… if it was dead, you may as well have lost a close family member.

Hanging your head, you dragged your eyes away from the poster and kept walking.

People bumped into you, but it was your fault. You refused to look up in case another poster distracted you. Getting home before the sun set was your only focus now.

You had tried going out and searching in all the places where your dog once spent time to no avail. Always willing to try again, you chose to drop off your bags and head out later that evening when you ran out of distractions.

As you walked through the gates in front of your house, a gust of air gently messed up your hair. A gust of wind suspiciously similar to a laugh.

Your logical mind told you it came from the street, but something made you stop in your tracks.

The walls around your property towered. There’s no possibility that somebody could be in your garden. To try and scale one of the walls, they would have been in full view of your neighbours who would have undoubtedly called the cops.

“You’re sad,” the wind whispered before you could brush off your suspicion.

Spinning wildly, you searched around for the source. You backed up until your entrance gate was behind you. You could run down to the main street with ease if you could just get your fumbling fingers to unlock things.

“Don’t run,” the wind said, this time blowing from a separate direction. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I just wanted to know why you’re upset.”

Is this what going insane was? Nobody around and the wind was talking to you. You had always feared losing your mind and now it was happening.

“I’m real,” the wind said. “I’m hiding because I’ll scare you if you see me.”

“I’m going mad,” you muttered, shaking your head. “If this is somebody pulling a prank on me I swear….”

The wind quietened for a bit and then it picked up again, ruffling your hair as it spoke. “If I show myself, it’ll prove that you’re not going crazy, but I don’t want to make it worse by frightening you… you’re so sad already.”

“I lost my best friend and people have been telling me he’s most likely dead,” you hissed. “Obviously I’m not in the best mood. Now I’m losing my fucking mind and talking to air.”

The atmosphere around you dropped, like it does moments before lightning strikes. You glanced at the sky in confusion. As expected, no clouds in sight.

You lowered your gaze and a 7ft tall creature covered in bright polka dots stood in front of your house.

Once you screamed, it disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” the wind said. “I knew I would scare you, but I had hoped it would show you that I’m not imaginary. I’m just trying to help.”

The gate finally opened behind you and you stumbled backwards through it, your heart sitting in your throat. A monster was in your house and it was probably going to kill you. Spinning on your heel, you took off full speed back towards the main street.

You were fully expecting it to give chase now that you hadn’t fallen for its claims of harmlessness but it didn’t.

Instead you reached the main road and only got a few strange looks because of how much you were shaking. Nothing followed you.

The wind picked up once more. “I’ll try and help,” it promised.

People walking around you should have heard it as well but none of them so much as blinked.

Ticci Toby

While you had been told that a noise limit for the forest existed, your laughter refused to cooperate. It rang through the trees and probably chased off all the animals nearby. A picnic out in a national forest was a fantastic way to reconcile with nature and to scare it all away.

With eleven people in your picnic party, chances of any creatures coming into view were already slim though so you didn’t worry too much.

“We didn’t bring nearly enough fruit,” you muttered as you dug in the basket.

“Excuse you, I brought a whole watermelon but you ate it,” somebody answered your grumble. “If you want fruit, it is spring. Go and forage for some berries.”

You snorted. “Yeah, right. I’m going to go out by myself in the middle of the one season where bears are irritable as fuck. I know I sometimes act a little impulsively, but I don’t exactly have a wish to die at the claws of a grumpy teddy.”

Your friend leaned towards you. “Is that so? What if we split into teams and made a bet? Loser has to take a dip in the river.”

“A bet?” you asked. “I’m interested.”

She grinned and snapped her fingers. “Okay, there are eleven people so I’m feeling groups of two with one impartial party as a judge. We should be fine if we make enough noise and stick within close vicinity to each other. See how many berries we can gather?”

Tipping out the picnic basket’s contents, you smirked and pushed it into her chest. “Oh, I hope you brought a swimming costume.”

Everybody teamed up with ease and grabbed one of the many containers lying on the blanket. You headed out with your partner and gave a wink to the other teams. All you needed was to find one good bush first and you had it won.

“We should split up,” your partner said. “Cover more ground.”

You nodded. “We meet up back here once we’ve found a good bush,” you agreed. “And we shout if we find any animals.”

Obviously, your plans hadn’t involved losing your footing almost directly after the two of you split.

Tumbling down the small hill, you tried your hardest to protect yourself from the bushes as you went through them. At some point, you lost your basket and by the time you had finally rolled to a stop, you had no idea where it was.

Grumbling, you stood up and started searching until something dark caught your eye. Thinking it was your basket, you made your way over.

The clearing you walked into housed a scene you could never have imagined.

A dead bear lay slumped against a tree, its fur being what had caught your eye earlier. A hatchet buried in its neck was spilling blood onto the floor around it. All that hardly compared to the man leaning against a tree.

“Oh my god!” you exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

His head immediately snapped up, allowing you to see that he was wearing a mouth guard and a pair of goggles. Blood seeped from between his fingers where they clutched against his chest, but he hardly noticed. A hatchet was hanging from his belt.

Suddenly, you were wishing you had kept your mouth shut.

He stared at you blankly for a while, an occasional twitch minorly affecting his body. Reaching up, he took off his mouthguard. “I can’t feel any pain,” he said. “So, I’m fine. Why are y-you out here? The hiking trail is far.” He struggled with one of the words, seeming to hiccup a little on it.

“I was searching for berries and I slipped down a hill,” you answered. “Are you sure you’re okay? It looks like you got into a fight with a bear. Your shirt is all bloody.”

“I did fight a bear,” he laughed, gesturing to it. “I won.”

Your eyes grew wider. “I think you should get to a hospital. What’s your name? I can call somebody for you and we’ll get you medical attention.”

“Toby,” he said. “That’s my name. What’s yours?”

You gave him your full name and pulled out your phone. “My friends are close by,” you said. “Don’t worry, they’ll be here to help soon.”

When you raised your attention from your phone, he had disappeared and so had the hatchet from the bear’s neck.

Trenderman

Work was hard. It made your feet ache, it made your back click and crack, and it felt like the problems would never end.

Would you give up working in the fashion industry? Not a chance.

Your boss walked past where you were calming down an irate customer over the phone and dropped the keys to the front of the building in front of you. “Close up for me,” she mouthed as she left.

Nodding, you moved them to the side of the desk where they couldn’t be lost.

Once you had finished calming the customer, you glanced around to check how many people were left in the room. Three still working and one in the process of leaving. You were technically going into overtime at this point, but you didn’t mind.

There was a reason you were promoted so quickly.

“We need to set up cameras!” one of the floor managers snapped, storming into the office. She marched straight over to your desk and glowered at you. “I put this request in a week ago.”

Scrolling through the documents, you quickly opened the file. “I see but it looks like it’s been bumped due to a shipment malfunction, I’ll flag it. What’s the problem?”

“Customers or members of staff are moving items around and throwing things out without warning. We need to catch the culprits!” she snapped.

“What has been thrown out?” you asked. “I’ll add it into the information.”

The woman started listing quicker than you could type. “I’ve found crocs, toeless thigh-high boots, bellbottomed jeans, coloured faux fur jackets, luminous lipstick, w-necks, and jeggings all in vast numbers in the trash can. Every time I put them out on shelves, they disappear again.”

It took everything in you not to snort. “I’ll mark this vital.”

She stalked off and you went back to inputting the shipping requirements. You were meant to be organising what was coming in for the latest line and subtly omitting anything that wouldn’t sell well enough.

Slowly but surely, your co-workers trickled out of the office after finishing off their daily tasks. You kept going, trying to make sure you could have a longer break the next day.

Finally, when the sun had already set, you relented and started getting ready to go home.

You sung as you finished packing up for the day. Being the last one in the building (thus having to lock up) made you a little more confident as you danced around getting everything together. You slung your bag over your shoulder and happily trotted over to the door.

It made you so happy that your boss entrusted you to be the last one around. She was so hyper-protective of company secrets that you were proud of yourself for winning her over.

Your talent with people was something you attributed to dealing with painful customers.

As you passed through the store-part of the business you stopped to rearrange a mannequin. Every morning when you came in, you always noticed something had been changed with this specific one. You figured you could move something small and see if it would be a good place to set up a hidden camera.

Though you weren’t expecting it to suddenly grab your arm.

“You may be one of the few workers here with good taste, but I advise you don’t try and change my outfit,” it said. It didn’t have a mouth, but the words rang in your head, nevertheless.

You screamed and pulled away, tearing your arm from its grip. Shelves were knocked over and clothing was sent flying as you tried to escape.

The mannequin just watched you as you fumbled madly for the door.

The glass rattled in the frame from how hard you slammed it shut behind you. You sped off down the street, moving faster than you ever had before. You collapsed on your lawn by the time you reached the house, taking deep breaths.

Nothing had followed you. Everything was okay.

With shaking fingers, you dialed your boss’ number and told her you would be taking a sick day. There wasn’t a chance in hell you were going anywhere near there again.

Not to mention the mess you made… you were definitely getting fired.

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #slenderman #splendorman #trenderman #ticci toby #nurse ann #masky #cp masky #marble hornets #lost silver #puppeteer #x reader

131 notes · View notes

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Stalker X Stalker, Part 5

First

Perma tag: @nathleigh

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever

Marinette listened in on Tim for three days.

Not actively, of course, she didn’t hang onto every word he said. She just let her consciousness drift in and out of the conversations he had while she worked on finishing up the outfit she had designed for Audrey...

And, yeah, she was getting to the point where she was willing to bet on him being an okay guy. Better than okay, even. He was just so… genuine?

The first two days he had come in sick. She knew the signs of working while sick by heart, the trudging around and the groaning and the constant banging your head on the desk when you pass out randomly, and damn she was pretty sure even she wasn’t as bad as him. He probably shouldn’t be working at all, to be honest, he was CEO and there was nothing stopping him from taking the day -- or even just a few hours -- off. But, no, from the sound of it he was drinking ungodly amounts of coffee and calling it okay.

And despite the fact that he seemed absolutely miserable, he hadn’t taken it out on anyone. She had yet to hear him be impolite to anyone, not even the people that worked under him. His secretary had made a scheduling mistake and he had not only assured her it was fine but didn’t even require her to fix it.

Even when he was talking to himself while working he never once said anything questionable. And he talked to himself a lot. It was like a podcast, honestly, just hearing him rattle off numbers and weird business terms she hadn’t learned because she was self-taught. He talked almost constantly and he should have slipped up by now, yet here she was three days later with nothing to show for it except for a whole lot of guilt.

Marinette hadn’t thought much about it on the first day, everyone had their good days from time to time. On the second day she said ‘oh, it’s a coincidence’, but on the third day she had to call it: her paranoia had been a little unfounded.

Literally the worst thing about him so far was that he didn’t seem to care much about his own health… and that wasn’t really a bad thing about him as much as it was a bad thing for him.

So, yeah, it looked like she had no real reason to listen in on him anymore.

… but…

Something about him was nagging at her. He was a nice guy and she’d like to be his friend… it was just that, sometimes, she could swear she recognized his voice.

And it wasn’t like there were a lot of people she knew in America, she knew who he probably was.

Her hand itched towards the tiny device hidden under her window seat. One click (and maybe a little researching) and she’d know for sure who the bats were. The only thing stopping her was the knowledge that, if she did know their real names, she’d accidentally call them by them once and immediately get thrown either into a cell or out of Gotham. She was a meta (kind of), she was already on thin ice. She didn’t need the paranoid idiots that were the bats being more wary of her than they already were.

So, she left it alone.

She kept the bug, though. Mostly just because she wanted to hear it directly from him rather than just guessing by his voice. After all, voices can be similar. If he were to directly talk about bat business while she was listening in, though… that would definitely be a point towards her theory, to say the least.

And, yeah, she knew it was kind of messed up. She could be listening in on some innocent guy for all she knew, but it was… morally kind of okay? The whole thing about stalking is that it makes your victim feel unsafe. If he was Red Robin then he had found the bug and hadn’t felt unsafe enough to remove it and if he was a civilian then he would never know about the bug and therefore couldn’t feel unsafe. Therefore, it wasn’t stalking, not really.

… yeah, that makes sense.

She glanced at her sketchbook and yawned. She really needed to get a new outfit idea soon. Good thing Tim said he was taking her out tomorrow --.

Shit, Tim was taking her out tomorrow.

She jumped up from her spot at the window and ran to her closet. What to wear, what to wear...

Frenchie: where are we going tomorrow

Spiderman: It’s a surprise.

Frenchie: fuck your surprises tim what do i need to wear

She heard his laugh crackle through her earpiece. Rude.

Spiderman: Casual clothes.

Frenchie: there are LEVELS of casual tim

Spiderman: Oh, so we’re breaking out the capital letters. This must be serious.

She scoffed. Of course it was serious.

Frenchie: just tell me what to wear

Spiderman: A t-shirt and jeans is fine.

Kwamis, send her strength. Like she was going to wear a t-shirt and jeans. Did he even know who he was talking to?

But at least she had a gauge on how casual she could go. She picked out a light pink button down and black shorts for herself and then, because she had a little bit of foresight, she added some black tights.

She smiled faintly and dropped back in her bed.

She couldn’t wait to see where he was going to take her.

She found out the next day. Because that’s how things work.

She raised her eyebrows. “There’s no way it’s actually called a ‘space museum’. You’ve gotta be lying.”

Tim shrugged, a grin poking at his lips. “Do you really think I’d make it up?”

“Well, considering your outfit, I’d say you aren’t the most creative of guys so maybe you did,” she teased.

Tim looked down at his outfit and pouted. He was wearing little more than a black turtleneck and pants under a white jacket. “Must you make fun of every outfit I wear?”

“Only the bad ones. Seriously, would it kill you to wear a little bit of color?”

He rolled his eyes. “At least I thought to bring a jacket. It’s thirty degrees!”

She had forgotten that Americans used Fahrenheit, sue her.

Of course, she was never going to admit to this. She stuck her tongue out at him. “Maybe I’m just not a wimp.”

He snickered. “Oh, so you’re not cold?”

“Not at all.”

“Then stop hugging that coffee cup.”

She looked down at the coffee cup that was her only source of warmth and happiness in this cruel world that had two different measuring systems (three if you counted Kelvin). She gripped it tighter. “... no.”

He rolled his eyes again and, after a beat of hesitation, shrugged his jacket off and offered it to her.

Marinette normally wouldn’t give in this easy… but she really was cold and his clothes were far thicker than hers were and she knew that her teeth would start chattering soon which would have been so embarrassing...

So she blushed faintly and slipped the jacket on. It smelled like ungodly expensive cologne. “Thanks.”

He grinned. “I’m taking your coffee as payment.”

“No --!”

After dropping by a cafe so Marinette didn’t kill him, Tim took her to the space museum (yes, that actually was what it was called).

He thought she would have missed the night sky. Gotham hardly ever had a clear night due to the thick smog that hung over the city like a curse. And they spent quite a lot of time outside at night, she must have been feeling a little homesick.

So, he rented out the museum for the day. Yes, the whole museum. He was rich and mildly famous and what was the point of that if he wasn’t going to use it to make the people he cared about happy? He doubted she would be able to enjoy the sights as much if people were constantly taking pictures of them and asking about their relationship.

She raised her eyebrows just slightly but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the lack of people.

They slipped through the rooms quietly in search of inspiration.

Many of the rooms were your typical museum things: exhibits showing off different space rocks and explaining stars and supernovas. They didn’t stop much here, obviously, there was little to be inspired by. The most that happened for a long while was Marinette stopping from time to time to take a picture of a nice color that she wanted to try and replicate later.

And then she had stopped to look at a spacesuit. She blinked a few times before breaking into a grin and flipping to a new page in her sketchbook. He could barely make out the name ‘Jagged’ from where he was fiddling with his camera a respectable distance away.

So, Marinette, at least, was having a productive time. Tim was… a little stressed, to be honest.

Tim was having a particularly hard time getting ‘inspired’.

It had been years since he had picked up his camera, which was certainly a problem but it wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that he had never been one to take pictures of locations or objects. Sure, there was the occasional picture of the Gotham skyline, but he had always had a tendency towards taking pictures of people. Batman and Robin working as a team to take out a bunch of thugs, Robin and Nightwing racing each other across the rooftops, Batman and Nightwing stopping for ice cream after a particularly long patrol… and now he wanted to take pictures of Marinette.

But that would be weird because a) the first day he had implied he took pictures of attractions in order to alleviate suspicion about why he just so happened to be on the same rooftop as her and b) she probably wouldn’t think they were close enough for him to take pictures of her.

He kind of wished he could just go back to the old days where his subjects didn’t know he was there and he wouldn’t have to worry about what they would think about him if he took a picture of them.

His fingers itched towards the camera hanging from his neck because she looked so cute with her tongue poking out of her mouth and her orange, yellow, and white colored pencils sticking out from between her fingers like little Wolverine claws and he loved the way his jacket looked on her and --.

“You can stop staring, I’ll be done as fast as I can.”

His brain shorted out and the only response he could come up with was a squeaky: “Sorry?”

She looked up from her work with an awkward smile. “I’m sorry it’s taking so long, I just… if I don’t do it now it’ll slip my mind. I’m working as fast as I can, though.”

He was rebooting. Give him a minute.

Ah, there it was.

Wait, she thought he was being impatient?

“Nononono take your time, it’s fine! I just...”

He trailed off before he could finish the thought because this was the second time they had hung out he couldn’t make things awkward between them already.

… but she was giving him a confused, vaguely concerned, look and he was pretty sure that if he didn’t come up with something soon it would be awkward anyways.

“IwasjustwonderingifIcouldtakeapictureofyou?” He blurted out before he could stop himself again.

She blinked once. Twice. And then a blush spread across her face.

“Oh. Uh… sure?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he said.

“It’s fine. A little sudden but… fine,” she said with a tiny smile.

Tim couldn’t keep the smile off of his face.

Not one to be blushy for long, apparently, Marinette flashed a wink. “Should I call up my friend Adrien for modeling tips or…?”

He rolled his eyes and schooled his face back into his usual grin. “It’s fine, just keep working. I’ll figure out angles and stuff.”

She tipped her head to the side confusedly. “Don’t you need me to be still?”

He didn’t look up from messing with the settings of his camera. “Not at all. You’re probably going to be one of my easier pictures.”

“... thanks…?”

“I do mostly nighttime photography. Capturing things in motion without it blurring requires a --.” He cringed. “Sorry, um… basically, when you want to take photos of things that are moving fast, you need a lot of natural light.”

“... you can talk about it more in depth, if you want.”

He shrugged. “I’d bore you.”

“I like your voice,” she said… then she seemed to realize the implications because she cleared her throat and did her best to backtrack: “In comparison to every other American I’ve heard so far, at least. Why do your accents… sound like that?”

“Ah, yes, because everyone knows that French people have the best accents.”

“Excuse you, I have been told by many people that my accent is actually very nice.”

He grinned. “By whom? Half-drunk men on the street?”

She gasped as if offended. “I get my information from much more reliable sources... like drunk women in bathrooms, thank you very much.”

“I see. My mistake. I apologize.”

“As you should.”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Don’t you have a design to make?” She looked down at her sketchbook and a silence stretched between them as she squinted at her design.

“You forgot what you were doing, didn’t you?”

She groaned and rested her head in her hands.

He took a picture of her exasperated pout.

Marinette ended up with two outfits.

One was for Jagged, based off of the spacesuit she had seen. She had figured that, with all the songs he wrote about being free, there was bound to be one about how he ‘finally had his own space’. It was good to be prepared.

The other was for Cassandra Wayne. Marinette hadn’t thought much about it, to be honest. She just knew that Cassandra liked the color black with designs on top of it, and that the planetarium had a nice star pattern that would work for that. It would be super expensive, what with all the gems she would need, but it wasn’t like the Waynes couldn’t afford it.

… and then she looked up to see Tim pouting.

She giggled, resting her head on her hand. “What?”

“My sister is getting a dress and I’m not.”

Oh, so he was an actual fan. Interesting.

She brushed that conversation aside in favor of teasing him: “You want a dress?”

“Yes! No? Yes? I --.” He huffed and took a seat in the chair next to her. “I have faith anything you make will look nice.”

She felt a blush rise to her face and she rolled her eyes. “Hm. Telling the person in charge of your wardrobe ‘I have full faith in you’ is a terrible idea.”

“Oh? I don’t think you, in good conscience, can make and give me anything bad.”

She squinted at him for a minute before breaking into a grin. “Wanna bet?”

He leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing her for a few moments, before smirking. “Sure, how about we put five thousand on it?”

She choked. She’d forgotten he was rich rich.

She was quick to backtrack: “Nah. With all your fashion choices so far I can’t trust you not to wear it to some Gala or whatever it is you rich people do.”

“Damn, there goes that plan.”

She grinned and looked down at her sketchbook. After a few seconds she flipped to a new page. She squinted at his outfit for a few moments before starting to doodle something.

“What’re you making now?”

“I’m making you something with some color.”

He huffed. “Excuse you, I’m a goth in a family of goths. I can’t wear color.”

“Yeah, yeah. Trust me, I know. I’d say Richard is the black sheep of the family in that aspect but he’s the one wearing color.”

He laughed a little. “So Dick is the white sheep, then?”

“Yea --.” She stopped and then squinted over at him. “Dick?”

“It’s what he insists everyone calls him.”

She looked down at her sketchbook for a moment, processing, and then shook her head. “Your brother has a degradation kink.”

Tim brought his hand to his mouth in stunned silence before pulling his phone from his pocket and definitely not informing the family group chat of his discovery.

She snickered and went to work on the outfit again. It was a simple one, because she didn’t want to go too far out of his comfort zone, but there was no way she was going to be friends with a monochromatic idiot.

She leaned over until her head rested on his shoulder. He tensed up just a little before resting his head on top of hers.

When she had finished he took a picture of the planetarium to keep up pretenses and they had made their leave.

… but first, they stopped by the gift shop. Because why not?

Tim could have bought everything there for Marinette -- and probably would have, if asked -- but, considering she had freaked out about five thousand dollars earlier, he figured maybe he should keep that more or less quiet.

Instead, he followed her around while idly bouncing a Saturn shaped bouncy ball. It was a terrible shape for a bouncy ball and he kind of loved it, to be honest. Not to mention the little smile Marinette made behind her hand every time the ball would try another mad dash for freedom was pretty cute.

And then they hit the t-shirt section. And her lips twitched as she reached out and picked up a bright blue shirt that said ‘May the F=MA be with you’ in white text.

“It’s awful. It’s perfect.”

He grinned. “Wow, look at you. You know one of the simplest physics formulas by heart, aren’t you smart?” He joked.

She bowed. “I know, I know.”

He held out a hand for it and she stared at him for a few seconds in confusion.

“I’ll hold it until we get to the front desk.”

She squinted at him. “I’m paying for my own shirt.”

“I can afford it,” he said with a sigh.

“So can I.”

“Either you let me pay for it or I’ll keep track of everything you buy while with me and add it to your commissions.”

“... either you let me pay for it or I’ll never make an outfit for you ever again. I know your measurements and style, Timothy, you won’t be able to get past me.”

They narrowed their eyes at each other, daring each other to call their bluffs…

And then his shoulders sagged. “Fine.”

He’d just have to use his connections to lower prices on fabrics for her. Did he mention that he was rich and mildly famous? Yeah. It was pretty cool.

She smiled as she leaned against the doorframe to her apartment. “Thanks for taking me out. It was fun.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled back. She was determinedly ignoring the way his smile made little butterflies flutter in her stomach. She patently hated butterflies. They weren’t allowed.

“I had fun, too. Want to do it again, sometime?”

“... sure, I guess you passed my test.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Your test?”

“Oh, yeah.” She waved him off. “If you had made any creepy comments today I would have blocked you.”

He seemed a little relieved by this information, though she wasn’t quite sure why. “That’s a pretty good test to have in Gotham.”

“I know, I’m pretty smart,” she said jokingly.

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

Damn it, now she was blushing. Shit.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Do you flatter every girl you take to the space museum? Is this your strategy?”

He snickered. “Well, considering you’re the only girl I’ve taken, I’m going to have to say yes.”

She hummed. “I’m glad I’m so special to you, because that means you won’t drop me when I never give you this jacket back.”

He huffed. “You can’t just do that.”

“I can and will,” she teased. Then, because she wasn’t a completely cruel person, she reached up to her coatrack and pulled down a red scarf for him. “Here, take this so it’s more of a trade than stealing.”

“If I don’t?”

“Then you get to walk back to your house in the cold like that.”

He snorted. “What happened to not wanting to steal?”

“At least I offered!”

He rolled his eyes and leaned down so she could wrap the scarf around his neck.

She looked up at him, a blush spreading across her face, and then carefully draped it over his shoulders. “There. Now you have a splash of color.”

He smiled at her. “Ah, I see, this was all just a plot to get me to wear colors. It all makes sense now.”

“Of course.” She tugged him down more by the scarf to press a kiss to his nose. “You should wear red and black more often. They’re totally your colors.”

He smiled a little dopily. “You have no idea.”

She pushed his face away. “Weirdo. Go be cryptic somewhere else.”

“Fine, fine. See you in a few days.”

“See you then.”

~~~

Bonus Batfam group chat stuff

Timtamalam: What if Dick makes everyone call him that because he has a degradation kink?

LetMeLeaveTheChat: i fucking hate this family.

BloodSon: This is exactly the kind of lowbrow humor to be expected of you, Drake.

Timtamalam: I’m unappreciated in my time.

CAss: :0

Timtamalam: See, this is why Cass is the favorite.

YouDontSeeMe: DickJoke please respond

DickJoke: I raised each and every one of you and this is the thanks I get

LetMeLeaveTheChat: sucks to suck, dickwad.

DickJoke: That’s it when I get through all this dumb Heartless stuff I’m coming back to the manor and we’re all going to have family time

CAss: :(

ItsEggplantNotPurple: damn it

YouDontSeeMe: crap

LetMeLeaveTheChat: fuck. and an extra “fuck” on duke’s behalf.

BloodSon: Look at what you have done, Drake.

Timtamalam: Sorry guys.

#stalker x stalker #maribat #timinette #timari #shutterbug #timmari #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin

84 notes · View notes

bigskydreaming · 3 years

Text

Okay, long time followers will probably remember having read this, but I can’t find the original post and I’m trying to like.....force-reboot/jumpstart me working on my ‘Kings of the Sky’ AU again because I haven’t touched it in awhile and I have like literally eight different installments in various stages of completion and that’s ridiculous even for me. So here’s a repost of the first part of “Teachable Moments” the canon-divergence point of that AU series, where Jason calls Dick for advice after the Garzonas case and everything changes from there.

******

The way Jason Todd warily eyed the device in his hand, one might think it was an instrument of great and terrible destructive power, rather than just…his own personal cell-phone.

To be fair, he was Robin, and pretty used to the idea that even the most unlikely of things could be used for evil in Gotham. It could’ve been stolen and replaced at some point by a henchperson of Mr. Freeze, and using it could unleash some kind of cryogenic freeze ray that would turn him into a Robinsicle. Mad Hatter could be up to shit again, and dialing the phone at this very minute might mean syncing it up with a remote radio signal that would override his natural brainwaves and turn him into Tetch’s mindless minion of like…doom and stuff. Or…or…

Or sometimes, even in Gotham a phone is just a phone, and Freud is still a dumbass. And neither of the above possibilities had anything to do with why Jason was being a giant freaking pansy about entering the last digit of the phone number he would never ever admit to having had memorized for months now.

Nightwing had said to call if he ever needed to talk. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t actually want Jason to call, right? Like, its not as if Jason had remotely been expecting him to do that, so its not the sort of thing someone did just because it was ‘expected’ or shit. He was pretty sure. Rich people manners were weird though. Had to factor that in.

But Nightwing had also even made a point to say not talking to people about stuff was Bruce’s problem and that Jason shouldn’t let it be his problem too, and even though months ago Jason had been a starry-eyed dumbass who was totally drunk on the Bruce is the Bestest Kool-Aid or whatever, ‘Wing had definitely known what he was talking about there. So maybe he’d get it, and having this conversation with him wouldn’t be. Like. The actual worst idea in the history of ever.

Deductive logic said that Jason was getting worked up over nothing and there was no rational reason for him to be this nervous about dialing a fucking phone number. And he’d gotten pretty good at the whole deduction shit, given all the work he and Bruce had put into training his mind to view the world through entirely new paradigms, so Jason was pretty sure his math on that checked out. But on the other hand, Bruce was a hypocritical asshat that Jason was currently not speaking to, so what the fuck did he know about anything?

Aaaaand he was back to square one. Well damn. This was excellent. Very productive. Good hustle out there, Jay.

Sighing gustily, Jason flopped back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to pretend he hadn’t gotten used to how luxurious and cushion-y his ridiculously expensive mattress was. He’d gotten soft, he told himself. Then he scoffed at the idea that the past year and a half of rigorous Robin training and patrols had made him less tough than the pipsqueak he’d been back when living on the street, getting his ass kicked by bigger and badder on the regular. That hadn’t been hardness, that had been bravado.

But it had gotten him this far in life, so maybe there was something to be said for it after all?

Ugh. Decisions were hard. He objected on principle. He also really wanted to understand why he was this nervous…if he could literally fill the guy’s shoes and kick supervillain ass as Robin, what freaking sense did it make that he couldn’t even call him up on the phone?

Maybe you just know better than to ask him questions you don’t really want to hear his answer to, a smug voice said in the back of his mind. It sounded suspiciously like Willis Todd, which was all kinds of weird and fucked up, cuz Jason was damn sure his abusive a-hole of a deadbeat dad had never said anything that insightful in his life.

Which meant it was his own screwed up subconscious - presenting in the voice of his not so dearly departed douchebag dad, no less - that had Jason reacting out of spite, entering the last number and hitting Talk, all while totally on autopilot. Because apparently we’re all making healthy life choices in this Chili’s tonight, Jason snickered somewhat hysterically while his phone rang once, twice, three times.

Ugh. Was he always this fucked up in the head and he just never noticed, or was it a side effect of running around rooftops in a cape. Inquiring minds wanted to know.

“Hello?” Someone said then, answering on the fourth ring. Jason sat bolt upright, his nervous humor vanishing as quickly and unexpectedly as it’d hijacked him in the first place. For all that he’d only actually interacted with the older man a few times, his voice was instantly recognizable. As was his slight confusion.

Right. Because why would Nightwing have the untraceable number of the latest burner phone Bruce had given Jason, when the ever paranoid Bat had him swapping out phones every freaking week? Duh, Jay.

“Uh, its me,” Jason said hastily, as if he could somehow catch up to and overtake the epically long ten second silence he let lapse before his mouth started making words again. “Jason?”

“Jaybird! Hey! What’s going on?” The older vigilante’s tone instantly morphed into one of surprised delight, so apparent even across the phone that Jason actually pulled it away from his ear and stared at it, as if that could explain Nightwing’s inexplicable giddiness. He’d literally only met the dude three times. Give or take a concussion he was forgetting about maybe? Weird.

Then again, the older man was a circus performer from birth. Might just be good at faking being super excited to hear from people? Whatever. Still weird.

“Uh, you said to call if I was ever having, I dunno, issues with Bruce I guess? So I kinda had a question? I mean, if you’re not busy or anything.”

Just one question? Willis’ voice asked snidely, echoing in time with the rapid tripartite beat of Jason’s heart. Since apparently everything Jason said was trying to come out with a question mark attached to the end of it at the moment. Ugh, fuck you, subconscious, Jason thought forcefully, even as he ransacked the recesses of his mind for that bravado he was thinking about earlier. It had to be in here somewhere…

“No worries dude, I’ve got time. Hit me!” Nightwing said cheerfully. His lighthearted cadences were so at odds with the sweat suddenly breaking out on Jason’s forehead, the younger teen couldn’t help but wince in anticipation of its inevitable change once he got his actual question out. This was a bad idea, he decided, way too fucking late for it to make a difference. He had a hunch Nightwing wouldn’t be content to ‘just forget it’ or whatever even if Jason chickened out now.

So he took a deep breath, shrugged and did what Jason Todd did best. Said fuck it, put pedal to the metal, and drove at full speed for the metaphorical police barricade that was his way of picturing all the things telling him He Should Definitely Just Not.

“Do you think I’m someone who could kill somebody in like, cold blood?”

Aaaaand there went the lightheartedness. Well, he’d definitely stone cold killed that, Jason thought grimly into the silence that followed.

“Huh,” Nightwing said at last. “You’re gonna have to give me a second to switch gears here, Jay. I was kinda expecting something along the lines of ‘how do I avoid Bruce giving me the safe sex talk.’”

Jason flushed and nodded jerkily, not that the older man could see it. Still, it’d been enough of a workout just getting to this point. He didn’t trust what might come out of his mouth next if he kept trying to force it. Thankfully Nightwing didn’t make him wait too long before continuing.

“I think anyone’s capable of killing somebody in the right circumstances,” Jason’s predecessor began carefully. Except that was not remotely what he wanted to hear. Or helpful.

“I’m not looking for platitudes,” Jason grit out, not angry at the other vigilante so much as the whole fucked up mess and his inability to think about anything else at this point. “It’s just a simple fucking question. You’ve met me, do you think like, I’d be capable of just killing somebody or not.”

“I’m not offering platitudes,” Nightwing continued calmly, as if he wasn’t phased by the younger boy’s interruption or sudden aggression at all. “And its not a simple question at all. Speaking from experience, most people wouldn’t think of an eight year old as a cold-blooded killer, but that’s what I could have been if Bruce hadn’t stopped me from killing my parents’ murderer when I first tracked him down. And yet that’s still totally different from when I held a gun on Two-Face barely a couple years later, about to shoot him because somebody else told me to, and because I wanted to hurt him like he’d hurt me. Wouldn’t you agree those are two different situations and two different ‘kinds’ of cold-blooded killer? Context is kinda a big deal here.”

Huh. First off…what the fuck? Jason stared blankly up at the ceiling, trying to hurry up the processing functions of his brain because, again, what the fuck? He was like ninety nine percent positive none of that had been in the Dick Grayson Is The Greatest and Here Are All The Reasons Why brochure he’d had read to him every time someone new found out he was Wayne’s newest stray, and like. Uh. Yeah, that part would have definitely stood out. Because once more, with feeling:

“What the fuck?”

Oops. That hadn’t been supposed to be out loud. Bad mouth. Bad.

Nightwing just did a weird kinda half laugh half sigh combo. Rueful, Jason would describe it, if he were describing it to someone else, which it kind of felt like he was, relaying the conversation to himself now that it’d taken a hard right turn into the surreal.

“Blindsided you with that, huh? Sorry, should’ve figured neither of those are the kinda stories Bruce would want to share with you. Then again, I don’t really have any idea what Bruce has told you about me.”

“Not much,” Jason admitted. Which was a major source of irritation, if he was being honest. The much sung praises of Dick Grayson came from literally everyone he met except for Bruce. Who usually just got a pinched expression whenever Jason brought him up, and a rapid subject change that was not nearly as subtle as Bruce seemed to think it was.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Nightwing sighed. “I hope you haven’t put too much stock in anything else you’ve heard about me then. I’ll admit to a bad habit of enjoying my mystique, so secondhand hearsay tends to lose my best nuances.”

Despite himself, Jason’s lips curved up and he let out a rueful huff of his own. “I mean, this definitely isn’t where I saw this conversation going.”

The older man chuckled. “Thought I was going to just assume the worst and chuck the book at you?”

“Well. Yeah.” Jason shrugged, even though he knew it wouldn’t come across. “Bruce did.”

Nightwing heaved an exasperated breath. “Yeah, that’s kinda the thing about B. Sometimes, he’s great. Other times, he’s an ass. Its kinda an either or thing. He’s never really mastered the art of finding a midpoint between two extremes. Mostly because he’s never seen the point of aiming for middle ground.”

“Well its not like he’s ever really had to,” Jason griped. It just slipped out before he could stop it, leaving him feeling guilty for bad-mouthing B when he wasn’t around to defend himself. Especially since he knew Nightwing wasn’t the guy’s biggest fan these days. But he couldn’t deny it also felt good, in a way.

To his surprise, Nightwing just laughed. And not even in a malicious, spiteful kind of way, but almost relieved.

“God, thank you. You’d think that ‘hey, so my billionaire guardian kinda has entitlement issues’ would be a water is wet kind of revelation, but try saying something like that to pretty much anyone else…”

“And they look at you like you’re an ungrateful asshole?” Jason finished for him. Not that he’d ever actually tried saying that to anyone before, though he’d definitely thought it a time or two. But he could all too easily imagine the reactions he’d get, which was pretty much why he’d never gone so far as to speak the words.

“Yup,” Nightwing drawled, dragging out the p and popping it with emphasis. “And its not about being grateful or not, its just…there are some parts of everyone that just aren’t up for grabs, for other people to weigh in on or take charge of, you know? And a lot of people just don’t get that…because nobody’s ever tried it with them, or had to deal with expectations that…overstep, let’s call it?”

“Is that why you left?”

Jason winced the second it left his mouth. Too far. Definitely way too far, but he’d just gotten unexpectedly comfortable with the back and forth, and now he’d done the overstepping thing himself and was left with just dead air.

But ten seconds of heavy silence stretched into twenty, and went no further, as Nightwing sighed into his side of the phone again.

“The spiteful part of me wants to say it was more of a push than me just up and leaving,” he laughed again, but this time with unmistakable bitterness. “But even while that’s true, its not really the right answer to your question, because no matter how much of a clusterfuck that was at the time, its not…I mean, I knew at the time how to fix it. Where and how I needed to cave in order to make up with him and let things get back not quite to normal, but at least close enough.”

The pause wasn’t as heavy or tense this time, as Jason could almost sense the older man gathering his thoughts, trying to put them into words. He bit his lip rather than risk any more unexpected utterances escaping. This might not have been where he’d thought his phone call would lead, but now that he was here, hearing the answers to questions he’d wanted to ask for over a year and finding them almost comfortably familiar, he wasn’t going to risk distracting Nightwing or shutting him up for well. Anything.

“But it would have meant me caving. Settling in ways that I just…couldn’t. So in a way, yeah, I did leave, it was still my choice. And all of that was definitely a big part of it. I love Bruce, I do. I just couldn’t live with him anymore. Not without feeling like I had to give up my own autonomy and just be what he wanted. Or what he’d expected me to grow up to be, back when he first took me in. And as grateful as I am to him for that, I can’t honestly say I would have stuck around back then if I knew that was the price tag attached. I’m not…I don’t do well with people trying to force me to stick to one place, one thing. I was born on the road, you know? When I was a kid, I expected to spend the rest of my life living like that. Home was people. Not places. And so Gotham…its never fit me quite right, the way it does him, or even Barbara. Its not like I was miserable there, its just.”

“It wouldn’t have been your first choice,” Jason finished again, quietly. There was silence again for awhile.

“No. No, it wouldn’t have been. Not then.”

75 notes · View notes

gamerwoo · 4 years

Text

[Tales from the Pack] Chan: Homewrecker (Part Two)

Characters: Chan x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, a little fluff, angst, abusive relationship stuff

Word count: 2,728

Summary: Chan caught your attention as soon as your eyes met across the market. Something about him drew you to him, and you knew you were meant to be. However, you were already taken and arranged to be married on your next birthday, so you could never be together.

Previous | Next | Homewrecker Masterlist

Chan had been wanting to see you all week, but between Luhan and Dae coming to visit to see Eunjin, and then her and her mate going to visit Jiung and his pack for a few days, he felt it was best to stay with the pack rather than go out to the market where he could possibly get himself into even more trouble if he were caught -- he did try to change his appearance like his brothers who had been spotted by people in town, but there was still a chance of getting caught. But as soon as the couple had returned safely from their trip, he went straight to the market to go in search of you.

You returned every day, half because you wanted to get away from your family and their plans for your marriage, and half because you wanted to see the strange boy that had caught your eye. There was just something about him that made you feel…something. You didn’t know what it was, but you knew it was a good feeling.

To your dismay, nobody had shown up all week. You wandered the booths for hours and hours, but you never saw any sign of any of the strange boys from earlier that week. You felt like you wouldn’t actually ever see them again, but what did you expect with your awful luck?

You’d been at the market all day, and judging from the sun in the sky, it seemed to be about mid-afternoon. You had hardly eaten, so you went up to a stand to grab something to eat. Fishing in the pocket of your dress for money, you felt a presence beside you.

“I’ll take care of this,” the voice said before holding a hand out to the vendor, giving them a bill. You stopped what you were doing and turned to the stranger, coming face to face with a grinning Chan as he looked down at you, “Hello again, _____.”

You almost gasped at how happy you were to see him, and your excitement almost had you tossing your arms around his neck in a hug. Instead, you began to bounce on the balls of your feet, making him laugh.

“You’re here!” you exclaimed as he grabbed a fresh apple from the vendor. “I didn’t think you’d come back!”

You didn’t know, but Chan’s heart was soaring knowing that you were waiting for him. He couldn’t fight the happy rumble that sounded in his chest, but it was too loud and busy for you to hear it, “Were you watching for me?”

“All week,” you admitted shyly, your cheeks turning a light pink that made Chan so fond of you.

‘God, my mate is so cute,’ was all he could manage to think when he looked at you and heard you speak.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting,” he smiled, bowing slightly as he held the apple out for you.

With a giggle, you took it and held it to your chest like it was a precious gift, “It’s probably weird of me to want to see you; I hardly know you.”

“Why do you think I showed up today?”

You cocked your head to the side, “Did you really come here for me?”

He shrugged, “I’m not the one who does the shopping, so I have no other reason to.”

Chan heard your heartbeat pick up, causing another happy growl. He wanted so badly to hold your hand and pull you to him and kiss you breathless, but he had to remind himself that not only would that be too sudden, but you still belonged to someone else.

Someone you didn’t want to belong to.

Chan hadn’t mentioned it to any of the pack because he knew they wouldn’t approve, but he planned to offer to take you away from the life he knew you didn’t want. He wasn’t completely sure about your home life, but he wanted to know everything about you. He was determined to get more information before making a final decision.

But at the moment, his only plan was to get you away from your fiancé before you turned nineteen.

“So, _____, how've you been?” he wondered as the two of you began to walk side-by-side through the market.

You hummed softly as you tried to think of everything that had happened the passed week, “Well…my family has gotten suspicious of me going to market every day. They think I’m meeting with a secret lover, apparently.”

“Ah, so that’s what I am?” Chan joked with a chuckle, making your already pink face turn more red. But then he turned serious, scrutinizing your body. “They haven’t hurt you, though, have they?”

You sighed, subconsciously rubbing your left forearm, “They did something a little…extreme…”

Chan’s eyes widened, and he grabbed your hand and tugged you over to a secluded area, covered by shadows from nearby buildings. He put his hands on your shoulders and looked at you intensely, his brown eyes studying you.

“Did anybody hurt you, _____?” he asked.

You shook your head, “No! Well, I mean, the procedure didn’t feel good but--”

“What happened?” he demanded, and you swore you heard him growl.

Part of you didn’t understand why this stranger seemed to be so protective over you. He only really knew your name, yet he was acting so concerned for you. But on the other hand, you liked the feeling. Even your fiancé never really seemed to act like he cared much about your well-being. You weren’t really sure why he wanted to marry you, anyway.

“His family wanted to make sure I wasn’t sneaking off anywhere,” you explained, holding your forearm out for him to see the small, raised scar on your skin, “so they put a tracker in me. They know where I am no matter what.”

Chan didn’t like this one bit. Not only would it make it harder for him to take you away and protect you, but it was just inhumane! Who in their right mind would put a tracker inside a human just because they were paranoid? Werewolves were some of the most territorial creatures when it came to mates, and even he would never do something like that.

He had half a mind to grow his claws out and tear the tracker out then and there.

“Chan!” a familiar male voice shouted behind him.

Before he could do or say anything about your tracker, he turned to see Hansol walking over to him, and Yeji for some reason following behind him with a sunhat on her head to hide her ears.

“What are you doing here, Sol?” Chan wondered.

“Hansol, right?” you asked, recalling his name.

Hansol smiled, but it seemed a little forced, “Hello again, _____. This is Yeji, my… My, uh…”

“Sister,” Yeji said with a chuckle at Hansol’s sudden lapse of thought. “He’s just a little flustered over Chan.”

The pup really didn’t want to be rude, but he had things to attend to, such as making his mate his instead of some asshole’s who didn’t trust her and treated her like some sort of pet. But it was clear Hansol knew something was up with the youngest of the pack by the way he had looked at him and made a point to interrupt his time with you.

“Sol, why are you here?” Chan repeated, a little more forcefully this time. “And why’d you bring Yeji with you?”

“What, I can’t leave the house?” Yeji asked with a playful smile. “Jihoon’s busy with yardwork anyway, and we all know I’m not doing that. Hansol mentioned coming to the market, so I tagged along.”

“So you just came here for fun?” the younger wolf asked.

"Technically, we have errands,” she explained before listing off, “Soomin asked for some supplies, Jeonghan wanted more of that honey bread since Junhui ate the last of it, Josh needs... What did Joshua want again?”

You were lost on everything they were saying, but you were just glad that Chan had come back for you. Something about him felt…safe. You weren’t sure why since he was just a stranger, but it was comforting anyway. He was still better than your family and fiancé, that was for sure.

As if he could somehow tell you were thinking poorly of him, the devil himself made his way through the crowd with two guards, clearly looking for you. He looked up from the device he was using to track you and locked eyes with yours. He didn’t like seeing you with strange people he didn’t know, especially two men.

You visibly gulped, and it wasn’t only Chan that took notice. Yeji and Hansol followed your gaze while Chan tried to grip your upper arms. You quickly shook him off and stepped through the small crowd around you.

“Hello, Donghae,” you greeted him politely, keeping your eyes on the ground as you knew he was angry with you.

“Don’t be afraid of me, sweetheart,” he cooed, which only made you more afraid of him. “Why don’t you introduce me to your friends?”

As much as you didn’t want to – you wanted to keep them as far away from Donghae as possible – you knew better than to go against an order from your fiancé. You turned around as he took your hand and looped it through his arm as if you two were actually a happy couple. However, walking toward Chan and his friends with Donghae so close, you could feel the anger radiating off of him.

Cautiously, you looked up to see all three of them staring at you. Yeji looked curious, Hansol looked curious, and Chan looked downright angry. You assumed it was because he knew what your fiancé had done to you, but you also didn’t want Donghae knowing you told other people about his treatment toward you.

You tried to hold your head up higher, hearing Donghae’s voice in your head calling you a ‘pathetic, shy girl’ like he had done before, “This is my…fiancé, Kwon Donghae.”

The man beside you gave a smug smile, bowing to your friends to play up the ‘good fiancé’ bit. Politely, Hansol and Yeji bowed back to him. Chan didn’t. Thankfully, your fiancé was too busy being cocky to realize.

“Thank you for keeping my beautiful fiancée company,” Donghae told them, although you could tell clearly that his sincerity was an act.

Hansol didn’t seem to think so, smiling warmly at him, “Of course, we really--”

“However, that will not be necessary,” he continued, his smile dropping. Now, he just looked bored speaking with them, as if they weren’t worth his time – which, in his head, they weren’t. “_____ doesn’t need to be babied, and she doesn’t need friends. I already provide her with everything she needs. If I catch any of you with her again, it won’t be good.”

“Shouldn’t that be _____’s choice?” Chan spoke up sharply, his brown eyes glaring straight at Donghae.

He’d never been talked back to since he was the son of a higher-up in town, so he was visibly shocked by this, “Excuse me?”

“Clearly you aren’t keeping her company, so somebody has to,” the dark-haired boy continued. “Besides, she seems to enjoy having some actual fun.”

You didn’t have to look at Donghae to know his angry gaze was on you now. “Is this true, _____? Do you enjoy hanging out with these people over your loving fiancé?”

“Well, I--”

Your chin was grabbed roughly as he forced you to look at him, and you could’ve sworn you heard someone growl. From your peripherals, you saw Hansol and Yeji place their hands on Chan, who was now shaking from anger.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” Donghae ordered through clenched teeth, his face inches from yours. “Now answer me.”

“N-no…” you lied nervously.

He continued to search your eyes for a moment before he finally let you go and stepped away from you, “If you’re not back to my house in fifteen minutes, you’ll be in big trouble. We need to have a chat.”

With that, he turned and left with his little posse of guards that he’d brought with him. The four of you watched him disappear into the crowd before Chan was grabbing your hand in his, automatically calming you.

“What the hell was that?” Yeji wondered quietly.

“_____,” Chan’s soft but intense voice was what made you look away from where Donghae stalked off to. When you looked at him, he definitely still looked angry, but his features softened when he saw how afraid you looked. “I won’t let him do anything to you.”

You shook your head, already having accepted your fate once the tracker was put in your arm, “Nobody can do anything to stop him. His father practically runs this town, and he--”

“Then I’ll take you away from the town,” Chan promised, a small smile forming on his lips. “I’ll take you somewhere they have no power, and you won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

As much as his promise made your heart flutter, you couldn’t help but wonder why this strange boy you hardly knew was telling you he’d risk his life to get you out of your bad situation, “Why do you want to help me?”

He just shook his head at your question, “That’s not important. I’ll try to come see you again, okay?”

“My house is usually empty during the week,” you told him eagerly – maybe too eagerly. “It’s on the same street as the flower shoppe, and there’s pink flowers out front.”

“Oh, I know where that is!” Yeji spoke up. “Chan, I can bring you.”

Chan smiled widely at the older girl before turning back to you. He knew he should wait a little bit as to lessen the suspicion on you. The last thing he wanted was for Donghae to hurt you some more.

“Two days?” he asked.

You nodded, “Two days.”

You made it back to Donghae with time to spare thanks to your running. You were sweaty and out of breath, but you wouldn’t have to face any extra consequences. However, when you went to his room, he was pacing and wasn’t paying any attention to you.

“Donghae?” you asked softly.

“Who was that girl?” he asked you, his voice a mumble as he was deep in thought.

“I…I don’t know.” you told him honestly. “I've never seen her before. Sh-she said her name was Yeji, but...”

“I know she’s not a resident of this town,” he continued, not looking over at you, “and those men you were with also strike me as suspicious. I think those are the werewolves the guards have been dealing with.”

Your eyes widened as your breath caught in your throat. You thought werewolves were just some legend; a scary story. There was no way they were actually real, right? But if Donghae was saying they were…

“…What does that mean?” you asked quietly.

“If there’s a new person being spotted in our town, then they must be imprinting,” Donghae stated, finally standing still in the middle of the room. “They must live nearby if them and their mates are coming to my town.”

He spat out the word ‘mates’, and something about it didn’t make you feel good.

“Not to disrespect you, Donghae,” you began, which made him give you a sharp look. You gulped, “but…what has led you to believe they’re a pack of werewolves? I didn’t even think they existed...”

“Stupid girl, weren’t you listening?” he groaned. “Of course they exist! And our town has been dealing with them for a while now. We had caught one and its disgusting mate, but they got away. Now, this new girl shows up with two suspicious men but they don’t actually have residence here? This Yeji is one of their mates, and the pack must be nearby.”

“What if they’re just out of town?”

“_____, I know a werewolf when I see one!” he roared. “And do you know anything about werewolves, you stupid girl? Hmm?”

You didn’t have an answer for that.

“Exactly,” he stated before calling out for guards. Two of them showed up immediately. “Send a team to the surrounding forest tonight. I’m afraid we have a werewolf infestation.”

212 notes · View notes

thegeneralguy · 4 years

Text

The Champion of Olympus - Zeus´s Zeal

“To your right you can see the ruins of the fabled temple of Zeus, the once deity patron of the city. A statue in his honor was considered a world wonder in the ancient world. Now if you follow me…”

The enthusiastic tour guide waved her little red flag to gather the group of students listening to her. It was a particularly windy summer day when Markie Laur and some of his college classmates were taken on a tour through Greek archeological sites. This excursion was one of the only excuses’ students found in order to participate in this lecture. Markie himself had little to do in a Greek and Roman mythology course, being an engineering major. His two best friends convinced him to join the course so they could do a tour around Europe together. Besides, the free credits were always welcome.

The excursion moved sluggishly through the different ruins in the archeological site. Some students were very interested in the information and keen in on learning more. They engaged in discussion and conversation with the tour guide and their professor. Markie and his friends were none of them. They hung out in the back of the tour. Robert was showing Jordan different bars in Amsterdam on his phone, both plotting enthusiastically how many drugs they would be able to take and how many European girls were they going to take back to their hotel room once they were there. Markie just hung out on the back watching the sites in peace. Although the three 21 year old college students shared the same nerdy nature, Markie was the shyest of the three. He didn´t share the other two´s deliriums of grandeur, nor sexual preference for the matter. His insecure nature made him unsure to come out to the supposedly closest friends he had in college. He was friends with Robert and Jordan out of survival instinct more than true friendship.

Markie and Robert landed in the same dorm room on their freshman year. Jordan was Robert´s hometown neighbor that had the luck of landing in the same college as his best friend. Both were boastful economy majors who tried and failed constantly in on inserting themselves amongst the more popular social circles. Markie was more down to earth than the other two, completely conscious that the combination of his cherub face, short unathletic body and shy personality automatically put him on the bottom layer of the Darwinist ladder that was college life. Robert saw the physical similarities of his roommate as a reason to adopt him into their duo, and so the three of them started hanging out together, playing videogames, making complex plans to get into some fraternity parties and talking about their crushes. Markie just went along with it. Drug use, even though mild was where he drew the line, completely paranoid that he was going to get expelled if caught.

Now the three of them were finishing their sophomore year with cero conquests under their belts, so their trip to Europe was the only hope of Robert and Jordan to get some of the validation they had been craving.

The sun started setting down as the tour started heading towards the information center to compare notes and conclude the visit. The day had gotten increasingly stormy, with dark clouds gathering on the sky and blocking the sunset light. Markie was still on the far back of the group, his gaze scanning the surrounding ruins. He started wondering why the site was so empty, with none other than the little group ahead of him on sight.

“Maybe there´s bad weather coming.”

He thought as a chill crossed his spine. He stopped to take his sweater out of his backpack, completely missing that everyone, including his friends continued advancing down the road until he was left completely alone. Markie put on his oversized college sweatshirt, his body practically drowning in the garment. He looked around searching for his friends, but there was no one on sight. An ominous wind started blowing, moving the grass with an eerie rhythm. The trees rustled next to him, and the faint sound of thunder resonated in the distance.

“Guys? Rob?”

His anxiety started acting out, as he nervously wandered on the dirt road looking for his friends. The path started to disappear slowly, leaving tall luscious grass behind. An unseen force was guiding Markie through the glade. His mind was racing, already making up hundreds of scenarios where he got lost and was never able to return home. He just felt he needed to move forward, and so he did. The breeze around him kept getting stronger, with little droplets of rain being blown straight into his face.

Suddenly Markie found himself right in the middle of the ruins of the temple of Zeus. He recognized them from the tour, being the only part that really caught his attention for some reason. The sound of thunder kept getting stronger, as the air current suddenly started to form a whirlwind around him. The rain had gotten stronger, pouring down furiously and completely drenching him.

Markie started having a panic attack, his breathing getting to the point of hyperventilation. He suddenly felt an incredible pressure on top of him. He looked up to one of the columns and saw a gigantic golden eagle perched on top of it. A bright lightning bolt completely blinded his eyesight for an instant, and when he looked up once again, he was confronted with a vision of the most perfect man he had ever seen.

His gargantuan chest was framed by two sets of enormous shoulders, which were connected to two arms so muscular they must have been around the same girth as Markie´s waist. Powerful legs supported the massive body of the gorgeous man, whose height made him seem double the body size of the little 5´6 college student. The luscious curls of his golden beard fell right in the middle of his chest, as his gorgeous mane of equally beautiful hair framed a face that looked near aesthetic perfection. Features that exuded masculinity, but still kept a supernatural beauty that was only present in the sculptures of antiquity. The man was wearing a white robe tied only on top of one of his shoulders, with big golden bracelets on each of his wrists. The man emitted a light glow from his body, like his whole silhouette was encased in a halo.

“Who—o a—are you? Did I die?”

Asked Markie nervously. His gaze couldn’t find anything else other than the godly fantasy in front of him.

“Silence boy. I´m going to grant you a gift. A gift all mortals would kill for.”

“A gift? Please don´t hurt me. I´m really sorry if I trespassed, I can´t find….”

“I said quiet!”

The man roared with fury. Markie managed to get out a panicked yelp as thunder stroke the ground all around him.

“You really remind me of him. Come and find me when you´re ready. All your questions will be answered. Enjoy it boy, for it will come with a price.”

The man pointed his finger at him. Suddenly Markie felt a jolt of electricity course all across his body. He was afraid he was going to be fried by the stud in front of him. Lighting fell again very close to the man, completely blinding Markie again. When he looked up the storm was gone, and so was the man. He briefly thought he imagined everything, until he felt his soaking wet clothes. He could also still feel the light static effect he felt when the stranger raised his finder towards him. He wondered if his friends had pranked him by sneaking in some hallucinogen into his water bottle when the annoyed voice of his professor grounded him back on reality.

“Mr. Laur, may I remind you that profanation of ancient heritage sites is strictly punished by the law? Come back here this instant. The bus is waiting for us.”

Markie rushed out of the ruins to join his classmates on the bus back into town. He briefly looked back at Zeus´s temple one last time, and thought he saw a big bird fly fast into the sky.

“Whoa man did you jump into the fountain or something?”

Asked Robert when he saw his roommate entering the bus soaking wet.

“Very funny Rob. It was the rain.”

Answered Markie unenthusiastically as he took the seat behind Robert and Jordan.

“What rain dude, its as dry as Angela´s pussy over there.”

Whispered Jordan giggling whilst nodding in the direction of one of their most conservative classmates. Markie didn´t even reply to his friend´s crude comment, as the bus slowly departed the site towards the hotel. Olympia wasn´t a big city, but his classmates had already made plans in meeting in the small bar next to the hotel to talk about the trip so far and have some drinks. Robert and Jordan kept snorting and laughing from time to time watching some random insta-girl´s page.

“What a pair of losers.”

Thought Markie to himself as he pondered on his friends’ blatant misogyny. He kept staring out the window into the dark void in front of him. His smooth boyish face greeted him back on the black window. He took a moment to really look at himself. Other than the childish rounded cheeks and soft features, he wasn´t so ugly. His dark brown eyes gave him a friendly look, and his teeth were straight and white. He could look much cuter if he put some effort into it. Stop shaving his dark brown hair with an electric razor, paid an actual hairstylist to get him on of those popular haircuts every guy on the internet had and get some actual sunlight in order to improve the corpse looking hue on his skin would get him far. He could finally stop hanging out with those guys.

The sudden confidence rush went away as fast as it came, leaving Markie languishing in self doubt once again.

“Who am I kidding? I´ll never have the confidence to be on my own.”

Crippling social anxiety and low self esteem were the true shackles tying him to a lonely existence, not the way he looked. Confidence could completely change someone´s image of themselves, making him attractive to himself and by inertia to others as well.

The sudden epiphany caused a golden spark to light in on Markie´s eyes, just an instant so he could see it, but not slow enough so he could know if it was real or a product of his imagination. The static feeling was slowly turning into a constant tingling spreading all across his body. A droplet of sweat travelled down his temple as he felt his body heat slowly rising. He took away his sweatshirt only to find his equally wet t-shirt clinging to his thin body, but showing a tiny strip of skin belonging to his lower belly. If it were dry Markie would´ve also noticed a certain tightness on the kid sized garment, his torso gaining an almost imperceptible amount of mass. He still felt as if he was being asphyxiated by his own clothes. His temperature was rising so high that he could almost feel a humidity cloud form all around him coming from his wet clothes.

“Markie! Man you´re really off today.”

Markie was so busy fighting his need to rip his t-shirt off so hard he barely noticed the curious eyes of both of his friends staring at him.

“We need to get you some new clothes. You have to look your best if we´re gonna go hunting man!”

Said Robert enthusiastically as he high fived Jordan. Markie just answered with a nervous laugh as he kept trying not to cause a scene in a moving vehicle.

After what felt like an eternity the bus arrived at the hotel. Markie practically jumped out of his seat and rushed towards the exit. He could also feel his jeans ending a bit above his ankles, and his shoes constricting his feet. The first thing he thought was that the water had shrunken his clothes, but after feeling the sensation spread along the static tingling, he suspected this could be related to that fever dream he had in the ruins.

The professor gathered everyone right outside the bus to plan the rest of the evening. Markie stood there impatiently among his fellow classmates feeling increasing discomfort. The tingling turned to numbness, making him lose sensation on his hands and feet. The only thing he wanted was to get back to his room so he could wash himself and get into fresh clothes. His usual nervous expression started turning into an angry sneer, as his impatience grew along with his discomfort. As soon as the professor dismissed them, Markie rushed straight through the small hotel doors directly to the room he shared with his two friends. He got into the bathroom slamming the door behind him.

He was sweating profusely and his body heat started rising so high an actual steam cloud started forming around him. The numbness in his limbs had turn into an excruciating pain, as cramps travelled all across his body tensing the little muscle mas he had. He felt like he was being electrocuted. He looked into the mirror and was greeted by a bizarre image of himself wearing a little kid´s clothes. The t-shirt looked more like a crop top now, the little sleeves were being strained by two longer arms. His pants were riding halfway up his calves. He managed to kick out the shoes that were also clearly a few sizes too small for his grown feet. Markie did his best not to scream in pain due to the sensations assaulting his body.

The small lightbulb illuminating the bathroom started flickering and a small air current started forming around Markie. A sharp pain in his stomach made him turn to the toilet and throw up the little food he had ingested during the day. Shivers crossed his body as the cramps got stronger. He could see the ligaments in his hands contracting and moving on their own because of the strong muscle spasms. He turned his face back into the bowl and retched loudly clasping his stomach, tears of effort running down his cheeks.

“Markie? Are you alright in there?”

Asked Robert knocking on the bathroom door. He was so distracted by the sensations assaulting his body that he completely missed his friends enter the hotel room. He responded with a quiet “yeah” and made a conscious effort in making it sound as calm as possible. The last thing he wanted was those guys seeing him in his current state.

“I´ll be out in a minute.”

Said Markie as he managed to pull himself back on his feet. The wind in the bathroom had gotten stronger, and Markie could swear he could hear the faint sound of thunder inside the room. He grabbed the edge of the sink and looked into the mirror. His face was completely red, and his hair was dripping sweat as if a cloud was pouring rain on top of him. He looked at himself straight in the eyes, and then it happened. A golden color started to seep out of his pupils, changing the brown hue of his iris. It looked like molten gold was being directly injected into his eyes. Once the new color took completely over, the lightbulb started shining so bright it completely burst after a few seconds. Markie heard the glass shards fall on the ground, and the room was left in complete darkness. The only source of light were his iridescent golden eyes.

He tried to move to the side, but he accidentally stepped on a few glass pieces and slipped on the wet floor. He howled in pain and steadied himself with the bathroom sink. He also didn’t realize his hand moved way too close to the electrical outlets next to the mirror. A faint crackling sound could be heard, and white sparks started jumping out of the outlet. Suddenly, a lightning bolt shot straight out of the outlet directly into Markie´s hand. He tried to scream, but not a single noise came out of his mouth. The wind started flowing stronger, forming a vortex with the college student straight in the center. Another lightning bolt coming from an electrical outlet on top of the floor flew straight heading for his other hand. Both currents formed two chain lightning shackles that tied the boy in the center of the room.

Markie felt vertigo, as his growth spurt continued on an accelerated pace, putting him over a foot from his original height. His feet grew proportionally to help him stabilize his now towering stature, the skin on his soles hardening and expelling the glass shards he slipped on earlier. The electric shackles started spreading lighting bolts up his arms and into his torso, completely burning the remains of the already ripped small t-shirt. He felt an excruciating pain while his bone structure changed. His clavicle extended, pushing both of his shoulders further to the sides. His ribcage also expanded together with his waist. The remains of his pants started digging painfully into the skin of his hips. Once the bones finished their transformation, the pain started to subside.

Markie stood in the middle of the room completely disoriented. His new height made everything take on different dimensions and the irregular sparks and lightning bolts were illuminating the bathroom in all kinds of bizarre ways. Not to mention the wind throwing all kinds of hygiene supplies all around. His gaze found his reflection in the mirror. He looked like an underfed giant of a man. It was like the little muscle mass he had was distributed evenly across his new size, leaving him practically just bones and skin. He watched the flashy shackles fascinated, as sparks jumped and squirmed in the air before fading into blackness.

Suddenly, he felt the strong static feeling on his wrists, as lightning bolts dug under his skin and spread through his body. He could feel the electrical current inside of him, the pain of the intense cramps returning in major scale. Electricity was contracting every muscle fiber, breaking and healing them very rapidly. New muscle nuclei started forming as well in order to endure the work the chain lightning was putting them through. Markie´s hands were the first to grow. Delicate long fingers filled with strong muscle, as his palms expanded and hardened. Callouses formed to protect them from the heavy labor they were now designed to do. They looked comically large, comparable to big baseball mitts on a small child. The transformation immediately shot right up his forearms, expanding them to incredible size that would put Popeye out of work without question. Strong sinews connected his powerful hands to his elbows, giving them a vice like strength too atop of their intimidating look. His upper arms picked up on the growth too, biceps inflating to the size of a cantaloupe and triceps completely defying gravity jutting so far out the back of his arms it looked like someone had welded big horseshoes on his already enormous arms. The shoulders expanded next, gaining epic proportions comparable to a pumpkin on top of each arm. Markie gritted his teeth in pain as he caught a glimpse of what has happening to him. He looked like a doll that had gotten the arms of a He-Man toy accidentally glued on his lanky torso.

A strong spasm in his chest caused him to fall forwards, the shackles on his arms preventing him from touching the ground. He was scared for a second, he was having a heart attack, as each pectoral muscle twitched and pulsed manipulated by the electric current. His chest started inflating rapidly in all directions, rising high on the top reaching for his chin, and squaring off in the bottom, leaving a big shelf hanging from the distressed student´s upper body. The electric bolts reached for his nipples, hardening them and expanding them until the former tack sized miniatures grew to a more manly dollar coin size.

Markie could feel the electricity running all across his spine, engorging his back so support such a top-heavy body. His traps developed in the upper part, reaching for his ears, and his lats expanded to the sides pushing the gargantuan arms to the sides on a permanent forty-degree angle. His lower back developed strongly to support the heavy muscle on the top. Then he felt as if someone was punching him straight on his stomach, as each individual abdominal muscle popped from his midsection, carving a deep valley in the center of his body, and leaving him with a truly enviable small waist that made the proportions on the upper body look more freakish.

The cramps then travelled down his waist, focusing on his practically non-existent glutes, contracting and twisting them. His ass started to slowly inflate into two pairs of gravity defying boulders, completely ripping the rest of his pants and leaving Markie with his tight white briefs, which looked more like a thong being swallowed by the two monstrous muscles. His manhood was left completely ignored by the electrical current, leaving him practically flat on the front. Each quadricep spasmed and developed deep cut muscle, growing to gigantic proportions in order to move this behemoth of a body around. Calves inflated next leaving him with two powerful football looking muscles ready to propel Markie in whichever direction he wanted. His feet were the last part of his body to change, filling with powerful strength to support the now card-carrying bodybuilder.

As soon as the last part of his body concluded growing, the electrical shackles were absorbed into Markie´s body. He started to emit a faint glow, dimly illuminating the bathroom. His pale skin took on a golden hue. He looked into the mirror once again and he saw his face with two glowing eyes on top of a body that wasn’t his. The miniature storm inside the room also subsided, leaving him quietly staring into the mirror.

“Is that really me?”

Asked Markie to himself whilst touching his powerful chest. He accidentally brushed one of his nipples with his hand, and it caused a small electrical current to travel across his chest. Only this time it wasn´t pain what he felt, but pleasure. Markie had a very prude attitude, barely exploring sex by himself, let alone with somebody else. But this sensation sparked something else in him. An instinct buried so deeply within insecurities, that it had remained imperceptible to him. But something inside his was pushing him to do it again, to finally unleash the real him.

“I can´t believe it. This can´t be real.”

Markie raised an arm and flexed. Powerful muscle twitched and pumped inside of him, his bicep raising higher and higher. He chuckled slightly. A quiet laugh that increased in intensity, as Markie explored and felt every new part of his anatomy. He then took his other nipple between his fingers and pinched it slightly. An even stronger pleasure jolt shot across his body.

The college boy was becoming less and less of a boy the more he touched himself. Confidence was flooding every inch of his being. Someone who looked like a God should behave as a God as well thought Markie, while his slow caresses of his body turned to an intense erotic massage. His hand touched the deep crevices of his abdomen, and slowly found its way to the boy´s less than impressive endowment.

“This simply won´t do.”

Said Markie in a quasi-trance like state. He slowly reached to the electrical outlet again, and focused all of his energy in summoning that spark again. His call was quickly answered, as an intense lightning bolt shot straight towards his hand again.

“Yes. Give me more. More strength. More power.”

Said Markie, his boyish voice taking on a powerful commanding voice. He then took the hand connected with the electricity to his crotch, and grabbed his bulge once again. The electricity then travelled directly into his manhood, shotting bolts of pleasure all over Markie´s body. His mind was filled with images of intimacy, of epic scenes of desire and encyclopedic sexual knowledge.

“Fuck yeah. More.”

He cursed for the first time in his life, while the overwhelming sensation clouded the last of his senses and erased the old Markie from existence, leaving a blank canvas for his new godly persona to take place. His manhood started growing to divine proportions, completely straining the briefs to the point of breaking. White tatters fell to the floor, as his equine endowment raised straight and up, reaching almost a foot in length. Like the rest of his body, the girth proportions adjusted too, leaving him with practically an extra limb on his lower body, as thick as a baby arm. His testicles inflated like water balloons until each was the size of a lemon. The powerful divine seed inside them started seeping it´s essence to the rest of his body, as Markie reached the final step of his transformation.

His neck thickened, and his moans of pleasure started dropping in pitch until his boy-like cadence reached an intimidating deep baritone. He grunted as his mandible contorted and expanded into comic book hero proportions. A cleft formed on his powerful chin, and his teeth grew to fit the new size of his mandible. His lips thinned out giving him a serious look. The baby fat on his cheeks evaporated, leaving sharp angular features behind. His nose remained straight, but grew to accommodate the aesthetic of the new man´s face. His brow expanded and hooded over his eyes, giving him a stern serious look.

His shaved brown hair then started growing on the top, parting sideways and acquiring a thick silky texture, along with a golden tone. The new blonde´s body hair flourished right afterwards. Clear body hair sprouted on his forearms and on top of his hands, but the rest of him remained smooth. The hair in his pits and on his pubic region also changed to a blonde hue, before falling down leaving the new man completely shaved. Changes in the hair follicles were made, as this was a very hairy man that manscaped regularly. Thick stubble then grew on his face, leaving a permanent five o´clock shadow. Finally, a thick mustache and a soul patch formed around his mouth, completing the transformation.

Where once stood a puny college student, now stood a complete god of a man. The former 21 year old looked almost a decade older, not that it would worry him too much because his mind also started changing to accommodate the new bodybuilder. His fears and worries completely evaporated, leaving behind a man that lived in the moment. He ate when he wanted to, he went where he wanted to and he fucked whenever he wanted to. His repulsion for his nickname grew, and he decided to adopt his full name from ow on. Where there was once a Markie now stood Marcus, the champion of the thunder god Zeus.

He flexed and roared in triumph as one last lightning bolt shot through the outlet reaching him. Veins started popping on his arms and legs, like lightning coursing through a stormy sky. He turned around and opened the bathroom door, stepping into the world for the first time.

“What do you think of this one?”

Said Jordan whilst showing his friend one of the many fedora hats he brought to the trip.

“Who cares? Fedoras aren’t cool anymore man. It´s all over the internet, look it up.”

Answered Robert exasperated of having to go through another wardrobe dilemma. He couldn´t stop thinking about Markie and his weirder than usual attitude these last couple of hours. His roommate had been in the bathroom for a while now, but there was no sound coming from the bathroom ever since Markie answered him, he was fine.

“Do you think Markie is okay in there?”

He asked Jordan, who barely looked up from his suitcase.

“I don´t know. But who cares man? Less dead weight for us when we go for the chicks later.”

“He´s not a dead weight Jordan. I know Markie is shy and kind of weird, but he´s a great guy. Trust me, I know. I live with him.”

“We both know why he´s like that. Not that I have anything against it, but its impressive how he thinks no one realizes the way he looks at those douches from the frat sometimes.”

“He will tell us whenever he´s ready. And even if he´s not it´s okay. He will still be my friend. And I hope yours too Jordan.”

“Come on man. I like gay dudes. Less competition for us. I just don´t want him to ruin our hunt with his angst when we go out to the bar.”

“It´s about time to get going though. I´m gonna ask Markie if we should meet him directly in the bar, if It hasn´t confused him with a child and kidnaped him through the sink.”

Both friends laughed at the reference just as Robert approached the bathroom door once again.

“Markie my man, we´re gonna get going. You can meet us there if you want, but don´t feel rushed take your time. Hope that you´re okay though.”

He said knocking lightly on the door. A faint grumble could be heard on the other side, but Markie didn´t answer. Robert took that as a response, and he turned around to prepare his stuff and go.

Suddenly, the bathroom door opened with such a force it ripped it out of it´s hinges. A blinding light was coming from the bathroom, together with enough steam to turn the small hotel room into a sauna. Robert and Jordan watched completely in shock as the new Marcus stepped out of the bathroom, his whole body enveloped in a golden halo. Both college students looked tiny in comparison to the enormous wall of muscle standing in front of them.

“Who—o a—are you? Whe—ere´s Ma—arkie?”

Managed to squeak Robert nervously while his eyes scanned every mountain and every valley that composed the behemoth´s body.

“It is Marcus now, my friends. Come and bathe in all my glory.”

Said Marcus while raising both of his arms and flexing his latissimus muscles, completely eclipsing the now small in comparison bathroom door. A potent smell started wafting through the air, impregnating the steam with masculine pheromones coming directly from the giant´s underarms. Both Robert and Jordan were put in a trance like state, and approached the shining man.

“Yes. Come to me. I will show you the true meaning of pleasure.”

Deep primal instincts were awoken in both boys. Lust, submission and adoration completely eclipsed the nervous feeling both had. As soon as their hands touched Marcus´s chest, an intense shock of pleasure shot through both of their bodies, travelling directly to their brains completely burning their old personas out of their heads. Both boys had their irises completely drained of color, leaving white mindless eyes behind. Marcus took each one of them by their waists and pulled them close. Their hands started exploring the giant´s body, leaving a trail of sparks jumping off the radiant skin.

He then leaned down to kiss Robert, while Jordan worked his way down licking the sweat off his chest and descending slowly through the cobblestone road on his midsection. His giant manhood was already hard as an iron bar, eager for attention. As soon as Jordan´s mouth made contact with the pulsing member, a strong stream of electricity started inundating his body. The small muscles spasmed and expanded to ridiculous proportions. The small belly he had grown out of eating too many pizza slices and drinking mountain dew evaporated into this air, leaving a hard six pack behind. His chest raised, forming two pillows sticking far out of his chest. His limbs contracted and expanded into heroic proportions, leaving the new man at least a hundred pounds heavier with pure lean mass. He stayed at the same 5´6 height, making the new man a fireplug of a bodybuilder.

He had already kneeled down and was worshipping the godly pole in front of him, savoring the nectar coming from the tip as if he was drinking ambrosia directly from the source. His face cracked and rearranged leaving brutish heavy features, but still holding onto some beauty. Age seeped into his skin and his muscles, seasoning them with the hardness of a more adult male. All his hair fell down, except his eyebrows, leaving the man completely smooth. His skin took on a stronger golden hue than Marcus, without the glow.

Meanwhile Marcus was inserting his large tongue into his former friend´s mouth, completely invading him. Robert´s jaw cracked and rearranged into a sharp square. His cheekbones raised and the fat melted off his face, leaving a shockingly handsome face behind. Unlike his friend, Robert stayed young, his visage devoid of any single imperfection. He slowly grew up a couple of inches, but still remaining far off the height of the god sodomizing his mouth. His body then expanded, muscles piling on top of each other, but also craving themselves deep into his body. His former chubby physique completely shed off any excess fat, leaving him at a single digit body fat percentage. His chest didn´t hang as far as Jordan´s, but it squared off in the bottom as if being carved out of a marble statue by a classical sculptor. His eight pack was accentuated by the sharp Adonis belt pointing downwards. His legs and arms grew muscular, each individual sinew visible thanks to the thin skin on top of them. He had a bit less mass than his kneeling friend, but was way more defined. His body hair also fell down entirely, leaving the new handsome hunk as smooth as his former best friend.

Both new men´s manhood stayed the same size though, which made them seem much smaller on their larger bodies. Marcus then looked at his two new servants. He was completely conscious he was their master and demanded their adoration, but also felt a deep bond to them. He was free to fornicate with whomever he wanted to, but these two were going to be forever bound to him, desperate for his love and addicted to his divine masculinity. As for the two men worshipping their new master, their sole purpose of existing was serving and pleasing this new god among men.

He then ordered the former Jordan to lay on the bed, and pushed the former Robert right next to him. Although it was his sexual debut, Marcus felt as if he had done this for all of eternity. He was ready to claim what was his and become the supreme being he was destined to be.

The students evacuated the hotel in panic, together with their professor and fellow guests. An unusually strong lightning bolt had stricken the small building, completely blowing up an entire corner. Three students were missing. Cries and sirens resonated through the night sky. The professor tried desperately to communicate with the local authorities, completely ignorant that the three students had disappeared forever.

A car approached the ruins of the temple of Zeus. A giant figure then got out of the vehicle, accompanied by two large silhouettes that stayed behind. Marcus approached the center of the ruins. He was wearing a tight pair of black underpants, unable to find any other fitting clothes. Not that he needed to, his enormous body produced large amounts of heat, and still emitted a low shine highlighting him in the darkness. He had no need to hide. He was a gift to humanity, their savior. Anyone should feel blessed and humbled on his presence.

A lightning bolt fell directly in front of him, but the man stayed completely unfazed. Zeus appeared in front of him, still towering over the new Marcus, but seeming less than a giant next to the behemoth in front of him.

“You turned out very well. I was not mistaken in choosing you Marcus Laur.”

Said Zeus examining his perfect handiwork. He would say he was surprised by how well the job was made, but it was he who had done it, so it was only natural it was perfect. Marcus bowed in front of his creator and said with a respectful, but firm tone.

“Your words are my command my lord. What is it that I should do?”

Zeus´s stern face showed a glimpse of joy.

“I need you to be my envoy on this world, imprinting it with my will, which shall be your own. Humans are sheep, you shall be their shepherd. Come to the base of Mount Olympus. I shall put you through fearsome trials. Fear not though, with my power as your own you shall overcome them without problem.”

He then looked at the two muscular men standing right next to the car.

“I see you already got a taste of your powers. Good. You have two weeks to discover and reach your full potential. Do not fail.”

“Thank you, my lord. I shall not disappoint you.”

Marcus watched as lightning fell again, and Zeus disappeared. The golden eagle was already flying out of sight in the night sky. Zeus was very pleased with himself. He had many things in mind for his new toy. Not ever since meeting Ganymede had he felt an infatuation like this for a mortal, only this time he used his will to turn him into his ideal for true human beauty, and he imbued him with some of his divine power. His desire was going to burn the other competitors out of the way, thought the god of thunder. Marcus would become the Champion of Olympus.

#musclegrowth #transformation

129 notes · View notes