#making those gifs yesterday had me wake up in the middle of the night thinking about the game again

[thewrittingpan]

Painting Lies 3

Phinks x reader, Fetain x reader, Shalnark x reader

Tigger and content warnings include but are not limited to: blood, gore, violence, kidnapping, abuse, mental health issues, trauma

Wc: 6501

Tumblr links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Ao3: Here

You think you remember the two blonds being there, but you also remember your legs being twice their usual size. Honestly you just stared at the ceiling for a bit wondering what the hell was going on in your head. For all you know you did get into a fight with a giant blanket yesterday but also you felt like you had somehow completed an entire treasure collection in that game you played. Everything in the dream was too close to reality for your liking.

“Hey Phinks?” You looked out into the hall to see if he was up.

“What?” The door across the hall from you opened.

“Weird question, did we have a staring contest during dinner or did I dream that?”

“That kind of happened.” he went to close the door.

“Okay, did you play video games yesterday with me watching?”

He looked at you terribly confused, “no?”

“Did we set up the table?”

“No, shalnark did.”

“Did I go to the basement? Does the basement have a whole art studio too? Because I dreamed there was like some art supply store or something in it and I feel like I'm going insane.”

“Yes to both.”

“Okay okay, now the part that ia really fucking with me is that i swear i woke up in the middle of the night-”

“You did.”

“-and you and the other guys were there-”

“Correct.”

“Then I got kissed goodnight by the three of you? And like some drink that you see moms in movies make for kids after a nightmare?”

He stood looking at you, you had no idea what he was thinking, honestly he looked as confused as you were.

“That didn’t happen, those two just wanted to see you before leaving.”

“Weird.” You mumbled to yourself. “It all felt like stuff that happened or could have.”

Everyone had dreams that left them confused when they woke up, or well you think everyone does. Waking up from them can vary, like with every other kind of sleep. When it came to “what the fuck happened who am I” level of confusion dreams waking up in anyway that left you dazed was not a good thing. What you personally think is worse is when you don’t feel like you have been asleep, or when you think you haven't had a dream.

Your thoughts fizzled out until you could have been a cartoon character with smoke coming out of their head. Confusion sticks, the whole day would probably feel off, and hell you might just fall back asleep with how just trying to think through it all was driving you mad.

“Are you going to spend time around the house or in your room?” Phinks was leaning against the door frame.

“Oh-“ you sifted through your ideas to keep yourself entertained.

There were the new games you’ve been given, but the clearly visible camera in your room had been creeping you out. You had some books but part of you couldn’t stand the idea of reading at the moment, something in your bones felt like they couldn’t find a comfortable way to sit to read. Maybe you could draw- there was that sketch you wanted to paint.

“I might go paint something?” You asked him.

It felt like you were allowed to go paint down there whenever, or that was the ideal goal they had with showing you it. Though there was something about this house, even with Shalnarks advice of Phinks being surprisingly soft, you felt like you were standing on an inch of ice and it was already waiting to break.

He nodded, “Not a bad idea, just don’t go past the curtain, Fetain doesn’t like anyone touching his things. I’ll make something simple to eat, I’m not much of a cook so you’ll have to put up with it or make your own food.” He walked past you towards the kitchen, “I’ll stay down there to make sure you don’t go poking around in things you don’t want to see.”

Yeah totally not threatening or creepy in the slightest. Hell part of you felt like a horror movie character right now, that vague warning only made you want to see what was down there. As you gathered your sketches your mind ran wild. The stairs in this unfinished basement were creaky wood. You looked at your feet as you descended, the wood was nice and sanded, with no nails that you could notice. Yet your mind drew with jagged lines, poorly put together stairs covered in splinters. That would be too empty, not enough visual interest but something could be drawn from those mental images of stairs. Maybe if something was spilling down the stairs it would be interesting, something twisted hidden in the shadows or beneath the stars themselves, something hard to notice but once you do it’s shocking.

You pulled out a pre-stretched canvas. For a while your hands hovered over two, each size would have its benefits, the smaller ones could make the figure have a “weaker” tone. Though the larger would allow the grotesque details you were longing for. Yet you could alter your concept slightly and “zoom in” on a smaller canvas, get up close and personal with the spine. You propped them both up so you could more easily compare them while sorting through your sketches. You tore them from the sketch book with a strange chaotic need. They were spread out across the cold concrete floor. Scattered and overlapped so they could all be seen without taking up much space. It was a kaleidoscope of paper and ink, and you were the crazed lunatic who had created it.

“You’ll have to pick those up when you finish painting.” Phinks stepped down the stairs holding a large plate full of scrambled eggs and waffles. “Or do you think you’ll need to have them spread out while working?”

“Do you have tape?” You asked, “Something stronger than a basic office tape, I could hang them on the wall?”

“Eat some, I’ll find some.”

The food was weirdly over and under done. The waffles had parts that were slightly more runny than they should be but the eggs were concerning. Parts were crispy and almost burnt, while the rest was fluffy, almost as if he had gotten distracted and almost made a bad omelette.

“Duck tape and packing tape.” He placed one roll of each on the table beside you.

“Oh, thanks, that’ll work fine.”

He was quiet, but it wasn't the same way Fetain is. Fetains silence was a threat, one you had grown used to. He had this weight to him that was impossible to ignore when alone, though he easily blended in and was easy to ignore in a group. Phinks was almost the opposite. You never noticed him when it was just him, though that didn’t mean you trusted him in the slightest. There was a comfort to him, familiar almost, half memories of moments with an old friend or a split second where you almost felt like you were sitting in the room with a long forgotten family member. Warmth tried to spread through you, you desperately wanted to trust him when you felt the familiarity, but how could you when you knew nothing about him.

You taped away. Deformed figures, haphazard diagrams and sketches of anatomy from memory. While each sketch held some semblance of a thought, a firework of an idea, sometimes you found that the best ideas grew when you worked without a clear thought. Molding fog and light created forms and shapes that you may overlook, sometimes you could compare them to an instinct, or a deep need to connect with something you had yet to fully understand.

These things made the beginning difficult but one of the most fun parts of it all. Every thought could be quickly scribbled out, fulfilling the urge to create, but not held back by perfection. It was wild, untamed, which made it unpredictable. A great idea could last a second before flickering out while a bad one could haunt you, not because the idea’s roots were rotten but because the branches had been infested by a failure to succeed.

You stared at the sketches of green bruises. The needles poked through skin, emerging from the bones themselves. Single drops of blood would sit atop the skin, staining it, drying deeply into the grooves. If the dirt and grime of the depicted horror went untreated it would stain not only the mind, but cling to the body like death itself, unable to be removed with hours upon days of scrubbing. It would always feel dirty, and you could always end up permanently stained.

This gorey twist that you adapted in your work was a little strange, even you had to admit it. You didn’t like the idea of torture porn when it came to horror movies, which some found surprising, clearly you didn’t hate it, but there had to be something gained from it. In your pieces you wanted each graphic mark to mean something, there needed to be a story you could read into if you wanted, but often they became reflections of struggles. It was relaxing, in the way that snapping and throwing something can make you sigh and sob after the frustration was finally released.

The thing about art is that it sucks ass. While it can be a weight off your shoulders and drain all of the stress out of you, it could just as easily make you want to stab someone’s eyes out. Staring at pins and needles for long enough just made you want to see your eyes shut so you didn’t have to see them everywhere else. Even closing your eyes made you think of the horrible blotchy shading that just did not want to work because you didn’t think and added too much water to your paints. Hell every time you groaned in frustration your fucking kidnapper look scared. So you tossed the brushes in the sink and worked on scrubbing out the paint before you ruined them right away.

“Do you usually work in these long multiple hour sessions?” He asked you over the sound of running water.

The water was cold, dangerously so. Your fingers toyed with the hair gently mixing small amounts of soap into it. This rhythmic movement helped calm you down and get out of the “holy mother of cats why won’t things go right” headspace that you got stuck in.

“Yeah, that’s common, anything less than three is an oddity.”

“I guess I just didn’t understand how hard it was.”

“Every job is kinda like that.”

You left the brushes on a spread out towel to dry. The pallet of rapidly drying paint was still there and there were a few reasons for why you didn’t clean off the paint; it’d ruin the plumbing, it was half dry anyways, you didn’t care, and it was fun to peel off later. If that little thing could give you some control maybe it would be worth it to wait and try to earn a way out.

Part of you felt like you were giving up too easily, that you had already lost your will to fight when you woke up that first day. Yelling at yourself wouldn’t do anything and you knew that but you felt like it was your fault. Perhaps you’re just the circus elephant tied to nothing. Yet you didn't blame yourself, or at least not as much as you think you were supposed to. Playing along and being good allows for you to be taken as a cute little pet that might be too frightened to try anything. Maybe other kidnappers are different.

You looked at Phinks from when he was leaning back in the folding chair balancing on its back legs. He was large, so much strength loomed over him, making him seem like the biggest in the room. Some damn part of him made you both think he was some jockey asshole like in movies and tv, or some large warm hearted man, though the latter seemed like a stretch.

“You’re starring again.”

“I’m thinking.”

“About?”

You gathered up the sketchbook you had ripped a handful of pages out of. You should lie. Shalnark said something like “he wasn’t perceptive” right? What if you were wrong? What about telling the truth? Would he kill you in anger? Slam you into the wall? Be the manifestation of the shadows from the covered half of the basement that had been driving you crazy, pulling you back and deep down into its maw, screaming as you die from-

“Just say it, I’m in a good mood, I don’t want it ruined with some anxiety attack because you’re scared to say someth-.”

“I don’t know how to feel.” You didn’t turn back to him as you walked towards the stairs, stopping at its feet, so he knew you weren’t trying to run away. “I don’t want to upset you or the others and risk dying or something arguably worse. I feel like everything has to be said correctly or not at all so I don’t find out someone is secretly more delusional than a damn LSD trip.”

You heard the chair squeak a bit as he stood up and walked towards the stairs, he didn’t stop like you and slowly started climbing them, slowly so you could continue.

“I should be scared, angry, maybe I should try to kill someone, or myself, try to escape? I don’t know, I can’t do any of those. I don’t want to, I hate how nice my room was, there was so much thought, so much detail, it felt so real, so close to my messy room. It creeps me out, enjoying the food, the room, the clothes, even the personal products make me feel like I graduated from a top academy with no debt and no depression.”

You lead him down the hall towards the living room. “I haven’t even looked outside you know, somehow I feel like it’ll make or break the dream. I think it might make me try something stupid, make me snap or something. I want to feel okay but I don’t, and when I don’t want to feel okay I do!” You ripped the curtain open, startling yourself.

“Did the window change anything?”

Woods. Beautiful moss covered trees that stretched far. The fire kissed trees rained down their leaves and it looked gorgeous. It reminded you of that date with the cats, the betrayal, of this fuck up of yours. It was something akin to heaven in your eyes, a perfectly twisted picture.

“I miss home.” You said finally tears slipping through your horribly masked emotions. You turned from the window stepping away from its bright light and into your dark room. You didn’t close the door fully behind you, it was very easy to look through the gap.

The blankets were smooth but when you burrowed into them to avoid everything, they felt fluffy against your skin. Even as your breath filled the underneath of them with hot air that felt suffocating, you accepted it with open arms. Stale warm air was unpleasant but it felt like the first warmth you’d felt in eons. The world outside this nest was cold and cruel, and you felt chained to the bed the more you thought about it.

The room's gentle darkness left you thinking as you tossed and turned. You fought back sobs but didn’t care about the tears that leaked down your face. Your sweetest boy laid next to you, his paw resting atop your hand as you faced him and the wall. You longed for the comfort of your real bed, sitting on the small balcony with your cat as he stared wide eyed at the birds.

Maybe you could have avoided this. Maybe if you had kept to yourself, avoided people like you had grown accustomed too, you could have continued your life. It didn’t change the fact that you were here now, but you were haunted by it. Those dark eyes at the damn exhibit. Why did it have to happen? Were you a fool? Were there any signs that you could have noticed? No matter how much crying you did or didn’t do you hated every second you were left to think about anything. Each damn second made you manic, and every other one made you depressed and unable to move. You felt so nauseous that soon you just vomited and sat on the bathroom floor headhung as you finally sobbed.

It was loud and obnoxious, you were lucky only one other person was home. It bounced off the walls. Phinks could definitely hear you. It was the kind of sob that was scratchy and full of angry screams, perfect for a tantrum that would destroy everything in a close area. You felt like a toddler who had been told no when asking for candy, a brat who wanted something. It felt like you were the problem even if you were just a victim of your surroundings. Yet you screamed and cried until your throat was sore, until it felt like it could have been bleeding, and you choked on the bubbling sobs as snot filled every airway.

You laid in a puddle of yourself, not moving when the front door opened and slammed shut. Unblinking as keys jingled down the hall with heavy footsteps. Looking with tired weak eyes, up at Phinks who stood, with plastic bags in hand, his face red and his eyes looking at the wall instead of you.

“It’s late, Fei and Shal want you to have a routine but they're not here… come stay up late and watch a movie or something? Shal bought some of your favorites and ones you’ve talked about! I have some chocolate, or popcorn if you’d like? I’m not sure what you all like when it comes to movie snacks…”

Your voice was so scratchy it hurt to hear you speak. “Please…” you whined as he helped pull you up and onto the living room couch.

He handed you the bags, a multipack of tissue boxes, an assortment of chocolate, popcorn, beer, teas, sodas, chips... You dug through it all and he returned with blankets in hand and a stuffed animal he knew you were attached to, that they all knew you were attached to.

He sat next to you, draping the blankets over you. He pulled a box of tissues out handing one to you. “Use the bag as a garbage bag for now.” He laid out everything haphazardly. He gently pulled your head down onto his lap and pressed the remote into your hand.

The blue glow of the tv puts you to sleep soon enough. It didn’t matter if it was one movie or ten, you were asleep, as soon as you were Phinks was too. You used his lap as a pillow, and Phinks leaned back, his head tossed over the couch’s back, his mouth hung open with a light snore as the tv eventually turned itself off.

In the morning you woke up when the keys turned to open the door’s lock. It made you jolt awake as the door was pushed open. Shalnark was clicking through his phone as he carried in a handful of something.

“Oh, you’re both up? How was the movie night?”

You sunk into the blankets giving back into your exhaustion. “Okay.”

You said it mostly to avoid any upset feelings on his end, the movie night was a nice way to avoid it all. You hated it considering everything, but those few hours of just zoning out at the tv and falling asleep to your favorite movies made you fell like home. You could imagine it so vividly it is what lulled you to sleep, the house didn’t have that smell of the three men, it was your home filled with cat fur, paints, and gesso.

You could feel the canvas frame from when you had to custom build one for a commission. Having to stretch it yourself, and you struggled to pull it back enough for it to hold well. The frame was obnoxiously large, you couldn’t fathom how they had the money to commission it or why they’d need one this size. That one had become a secret favorite, it was in someone’s private collection, an anonymous commissioner. You remember them sending someone to pick it up, which was strange, but if someone had that money how weird could it really be?

“Fei will be appearing soon, he has to drag something down to his office.” Shal giggled to himself speaking without catching his breath. “He’s surprisingly very interested in the work he brought back. It’s like a cat that got a hold of a mouse and doesn’t want to let it go.”

He set his envelope of papers down on the table, and sat down next to you on the couch. He was in front of you really, your back pressed firm against the couch nearly sinking into the cushions and the framework. Shalnark was turned slightly so he could face you and Phinks easily, his knees pressed against the front of the couch and one of Phinks’ knees. He breathed in deeply, his breath pushing both his stomach and chest out, he sort of chuckled as he sighed and leaned over to rest his head on the sofa’s back next to Phinks’ shoulder.

“I missed being home.”

Phinks and you didn’t say anything in response. Maybe Phinks secretly hated Shalnark, well, obviously not, but his silence kind of confused you. He cared deeply about the two from what you could tell, but who's to say you were ever good at reading the room. Your view upwards was obstructed by Shalnark hovering-leaning over you. Phinks moved his arm, you could see its shadow crossover you briefly, but you didn’t see what he did. Shalnark sat there resting with the two of you, this serene glazed look to him. He looked so pleasant, his hair hanging in his face, and his eyes closed.

He did eventually move, while he seemed content that was in no way comfortable to sit there for long. Shal eventually collected his things and ran off to go put them away. You gathered up the mess from the night before. Phinks took the trash out, you saw the cement steps out front as the door opened, and cool air rushed in to kiss your cheeks. The cat with wide eyes watched him complete his chores from the window, while you avoided looking at them. It was easier to stay busy with wiping the table and stacking the coasters in a neat pile in the center.

You kept wiping the table. Slow circular motions as you dazed off. The window just hurt you. Its clear glass was a mirror of your betrayal and gentle suffering, every damn time you saw that view it reminded you of the damned date. That date would remind you of his hands in your hair as you sobbed into his lap. What kind of suffering is this all? To be cursed with the inability to act, but blessed with a comfort of home and kindness. though it came from triplet tyrants. What tragedy had you fallen out of?

You went about giving yourself chores, dusting the shelves and tv stand, sweeping the kitchen floor, making a few pancakes with a box mix you had found, then cleaning up the mess you had made. Your hour or two of small chores only could keep you distracted for so long. You could hear Shalnark from his room, typing away on a keyboard and flipping through papers. When you walked past the basement you could hear things being moved around. It was faint and muffled, almost like you were hearing things, you wanted to go down there, the curiosity haunting you, but I’d anyone scared you the most it was Fetain.

You pushed open Phinks’ door. He had looked up at you as you did, but he didn’t say a thing, just motioned for you to come in. It was simple, navy sheets that were wrinkled, a strange mixture of pillows that didn’t have matching cases. There were some clothes lying around the room and the closet was open. He had a simple fold up chair in the corner and some green running jacket thrown across it. He didn’t have curtains, just the plastic blinds though some were bent and damaged. The closest thing to decoration was a digital clock on a wooden stool made bedside table and high quality at home gym equipment on the floor and tucked away into the closet.

“Need something?”

“I’ve never seen your rooms.” You half ignored the question, “and I don’t want to work on my painting when Fetain is working.”

He hummed, and you sat down on his bed looking at his window with the blinds pulled shut. “I hate it,” you said quietly to yourself, not knowing fully what you meant. “I might drive myself crazy. I keep trying to make things make sense, but I don’t get it.” You flopped down and rolled over, you didn’t look up at his face, didn’t acknowledge if he was looking at you or listening. “I think I’m ignoring half of everything to try and pretend that I’m okay.”

His hand rested on your head, his fingers playing with your hair. “You’re putting up with it well, though coming from me that doesn’t mean much.”

You grabbed his hand and his shirt. Pulling yourself up, straddling his waist. “Why couldn’t you have killed me? Torture me? Why not just make my life a real living hell? I feel like I’m burning but there’s nothing there, I keep thinking I’m drowning but I’m not!” Your hand trailed up to his neck, your nails pressing into his jugular, as you pinned him down to the bed. He laid there with his eyes wide but he didn’t move. “Please give me a good reason to hate it here! Please, I can't understand what’s going on! I didn’t ask for this. I don't know what I’m here for!” you screamed at him, though it wasn’t loud, just desperate. “I can’t do anything.”

His hand grabbed your hip and his other grabbed your neck, and he flipped the roles so he was hunched over you. His nails pressed into your skin. There was no weight to the threat. His hands while touching you, felt like they were hovering.

“You’re allowed to be angry, you don’t need permission for it.” And his hands were lifted away. and he was back on his side of the bed laying just like he was earlier, as if you never disrupted him.

Then you cried, you laid there curled up in a ball next to him. He never touched you, until you reached out and touched him, pulling yourself into his arms. He held you then gently and quietly until you relaxed and laid there half asleep and exhausted. His hands cupped your cheeks and you were held close to his face, his mouth a meare inch from your nose.

“I’ll do anything for you, even if you don’t like us or being here. We will do anything to keep you safe. I’ll make you as happy as I can, I swear to you I will.”

You heard Fetain come up from the basement when the door slammed shut. He was lighter than air with his footsteps so when he walked into Phinks’ room and ended up next to the bed you nearly screamed. “Try to sleep at ten and wake up at six. You need good sleep routine.”

You nodded, Phinks had mentioned it right? Ten to six seemed reasonable. “Exactly 6 am?”

“Roughly. Take time to change, one week to do yourself.”

“I’ll try to do it.” You nodded and a yawn slipped from your lips.

“Take nap, us three will talk work.” He waited for Phinks to get up.

Phinks patted your shoulder, “stay here and sleep for a bit we don’t want you dealing with our work stuff yet.”

“Okay.”

But Feitain hovered for a second longer than he needed to, just quietly looking at you with this deep thoughtful look in his eyes, yet he left without saying anything.

They had a habit of leaving you alone with your thoughts. Thankfully your cat at least sits with you when you need it, most of the time.

There was nothing to do with them all being busy. Something told you not to poke around for answers about what they were discussing. Even though you weren’t gonna search around for answers your mind wandered. It was a gross wandering similar to how one could lay in bed and gaze up into the darkness and just sit there. Rambling and turning whispers in your thoughts flashing images of blood gore and violence. How could anyone imagine what their jobs could be? You were used to surrounding yourself with images of oozing guts, but just beccause you had been decentized to it didn’t mean that fucking kidnappers who seemed more than used to living isolated was something you could handle.

You ran your hand back from the cat’s nose to his ears. He pressed himself so firmly against your hand that his eyelids were slightly pulled back as he demanded all of your attention. You could feel him breathing on you, his soft purrs are loud as he clung to you. When the fur around his face is pushed back his whole meringue look changes to one of a rat. His eyes while blown wide into dark saucers continue to look up at you fondly, his fur looks like a front facing bald eagle. There’s a reason you hardly ever see those angles, it’s less flattering. There’s less pride and a slicked back edge that is perceived as coolness. This is what that sweet cat looked like from this angle, his poofy roundness disappeared and strange looking from the front, while you never truly have looked too explore the other angles of the strange hair-do, the adorably crafted ugliness makes you melt into him as he melts into you.

As you lay there thoughts bubbling up worries and anxiety scratching away at your insides, this sweet fluff keeps you grounded. As was his task, he was an unofficial emotional support cat, nothing more than a pet that kept you mentally stable and provided both a comfort and reason to live. It was easy on the days where the paints seemed poisoned to be unable to reason and find out why you were alive. You wondered if everyone questioned this at times perhaps that’s why your artwork seemed so desperate, why you just cling to an intestine rope to pull you closer to answers and people who relate. It’s not something you can say for sure but even now, after a few years of this cat he kept you perfectly content to question but not give up.

He was also a good muse, posing in ways during his naps. Belly up, his head laid back against a pillow, his front paws folded under his chin but his back legs sticking upwards like two towers, fluffy and off white. He laid his ways that made it hard to determine if he was a cat or strang fluffy void, even though lots of cats did that. No matter how many photos and squeals you let out, it never felt the same, there simply isn't a connection. No photo could replace your cat, because you knew just about everything about him.

Sometimes you wondered if you relied too much on the cat, you’d question if the kidnappers thought the same if you weren’t so preoccupied with anything else. Even in captivity it seemed like you never had time for anything. All your plans would get mixed up or you would get horribly distracted. You acted as if you were wandering naked in a dark maze with how time snuck up on you. With no one to truly tell you otherwise you gave into it when you could, which was most of the time. Hours would be spent gazing off into walls and corners as you painted in your own head, it didn’t matter if you pictured it or not, it was the mental motions of the act that kept you entranced.

A jiggle of a brush, a whirlpool of the paint thinner. Hell the actions are what lured you down into the basement again. You hadn’t been told to stay, hadn't been told not to. You may not have paid attention to the home as you were pulled down to the basement by your navel; the living was quiet though the three men hummed and buzzed with a quiet conversation. You continued onto the door opening it so gently and silently you might have well just phased through the door to begin with. The unfinished steps hadn’t groaned or creaked as you stepped on them even though they should. The door hovered open, the light peering and stealing across the floor to the hall now behind you. As a moth would you step down and forwards moving towards your painting.

At this moment your eyes flashed with one lucid thought, “something isn’t right.” It didn't take a genius to know this but somehow as you were drugged by your own relaxation and you had taken the liberty to forget about everything that had been a bright neon sign telling you something was amiss. You looked away from your studio and across the room at another’s.

It’s important to note that some people have a personal belief that art is in the eye of the beholder, regardless of whether each piece usually has an original meaning in the grand scheme of things. You had thoughts and ideas, messages and stories to tell through your paintings. Each a commentary on something since you didn’t believe in unthoughtful gore and brutality, that wasn’t to say it had no meaning, but that there wasn’t a personal thought being expressed even deep below the surface. In this belief of art interpretation all art has at least two meanings, the artist’s original suffering inquiry, and the viewer’s lack of understanding. With this in mind the scene behind the curtain is much different then one in your studio.

The curtain had always been a temptation, that’s a simple fact of the matter. Place a marshmallow in front of a child and most struggle to resist even with the promise of more. This curtain in your case was so much more than temptation. A temptation is often pictured as sweet and sugary, lustful even, not a need but a want. This curtain was so much more than that, it was thorn covered and speckled with a lifetime of warnings but it wasn’t sweet, there was no guarantee of safety but an expectation of more. Even then you peeled it back.

It was more than a treasure trove of goodies, it was a threatening pile of one. The lights were on and you were slammed into with information as you peared across it all, for instance the room was large, much larger than you thought it was. While most of it was still unfinished further back against the far wall was a much more finished section. That is what you noticed second but you just were too in shock to register the first yet. The furthest wall was finished, a simple gray paint and from it hung old custom paintings, things both long forgotten and new. They were strange to see though in comparison to your room when you had first woken up nothing crazy. The first thing you noticed was crazier, though not too surprising.

The wall was lined with a board, hanging from it an assortment of household tools and even more specialty ones. Mostly pliers, wrenches, screwdrivers of all sorts of sizes. There were spools of wire, rope, and bolt cutters. There were more too, there were tweezers, the heavy duty kind, expensive looking, stainless steel and with a rubber grip. Each item while normally not threatening was fucking horrifying. The blindfolded and gagged half-dead looking man would ultimately agree if he saw the line up. Yet the detail of the organization, to the bindings, and yes even the table he was on, made it look like a perfectly created scene. To Feitain, who you half-confidently assumed was the resident torturer, this must be something artistic or even religious, sometimes the two came hand in hand.

His hair was glued by brown dried blood, his nose broken, the bruising covering his cheeks and eyes from what you could tell from afar. There was no way for him to escape from his binds, strapped down to the table. The table itself looked to be something akin to an embalming table, slightly slanted towards a floor drain, some blood already leaking down from the man and dried against the table’s cold smudged metal. He had bruises down his arms and legs dark purple and splotchy. His ankle looked painfully enlarged, not enough to be a break but horribly sprained.

You should have screamed in horror, your heartbeat sped up like crazy after all. There was enough adrenaline that maybe you could have killed a person, not your captors from the look and attitude of them. If a captor can be so unconcerned like they were either they were morons or knew full well that they had perfect complete control. From a second kidnapped person being in the basement looking like a corpse it’s easy to decide which.

Looking on even in your shocked state you made your third discovery. There were bulkhead doors. A small flight of stairs led up to them. In your shock you continued to move like a ghost, even though your chest was pounding. It rumbled in your gut, twisted and stabbed at your lungs, and you looked upwards at it, upwards into the dark steps a small crack of light. Your cat in all his loving sweetness rubbed up against your leg, mewling softly. You walked forwards reaching upward towards the door, climbing the stairs and gently pressing to see if they’d open, to your surprise it did.

#x reader fanfiction #fanfiction #hxh x reader #hxh #yandere #fanfic #feitan x reader #yandere phinks x reader #phinks x reader #yandere shalnark #shalnark x reader #yandere feitan x reader #yandere feitan #Phinks #yandere fanfiction

[lovelivecat]

Sebastian Sallow x MC one shot fic

Summery: y/n accidentally leaves her wand at the three broomsticks and runs into a lot of trouble when she goes to retrieve it. When she doesn’t return from her errand Sebastian is filled with immense worry and dread when he goes on and investigation to save y/n’s life.

tags: angst, fluff, (Female reader)

@choccy-milky this Was inspired by the chapter of your amazing fic where Clora gets kidnapped by the ashwinders  (The first time) 

You where exhausted. The Slytherin quidditch team had won their first game against Hufflepuff yesterday and in celebration the whole house was invited to a party at the three broomsticks. The party lasted almost all night and you were only just now getting back to the Castle. You had countless rounds of butter beer that night and you felt like you might pass out on the spot.

 The only reason you didn’t pass out was because of A very helpful Slytherin boy. Sebastian had had the night of his life but was somehow still awake enough to make sure you got back to the castle safely. He wasn’t just about to let one of his best friends fall asleep in the middle of the road.

Ominus Had decided not to come and had been taking advantage of the quiet common room. He said it was the perfect time to study with no noise and no people. He had missed out on a lot of fun. Sebastian was practically shaking you to make sure you wouldn’t fall asleep while you walked back to the castle and all the way down to your dormitories.

He walked you through the door and into the Slytherin common room pushing you down the stairs towards the girls bedrooms. He couldn’t take you all the way to your bed because he wasn’t allowed in the girls dormitory but he took you as far as he could.

“ if I find out tomorrow that you passed out on the floor in front of your bed I’m never gonna let you live it down.”

He chuckled lightly and nudged your shoulder before pushing you towards the door.

“ just a few more steps and then you can collapse on your bed.”

You we’re fighting to keep your eyes open when Sebastian leaned forward and used his pointer finger and thumb to pry your eyes open.

“ don’t fall asleep here!“

Sebastian laughed again before lightly slapping your cheek to hopefully wake you up a little bit more.

“I’ll be fiiiiiine.”

You hummed comfortably to yourself thinking about the soft bed that was just beyond the door. you slowly turned around and let yourself to your soft bed mumbling a good night and goodbye to Sebastian.

“She’s going to be the death of me.”

Sebastian sighed and smiled to himself as he walked to the boys rooms. The only thing on his mind before drifting off into sleep was just how cute he thought you looked when you were tired. He would never admit it to anyone including himself but he was definitely catching feelings. But he couldn’t blame himself. You were probably one of the cutest girls in school and you constantly had boys staring at you from afar.

Anytime he would catch someone staring he would drape a protective arm over your shoulder pretending to give you a half hug as a way to show ownership. Part of him thought it was stupid when he did that because you technically weren’t dating. But in a way he always thought of you as his even though it wasn’t official.

The next morning you woke up to the small amount of light that was able to get in your windows. You were surprised when you realized you hadn’t slept in. You pulled yourself out of bed and realized you had slept in your clothes last night. Luckily you hadn’t been wearing your school robes so you quickly changed into those and put your dirty outfit into a basket to be collected by house elves.

You wandered down into the common room and saw that most people hadn’t gotten up yet. You had never been able to sleep in. No matter how tired you were or how hard you tried you always woke up really early. In the corner of the room a familiar blond haired boy was sitting in a chair by the fire place holding his wand up to a book. Like you Ominus always woke up early except he did it by choice. He liked to read in the morning, said it helped wake up his brain. This never made any sense to you because in the mornings your brain wasn’t awake enough to make completely thoughts let alone comprehend words on a page.

“Good morning y/n. Hope you got a good nights sleep, you sounded really tired when you got back last night.”

Ominus looked up from his book and pointed his wand in your direction.

“Yaaa, I was pretty tired. But I feel much better now.”

You walked up to the boy and leaned on the back of the chair.

“Has Sebastian woken up yet I want to thank him for making sure I got back last night. Without him I probably would’ve passed out on the road somewhere.”

” he woke up a while ago but I’m pretty sure he went and took a shower. I’m honestly surprised he’s already awake normally he gets as much sleep as possible.”

“Who likes his sleep?”

Sebastian had walked in from the bath house area while Ominus was talking. His hair was still soaking wet and he had beads of water dripping off the edge of his sharp jaw. He Only had on his white pull over and a Green vest with the Slytherin emblem on it. His white sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he had a fluffy white towel in his hand. While he was talking he draped the towel around his neck to stop the water in his hair from dripping onto his shirt.

It was incredibly hot.

You could feel the heat rise to your cheeks. You quickly looked away suddenly finding the fireplace very interesting.

“You actually.”

Luckily Ominus had answered before you had to.

“Oh well in that case your not wrong. I do love sleep. But I worked up a sweat last night and was to tired to clean up, and I desperately needed a shower.”

At this point you had managed to cool your face off enough to turn back around. You then remember what you wanted to tell him this morning.

“ speaking of last night thank you for taking care of me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

Both you and Sebastian gave a small laugh and he continued to walk towards you and Ominus.

“ no need to thank me, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a pretty young lady walk home by herself.”

He followed up the flirty statement with a wink. Sebastian then took the towel that was around his neck and draped it over his head grasping it firmly and rubbing it around in his hair.When he pulled the towel away his hair was mostly dry and had regained its normal curls.

“So you admit I’m pretty?”

“ of course! I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge someone’s natural achievements.”

It amazed you how effortlessly Sebastian came up with these flirty comments. You had tried your best over time to match his intensity but most of the time you just ended up getting flustered.

“ well you’re not too bad looking yourself,  mr. Slytherin“

“ mr. Slytherin? I have a name you know.”

Sebastian had gotten even closer to you and you two were now almost touching. Even though he only was a few inches taller than you he seemed to be towering over you in the moment. The two of you glared at each other and where smirking intensely.

“Get a room you two.”

Ominus was still awkwardly sitting in the chair and even though he couldn’t see you guys he was still very uncomfortable.

“What do you say? One room for miss L/N and Mr. Slytherin.”

You reached down towards your pocket to grab your wand so you could playfully ask the boy but you were startled to discover that your wand wasn’t in your pocket.

“Hold on….where’s my wand?”

you instantly looked back up at Sebastian and looked at him suspiciously.

“ don’t look at me I didn’t take it!”

He raised his hands in defense of your accusation.

“Ominus’s have you seen it?”

He shook his head side to side indicating he didn’t know where it was.

“Darn it! Do you think I might’ve left it at the three broomsticks last night? Cause I don’t think I’ve seen it at all this morning.”

“Maybe. Are you sure you haven’t seen it?”

Y/n started patting herself down, trying to see if it was in another pocket or had gotten stuck under her robes somewhere.

“I’m pretty sure.”

You let out a disgruntled sound and then gave up on checking your robes.

“We can go back to Hogsmead to get your wand during lunch. I need to pick something anyway.”

Even though you thought Ominus idea was fine you couldn’t agree. Your first class of the day was Defense against the dark arts and you needed your wand. Lucky for you classes didn’t start for another half hour. If you hurry there was a chance you could make it there and back before it was time for class.

“Sorry Ominus but I need my wand for my first class. If you want we can still go later?”

“Sure! We can go after class is over for the day, it’s not super time important.”

He made a small gesture to show it was no problem.

“Alright!”

You nodded to Sebastian and he did the same back, showing he was fine with the plans. Somehow Ominus knew about the silent agreement because he didn’t feel the need to ask his friend.

“Class starts in 30 minutes, how are you going to get your wand in time?”

“I’ll run.”

“Your not the most athletic person.”

“Even if I end up being late that’s still better than having to do DATDA with no wand.”

He sighed and his lips formed into a small smirk. You returned the smile and turned to leave the small area. You started jogging across the common room and right before you reached the door you heard the brunette call after you.

“If your late I’m not saving you a seat!”

You had been running for a while now. Not only had you been running down the path but you also had to run up and down several flights of stairs to get yourself out of the castle.

You had almost made it to the hamlet at this point but the fatigue was getting to you. You groaned at the thought of having to do it all again on the way back.

It surprised you how little people there where. It made a little sense due to the fact it was still early in the morning, but there tended to be plenty of people out in the middle of the night so it was an odd occurrence.

Through your whole run you had only passed one person who was admiring some flowers off to the side of the path. At this point you need to stop. The exhaustion was getting to you and you needed a brake.

You reached into your pocket and tried to find you hair tie to get you hair out of you face.

As you slowed down you bent over and placed your hands on you knees to hold your upper half upward. You where breathing heavily and you where desperately trying to get air into your lungs, but there was a sound from behind you. You had somehow managed to hear it over your labored breathing but there was the distinct sound of footsteps.

You turned around and saw a man walking towards you on the path. He was tall and burley, with very wide shoulders. He was wearing a white undershirt and had a green pinstripe vest on top. His pants where a dark gray and where being held up by suspenders. The man also had a green bandana covering his mouth with a white design that looked like teeth.

He was holding his wand in his right hand that was hanging lazily by his side. You instantly recognize him as an ashwinder executioner.

“Hello”

You where making an attempt to be friendly, hoping he wouldn’t try to attack. Or take notice of the fact you didn’t have a wand to defend yourself with.

“Hello there girly~”

Clearly he wasn’t in the mood for friendliness.

“Can I help you?”

“Actually you can!”

He was still slowly sauntering towards you, gradually getting closer. You tried taking a few steps back hoping to maintain some distance incase you needed to run.

“You see, my boss is desperately trying to find someone. And I believe that person is you.”

He started walking faster in your direction causing you to do speed up as well.

“I think you have the wrong person.”

“Ohhh I don’t think I do~”

Of course you knew you where the person he was looking for, or more accurately who Rookwood was looking for. You knew he wasnt going to give up so you tried to turn around. Right as you started running in the direction of Hogsmead he stoped you in your tracks.

“Aresto Momentum”

You where frozen mid run. You couldn’t move at all. Fear struck you and caused your mind to go into overdrive. There had to be something you could do? You needed to get out of there. But you didn’t have your wand. You needed help. But no one was there. Your hand was still in your pocket from reaching for your hair tie and the sudden stop caused the band to tumble out of your pocket.

“Come on let’s not do that now~ it’s early and I don’t really like running.”

Your breathing sped up as your blood pressure rose.

“Now. Let’s get you back to the base shall we?”

The poacher walked towards you and placed a hand on your shoulder and aperated the two of you away.

Sebastian had lied when he said he wouldn’t save a seat. He was sitting in his usual seat in DATDA while his bag was in the chair next to him. His plan was to move his bag before you could see it and pretend the seat just happened to be empty. But he never needed to move his bag. At first he wasn’t to surprised when you didn’t make it back in time. He had started preparing his “I told you so” speech.

But as the time continued to tick by he began to get worried. He knew you where slow but it still doesn’t take 1 and a half hours to run there and back from Hogsmead. First period had ended and now he was Seriously worried. His anxiety only got worse when second period started and ended with still no site of you.

Your third class was charms. To his dismay he didn’t have that class until the afternoon. But he did know that you shared that class with Ominus. Sebastian was sitting in transfiguration class and it felt like he was there for hours. He could barely focus and was called on multiple times by the teacher to pay attention.

Finally the bell rang and he bolted out of his class and ran straight to the charms classroom. He arrived just in time to see a certain blond walking out of the class.

“Ominus!”

Sebastian ran up to his friend in a worried panic.

“Was y/n in class?”

Ominus scrunched his face in confusion. He was surprised at the sudden question.

“No, I thought she was skipping classes with you. why did something happen?”

“That’s the problem, I don’t know! She wasn’t in any of the classes, and I haven’t seen her since she left this morning!”

“Are you sure she wasn’t there?”

“Positive.”

The blind boy made a sound of understanding and raised his free hand up to his chin while deep in thought.

“We should probably look for her. We can head towards Hogsmead now since we have all of lunch and then free period afterwards.”

“I was thinking the same thing .”

The two boys started descending the stairs that lead outside and then started walking down the path to Hogsmead.

Once they made it to the village the boys walked into the Three broomsticks. Upon entering a voice called out to them.

“Sallow, Gaunt!”

The two boys turned their heads simultaneously in the direction of the voice and noticed the person calling out to them was none other than the store owner, Sirona.

“I was hoping I would see you. I have something that I believe belongs to your friend,”

The woman pulled a long slender wand out of her pocket and handed it to Sebastian.

“Wait does that mean you haven’t seen y/n today?”

“Haven’t seen her since last night.”

The worry that had been steady growing in Sebastian’s stomach doubled in size and it made him feel sick. At first the idea that you had just gotten sidetracked or distracted was swimming around in his head. Or maybe you had lost track of time and had had a few butterbeers. But now those possibilities where gone. You hadn’t picked up your wand. You never made it to the Three broomsticks.

Even though he couldn’t see, Ominus  had guessed the item Sirona gave Sebastian was your wand. He could tell his friend was starting to panic.

“We should probably ask some of the other store owners. Maybe they’ve seen her?”

Ominus wasn’t the best at cheering people up and he was trying his best, but he could tell it didn’t do much to help his friend.

“Would one of you mind filling me in on what’s going on?”

Sirona joking asked.

Sebastians mind was still racing with thoughts as he stared at the wand In his hand. He appeared to have not heard the question so his friend spoke up again.

“ y/n came down here this morning to collect her wand but we haven’t seen her since. We where hoping we would find her here but it appears we where wrong.”

The store owner picked up on the boys somber mood and understood they where worried.

“I’m sorry to hear that…. If I see her I let you know, I can also ask some of my customers if they’ve seen her.”

The brunette finally fell out of his trace and looked up at the woman.

“Thank you for helping.”

She gave him a sympathetic look.

“It’s no problem.”

Sebastian gave a hum of agreement and then turned to walk out the door followed by his friend. Seb was really starting to panic now. They had no clue where you were and you didn’t have your wand with you. This couldn’t get any worse.

“Alright I’ll ask the shop keepers in the stores on the north side and you can take the south side. It will go faster if we split up.”

The brunette didn’t answer. Ominus’s wand glowed it’s familiar red as he stepped towards his friend placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Im sure she’ll be fine. We both know how strong she is.”

“Your right Ominus.”

Sebastian rubbed his face with his hands, stretching out his face.

“I just have a really bad feeling about this.”

It was now the end of the day and the two had spent the entirety of it searching for their friend to no avail. The duo now sat on a bench in the main area of Hogsmead.

“Sebastian it’s getting late we should head back to the castle before curfew. We can tell the teachers and get their help. It’s also possible she got lost in the castle. She is new.”

Sebastian was only half listening to the blond. He had looked everywhere including the places Ominus already covered and they still found nothing. He wasn’t the worrying type but right now he was a hot mess. (emphasis on the hot ;) he had raked his hands through his hair countless times due to the stress and it was now a curly mess. He was also a nervous sweat-er, so his skin was shining under the light from the setting sun.

“Alright….let’s go back.”

The two of them stood up and started walking down the road when a unfamiliar voice called out to them.

“Hey! You two, wait!”

Upon turning around they saw a man dressed in farming clothes running in their direction waving wildly. They stoped walking so the man could catch up to them. The man slowed to a jog and then stoped in front of the pair.

“Glad I found you! You two are looking for someone right?”

“Yes?”

“I think I might have seen her this morning.”

The two went wide eyed at the information. Sebastian conjured up a photo of you that was taken a few weeks ago.

“You’ve seen her?!”

“Yes! Yes! She passed me on my way to Hogsmead this morning! I had stoped to smell some flowers when she ran passed in the direction of the town!”

The man then reached into his pocket and  pulled out a light brown hair tie. It was your favorite hair tie that you brought everywhere. It was the only one that worked perfectly with the thickness of your hair and length.

The brunette instantly recognized the elastic band. He had to sit and listen to you go on and on about how great it was and just how much you loved it. It didn’t make any sense to him because he thought that a hair tie was a hair tie and there wasn’t really any differences between them. But he also knew you would never leave it somewhere on purpose.

“I’m pretty sure this is hers. I found it on the road a little closer to the front of the hamlet.”

“Yes, that belongs to her, thank you for finding it! Have you seen her since this morning?”

The man passed the band over to Sebastian before responding.

“No, I’m sorry I haven’t.”

“Thank you for the help anyway.”

The man then walked of waving good by as he went.

This just worried Sebastian more. Now they new you had made it out of the castle and had gone missing somewhere between there and here. The duo then walked over to the path and slowly walked back to the castle, carefully looking for any clues that could lead them to you.

But by the time they had reached the castle they still had nothing. The two told the teachers what had happened and explained where they had been all afternoon. Whatever teachers where free spent the next few hours looking around Hogsmead and the path from the castle. But they didn’t find anything either.

Night passed and morning came. Neither of the boys had gotten much sleep and where slow to start the day. But Sebastian had used the time that was not spent sleeping. His brain was busy thinking of ideas that they could use to find you, and he had concocted a plan. One he was confident would work.

“Ominus!”

The brunette had spotted his friend on the way to breakfast and was itching to tell his about his plan.

“Good morning Sebastian. Let me guess you didn’t get much sleep?”

“How did you know?”

Ominus answered him with a knowing stare.

“Last night I came up with an idea on how we can find y/n!”

“Sebastian, the professors spent all night looking for her and they couldn’t find anything. What makes you think we could?”

“This.”

Sebastian pulled the familiar elastic band out of his robe pocket and dangled it in the air. But the dramatic reveal was ruined with a sudden realization.

“Sebastian.”

Ominus couldn’t see what he was holding.

“Sorry! Sorry! I forgot you couldn’t see….. it’s he hair tie. We can use a tracking spell I found in the library, and it will lead up right to her!”

“But aren’t tracking spells super difficult. Not to mention dangerous?”

“That’s never stoped us before. As long as you don’t mind missing another days worth of classes?”

“Sorry Sebastian but I don’t think this is a good idea. I also need to be in class, the OWLS are that far away. But I can cover for you in class. Just don’t get into any danger.”

“Thanks buddy.”

Not long had passed since the two Slytherin’s convention and Sebastian was already sat in the dark of the undercroft surrounded by piles of books. Some laying open on the floor wile others where stacked in piles. There was one book in particular that was lying open in his lap. He had found what he was looking for.

Using his wand he levitated the hair band and placed it in the middle of the floor. He glanced at the book a few times before uttering the incantation.

“Invenire dominis”

A sparkly trail of golden light shot out of his wand and collided with the hair tie. The band began to glow the same kind of gold and started to float. It was surrounded with the same golden sparkles and then it slowly started to float away. It headed in the direction of the iron gate that lead out of the undercroft.

The band then bumped into the gate before rotating its self and sliding out of the bars and down the hallway out of the secret room. Sebastian quickly stood up and chased out of the room.

While chasing the flying band he almost bumped into multiple students and he almost fell of a flight of stairs, but eventually he made it out of the castle and down the familiar path that lead to Hogsmead.

About halfway down the path the flying hair tie started peeling off the the left and into the forest. Sebastian didn’t hesitate to enter the woods, following close behind it.

As he went deeper into the woods he started to hear voices. There were multiple people talking, all with deep gravely voices. Sebastian noticed he was approaching a ashwinder camp and quickly grabbed the enchanted item and ducked down. He could feel the band pushing on the inside of his hands and had started walking in the direction it desperately wanted to go.

He started to eavesdrop on some of the wizards conversations as he walked around the camp, most of which were just collective complaining, but there was one group that caught his attention.

“Should we send an owl?”

“No. We don’t want it getting intercepted. We should send a person.”

“But how are we supposed to find Rookwood? He never stays in one place! It’ll be almost impossible to track him down, we should just use the owl he gave us.”

“Then what are we supposed to when an Aruor finds the message and opens it up.”

The man put on a mocking tone as he continued.

“Oh look at this it’s a letter to the infamous Victor Rookwood about a girl that was kidnapped from Hogwarts. Sounds normal! I’ll just let it continue on its marry was then! NO!”

Sebastian’s blood ran cold as he froze In place. A girl they kidnapped? From Hogwarts. No. It couldn’t be. His doubts where drowned out when he realized that the glowing band that was still trapped in his hands was pushing towards a particularly large tent ne’er the edge of the encampment.

His heart stoped. You where in there. You had been kidnapped by an ashwinder on your way to Hogsmead this morning. His emotions started to rage. The two most prominent ones where fear and anger.

He was fearful for you. He knew that ashwinders where merciless and extremely violent. Had they hurt you? Where you still alive? He needed to know if you where ok.

He was angry at the ashwinders for taking you. But he was also angry at himself, for letting you go alone. For not realizing what had happened. For leting you stay with these monsters for this long. He had to do something.

Sure Sebastian was an amazing duelist but even he couldn’t take on an entire camp of dark wizards by himself. Even when filed with anger he knew his limits. As much as he wanted to bash all of there skulls in, he needed to go about this stealthily.

He deactivated the spell on your hair tie and slipped it into his robe pocket. He skillfully cased the disillusionment spell on himself and creeped up behind the tent you were in. He used a quick revelio to determine if there was anyone else in the tent with you. He knew the ashwinders where dumb but this was a new level. They had left you in the tent all by yourself.

He could see your blue silhouette laying on the floor with your wrists and ankles pressed together. Sebastian assumed this meant you where being bound by some rope. He used a light incendio to burn a hole in the back of the tent big enough to crawl through.

You started to smell something burning. At first you thought it was your captives cooking something but you realized  it was coming from behind you. You quickly flipped yourself over and wiggled your way further into the middle of the room. When the hole was big enough to see through you squinted your eyes to try and see who was causing the fire but there was no one there.

Once the hole was big enough for a person to fit through something moved on the other side and caused a strange reflection affect on the outside. This was the work of a disillusionment charm. You watched as the person climbed through the hole and ran towards you, arms wide as they crashed into you.

You instantly recognized the strong arms as they squeezed you against him. Sebastian. He was hugging you like if he let go you would disappear. The sudden contact caused his charm to brake so you could now see him clearly.

“Seb!”

He squeezed you tighter at the sound of your voice. He stayed there for a few more seconds before pulling back, his arms still on your shoulders. His eyes frantically traced over your form making sure you weren’t injured in any way.

“Are you ok?! Did they hurt you?!”

“I’m fine Sebastian.”

You’d voice was calm and smooth. You raises one of you hands to cup his face but the other was still tied to it so you had to raise both.

Sebastian realized that your hands were still tied and quickly used his wand to disaperate the rope on your hands and feet.

His eyes widened when he saw the marks where the rope had been. The wizards had a plated extremely tightly to ensure you couldn’t escape.

He gritted his teeth and reminded himself that the priority right now was you. He stood up and walked over to a nearby table inside the tent. He easily found your wand and placed it in his pocket.

”We need to get out of here.”

He said as he walked back over to you.

 Sebastian extended his hand to help you up from your position on the floor. You accepted the gesture but when he pulled you up you struggled to remain balance and almost fell right back to the floor but he caught you before that could happen. Everything has started spinning. Your head was foggy and you were suddenly extremely dizzy.

That’s when it dawned on you. You hadn’t had any food or water since the party at the three broomsticks. The dehydration was blowing your vision and causing things to distort and spin.

“Are you alright?!”

“I’m…..fine. I haven’t had any food or water.”

Sebastian looked around trying to find something to help but sighed angrily when he found nothing.

“Sh!t…..can you walk?”

His voice was stern and full of concern. He needed to find a way to get you out of here. He knew how to operate but there were enchantments around the camp that prevented him from doing so. He would have to get you a few ways out before he could operate you both back to the castle.

“I don’t know….my head hurts a lot.”

Suddenly he swept his arm under your legs and picked you up bridal style. You gave a small squeak at the sudden action but you were then overcome with another wave of dizziness. To steady yourself you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face into his chest.

He quickly carried you back out of the hole he had made and cast the disillusionment charm over the two of you. He crouched down a little bit to use the bushes and trees as cover. He tried to walk as quick as possible while staying hidden.

He quickly got the two of you beyond the charm barrier and aperated you back to the castle. The first thing he did was find you a lot of water before finding a nearby first year. He sent the kid to fetch a teacher and bring them here.

It wasn’t long before Professor sharp was walking around the corner. He had the same tired expression on his face that he always wore when he saw Sebastian was the one who had called for him. Before Charlotte could say anything though his eyes spotted you. He made an audible gasp before running up and checking to make sure you were Ok. It wasn’t long before all of your friends had caught word you were found and the next thing you knew you were being swarmed in the hospital wing.

You have been brought there for a check up to make sure everything was completely all right. And to get some rest but there was no way that would be happening with all of the different people coming in and out. Sebastian had stayed by your side the entire time you were in the hospital wing. He had pulled up a chair next to the bed you were in and would watch as you greeted each person that entered.

He was just glad you were OK.

And he was never letting you out of his sight again.





#sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow #ominus gaunt #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #poppy sweeting #natsai onai #imelda reyes #oneshot #fanfic #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #fanfiction

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

All right, I did a post yesterday about the Cowgate incident of 2003, which started because I read the disappointing news that the site of the incident will be closed to the public when I'm in Edinburgh this summer, and I literally read it during a brief period of being awake in the middle of a fever dream. And then of course I made a post about it, because if you wake up in the middle of a fever dream, you always have to post about the real-life incident that most resembles the content of an actual fever dream.

This made me realize it's been a little while since I've actually watched that video, I went through a year or so of re-watching it at least once a week (mainly because it became a go-to re-watch when drunk, particularly near the end of the night when I no longer wanted to focus on anything coherent or longer than a few minutes, personally I'd never want to be at a comedy show while drunk but I do see why they'd do this for a drunk crowd, it appeals to that side of the brain), but I hadn't seen it in six months or so. I thought, I've probably been building this up in my head a bit in the six months of not actually watching it. The idea of Cowgate as a weird drunken fever dream (though one enjoyable thing about it is that besides Adam Hills and the entire audience I'm pretty sure the people involved were sober, as that was sort of the Chocolate Milk Gang's thing, getting their name specifically because they were the only people who didn't get drunk at late-night Edinburgh shows, instead they went for milkshakes across the road) had become a running joke in my mind and sometimes my Tumblr references, but at this point it's more of a symbol than anything else. After writing that post that ran with the joke of it being an iconic violent ritual, I thought it would be fun to spend some of my sick day at home re-watching the actual video, expecting to find that it just looks like relatively expected raucous comedy show shenanigans, not quite as mind-breakingly weird as I remember.

...Guys, it's exactly as I remembered. It's so weird. I've made multiple deep dive Cowgate posts before, but not for at least six months (I think the last time I did it one was for the 20th anniversary, August 26 last year, so almost exactly six months, actually), and I think six months should be long enough to make me allowed to repeat myself on the subject. Because there's almost nothing I haven't said before, but watching it again made me want to say it all again. And I do mean almost - I think I did discover one new detail while watching it between fever dreams yesterday. It's pretty good.

Okay, first of all, here's the video in all its glory:

I cannot emphasize enough how much the first time I came across this it was 2 AM and I had no context for understanding where they were or what was going on. Since then, I have figured out: it's a show called Late 'n' Live. It takes place on many nights throughout the Edinburgh Festival, at a venue called the Gilded Balloon. The Gilded Balloon is owned by Karen Koren. It burned down in 2002 and was rebuilt nearby, this video is from 2003, in the rebuilt venue on Teviot Place. The Late 'n' Live event runs from around 11:30 PM to around 3:30 AM and consists of a bunch of comedians who come on, sometimes to do their own sets and sometimes to do shit like this, managed by a compere, and after that they bring out a band and it turns into a dance floor. At this time, it was known for being a bearpit with a drunk and rough crowd that sometimes got violent. For several years in the late '90s and early '00s, it was famous compered by Johnny Vegas. It was then compered, throughout the early- and mid-00s, by Daniel Kitson. I mean I think there was some crossover, obviously they didn't just have one compere for an entire month and people besides those two guys did it too, some people had to get some sleep at some point. Anyway, these are all things that I know as a direct result of the rabbit hole I went down after finding this video and needing to understand what the ever loving fuck was going on in it. I actually know a lot more than that about Late 'n' Live, but there isn't time for it all right now. I've watched a four-part BBC Scotland documentary series about the history of Late 'n' Live. I watched a Tim Minchin documentary mainly because I like Tim Minchin but a little bit because it had a lot of the Gilded Balloon in it and that was relevant to my Late 'n' Live research. I have an entire folder on my hard drive called Late 'n' Live and it has too many files in it.

One of them's a gif of David O'Doherty throwing his entire body with abandon onto different things at Late 'n' Live in different years: onto Jason Byrne in 2003, onto the floor in 2005, and onto Daniel Kitson in 2007. All clips I found in entirely different sources and decided they needed to be together.

Anyway. I'm getting off topic. Already. Cowgate. The point is Cowgate. I named the incident Cowgate because that's the name of the neighbourhood where the original Gilded Balloon was, and, you know, it was a cow. A cow and what looked like it had to be some sort of scandal. I think it's very clever.

So here's the thing. After I first found that video, which seemed like a tiny relic of one of many moments of one of many nights on one of many years that this stuff went on, and I set about obsessively looking things up for weeks to try to figure out what they were doing, in the process I came across a second video that also happened to capture the same moment. Amazing stuff.

The former video was on the Gilded Balloon's YouTube channel, and seemed to have been filmed officially by the venue staff. This latter one was a montage of videos taken throughout the night by an audience member who apparently had whatever people used to film things at gigs in 2003. Wouldn't have been a camera phone back then.

This video shed a bit of light on some of the essential mysteries of Cowgate, but didn't actually answer many, and to be honest it asked more questions than it answered. Obviously, one of the main questions I had about Cowgate was "Where did the cow come from?" I'd wondered whether the Chocolate Milk Gang had somehow procured it, or whether they took something that was already there. Both options would open up a lot more questions, such as where did they get it, and if it wasn't there because they specifically put it there for the purposes of taking it apart, how did they get permission to take it apart?

The longer video suggests that it's the latter. It shows Daniel Kitson earlier in the night, messing around with the cow the way he might if its presence on stage were a surprise to him as well as to the audience.

The other essential question is "Why did they attack it?", and this earlier scene may suggest a possible reason. From the dialogue, it seems that Kitson jumped on top of it because the crowd told him to, and then the crowd keeps shouting other cow-based challenges at him, and he makes fun of them for suggesting challenges that are too easy (jump off it, touch it, etc.). The video then cuts, but it is possible that he challenged the crowd to ask him to do something difficult with it, and they said to tear it apart, and then it escalated. That scene seems to be from the beginning of the night, and we know the actual Cowgate ritual was the last thing that happened in the night, because right after they finish Kitson brings the band out and that occurs after the comedy ends. So it's possible that they could have come up with the challenge at the beginning, spent a few hours sourcing various weapons, and then done this at the end.

That theory of course brings up other questions, like how they decided on the weaponry. And, again, why they were allowed to do that. The answer to that question depends on where the cow came from, which I still don't know. I once spent a week looking up the International Cow Parade because I thought maybe it was part of that, but I don't think so anymore. It has the word Metro on the side of it, and someone in the YouTube comments called it the Metro cow. So it was probably an advertisement, not an art piece. But I wouldn't have thought your allowed to take apart a company's advertising installation. Maybe it was going to be destroyed after the festival anyway? Also, why was there a cow-based Metro advertisement on the floor at a comedy gig anyway?

I'd like to go through the video in further detail, as I've done many times before, but not for six months so I think I'm allowed a new one, and also I've come up with one (1) new fact (theory) so that's worth doing the whole thing again. I've just spent two days sick in bed, please allow me to indulge in this.

- Right at the beginning, the "three chances" thing still confuses me. That line really suggests that this is a challenge, not just a weird stunt, that they are being tested to see if they can do it. Possibly tested by an audience that was told to come up with a more difficult idea for something the comedians could try with a cow.

But what are the paramatres of the challenge? To take the cow apart, sure, but the "three chances" line implies more specific restrictions. Did they try this two other times earlier in the night and weren't able to do it? Perhaps tried it earlier with fewer weapons? Or did "three chances" mean three people are allowed to work on it? Doesn't seem likely, as Kitson jumped in fairly quickly and made it four.

- Adam Hills sounds like he's referencing something with "literally bottle it". I know "bottle it" is a expression that means "fuck it up", but I don't see how that's literal in this case. Was there a bottle involved? What would bottling it mean in this instance? Failing the audience's challenge? I don't even know for sure that it was an audience challenge, that's just a guess based on the beginning. It could be something else entirely.

- The part where John Oliver, Demetri Martin, and David O'Doherty scurry across the stage like squirrels makes me laugh every time. Why are they all bent over? What are they hiding from?

- David O'Doherty appears to be the only person who came out carrying a weapon. In the first shot of the guys attacking the cow, DO'D is hitting it with a hammer that he presumably brought from backstage. The other two are pulling on it with their bare hands. Then, in a detail I find hilarious, Demetri Marin reaches behind him and grabs what appears to be a chisel off the floor. I guess what probably happened is he did bring that with him from backstage, then put it down, and we just see him pick it back up. But the editing makes it look like he's tried pulling the horns, it didn't work, so he turned around and grabbed the nearest tool, like a character in a video game that just finds useful weapons lying around.

- It also makes me laugh that Adam Hills used his rap-based narration to make sexual jokes about the cow, while Kitson puts his hand over his mouth/in the air like a rapper, to show he's totally on board with this gangsta rap thing, but also, they have shit to and it's (presumably) nearly 4 AM, so the actual content of his lyrics is going to be to give useful practical advice on how to get this job done. Because they're not combining the tools, and you really need to use the chisel and hammer together or it'll never work.

I enjoy the way at this point, John Oliver takes just the briefest break from attacking a facsimile cow with his bare hands to look up Kitson, looking quite impressed with his approach to the situation. "Yes, thank you Daniel, finally some helpful ideas instead of just cowfucking jokes, now let's get that chisel over here."

- It can be hard to see in the darkness, but this whole thing is basically a Kitson and Oliver-oriented plan. Kitson shouts at DO'D to "combine the chisel and the hammer". John Oliver then points like he's directing a play, getting DO'D to bring his hammer to the other side.

DO'D does this, but puts the hammer down on the ground over there, instead of combining it with anything. That's when Kitson taps DO'D on the back like a pretend wrestler tagging in, possibly deciding that if he stays on the sidelines rapping all night, they'll never get this done and be allowed to leave. So he pushes DO'D out of the way, and takes his spot next to John Oliver. Then he reaches down and grabs a random chisel off the ground, again like a video game character. Then he reaches over the cow and picks up the hammer that DO'D has discarded (like a video game character), so he is now combining the chisel and the hammer. At the same time, John Oliver has physically taken the first chisel out of Demitri Martin's hand, and starts working on the same end as Kitson. Now they're getting somewhere.

- This is one of those videos that's funny every time if you keep running it back to watch the same eight seconds over but this time focus on a different person. DO'D tries to get in after Kitson straight-up stole his spot, leans in but can't find an opening, gives up and walks all the way around them both to try the other end of the cow because clearly the Kitson and Oliver dream team have this end sewn up.

- Then, there's a curveball: someone with the word CREW on the back of their shirt comes out of absolutely nowhere, and hands John Oliver a lead pipe, like a character fucking Clue(do, depending where you live). Where did this come from? Do most stages have large bits of piping lying around backstage? Was John Oliver supposed to bring it on stage with him but forgot it so they had to run it out to him? Or did those crew people decide that they're not making enough progress, someone had better find a large pipe and bring it on stage and hand it to John Oliver so we can all go home.

I've been writing this post so far while watching the official video - the one off the Gilded Balloon YouTube channel - but I think you get a much better view of this specific part from the way it was captured in the montage by an audience member. It's another part that I find incredibly funny. John Oliver is methodically working away with Demitri Martin's chisel and his own hands. Then someone hands him a large weapon, and he immediately raises it above his head like a sword and starts whacking the thing full tilt. Scares the shit out of Kitson on one side of him and DO'D on the other. They both jump, Demitri Martin just cautiously circles away.

In the words of a John Oliver bit that is long outdated but lives on in our hearts and my DVD collection... whaky stick. Whacky stick!!!

Kitson, after initially jumping, responds by choosing to imitate John's style, and starts raising the hammer over his own head to attack it with full force in the same way. While DO'D literally cowers in the corner:

And Demitri Martin continues to do what he's been doing since John took his tool away, which is to run his hands over the body of a cow like a mechanic sizing up a car. He has contributed almost nothing to this operation. I don't even think Demetri Martin knows how to take cows apart. Too busy turning letters into numbers and stuff.

- After getting over the initial excitement of waving a pipe around wildly, John Oliver employs the more thought-out strategy of using it like a lever, trying to prise it open at the seam. Kitson gets in beside him and starts attacking this same seam, striking the weak spot repeatedly with the hammer. In the background, DO'D and Demetri Martin appear to try jumping on the thing.

This is the strategy they're still employing the moment the cow finally comes apart:

I've observed this from multiple angles, and at first I thought Kitson deserved the most credit for breaking it, but now I think it was mainly John Oliver's work. Definitely a team effort though (or at least a dual effort, not sure how much the other two helped, though to be fair the bigger boys took their tools away). It comes apart at the exact spot where Kitson was hitting it with the hammer, you can see Kitson give it a hard kick, then one more strike, then put his arms up in celebration as this strike breaks it in half. But I'm pretty sure it was John's leverage from behind him that allowed him to split the thing.

- At this point they all contribute to pulling it the rest of the way apart; Kitson and Martin hold the top half while Oliver and DO'D take out the bottom. This is another part I find very funny - the way they're so matter-of-fact about handing it out to the audience. Look at John Oliver and David O'Doherty marching this across the stage like they're workers delivering a coach or something:

- Then the camera shows the cow being crowd surfed. The YouTube comments say: "The Metro cow got smashed in two and crowd surfed over everyone out the back door". In his lyrics, Adam Hills talks about taking it up the Royal Mile. The Royal Mile is the street outside, so all this suggests that they continued to take the cow outside and down the street. Was that part of the challenge? Was the initial plan to take the thing apart and then have it carried through the streets of Edinburgh? How far did this cow go?

- I have so far compared them to video game characters, board game characters, tag-team pretend wrestlers, a mechanic, and delivery workers. But my favourite thing to compare them to is probably at the end, when they celebrate like football players who've just won a big match.

"Great work everyone, good hustle out there, really pulled together as a team. Okay, now hit the showers. I want to see you all dressed and ready for milkshakes in ten minutes flat."

- There is so much going on in this video that I find it easier to not try to focus on it all at once, I have to do one thing and then backtrack. So now that I've gone through the whole video while looking at what the rest of them were doing, I need to backtrack and go over the lyrics to Adam Hills' song.

Question: Did Adam Hills think he was going to have to do this alone, or was he supposed to have Kitson co-MC-ing, but then Kitson jumped in partway through? Because I think the latter may have happened. Kitson was the compere for the whole night, as we see in the montage video.

Adam Hills If you had three chances Would you take them? Or would you quite literally bottle it?

As I said before: don't know what he's talking about there. What got literally bottled? Why three chances?

His palms are sweaty, his hair is sweaty He's ready to shoot spaghetti He's got a cow on stage It's got red horns, it's all the rage

This is veering wildly off topic, but I just want to mention that that Adam Hills got his off the cuff "stage/all the rage" rhyme because he'd heard DO'D use it in a freestyle rap battle with Daniel Kitson, that we know from the montage took place earlier than night (another one of my favourite videos, but we don't have time to go into this one right now):

It's cow tipping, it's not quite shitty Get that cow down in this city Take it up the Royal Mile, attack it with a hammer Kitson's on the stage, he's [?] with a hammer

Again, how far did the cow go? They had clearly planned from the beginning (of this song, at least) to have it out on the Royal Mile. YouTube comments confirm it left the building.

David O'Doherty's going up the ass It's time to fuck this motherfucking class Fuck the udder (x4) Let's get this udder fucking cow out of here

After all the times I've watched this video, this is the first time I've noticed that Adam Hills tried a pun on "mother fucking" there. Glad he's having a good time.

Daniel Kitson Davey, Davey, what you need to do Is combine the chisel and the hammer

Finally, some useful fucking advice.

Adam Hills There's Martin, Demitri Martin The Perrier win has left me smartin'

This was August 26, Hills' song mentions later that it's the last night of Late 'n' Live for that year, so the Perrier Awards had just been given out. In 2003, Demetri Martin won the main award over other nominees: Reginald D. Hunter, Flight of the Conchords, Howard Read and Little Howard, and Adam Hills. Adam Hills, who had also been nominated the previous year, when he lost to Daniel Kitson, and the year before that, when he lost to Garth Marenghi. So he is actually being, as a YouTube comment said, a pretty good sport to jump in and have fun about it. If I were him I'd probably resent losing out an award again and then not even getting to smash shit up.

John Oliver, he's the man If that pipe won't do it, nothing can David O'Doherty, he comes from Ireland, the land of the green Daniel Kitson, he's got a hammer He's also got one motherfucking stammer

I quite enjoy the way no one responds to any of this. Adam Hills starts calling them out by name, including bringing up Kitson's stutter and DO'D nationality and his awards rivalry with Demetri Martin, and none of them even briefly looks at him. They are all very busy and focused on the important task of destroying a cow.

It's time to break this cow down It's time to break this cow down It's not time to chow down It's time to break this cow down

I want this verse embroidered on a throw pillow. Actually, I think I want these entire lyrics printed out and framed on my wall.

Late 'n' Live, Late 'n' Live, it's the very last night It's time to wrap this show up tight Send it out the front, send it out the... [cow breaks apart] Break the cow, break it in half Lead it out the front to the path

Once again, talk of parading this thing around outside the venue. Where were they taking it?

Karen Koren, she's outside She's got petrol dripping down her eyes There was a fire at the Gilded Balloon The police found no one else was to blame If this season doesn't go well This fucking venue's going up in flames

That, of course, is a reference to the Gilded Balloon's history. It burned down in a fire in December 2002. It's now August 2003, and they're in a new venue that was rebuilt nearby. Karen Koren is the venue's owner. I'm pretty sure Adam Hills is implying that she's going to burn down the new venue if the performers don't do well enough. Actually, he's not implying that, he's outright stating it. What he's implying is that she burned down the first venue, presumably for the insurance money, and she is currently outside ready to burn this one down too, if they perform badly enough to make the insurance money worth more than the shows bring in.

The cow's in half, the cow's in half Let's hear it for the cow in half!

This is like that famous poem that was allegedly written by a child about a tiger breaking out of its cage. Sheer poetry.

Tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I Got out of bed at all The morning sun goes up my window And I can't see at all And even if I could, it'd all be grey But your picture on my wall It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad

What's interesting about this is that these are the lyrics to Stan, which is a different Eminem song from the one he was (sort of) singing at the beginning, which was lose yourself. This may or may not be related to the fact that Adam Hills is the only person in this performance who was not a member of the Chocolate Milk Gang, which was a group of comedians known for not getting drunk during or after late-night Edinburgh shows.

It may also be related to the fact that this is a clip of the Edinburgh show that Adam Hills had just spent a month performing:

So he had Stan in his head all month anyway, he was on stage and remembered he was supposed to be singing an Eminem song, his brain told him that the Eminem song he sings on stage is Stan. Fair enough.

Though it's worth noting that those aren't the correct lyrics to Stan either. The Eninem song says the clouds come up the window, not the sun. Why would it be all grey and hard to see if the sun came up the window?

Crowd surf the cow, people.

I want all those lyrics printed out in fancy calligraphy font. And ornately framed. And on my wall.

So that's Cowgate, in case anyone wants to know. But this is just stuff I've said before. I said I had a new detail, didn't I? Well here it is:

Who is that man, sat unobtrusively in the background, playing the percussion set? Of course we have no way of knowing, in such low quality video without any clear shots of his face. Or do we? Because here is a screenshot of Flight of the Conchords, sitting on that very cow, earlier in the same night! (We know it was the same night because it was taken from the montage of the whole night, which ended with a second angle on Cowgate.)

Am I wrong? I might be wrong, tell me if you think I'm wrong. But I think that's Jermaine Clement playing percussion back there. Based on the evidence that: He was there that night. He does play the drums. He's a bona fide member of the Chocolate Milk Gang. And he has the same vague outline and shirt colour as the guy in those screenshots. And he was in the background of the Kitson/DO'D battle rap video, playing guitar, so he does sometime play music to accompany other comedians doing weird shit at Late 'n' Live. My new detail is I think Jermaine Clement was on the stage during Cowgate.

It is cool, really. I mean, I'm obviously being vaguely ironic by treating this late-night comedy show stunt as a vitally important mysterious ritual. But I genuinely think that what happened there is fucking cool, if you look at all those people being on one stage doing something so stupid together, and then consider where they all went after that.

And if Jermaine Clement was there, that just adds to it. The variety and international breadth of all the different comedy careers all in one place just as they were on the cusp of taking off. I mean, by plenty of definitions some had taken off already, but they have all taken off significantly more since then. Almost as though on one night in 2003, they all sacrificed a cow to the gods of success and it worked. Of the main five people involved in the sacrifice rituals, there are three Perrier Awards (Kitson, DO'D, Demetri Martin - though to be fair two of those were won before Cowgate happened so I guess we can't attribute it to the sacrifice), an MBE (Hills), and a shitload of Emmys (Oliver). Which I think they should all bring in for the prize task of the Taskmaster episode that I imagine with those five as the contestants (it's okay, I think this is worth setting racial and gender representation on panel shows back by 20 years), the studio task is to take a cow apart, the winner gets all the trophies.

That's a lot of countries. The Australian Adam Hills, the British Daniel Kitson, the American Demetri Martin, the Irish David O'Doherty, the Kiwi Jermaine Clement, and the now-British/American John Oliver. All with wildly different types of careers. All, for different reasons, among my favourite comedians. I have seen or heard all of the official video or audio stand-up releases by all six of those people (and possibly 1 or 2 or several hundred or so unofficial ones as well). And not because of this video or anything, I sought them out because those are among my favourites and then they were all on stage doing this unhinged thing together.

It's the great mystery of my lifetime, I still want to know where the fuck they got that cow. And I'm genuinely annoyed that I won't be able to see the stage where it happened when I go to Edinburgh this year, but it's all right, I'll look at the outside.

If I ever get to meet any of these people, this is the first question I'm asking. No I don't need to know anything else about your career, just please tell me, what the fuck was going on with that fucking cow in 2003?

#Youtube

[fanficimagery]

First High

You decide to get high for the first time, much to Steve, Robin and Eddie's amusement.

Words: 4.4K Author's Note: ST4!AU. Vecna never happened so this is Eddie hanging with Robin and Steve for the first time.  Also I've never smoked a day in my life, so excuse my poor description of it.

All throughout elementary, middle and high school, you had been content to fly under the radar and do what needed to be done in order to graduate school. You'd done well up until you decided to get a summer job when Starcourt Mall opened up, scooping ice cream alongside Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley.

Everything was fine and dandy, but then a secret Russian base was found underneath the mall and all hell broke loose.

You had trouble comprehending everything you learned about Hawkins Lab, a girl named El, and a dimension they called the Upside Down. Being drugged and beaten also didn't help things at all, but those who were in on the secret did their best to help you cope.

Steve and Robin ended up getting new jobs, both being hired at Hawkins Family Video, but you ended up becoming somewhat of a recluse and barely left the house. And when you did leave the house, it was because Steve and Robin picked you up to drag you somewhere.

Your parents were surprised when Steve and Robin showed up on your first day of senior year, the ex-king of Hawkins High unintentionally becoming your and Robin's chauffeur. Robin made sure to check in with you during school hours, even making Dustin and Mike check in with you when she couldn't. Lucas was there every once in a while, but his main priority was Max who was surprisingly not taking Billy's death too well.

So, for a while, everything was good.

It was fine.

But then Thanksgiving break came up and your parents had plans to travel to your grandparent's place that was a couple hours away. While that didn't bother you much, they then had every intention of staying your entire break up there. One day you could handle, but the entire week? Nope. Out of the question.

So, after a little convincing, you got your parents to agree to let you stay behind.

A few days before, they even went out and bought you everything you'd need to make your own Thanksgiving meal, and then a bit more groceries to last you until they came home.

Your first night alone led you to having little to no sleep since you jumped at every little sound your house made, so you ended up visiting Robin at work to ask her to stay with you during break. Steve overheard and invited himself, and you found out firsthand how the two absolutely had no sense of boundaries as they piled into your bed to sleep.

Luckily for you, you loved your space in bed, so there was more than enough room on your king-sized mattress for all three of you.

On the day of Thanksgiving, all three of you sleep in. And then when you do wake up, Steve immediately puts on a football game while Robin heats up a couple cans of Spaghetti O's so you're not too full for dinner.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," Robin says as you're washing up the slight mess in the kitchen. "I invited someone from school to have dinner with us."

"What? We were allowed to invite people?" Steve wonders as he joins the two of you in the kitchen. "Why wasn't I aware?"

"Because we don't want to watch you suck face with Heidi," Robin tells him. "And I invited Eddie Munson," she then tells you.

You freeze just as Steve huffs. "Eddie Munson? What'd you invite him for?"

"You didn't see him at the store yesterday, Steve! Him and his doe eyes, and he just looked so glum about choosing what frozen meal to buy. Frozen meals are disgusting!"

You whirl around, hands still soapy as you stare at your female friend with wide eyes. "You invited a cute boy and you're only telling me now?"

"What?!" Steve yelps just as Robin grins and says, "You think Munson's cute?"

"Robin! Now I have to clean the house!" You whine.

"Gross," Steve then mumbles.

"Oh, shut up," you grumble at Steve. "I might have been quiet and kept to myself before we became friends, but that doesn't mean I didn't watch everyone around me. Need I remind you who you bedded before Wheeler got her hooks in you?" His eyes subtly widen as Robin starts to giggle. "Yeah, that's what I thought. So, while I start on cleaning the living room, Robin gets to finish cleaning the kitchen."

"Hey!"

"Ha!" Steve laughs.

"And Steve gets to pick up all the dirty laundry from my bedroom floor and put it to wash."

"Aw, come on."

"Nope. I don't want to hear it. And after you're done with that, I'm going to need you to take out the bathroom and kitchen trash so I can get started on the dinner prep."

"Ugh," both Robin and Steve groan as they get to work.

Though you're a little anxious for Eddie's arrival, you manage to keep your cool. Steve does everything you've assigned to him, as does Robin, but she ends up joining you in the kitchen while you're putting the turkey in the oven.

"So, Munson, huh?"

You shrug with a little laugh. "He's cute."

"Since when?"

"Since he let his hair grow out and got the tattoos."

"Ahh. I get it. It's the ink."

"And his stupid smile," you say a little breathily as you gather some potatoes to peel.

"And the doe eyes." Robin flutters her own eyes at you, and you laugh, throwing a dish towel at her. "But in all seriousness, why didn't you ever go for him?"

As you take a seat at the table, you huff. "Have you seen me? Like really seen me?" You ask. "I am not the type of girl Eddie goes for and he's just- he's.."

"Incredibly lucky to have a girl like you pining after him," Steve says, leaning over the little counter that separates your kitchen from your living room. "Seriously. I'd date you if I knew you'd go for me."

You and Robin both laugh, and Steve shrugs as he goes back to his game.

Lowering her voice, Robin then scoots closer to you. "Would you ever go for Steve?"

"I might have," you murmur. "That Scoops Ahoy outfit really did it for me."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. But we're too platonic now for us to ever find our way out of the friend zone."

"Platonic with a capital 'p'. Got it."

You snort and then finally start peeling the potatoes.

"So, what are we all having tonight?" She asks. "Anything I can help with?"

"Turkey and gravy, dressing, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, green bean casserole, and some rolls."

"Well, you pre-made the dressing and casserole last night," she says.

"Mhm. And those will be popped into the oven as soon as the turkey comes out. I'll also put the potatoes and macaroni to boil while the turkey rests, and then I'll need your help collecting the turkey water and grease for the gravy." Her nose wrinkles and you laugh. "It's good. Trust me. It's going to blow your mind."

"You're already blowing my mind by doing all of this. I sometimes mess up making a bowl of cereal."

"And that's why your job is to put the rolls into the oven for a few minutes after everything comes out."

Robin chuckles. "I can do that."

You, Robin and Steve lounge around while the turkey cooks, the smell making all three of you groan in hunger after the first hour and a half passes. Steve helps you retrieve the turkey every now and then so you can bast it, and then it takes everything in you to not fall back asleep while waiting.

However, just as you decide to pull the turkey out of the oven for the final time, you remember you were expecting another guest when there's knocking on the door.

"I got it!" Steve calls out.

You glance at Robin who beams at you in response, and you wrinkle your nose at her. "Please don't say anything. Let's just get through tonight and you can tease me all about Eddie after he leaves."

"Fine. I'll behave."

"Oh man, it smells good in here!" Eddie Munson walks into the kitchen, inhaling deeply as Steve rolls his eyes in amusement behind him. Sparkling brown eyes land on you and a boyish smile breaks out. "Sorry for the intrusion, but Buckley said it was cool that I come. And bring a set of pajamas which I thought was weird."

"Yeah. No, you're good." You flash him a smile as you chuckle. "And the pajamas are to lounge around in. After stuffing yourself full of food, jeans are very uncomfortable to be wearing."

"We can always make this a no pants party."

Both Robin and Steve snort with amusement as heat instantly blooms in your cheeks and Eddie smirks at getting you all flustered.

"I, uh, shut up," you end up muttering when the other three laugh at you. "There are drinks in the fridge. Help yourself. We'll be eating probably in half an hour."

"Well alright then."

Robin lingers around the kitchen with you as you put water to boil for the potatoes and macaroni. The pans of dressing and the green bean casserole get placed into the oven to heat up, and you have Robin set the table.

Once the food is all done and Steve's carved up the turkey, you set everything out on the table.

"So where are your parents?" Eddie asks as he piles the potatoes onto his plate. "Kind of odd you aren't together for this."

"Oh, uh, they're at my grandparent's place," you say. "They're gonna be there for the entire break and I didn't feel like being there."

"Got it." At his first bite of food, Eddie groans. "Are you kidding me? How do you cook like this and still be single?"

You choke on your bite food, Robin claps a hand over her mouth as she barks out a laugh, and surprisingly Steve nods along in agreement. "He's right. This is really good," he says while dipping some turkey wrapped up in a piece of roll into the gravy. He then shoves it into mouth, groaning appreciatively. "So good."

You clear your throat and try to will your blush away. "Well, it's nice to know I can win you boys over with my cooking."

"Don't forget your good looks." Eddie winks.

"Can you please stop flirting? I'm eating here!" Steve grumbles though you can see he's fighting off a grin.

Eddie and Robin laugh, and you shake your head in amusement.

This boy was going to be the death of you.

Everyone eats their fill, telling you how good it all is. Then as you go about putting up the leftovers, Eddie sheepishly joins you at the counter and asks if he can make a plate for his uncle. You agree and put together a container of food, setting it aside to cool off before it can be refrigerated.

"Too bad no one thought of dessert," Steve says as everyone relaxes in the living room.

"Who says I didn't?" You sleepily grin.

"What do you have?" Steve asks.

"Pumpkin and apple pie."

"Oh my god. This is the best Thanksgiving ever," Eddie mumbles.

"Just- just let me take a short nap and then I'll pop the apple into the oven."

"But- but why can't you do it now?"

"Are you serious?" Robin scoffs. "How are you still hungry? I'm stuffed."

"Now the pajamas make sense," Eddie muses. "I'll be right back. I'm gonna grab mine and change. I mean, only if it's cool that I still hang out with you guys."

"Yeah. Feel free." You wave him off. "My parents don't return until Sunday afternoon, so it's just going to be us here. There's no rush for anyone to leave."

"Cool. Is it alright if I smoke?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. We'll just.." you trail off, glancing around the living room. "Do it in my room. I don't want the smell to cling to anything in here."

As Eddie walks out of your house to go grab his change of clothes, both Steve and Robin look at you.

"Are you really going to smoke with Munson?" Steve asks.

"If he offers." You shrug. "I've never actually smoked weed. Just cigarettes."

"What?" Steve's eyes widen before he starts to smile. "You're so totally getting high then. I need to see this happen."

"Like I said, if he offers, I'll join in."

"Oh, he's offering," Steve says. "If I have to buy it off him right now, I will."

When Eddie walks back into your house, you realize he'd changed in his van. Instead of the band tee and jeans he'd been wearing, he's now wearing one of his infamous Hellfire club shirts and a pair of red and black plaid pajama pants. He kicks his shoes off by where the other shoes have been left behind and you must audibly swoon because Robin elbows you. "Knock it off unless you want him to notice."

Grumbling, you pull out the pies from the refrigerator and place them on the counter. The pumpkin is automatically picked up by Steve as Robin retrieves the whipped cream, and you put the apple into the oven before setting a timer to remind you to check on it.

"So how much would a pre-rolled joint cost me?" Steve asks.

Eddie looks up from his plate of pie. "You looking to buy, Harrington?"

"Yeah. Our wonderful hostess has yet to partake in the fun and I need to be there for her first time."

Eddie glances at you then, a smile blossoming. "You've never...?"

"I didn't have friends before. I wasn't going to get high all on my lonesome."

His smile falters. "You didn't have friends? I could've sworn..." he trails off, frowning. "You were always surrounded by a group of people."

You open your mouth to reply, but Robin speaks up, grinning. "Watched YN, did you, Munson?"

Eddie freezes, his own cheeks turning a faint red as Steve starts to grin. Eddie looks nervous all of a sudden, so it's your turn to elbow your friend while coming to Eddie's rescue. "Knock it off, Robin. And just because people were around me, it didn't mean we were friends. I wasn't very confrontational back then so everyone just kind of sat around me and carried on with their conversations as if I weren't there."

"Jesus. That's cold," he says.

You slowly smile at him, and Steve rolls his eyes. "So how much, Munson?"

"Free." Eddie's fast reply surprises even himself. He then clears his throat and tries to make himself seem cool and collected as he digs into his piece of pie. "I love popping cherries."

His smug and teasing smile as his lips wrap around his fork makes you blush so hard that Robin ends up muttering, "Trust me, that cherry has been popped for a while."

"Robin!" You bark at her, and Steve and Eddie explode with laughter. "Jesus Christ." Your friends stare at you, giggling, and you shake your head at them all. "This is why I never keep friends."

"Oh, come on, YN. You know I'm your favorite."

Steve and Eddie end up splitting the pumpkin pie while you and Robin wait for the apple. Then when the boys are nice and full again, and you've cleaned up the kitchen to the best of your ability, you lock up the front door and lead the way to your room.

Eddie enters last, whistling slowly at what he sees. Your room has a black and white theme, with very little color splashed here and there. There are band and movie posters along your walls, as well as a small section dedicated to nothing but polaroid pictures you started taking when you worked at Scoops Ahoy. Your king-sized mattress sits in the right back corner of your room, pillows and blankets piled on top of it and looking quite inviting. White Christmas lights are strung up above your bed, and Robin hurriedly plugs them in so you don't have to turn on the main light.

Steve immediately opens the door to your small balcony and then crawls into your bed to sit right next to Robin. Eddie glances between your desk chair and your bed, and you grin as you grab your ash tray that was hidden within your desk before walking towards your bed.

"Hop in, Munson. We don't bite," Steve muses. "Well YN might."

"You sleep right next to me, Harrington. I will strangle you."

"Not tonight. Robin's taking the middle."

With Robin and Steve gleefully sitting side by side at the head of the bed, their backs against the wall, you sit with your back against the other wall and pull a pillow into your lap. Eddie tries to figure out where it's best to settle down before he caves and shamelessly lays across the foot of your bed.

Setting the ashtray between you and him, you wait for Eddie to light up.

Eddie takes the first hit before passing the joint to you, and when it's your turn you inhale and exhale so easily that he doesn't believe it's your first time. "How the hell..."

You grin as you take another hit, letting the smoke release from your nostrils before passing it back. "I smoke cigarettes when I'm stressed and lately I've been stressed a lot. Smoke is smoke."

"You're going to regret those words in about half an hour," Eddie muses. He takes a hit and closes his eyes in pure bliss, pushing one hand beneath his head. "Cig smoke doesn't relax you like you're about to be relaxed."

Once the joint is finished, you crawl over to Robin and lay down with your head in her lap.

"Are you doing okay?" Steve asks, amused.

"I'm good, Harrington." You practically moan as Robin slides her fingers into your hair, nails scraping at your scalp. "Nothing's kicked in. I'm just getting comfortable."

Eddie chuckles as he moves the ashtray to the floor, laying back down on his side with one hand supporting his head. "If you're a sleepy stoner, I'm gonna be seriously let down, YLN."

You grin, letting your head loll to the side and cracking open an eye. "Talk nerdy to me, Munson. I won't know what you're talking about, but I actually like the sound of your voice."

Eddie gapes at you, and you and Robin end up giggling. After Eddie finds his footing, the boys start talking to each other, landing on the topic of Dustin since that was the only person they had in common. Surprisingly, they bond over the fact that they both think the freshman is a little shit.

Eventually you feel your body really sink into the bed and you subconsciously start to hum. Robin's fingers slow in your hair and the boys stop talking. You continue humming, smiling with your eyes closed until...

"Okay, so am I the only one who thinks that's the creepiest song ever?" Robin asks.

You huff a laugh and continue humming.

"I know that song. Why do I know that song?" Eddie mumbles.

Your humming trails off. "Stars shining bright above you," you sing instead. "Night breezes seem to whisper I love you. Birds singing in the sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me."

"Wow," Steve says. You chuckle as your eyes open once more, turning so you're hugging Robin's legs now. "You're totally stoned," he then realizes.

"Maybe."

"You so totally are." Eddie laughs.

"Stop laughing at me." A buzzer suddenly sounds and you hurriedly sit up, gasping. "The pie! I got it."

You try to crawl over both Robin and Steve, only for your arms to give out on you and for you to fall face first onto the hardwood floor. Luckily it wasn't a far drop and your friends laugh at your misfortune.

"Jesus H. Christ." Eddie guffaws. "Are you okay?"

"Ow." You grumble and maneuver around until you're laid out on your back. "Fuck you, gravity."

Steve continues to giggle as he gets up, no doubt going to check on the pie for you. Robin lays out on her stomach, head hovering over the side of the mattress as she looks down at you. "You good?"

"Fantastic." You sigh and then quickly sit up. "Hey, have you ever thought what would happen if gravity just like... cut off?"

"What?" Robin snorts.

"Would we- would we just float away?"

"YN, that's- that's a horrifying scenario."

You laugh, but then slowly come to a realization that she's right. It's terrifying! A look of horror overcomes your expression and your friends both laugh at you. You grasp onto your bed covers, gripping tight. "I don't wanna float away."

Hands drag you onto the mattress then, arms and legs wrapping around you. "Don't worry. I got you, YN."

"Oh my god." Robin laughs.

When Steve re-enters the room, he stumbles to a halt. Eddie and YN are sitting side by side, a blanket wrapped tight around their shoulders and over their heads as Robin snaps a picture with a polaroid camera. "Uh.. what did I just walk in on?"

"YN's convinced she's going to float away and that was Eddie's answer to keeping her grounded."

"They're so stoned."

"Totally stoned," Robin agrees. She snaps another picture when Eddie murmurs something to YN that ends up with her giggling, and then hands the camera off to Steve. "Here. Take this and document anything cute or blackmail-ish. I gotta pee."

As Robin leaves, Eddie glances at Steve and practically beams.

"Hey Harrington, who am I?" He then points his finger towards the ceiling just a bit, shaking slightly, as he says, "ET phone home." Steve snorts and YN giggles, falling to the side and dragging Eddie down with her. The two stoned individuals maneuver around until Eddie is behind YN, arm wrapped around her waist. Their giggles die down and Eddie hums. "How is your bed so comfortable? I seriously don't want to go home now."

"Then don't." Your amusement vanishes as you start to play with Eddie's fingers that were tapping against your abdomen. "Steve and Robin are staying. You might as well too."

Steve groans and Eddie laughs. "Are you inviting me to an orgy?"

"No!" Your face heats up, eyes wide. But then you calm down and- "Well..."

"Don't even think about it," Steve says.

"We don't have to do it, but I'm still going to think about it."

Steve frowns at you before turning his attention to Eddie who's shaking with silent laughter at your back. "See what you started!"

Robin walks in to see Steve, hands on his hips, glaring at Eddie and YN who are still wrapped around each other, only this time they're laying down. "What did I miss?"

"Apparently we've just acquired another bed partner."

"Well, on the bright side, if Munson stays wrapped around YN like a limpet, then we'll have more room in the bed."

Steve seems to brighten up a bit. "Fine, but if there are noises coming from their side of the bed in the middle of the night, I'm suing for emotional damages."

"Whatever. Just get in bed."

The next time you're fully conscious, you grimace and try to hide under the covers from the sunlight. An arm squeezes around your waist and you tense just as the person chuckles.

"How are you feeling?"

You reluctantly turn your head and lift the covers to find a sleepy Eddie grinning at you. Your nose wrinkles at him. "I have a headache. Why do I have a headache?"

"The weed hit you hard."

You groan and hide back under the blanket, letting your body relax once more. "So, how'd you sleep, Munson? Was casa de YN to your liking?"

He chuckles. "Better than I ever imagined, princess."

"Imagined it a lot, did you?" He doesn't reply and it's your turn to chuckle at him. Reluctantly turning over, you smile up at him as he tries to hide behind his hair. "I'm just messing with you. I'm happy you had a good time."

"Are you?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well until yesterday I wasn't sure you even knew who I was."

"Are you kidding me?" You lean back a little, staring incredulously at him. "Eds, you're hot. Of course I knew who you were!"

His expression is slack in awe until a shit eating grin forms. "You think I'm hot?"

"Dude, do you even know the number of girls at Hawkins High that find you attractive? It's a lot, but they're just a bunch of stuck-up bitches who will never admit it outside of the girl's bathroom in fear of it messing with their reputation."

"So, what does that make you?"

"A dumb bitch for just admitting that I think you're hot to your face." Your face heats up as your words finally catch up to you and your heart pounds. You can't believe you just admitted that to him.

Eddie snorts and pulls you closer to his body, and you willingly go with an embarrassed groan. He leans his face close to yours, his nose just barely brushing yours. "Then it's a good thing I think you're hot too."

"Y-Yeah?"

"Mhm." His lips press chastely against your own and you quietly moan at the contact, especially when his hand travels down to your thigh and lifts your leg until it's settled over his hip. "And don't even get me started on that sailor's uniform you had to wear when you worked at the mall."

Surprised laughter spills from your lips and Eddie smirks at you. You continue to laugh as he presses a kiss to your jaw, teeth quickly nipping at your neck.

Suddenly your bedroom door is shoved open, and you and Eddie spring apart.

"Gross." Steve scowls at the two of you. "Now if you two are done canoodling, we kind of need YN downstairs. Robin burned breakfast."

Groaning, you reluctantly pull out of Eddie's embrace so you can turn over. "How many times do I have to tell you Robin can't cook?"

"Sorry, but we were hungry and you were dead to the world!"

"Yeah, yeah. Go clean up and I'll be right down to cook something for us."

"Thank you!"

As you sit up, you stretch your arms above your head and then glance over your shoulder to find Eddie smiling fondly at you. You return his smile. "To be continued?"

"To be continued."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #robin buckley #steve harrington

[thebisexualdogdad]

Before the sun comes up - Harper Row x GN!reader

Harper had a habit of showing up on your doorstep in the middle of the night, not that you were complaining but this pattern started long before she became a fugitive on the run accused of murdering one of the richest men in Gotham who also turned out to be the city's beloved dark knight.

The two of you had been seeing each other on and off again since sophomore year of high school, never getting too serious because her number one priority was always Cullen who didn't even know you were ever together.

She snuck out of the belfry after her brother and friends went to sleep, spending the night across town in your bed and waking up before the sun comes up as she always did.

You feel the mattress shift under you bringing you out of your slumber, rolling over to see Harper putting her boots back on.

"You know we only went to sleep like two hours ago right?" You say sitting up and smiling at her.

"I have to get back before the others wake up," she says over her shoulder.

"Come on Harper, it's been like what? Three years? There's no way Cullen doesnt have at least some sort of suspicion about us. How many times did you steal your dad's booze for the three of us to go get drunk on in that abandoned warehouse by the bay?" You ask moving in close to her, "and how many times did we sneak off to make out while Cullen was distracted drawing in his notebook?"

You kiss her cheek and Harper laughs thinking back to the only good moments she had during those darker times.

"It's just not the right time, there's too much going on," she says, "but I promise I'll tell him the truth when we aren't being blamed for Bruce Wayne's murder or being hunted by the court of owls."

"Then can I finally take you on a real date? One that doesn't involve cold leftovers at midnight and I get you flowers and all that romantic crap you hate," you tease.

"Hmm I'll think about it," she jokes, kissing you sweetly before standing up and slipping her jacket on, "but no flowers they just die after a couple days anyway, chocolate however I'll allow."

"Duly noted," you chuckle, laying back against your pillows, "now if you'll excuse me I'd like to actually get some sleep."

She rolls her eyes and leans down to give you one last kiss before heading back to the belfry.

Harper thinks the coast is clear as she quietly ascends up the steps of the tower but instead is met with her cohorts all wide awake and eating donuts that Stephanie brought them.

"And where were you last night young lady?" Duela smirks at her.

"Nowhere I just wanted some fresh air and went for a walk," Harper lies.

"Wearing the same clothes as yesterday?" Carrie asks with a raised eyebrow.

Harper quickly tries to come up with an excuse but Turner beats her to it.

"Don't bother Harper we all know you went to see Y/N," he states.

"How the hell do you know about Y/N?" She questions.

"I told them, I know you've been seeing each other for years," Cullen laughs, taking a bite of his donut.

"You knew this entire time?" She says in shock.

"Of course I knew, you two were never as subtle as you think you are," he replies with his mouth full.

"Plus you've got a hickey there on your neck," Duela snickers.

Harper huffs and glares at Duela.

Well, it looks like that date you wanted would be coming sooner than you thought after all.

#gotham knights imagine #harper row imagine #harper row x reader #x gender neutral reader #fic

[thezoraprince]

The Monthly Hormone Monster - Bazz x reader

“Request based off those tags from your update post lmaoo how about Y/N being on their period and being all snippy and whiny and angry at everything and Sidon/Bazz trying to figure out how to deal with it. I feel they’d have different but similar approaches to attempt to tame the monthly hormone monster lol and by the end of it Y/N is feeling better/normal and apologizes and the guys are just happy its over with lol” - @rocklover719​

and here’s Bazz!!

i definitely relate more to this one. even on a good day, honestly :’)

(Sidon can be found here)

y/n - your name

Bazz was working

and here you were

at home

upset he’d left without giving you an extra kiss on the cheek

this time of the month always treated you terribly

but this time around…

it’s unbearable

your cramps are making you beyond uncomfortable

you’d never felt more nauseated in your life

you sat on the bed, sipping water and eating some fruit that Bazz had gotten to help with your cramping 

when he arrives home, you pout and whine

“What’s wrong, my angelfish?”

and you frown, furrowing your brow at him

“I feel terrible, Bazz… I’m nauseous, my stomach hurts, and all I’ve done today is cry over the sun shining through the window…”

“Oh, darling…”

he sits next to you, letting you rest your head against his shoulder

“And, you forgot to give me an extra kiss this morning.”

he kisses your forehead

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

you huff as he apologizes

“I was running late this morning, and I had a lot of important tasks to take on. How can I make it up to you.”

but despite his apology, you keep your upset demeanor

“Well, I’d love my good morning kiss…”

and he kisses you

“It’s not morning anymore, Bazz…”

“H0w can I make it up to you, y/n?”

and you shrug

the whole day, you’re in a bad mood

of course he feels bad about not giving you that extra good morning kiss

even though there’s nothing to feel bad about, honestly

but you’re way too irritated to think rationally

he tries so hard to make you feel better

with flowers

with cuddles

hugs

cleaning

dinner

dusk is quickly approaching

Bazz has tried his best to keep you happy

and it’s been difficult

and while you’re getting ready for bed

he’s out like a light

you crawl into bed, not wanting to wake him

but you REALLY want to cuddle with him before you fall asleep

so you nestle in as close as you can without waking him

but

you’re irritated that he’s not waking up

and after a bit, you start feeling lonely

‘I know he’s tired, but…’

you start to cry softly 

and even the thought of sleeping without being held by him first makes you feel more and more angry

Bazz wakes up to you in an almost rage like state

“Y/n, come here.”

he takes you in his arms and holds you so close

“Tell me what’s upsetting you.”

you sniffle

“I just wanted to cuddle with you.”

The next morning, he’s there

still holding you

he’d finally gotten a day off after what felt like an eternity

you both wake around the same time

and he kisses your lips so softly

“Good morning, my angelfish.”

you lay there for a bit, still in his arms

and he’s so chatty

acting like you hadn’t just made the remainder of his yesterday more difficult than it needed to be

“I’m sorry for acting out when you got home yesterday.”

and he listens, head tilted in slight concern

“I know I’m a handful during that time of the month, and I wish I weren’t. I’m sorry if I overstepped any boundaries, or if I made you feel—”

“Y/n, it’s okay. Yeah, sometimes it’s hard to navigate, but you can’t help that your hormones are all over the place.”

he brushes of strand of hair behind your ear

“And if you EVER need cuddles in the middle of the night, please don’t hesitate to wake me.”

#bazz #bazz would include #bazz headcanon #bazz fanfiction #bazz fanfic #bazz fic #bazz fluff #bazz x reader #bazz x reader headcanon #bazz x reader would include #bazz x reader fic #bazz x reader fanfic #bazz x reader fanfiction #bazz x reader fluff #zora #botw zora #botw zora x reader #botw #botw x reader #loz: botw x reader #tloz: botw x reader #period mention #period pain

[s-brant]

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

[darthzero22]

Taking care of you

Crosshair x Neutral Reader 

In the mission you ended up with a shot in the right foot, nothing serious, but it was hard to walk. All day you were mostly sitting and hoped that the next day your foot would be better.

You woke up an hour before the time everyone usually wakes up, you confirmed it with your holopad that you had on a metal box next to your bed because you were using it as a nightstand. The first thing that came with waking up was the little stabbing pain in your foot, and you were already cursing it in your head. The worst thing is that because of the position in which you slept, in order to make your foot as comfortable as possible, your right leg fell asleep causing you to barely move it. You definitely started the day in the best possible way, and that was sarcasm.

Well, there was one good thing about your horrible awakening and that was to see Crosshair sleeping next to you, and he looked so peaceful that it was a great comfort to you. He was lying on his side, facing you, and so you could see his face in more detail. You weren't going to wake him up, of course not. In those moments you thought about how damn attractive he was and you gently caress his face.

Thanks to one of those caresses Crosshair begins to move a little, as if he was waking up, in fact he first mumbles in his sleep and then wrinkles his nose. In spite of that he doesn't wake up, he was still sleeping, and maybe it was because the little caresses that you were giving him were relaxing for him.

You straighten your back, then hiss when you feel pain in your foot again, as you moved your leg a little in an attempt to wake it up. At least the pain was bearable, unlike yesterday. You wanted to get up to reach your datapad that you clumsily left on the table last night, and you were about to move out of bed. Unfortunately your foot didn't cooperate at all and so when you put it against the floor, the pain got worse and this time you didn't hiss, you groaned. You tried to be as quiet as possible, but Crosshair heard you and that's why he woke up.

“What…?” he sees you sitting with your injured foot on top of the bed and a grimace of pain on your face. “Y/N”

Crosshair had straightened his back to stand next to you and see you better. You could tell by the look on your face that your foot was making your morning difficult, and so he moves closer to you to rest his hand on your right leg and start stroking it in an attempt to reassure you.

“Hey, Cross… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you”

“That doesn't matter now.  What did you do now?”

“I was clumsy and... I put my foot on the floor”

Crosshair sighs, he was going to tell you something, but first he gives you a kiss on your temple, something that relaxes you more.

“Even with an injured foot you are still stubborn”, he said.

“Well, I guess I learned that from this squad” you laugh lightly and close your eyes tightly from the pain. “The worst thing... is that my leg fell asleep, I can't feel it completely”

“Is that so?” he squeezes your right thigh in a gently way.

“I barely felt that, so yeah.... My leg is numb. I just need to lose a toe and with that I will win a bad luck award”

What you said made Crosshair laugh without opening his mouth, but then he shakes his head slightly.

“I know I exaggerated a little…” you start to say.

“Just a little?”

“It's just... I know I was a little clumsy on the mission, but I think I got the message when I got shot in the foot by a damn droid”

You sigh and lean to the side to lean on Crosshair, specifically your head on his shoulder. You rub your face against it a little, as if you were a cat giving affection.

“And I know Tech said it would take a few days for my foot to recover...”

“All the more reason for you not to be stubborn. If you want to go back to doing the missions, worry about your foot”

“I know… Are you upset because I woke you up?”

“No, I'm not. I'm worried actually”

“Sorry for worrying you then”

“That's what I get for loving you” he rests his chin on your head.

“And that's bad for you, right?” you joked and then smile.

“Well, you said it, not me”

You knew he was playing along with your joke, so you give him a gentle tap on his chest.

“Now seriously speaking, I don't want to be a nuisance to anyone, least of all you”

“Don’t start”

“I want to start trying to walk and not sit in a chair all the time. Yesterday I didn't do anything useful for the team, but today I want to do at least something”

“Are you serious? You got the shot yesterday, Y/N. If you don't want to rest for you, fine, but do it for me then”

You'd do anything for Crosshair, so you pull away from his shoulder and look at him to nod your head. He squeezes your right thigh again and this time you did feel it, so it meant that your leg was no longer numb.

“Oh, I felt that” you said.

“That's progress”

“And now comes the tingling in the leg.... Damn it!”

You look sideways at Crosshair and see that he had a smirk on his face.

“Don't make fun of me!”

“Me? I would never do that” he said, acting a voice of indignation.

“Oh, right. I totally believe you, dummy” you said with sarcasm, and with affection. “You know what's even funnier? I have to go to the bathroom”

Crosshair's smile disappeared when he heard you say that and now you're the one smiling.

“That means...”

“I need help to get there, your help” you rest your index finger on his chest and then bring it up to give him a playful poke on the nose with it.

Crosshair wrinkles his nose and then sighs in annoyance, then you see him get off the bed.

“Let's do it quickly” he said, and he offers you both hands to help you up.

“Oh, I'll take my time” you put a smirk.

“Why did I open my mouth?”

You grab his hands and with his help you get up from the bed, avoiding placing your right foot on the floor at first, and once you are standing you slowly place it on the floor. You hiss a little, but it was a slight pain thankfully. Now leaning on him, you walk to the bathroom and manage to get there without a problem. He waits for you outside, hoping nothing happens to you inside.

“Everything all right in there?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything is fine”

You take a few moments in the bathroom and when you're done you open the door, but you gently rest a hand on Crosshair's chest to stop him when he tried to help you.

“Y/N”

“I want to try, Cross”

Crosshair, unsure, nods his head and lets you walk alone to the room, but he followed closely behind in case you stumbled or lost your balance. Since the ship used to be a mess at times, you trip over a small box, but Crosshair caught you just in time, and he was never so fast in his life.

“Wow! Where did that box come from?” you asked with your two hands on his chest, since you were so close to his body.  

“I don’t know. But I'm going to kill Wrecker. I told him to clean up this mess” he had one hand on your back and the other on your waist.

“You know he doesn't listen to you” you smile.

“Now he will listen to me”

“Hey, relax, Cross. Nothing happened to me and luckily I didn't hit my right foot”

“Are you sure you're okay?”

“I am now” you give him a kiss on the corner of his lips.

You slowly separate from him to start walking again and he follows close behind, now resting a hand on your back. As you sat up in your bed, you see Crosshair leave the room for a moment to return with what appeared to be an injection, it was the same type as the one Tech gave you to relieve your pain yesterday.

“Hey, are you sure… that's necessary?” you get a little nervous.

“Although you can walk decently, I'm not going to risk it. Tech told me to give you this in case I can see that your foot is giving you a lot of trouble”

“I… Fine, fine”

“Don't move”

Before you knew it, he gave you that injection and you complain because it hurt just a little. You knew that with that your pain would be more acceptable, and in a way you liked watching Crosshair take care of you. He was always so serious, so disinterested in most things that seeing him like that made you feel lucky to have him.

“See? It wasn't that bad” he said.

“Yeah… Actually, you were more careful than Tech”

“Because it's you”

You get out of bed, so Crosshair raises an eyebrow, and you move a little closer to hug him, resting your face on his shoulder.

“Did you get out of bed just to hug me?”

“Yes” you were smiling.

“It wasn't necessary"

“It is for me. I may have been unlucky yesterday and today in terms of my foot, but I'm actually very lucky and it's because I have you”

“You are more sentimental every day, or does this hug have another intention?”

“... No. What makes you think that?“

"I don't know, maybe because you have your hands resting on my ass?”

Indeed in the hug you had both your hands resting on Crosshair's butt.

“Hey, you did the same thing before when you caught me from falling to the floor. And you thought you were subtle” you said.

“Ha. Who said I wanted to be subtle?”

Crosshair's eyes widen for a moment when you give his ass a squeeze, and he clearly blushes. You break away with an amused smile and chuckle a little at the look on his face.

“I'm not subtle either" you said.

“Uh-huh. You are worse than me” he runs a hand over his butt, since you gave it a hard squeeze.

“I learned from the best"

You were about to sit on the bed again, but Crosshair stopped you by grabbing your waist and forces you closer to him to finally kiss you. You obviously reciprocate and rest your hands on his shoulders. Your foot luckily didn't hurt at all, so you continued kissing him, and you smile in the middle of the kiss when you feel his hands now resting on your butt.

“Never change, Cross” you told him after breaking away from the kiss.

“Very well. But don't regret saying that later” he smiles.

You laugh and kiss him again. When you break away from the kiss to catch your breath, you force Crosshair to lie on his back on the bed, and you climb on top of him so that you can kiss again, now with more passion.  

#crosshair x reader #crosshair x you #crosshair bad batch #crosshair the bad batch #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair #tbb crosshair x you #tbb #the bad batch #clone force 99 #crosshair x y/n

[jungshookz]

yoongi comes home late & y/n’s fast asleep

➺ starring; min yoongi x reader

➺ genre; the ever-so-elusive sugardaddy!yoongi who was supposed to have his own fic in 2018 but he never ended up getting one because i moved on!!! fluff!! smerhaps/smaybe/smalmost smut (slightly suggestive themes)!! also because this is sugardaddy!yoongi the drabble is slightly cliché/2012 wattpad-y but it is what it is 

➺ wordcount; 1.6k

➺ summary; a groggy yoongi comes home late from work and is pleasantly surprised by what he’s been greeted with. 

➺ what to expect; “this is cute. i’ve never seen you in pastel purple before.”

                                     »»————-　💜　————-««

the first thing that yoongi sees upon his arrival home is you fast asleep on the couch wearing nothing but a lavender silk robe and what he’s safely assuming to be a pretty pretty pair of matching bra and panties underneath (you’re sleeping on your stomach but the robe obviously rode up while you were asleep so the end of it is sitting scrunched up on your lower back)

and he knows this is supposed to be a sexy situation and all, but the fact that you’ve dozed off with one arm and one leg hanging off the couch just makes you look...

“cute.” yoongi murmurs to himself as he bites back a fond smile, bending down to take his shoes off quietly so that he doesn’t accidentally wake you up 

he had to leave after dinner because there was some emergency at work that apparently couldn’t wait until tomorrow and before he left he promised you that he’d be back as soon as he could... 

with that being said, it’s half past midnight which is definitely mucH later than he thought he’d be back

he takes his suit jacket off slowly as he makes his way over to you, gently folding it and resting it over the top of the couch

hm

if you’d fallen asleep on your back then it’d be easy for him to scoop you up... so he’s not sure how he’s going to approach this... 

yoongi clears his throat quietly as he unbuttons his sleeves before rolling each one up his forearms 

maybe if he moves really slowly, you won’t wake up?

the feeling of the couch dipping down slightly from under you is what rouses you awake 

your eyelids flutter as you regain consciousness and you feel your heart skip a beat in excitement when you recognize the scent of yoongi’s cologne lingering in the air 

you’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep for but it must’ve been a while because you can feel a slight indentation of your bracelet printed onto your right cheek anD there’s a faint patch of drool on the couch that you’re hoping yoongi won’t notice 

you didn’t mean to fall asleep but the couch is just so comfortable that you managed to convince yourself to take a little nap while waiting for yoongi to come back 

you were only supposed to be asleep for half an hour - you set an alarm on your phone and everything! - but you’re pretty sure the sun was still setting when you said that and now it’s pitch black outside 

admittedly, you were a little bummed out when yoongi told you he had to leave for a while but you understand that he has an important job and that he’s a fairly busy man 

on the bright side, him leaving left you with a good amount of time to a) wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen a little (even though yoongi’s told you multiple times that you don’t have to) b) catch up on some readings that are due for your classes, and c) change out of your grubby clothes and into the lingerie set you’d been hiding from him for a whole month (!!) 

(you’re pretty sure he’s probably seen the order being charged to his credit card but he hasn’t said anything about it.)

“hi, sleepy.” yoongi coos quietly, leaning down to press a kiss to to the back of your shoulder, “sorry i woke you up. have you been here all night?”

“yeah…” you hum, voice slightly raspy with sleep, “i was going to nap in the bedroom but i wanted to be here when you got back.”

“i’m sorry, baby…” yoongi shuffles closer, sliding his hand down the curve of your back before giving your bum a light squeeze, “if it makes you feel any better, i’m definitely a big fan of what you’re wearing.”

“really?” you roll yourself around before propping yourself up onto your elbows, not missing the way yoongi’s eyes flicker down to your chest for a brief second, “the robe’s a little wrinkly now, but…” you lift your leg up a little so that the slit of the robe parts around your thigh and yoongi glances down in interest    

“this is cute.” he comments, hooking a finger under one of the garters around your thigh before tugging at it gently, “i’ve never seen you in pastel purple before.” 

“yeah, i-” you find yourself blushing (though yoongi hasn’t even said anything to make your cheeks pink) as you reach down to pull one of your stockings up a little higher, “i thought maybe it’d be nice to try something different… i know you usually like black, but… well, i- i actually bought this set in black as a back-up, if you... if you want me to change...” you find your voice lowering when you notice yoongi leaning in and you don’t get much of a chance to say anything else before he’s pressing his lips against yours 

!

yoongi can’t help but chuckle when you reciprocate the kiss eagerly, practically shooting straight up from the couch before beginning to paw at his shirt 

you manage to loosen his tie slightly before he loops an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him

your stomach flutters at the prospect of finally getting to spend some alone time with yoongi

you’ve been swamped for the last month or so because of midterms and essays and presentations and countless readings so when yoongi asked you if you wanted to stay at his place over the weekend you basically jumped at the chance 

he’s usually the one who stays at your apartment so it’s nice to switch things up!

plus, yoongi has one of those fancy rainfall shower heads in his bathroom so that’s a definite bonus 

all of a sudden, the little voice in your head whispers for you to get up and onto yoongi’s lap- but because good things never last, he pulls away from the kiss far too soon for your liking and you resist the urge to get up and just tackle him to the ground 

he was gone for like!!! five hours!!! 

“i wanna-” you pause as you try to figure out how to word exactly what you’re feeling without sounding like a moron, “i wanna keep... like, kissing you... and stuff...”

well 

nice effort 

sometimes you wish you were more experienced so that you could be the sex kitten yoongi probably imagines you as but yoongi insists that it doesn’t matter to him 

it’s just embarrassing sometimes when you try to sound sexy but you end up sounding like a robot that’s just churning out sexy words 

you know he’s been with others before who are far more experienced with this part of the job so you can’t help but feel a little insecure when you get all bleep bloop I Want To Kiss You And Stuff bleep bloop 

“and stuff, hm?” yoongi teases, leaning in to give you a quick kiss before getting up from the couch and reaching over to grab his suit jacket, “i actually do want you to change- into your pyjamas. because you have an early class tomorrow and we can’t have you falling asleep in the middle of it. now, c’mon-”

“wha- hey, hold on-” you immediately get up from the couch when yoongi turns away and walks off, quickening your pace when he switches the main foyer lights off and disappears into the hallway, “yoongi-!”

“come on, i’ll let you choose another shirt you’re probably going to end up stealing from me-”

“woah, woaH-!” you finally catch up to him, your stockings gliding against the smooth marble of the floor as you slide around so that you’re standing in front of him, “what do you think you’re doing??”

“can i help you, miss?” yoongi grins when you slink your arms around his neck and press your body against his, “i’m going to get ready for bed, that’s what i’m doing. what do you think you’re doing?” 

“i don’t wanna go to sleep yet.” you whine pitifully as you slide a hand down so you can fiddle with one of the buttons on his shirt, “you’ve been gone all night…”

“oh, don’t pout like that.” yoongi coos, reaching up to cup your cheek before using his thumb to pluck at your pushed-out bottom lip, “you had me all day yesterday, you know. i had to bump one of my meetings to next week because of you.”

“yeah, but i wasn’t wearing this yesterday-” you pull back for a second to gesture to yourself exaggeratedly, “you’re a good businessman. we should compromise!”

“alright, alright-” yoongi laughs lightly and reaches forward so he can pull you back towards him, “name your price, boss.”

“let me join you in the shower.” you grin, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth, “and then i promise i’ll go to sleep right after.” 

“hm, i don’t know…” yoongi teases, undoing your robe before sliding his warm hands underneath it so he can cup your hips, “i feel like we’d end up doing a lot more than just shower together if i let you join me...”

“would that be so wrong?” you ask innocently as you look up at him with doe eyes, yoongi giving your hips a squeeze as he walks you backwards and towards the bedroom, “we’d save water by showering together!” 

“‘showers’ with you can last up to an hour. if anything, you’d be hiking up my water bill!”

“yeah, but you can afford it-” 

🎙️help me help you make your wishes come true (send me a request!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here?

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

🌟or something even shorter?

#surprise! #bet you thought you'd seen the last of me #also i didn't know what to name this womp #sugardaddy!yoongi #sugardaddy!yoongi drabbles #yoongi drabbles #yoongi fics #yoongi fic recs #yoongi x reader #reader insert #bts au #yoongi au #yoongi fluff #yoongi fluff recs #yoongi smut #yoongi smut recs #yoongi headcanons #yoongi headcanon recs #bts fics #bts fic recs #yoongi one-shots #yoongi one shot recs #yoongi one shot #bts smut #bts smut recs #bts author recs #bts writer #bts writer recs #bts author #yoongi cute

[mycrofts-gunbrella]

Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Part 3 (Mycroft Holmes x Reader)

AN- Thank you for the patience for this one! My little boy has been unwell so it has taken a little longer than I had hoped but here is the third instalment! It’s a little shorter than the others but that’s because I wanted to contain the angsty part in one chapter, the next ones will hopefully be longer..

This one is a little more angsty, a lot more emotional, but I’m quite happy with the outcome and I hope you are too! As usual, please let me know any thoughts/feedback! And enjoy!

Word Count: 2510

"Is it just me that finds Stephen Fry a bit.. sexy?" You spoke, watching the television as Young Ones' Scumbag College competed on University Challenge. "I don't know what it is about him. He's just.. got such a lovely voice, and he's so sodding clever and his CLOTHES- got much better looking with age, mind." Mycroft only hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"Hmm.. He's not really my type." You laughed and petted his head fondly.

"You don't have to be gay to find another man attractive Myc." You mused. "Me and Greg talk about it all the time, though he fancies Hugh Laurie more, especially in Blackadder." You laughed, thinking back on the memory of Greg's fondness of George in the Blackadder Goes Forth series.

"I'm aware that sexuality and attraction are not the same, Y/N. I am comfortable enough in my own heterosexuality to appreciate another man's features. In fact, I very much agree with Gregory's view on Mr Laurie. Stephen, however, is not my type. The few people that did speak to me in University used to tell me I reminded them of him in the way I behaved but, and I quote, 'without even a lick of his humour, you miserable bastard.' Thus, I cannot look at him in that way." He laughed a little and you cleared your throat.

"Oh.. uh, yeah I guess that makes sense. Not the humour part though, you're actually hilarious and they missed out big time." You tried to avoid the point where you'd deemed Stephen Fry sexy in every way he was similar to the man who was laying in your lap, and just hoped he wouldn't bring that up.

"He definitely got the looks side of things though, particularly as General Melchett in Goes Forth, though I am not particularly fond of the facial hair." He screwed up his nose in distaste, you fighting every ounce of your control to not say he looked a bit cute. "And certainly didn't have the waistline that 21 year old Mycroft had."

"Speaking in the third person now, are we? Well, Mycroft, Y/N is comfortable enough in her friendship that Y/N thinks Mycroft can be sexy in his own ways too." You teased, partly embarrassed, but equally just trying any way to improve the man's confidence, even by a little. Mycroft choked a little on his own saliva and had to sit up to regain his own breath. Too far? "Sorry." He shook his head 'no' but didn't speak. In his moments of regaining his composure, Mycroft watched you. Processed in his head what you had said- 'was it a joke?', he couldn't read anything on you that would suggest that, though his eyes were glassy from the choking- watched as you panicked, then subsiding the panic to concern as you made sure he was okay. All these things, he thought, he didn't deserve. He took a deep breath and reached for the television remote, pausing the show and settling back on the other side of the sofa. It had to be done now. Done while his brain was allowing it, before he got attached... before he got attached even more. He couldn't keep pretending it was okay, keep accepting your compliments and your kindness, couldn't allow himself to go any further in his.. attraction?

It was always unspoken between the two of you- your not so subtle hints to Mycroft over the last few years hadn't got unnoticed, Mycroft would be lying to himself if he didn't admit that he felt the same way, though this was perhaps the most open you had been; he would always put it off, try to think of reasons why you shouldn't be more than whatever you are now- most of the time it circles back to work, your busy schedule at the Yard and his unpredictable working hours mostly, saying to himself that it would simply be pointless, that you wouldn't see each other. But he knew that was a lie- you see him as often as you can, even if it's just for an hour on lunch, and everyone knows he would do his best to move empires to have you over for dinner had it been a while, quite literally actually.

Then there was age, you were in your mid-to-late twenties, he in his forties, though that argument also fell flat after you had mentioned your last long term relationship had been with a man your elder, amongst many of your interests in celebrity males that you had mentioned being closer to his age than yours- and, on his behalf, it was usual for a Politician to walk into formal dinners with a younger woman on arm. In the end, it all went back to the real reason Mycroft put everything off, a reason he hated admitting to even himself. Mycroft was scared.

Having been the age he is with no sexual experience, no previous relationships, and not even many friendships, he was terrified he would humiliate himself and you would leave him completely. You were both adults, both clever, you both knew there was always 'something' there, but without you ever acting upon it, Mycroft decided to live his life keeping you as a friend rather than risk not having you at all. He felt guilty enough having you here anyway. He couldn't allow you to keep stroking his hair like that, or letting you sleep in his bed with him, hold him as he snored, when it was for completely other desires in his own mind, not without speaking to you. No, that wouldn't be fair- even if he didn't fully understand everything himself and was still incredibly scared. You needed to know the truth, about everything, and, if there were the slightest chance you'd forgive him, he had decided he couldn't wait any longer, couldn't put it off anymore, he wanted you to carry on doing those things, wanted to continue the nights you would stay in his bed. But Mycroft wanted it to change, he wanted to be able to start the night with a ghost of his hand on your hip, without waiting until you were asleep to bring himself to have that courage, to wake up next to you and not feel the awkward need to move so soon, just to stay a little longer. Christ, Mycroft wanted every cliché in the book with you, and it took him until yesterday to realise how much he wanted that, after nearly losing you. And he needed you to know, even if it risked it all.

"Y/N I-"

"I know, I'm sorry, I took it too far I was just messing about.. Not that I didn't mean it, I wasn't joking about you.. You are very attractive, but it was inappropriate.. I shouldn't have said it.. I just wanted to help.. though I don't think it did, might have made it worse, actually.. Didn't want to say anything and let you find out.. like that.. not that it matters.. because I AM happy JUST being your friend, over the moon, actually.. so I don't want you to think I ruined that... Because I know you don't feel.. like that.. and you're not saying anything which is scaring me a little because you're always talking.. Not that I don't like that.. I love you talking to me, you've got a lovely voice.. and.. and I'm going to shut up again.. sorry.. again.." You rambled, a lot, too much.. far too much. Mycroft tried to process everything, his eyes closing at every word. You were making this so much harder for him, admitting everything like that. Mycroft hunched forward in his position and braced his elbows on his knees, index and middle finger of each hand holding the weight of his head by his temples.

"No just.. Just stop talking for a moment." Mycroft snapped, cutting you off as your mouth opened to speak a little, the small jump back made his gaze soften. "Please." He spoke softer, apologetic. "I can't.. talk about that.. not yet. Not until you know.." You went to speak again but his head tilted, eyes containing a rare glaze of vulnerability, trying to stay in contact with your own but constantly dropping back to his lap- a silent plea to stay quiet, be patient and just give him a moment. And you did. Turning your body completely sideways, you crossed your legs on the sofa, hands resting folded in your lap as you encouraged him to continue with a brief nod of your head. "I fear if I don't tell you of yesterday's happenings in this very moment that I never shall, and that is far too selfish, even of me." He took a deep breath in. "But I just.. need a moment. A few, likely, throughout." You nodded your head again.

From there, Mycroft began to explain everything that had happened, told you of his sister, where she had taken him, Sherlock and John, what she spoke about, what she tried to get them to do. His voice cracked every so often, knuckles whitened as his fists clenches, creases formed in his trousers where he squeezed his hand on them, but you listened to every word and stayed silent- eyes welling with small tears. Mycroft spoke of the screen, told you of the snipers that were out there, targeting Ms Hudson and Molly. Your body stiffened as he added Lestrade to the list, feeling your throat tighten a little at the mere thought of losing Greg. Mycroft pressed on, told you about how Eurus tried to make Sherlock choose between him and John, told you how he'd tried to convince Sherlock to just shoot him, how Sherlock refused and threatened to shoot himself. His voice went breathless at the end of that, the idea of losing his brother so easily still fresh in his mind. You loosened your sitting position and leaned over, taking Mycroft's hand in your own and squeezing. He sighed again and closed his eyes.

"Please, don't." He whispered, trying to fold his hand into a fist to escape your embrace. You didn't let go and offered your other hand on his back in support as you watched a stray tear fall down his cheek. "I said don't!" He shouted, moving from your touch and standing up from the sofa, beginning to pace as his face contorted into more pain, another tear following the path of the last. You sat back, watched him, didn't take the anger to heart. "It was my fault! All of it!" He ran his hands through his hair and tugged, moving them after to wipe the droplets from his cheek.

"Myc it's ok-"

"It isn't okay Y/N! No part of any of this is even remotely close to okay!" He stilled now, posture going back rigid as he looked at you, eyes bloodshot and glassy. He told you of his Birthday present to Eurus- five unsupervised minutes with Moriarty- and started his pacing again. "A man died yesterday because of me. Sherlock, John, Greg, Ms Hudson, Molly. They all almost died yesterday. You almost... you almost died yesterday." His breath hitched again, lip softly quivering at the end of his words. You tensed a little and frowned, confused and urging him to elaborate. "They weren't the only people on the screens, not the only ones with a red dot on their heads, Y/N." Gaze avoiding you now, turned completely to face the wall rather than look at you at all- giving him a chance to compose himself, steadying his voice. "I saw you, you were happy, just dancing and making tea, but at any moment you could have... and it would have been my fault. And I know I should have told you yesterday, it was selfish of me using you the way that I have without letting you know everything. You could have been gone before I could tell you everything, before I could explain how I feel about you, and it all came rushing to me the moment I saw your face on that screen. I’m so sorry, for everything, for ignoring everything, for being the reason you almost-" The last thing Mycroft had expected was the feeling of arms around his waist, the feeling of a head resting between his shoulder blades, soaking the shirt with tears. You sniffed, holding onto him tighter as you cried into his back.

"It's okay Mycroft." You spoke, voice croaking from tears. "They're okay.. I'm okay. And you're going to be okay. I'm not going anywhere." The relief Mycroft felt from your words ran through his body as he slumped a little, left hand holding on to where yours joined on his stomach, his right lifting to his eyes where, in a very rare moment, he allowed himself to weep.

***

Neither of you were too sure on how long you stayed like that, Mycroft being held in your arms as he quietly cried into his hand, you into his back, but it was long enough that your feet were beginning to ache and Mycroft had become silent a short while ago. You attempted to loosen your grip but Mycroft quickly grabbed back at your hands, holding them to him again. You changed your tactic and instead circled round until your hands remained together on his back, you now at his front and you gave him one last squeeze before guiding him backwards to the sofa, taking your place next to him but keeping your arms around him.

"I'm sorry." His voice was broken, quieter than usual. You shook your head and fought the urge to cry again.

"Don't." You spoke, sliding a hand down to hold his own that rested on his thigh. "Don't apologise Myc. You didn't do anything on purpose, you were just trying to be a good person.. a good brother. We're both still alive. Sherlock, John, Greg, Ms Hudson, Molly, they're all fine, and I have no doubt that it was partly due to you that they are still okay- whatever the three of you did in there, it worked, and that's all that matters to me." Mycroft shifted, his eyes finding yours once more, scanning, searching, trying to find anything that showed you were lying, that you didn't trust him anymore, but he couldn't find anything.

"But I-" You placed a hand at the back of his neck and leaned forward slightly, your lips meeting his briefly for a few seconds before pulling back. It wasn't desperate, or longing, or out of lust- it was everything Mycroft needed. Everything that let him know that you weren't going anywhere, that you still wanted to be around him, to be with him. He relaxed but didn't speak, his hand beneath yours just turning to allow your fingers to lace together as he let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. You rested your head against his shoulder, smiling softly as you felt his own rest atop yours before falling into a comfortable silence.

#mycroft #Mycroft Holmes #bbc mycroft #bbc mycroft holmes #mycroft x reader #bbc sherlock #reader insert #mycroft holmes x reader #mycroft holmes x reader smut

[missinghan]

falling for the first time ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : hogwarts au; fluff

❖ word count : 2,1k.

❖ warning : explicit language

❖ summary : your plan of putting all effort into avoiding bang chan as much as possible has been going smoothly for almost seven years until he asks you for a dance at the Yule Ball. or alternatively, your families hate each other but wait...has he always had those golden flecks in his eyes?

❖ author’s note : here’s the song they’re dancing to 🖤

one.

The once cold ballroom has waited for eons it seems, for a real heart to beat a new rhythm into the matter that made it. 

Meanwhile, you too have been waiting (for two-ish hours) in the corner with your cup of root beer abandoned at a table for your dance partner. You’re currently half-clutching your dress and half-panicking because Chan wouldn’t miss an event as extravagant as the Yule Ball. He’s not the type to be sour over little things either just because he didn’t win the Triwizard Tournament. Or perhaps someone else just happened to ask him? 

A blood-curdling shriek bursts your eardrums. 

Jeongin gives you a nudge with his elbow from behind. “Grilled scream-cheese?” he asks with a mouthful of gluten and carbs, a plate of a sandwich with a (literally) screaming slice of cheese slapped in the middle. 

“No, my appetite is ruined,” you say, pushing it away slightly and heaving an audible sigh. 

The Ravenclaw boy makes an alarming noise—something similar to ‘uh-oh’ and swallows the big bite from before as fast as he can. “Where’s Chan?”

You only shrug, “Don’t know. Don’t care.” If only you could do that with the train of thoughts that have been going in and out of your ears for the past a hundred and twenty minutes. 

“Y/N, you look troubled,” he purses his lips, frowning at you. 

“I’m not,” you voice in denial, trying your best not to come off as snappy. No, you will not give up your facade that easily. You won’t leave Chan’s ego nor Jeongin to rest without a fight by saying that you actually want to dance with the heathen!

“Yeah right, let me-“

“Don’t. What if he’s already asked someone else?” You momentarily shudder at how sad you sound. The root beer shouldn’t have hit you this hard. “I mean look at him, he’s Bang Chan. I’m pretty sure those girls from Beauxbatons have been eyeing him up and down since the Tournament.” 

Jeongin lets out a huff of laughter in disbelief. “Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“One of you guys could have asked me. Or I should have paid Jisung to be my partner yesterday. I just, I don’t know, what am I saying? I’m confused.”

Your friend is officially done with your bullshit so he decides for himself that he will now set down his food to make your first and last Yule Ball arguably unforgettable. “Honestly? I can lie and say I would dance with you if you weren’t so full of pride. But truth is, none of us asked you to dance because we all know how badly Chan wants this opportunity. Wake the fuck up! He’s been planning this since forever. I’ll go look for him, wait here,” he points a finger at you before running off, leaving your heartbeat pause awkwardly like a broken record. 

The ballroom feels significantly colder now. 

“Miss Y/N?”

Ah, perfect timing. What’s another way to phrase ‘being an absolute idiot at a ball’? Oh right, it’s ‘talking to your professor five minutes before the first dance while your friends are socializing left and right’. 

“Yes, Headmistress McGonagall?”

Your professor peers around when she realizes that you’re all alone. “Are you and Mister Bang ready?”

“R-ready?” Suddenly, you feel out of place. 

“Well, of course. It’s only traditional that the three champions start the first dance!”

“Oh.”

two. 

Only the celestial bodies above can know how melancholy you are. But you’re met with a sky without stars tonight. 

With your head on your elbows, lips pressed into a straight line, your gaze falls from the endless canvas of darkness to the hustle and bustle of students leaving the Great Hall to head back to their designated dormitories. A sigh. You definitely don’t need to know what they’re going to do for the after-party. Ryujin used to show you an article on this peculiar machine called ‘a laptop’ that the more you sigh, the faster you age. If Chan keeps doing shit like this to you, you’re gonna be all old and wrinkly by the time he comes here. 

If he is going to show up at all that is. 

The moment you peel your eyes away from the overcrowded main gate, a broad figure is shuffling himself through his drunk Quidditch teammates, sloppy couples, and burnt out professors. He dashes through the empty hallways to reach the spiral staircase, skipping three steps at a time, risking the chances of falling on his face just to get to you. 

Pulling himself to a halt at the last step, Chan sees you all curled up against the balcony railings and feels a pang of guilt wash over his innards like a wave. You’re pulling your legs toward your chest, defeated eyes gazing into the space ahead while your hair falls to your face messily. Like you’ve gone through the depths of the Fourth Dimension, struggling through dark matters and a rite of divinity at the end of the line. All for him. 

You’re beautiful. 

And the amount of affection that’s piling upon his rib cage? Astronomical. 

Your gaze is averted away; even with a slight scowl, sloppy clothes and messed up hair, you still flare radiance. He thinks that if a meteor shower is happening right now, you can still outshine it. “You came,” you mention. 

For once, Chan finds himself at a loss for words. “Y-Yeah,” he manages to swallow. Yeah? What the fuck, Chan? Is that all you’ve got to say? 

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N. Yeji accidentally mistook one of Minho’s potions for her allergy medicine so I gotta take care of that before coming,” he scratches his forearm awkwardly, head hung low with guilt. “I didn’t know it would take that long…”

“Oh.” Wow, jealous stinks. This isn’t pre-school, you’d better snap out of it. “Let’s head back. I wanna check on her before passing out.” 

“She’s fine now, sleeps like death. Chaeryeong is there too, you know, just in case.” Chan feels perplexed as he tries to coax anything but the ‘head back’ option from you. 

You tilt your head. “And...?”

“I’m afraid you owe me something?” A slow smile begins to outstretch upon his facial muscles, deepening the dimples on either side of his cheeks that you adore the most. “A dance, I believe,” he makes a thinking face while striding toward you. 

Coldly, you stand up to dust your dress. “I don’t want to.” You’re not having it, he can tell. But does Bang Chan ever give up? 

“A bet is a bet, Y/N.”

Chan’s hand fishes inside the pocket of his trench coat to take out his wand. His hand delicately gives it a swift flick; once, and twice followed by a low mumble from his lips. Immediately, light pulses from the tip of the wand before shooting upward, disintegrating into a million bits as though a starry night is embracing the both of you. He does the same action again to cast a different spell. Music laces through every fiber of air without effort, like honey being poured into your ears. 

“It’s just one bet,” he pouts with a hand fully extended toward you. 

You should have realized how good Chan looks tonight. A black dress shirt that’s buttoned below appropriate, matching trench coat, silver accessories lining his fingers and ears with naturally tousled hair from running here. He looks so gorgeous that it almost suffocates you, that it almost makes you want to hiss ‘fucking unfair’ out loud. 

Enchanted by his poise and grace, your body reacts without the consent of your mind. You seize up when you unknowingly place your hand on top of his, the touch sending electricity down your spine. A simple response has become all too complicated for your brain to process. 

You grow breathless the moment he grabs you by the waist and pulls you flush against him. “Yeah, a bet so you’ll leave me alone,” you remark sarcastically to ease your nerves. 

“Look, it’s not my fault that the Goblet of Fire chose me to participate in the Tournament,” Chan chuckles lowly, eyes crinkling into crescent moon shapes while he sways you to the soft melody. Dots of light continue to float around weightlessly, reflecting the golden flecks in his eyes. He’s ethereal in the worst way—the way that isn’t healthy for your heart. 

But you soon slap on another scowl when you realize he just reminded you of why you’re even here in the first place. If only you weren’t so salty about Slytherin winning your team over at the final Quidditch match before the holiday occurs. Let’s just say you weren’t exactly in the best mind state after getting your ass kicked in your favorite sport. 

And Chan wasted no time to slip in between the line of comical humor and your ultimate torment. Which results in—if you get to attend the Triwizard Tournament, he will leave you alone for the rest of your life; but if he is the chosen one, he gets a dance with you at the Yule Ball. 

It’s really not all that bad if you think twice about it. Dancing with Bang Chan, the Slytherin’s Quidditch team captain, the student with perfect academics and conduct for six years straight, and now one of the Triwizard Tournament champions this year. 

Music threads through the atmosphere and lifts away gravity. You can’t count how many times you have stepped on his toes due to nervousness because you’re too much of a coward to look him in the eye. But he’s the only thing you can seem to focus on right now. 

“Besides, don’t you think this is a good opportunity to get rid of the tension between us?” Chan asks honestly, and this causes you to perk up. 

“What?”

Lights are twinkling with every step as Chan spins you around gently, your dress billowing out prettily as your heels click against the cold concrete. After that, he swiftly pulls you back into his arms and you exhale in relief like you were meant to be there all this time. 

“Don’t act dumb, you’re terrible at it. I know the only reason why you’ve been avoiding me since first year was because of our families’ stupid grudge. ”

Your eyes are cast downward, sadness glinting in your round pupils. “Either way, my parents wouldn’t like to see me talking to you. And look at what we’re doing. It’s going to be catastrophic if they find out.”

“Well, they can’t just magically appear now, can they?” Chan leans a little closer to lock his eyes with yours. 

And you break it seconds later because you’re an absolute coward for a Gryffindor. “We’re attending a magic school. Anything is possible.”

“Did they even tell you what the actual problem was in the first place?” he huffs out in faint annoyance. 

You shake your head. “I don’t think they’d even remember.”

“Then would you stop giving me that look as if I just shooed your owl way every time I said ‘hi’ on my way to class? Have you ever thought about my feelings? About us being civil for once? Like friends? Or even more so?”

“I-“ 

“We’re not our parents, Y/N.”

Your heart becomes all erratic at his words. It’s nothing like those fully-fledged, tear-jerking nor cheesyass confessions that you’ve gawked at one too many times, but it makes your heart flutter and stirs up those cliché butterflies inside your stomach. This can’t be compared to the Yule Ball—it’s even better than that. Because it feels as though you and Chan are the only presences that graze the surface of this land. There’s no one to judge, no fingers to point, no gossip spreading like wildfire. 

It’s perfect. Almost. 

“Us...it’s not- it can’t happen. It’s not supposed to happen. It’s not possible, Chan.”

Wordlessly, he stops, moves both of your hands to his shoulders, and wraps his arms around your torso. The sound of your heartbeat against his is so in sync they just drown out the music completely. Time is frozen in place, leaving you to hang on the edge with him, hanging onto this single moment as thin as the red string of fate. You’re waiting for him to do something, say something. 

Just then, Chan cracks a wry smile and pulls you closer by the nape of your neck, resting his forehead comfortably on yours. “We’re attending a magic school. Anything is possible.”

#inkidz #skzwritersclub #stray kids #bang chan #stray kids imagines #bang chan imagines #stray kids scenarios #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fluff #stray kids hogwarts au #chan imagines #chan scenarios #skz x reader #chan x reader #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin

[peterprkrsbtch]

sapphire - part 1

Peter Parker x reader

A/N: This is some type of wish fulfillment writing for me because I like to imagine becoming a hot and badass superhero when I fall asleep and I thought other people may be entertained as well :) If you enjoy it, like or reblog to share!

REMINDER: in this story, the reader gains superpowers and I do describe the appearance of her body. i hope you know every body is a superhero body and weight does not impact your beauty at all-i just needed to show how drastic the changes were!

Warnings: Swearing, fighting, attempted kidnapping, guns/violence

The sun that came beaming through your window brightly as you opened the blinds in your room immediately brought a small smile to your face. Summer had always been your favorite season. As smart as you were, a three month break from Midtown has never sounded better. Junior year had not been easy for you.

Small goosebumps appear on your arms as you shiver when the memory of that night crosses your mind.

***

You’d been walking home after your first day of school, distracted as images of the day flicker through your mind. The first day was always exciting, new classes and people. Probably why you were too distracted to notice the man creeping up behind you until he wrapped his hands around your backpack and yanked it off of your back, making you let out a yelp of surprise.

Or, he’d tried to. Unfortunately, this dumb ass criminal didn’t know how backpack straps work and when he tugged, the straps caught around your arms and yanked you off your feet, slamming your body into your attacker with a groan.

Panic immediately clouded your mind. You’d never been mugged before. You try desperately to remember anything from the self defense class you’d taken in seventh grade. The attacker seemed surprised that your bag hadn’t slid off your body and this gave you the opportunity to scream. “Help!” You shrieked. “Somebody!” It was the middle of the day in New York and yet, the street you were walking was dead empty.

“Shut the fuck up.” The man growled in your ear and you suddenly became aware of his death grip on your arm. Before you could contemplate punching him in the face or kneeing his dick, a sharp poke on your arm made you whip your head, just in time to see a needle full of glowing blue liquid being injected into your arm by the man. He hadn’t wanted your backpack at all.

The shock you felt as you watched the unfamiliar substance enter your body was amplified at the burning sensation quickly spreading from the injection site to your whole upper arm. The man lets out a harsh laugh, and you finally turn to see his face. He did not look like a homeless man. Or a thief. The sight of his groomed beard and expensive jacket made you feel like you’d been plunged in ice. What the hell was happening?

“What did you do to me?” The sound of your voice is much stronger than you expect it to be, and it helps to ease a couple of the butterflies going mental inside your stomach. At least you didn’t sound terrified. He just lets out a low laugh and begins to drag you by your backpack towards a car parked on the opposite side of the road you hadn’t noticed until now.

“You’re coming with me.”

The burning had spread to your entire left arm and was now taking over your left shoulder. If you didn’t have adrenaline coursing through your veins due to your current situation, you would’ve been doubled over with pain. You struggle against the man’s hold on your backpack as he drags you closer to the large black SUV.

Hell no. I am not getting kidnapped today. You force yourself to calm enough to quickly think of a plan. Any plan. When the man reaches the car despite your struggling, a disgusting sneer on his face, he lets go of his grip on your arm to reach for the handle, and you take your chance to head-butt him as hard as you possibly can-letting your arms slide out of the backpack as you do.

“Ow! Get back here you little bitch!” But it’s too late. In the two seconds when the man doubles over to clutch at his head, you’d snatched your backpack from the ground where he’d let it fall and sprinted down the street. You try to tell yourself that the unbearable burning sensation now settling into your chest is from running, not from whatever the fuck he’d injected you with.

***

A loud beep, beep from the clock on your bedside table snaps you out of reminiscing on your near death experience and a large smile grows on your face. Finally it was 5 p.m, the time when your mom usually went over to her boyfriend’s apartment across town. Every night, like clockwork, since you were 13.

It used to bother you, but now the silence gives you the opportunity to do what you needed to do alone. You get up and move towards your closet as you let your mind slip into your memories again as you reminisce on the events after the attack.

***

You’d run home like hell and had never been so grateful to find that your mom had left early. Within ten minutes, the burning had spread and you were left to writhe around in pain on your bed for hours. There was no let up, no break. You knew you were going to die.

Whatever the man had injected in you was breaking apart every muscle, every atom in your body so slowly that you could feel it. Eventually, your pained screams became quieter as exhaustion began to take over. This is it. I’m really going to die. My mom is going to come home and find me like this-

Before you could finish your thought, a harsh gasp involuntarily left your mouth and you launch forward to sit up. Okay, maybe I’m not going to die. You thought as the pain suddenly ceases. You slowly bring your hands up to stare at them, scared that the pain will return. Just as you’re about to let out a breath of relief, it hits you again.

And it’s so much worse. The burning sensation shoots through your body, and every broken muscle and molecule felt as though it was being bound together again. The minutes bleed together as exhaustion and pain take over your body.

***

Looking back, you still have no idea what was in the injection. All you know is what happened because of it.

***

Beep, beep.

Beep, beep.

BEEP, BEEP.

The incessant beeping of your stupid alarm wakes you from quite possibly the weirdest dream you’ve ever had. You’ve never had pain in a dream feel so vivid before, and the memory alone draws your body inwards, hugging your arms in for comfort.

Your arms. Hold on.

They didn’t feel like this last night. You glance down at your skin, the shadow of your blanket making it hard to see. You rip the covers off and storm over to your full length mirror-and all you can do is let out a gasp. I’m going crazy.

With shaking hands, you grab your phone and unlock it, scrolling until you find a mirror selfie you had taken at the pool over summer, just two weeks ago. You glance at the photo, then back up at the mirror. Then at the photo, then the mirror. Photo, mirror, photo.

A shocked laugh rips through your lips as you stare at the photo of yourself. Smooth skin and curves. A couple extra pounds of baby fat you had yet to lose, a spot or three of acne on your forehead. You weren’t an extraordinarily insecure person, but you were a teenage girl and a couple of those things had bugged you but-

Your eyes flicker up to the mirror. You run your hands along your arms. You used to describe them as flabby, but you can feel and see the toned, tight skin. You move your eyes to your boobs. Were they bigger? They definitely looked bigger.

Any “baby fat” you carried had seemingly disappeared overnight. You slowly lift your shirt and let your jaw drop, running your hands over your small waist, not missing the muscle you can feel under your skin. Your skin was perfectly clear and your hair and lashes both seemed longer and healthier.

When you were younger and more naive, you’d hoped puberty would involve waking up one morning looking like a Victoria’s Secret model. But that was stupid. Things like that don’t happen, right?

Slowly, the events of yesterday began to register in your mind. The attack, the injection, the pain. A million questions flooded your mind. The most prominent being what the actual fuck??

“Y/n? You almost ready to leave for school?” Your mom’s voice rings out into your silent room as she knocks on your bedroom door.

“Yeah, Mom! Just a couple minutes.” You call out nervously, waiting until you hear her footsteps walk away from your door. You let out a curse as you race into the bathroom, the harsh lighting illuminating even more changes to your face.

Your lips were bigger, your eyes more open, and your cheekbones and jaw more defined. Fuck. If you weren’t so worried about anyone noticing your overnight transformation, you would’ve taken more time to think about the positives of this situation.

You were always shy and quiet at school, choosing a small group of people to hang around and mostly focusing on your classes. But every teenage girl dreams of being beautiful, and now you finally were. You pull your hair up to brush your teeth and wash your face faster than you ever have before, electing to ignore the fact that you should have a nasty bruise from your head-butt yesterday.

You choose to skip makeup completely, knowing it would draw more attention to your new face. You took one last look at your body in the mirror before pulling on the baggiest sweats you owned and a loose hoodie, hoping they would mask your new curves.

You had no idea how you were supposed to hide this all year.

***

You smiled as you remember how silly you’d acted the next day. You were overly paranoid, covering your face with your hoodie as much as you could and choosing to sit alone in the library rather than at your usual table. No one questioned you, not once.

You had felt a pang of loneliness at first, knowing that no one at your school even cared enough to notice the obvious change had hurt just a bit, but it made dealing with the powers easier.

***

You’d first noticed it on the walk to school. It was barely September and the summer sun was still coming down on the city. This paired with your heavy layers of clothing and the long walk to school would normally leave you slightly breathless. As you arrived at the school feeling more energized and alive than ever, you noticed you’d gotten there in a fourth of your normal time without even trying.

You next noticed it in gym, when the daily pushups the teachers forced you all to do every year were suddenly easy. Effortless. As soon as the final bell rang, you ran home within minutes without feeling winded at all and winced as you threw your door open, nearly ripping it off it’s hinges.

Something else was definitely going on. Your appearance was not the only thing that seemed to go through an upgrade. You said a quick hello to your mom before running up to your room.

For the first time since you woke up that morning, you relaxed once your door was closed and locked. Your shoulders release as you sink to your bed, dropping your head into your hands. You try to recall anything you’ve read about people being totally changed after some sort of injection.

Your heart sinks. Captain America jumps to mind. The Winter Soldier, Wanda Maximoff and her dead brother. They’d all been injected.

You bite your lip and glance at a book sitting on your bedside table. You straighten up and thrust your hands towards the book, trying to make it move. Unsurprisingly, nothing happens. You close your eyes and breath out a small breath of relief. Ok so I’m beautiful now and have great endurance, at least I’m not a superhero. You let yourself relax slightly, your eyes still closed. Now you feel dumb for throwing your hands around like some kind of knock off Scarlet Witch.

When you open your eyes, your blood runs cold. The book is floating in front of you, a blue glow surrounding it. Slowly, you raise your, now shaking, hands again towards the book until they flash with the same blue and it launches towards you, the force of it making you rock back as you catch it in your hands.

Well. Fuck.

***

After that, you were thankful that no one had noticed anything out of the ordinary. You bite down a smile as you remember the first few months after, thinking about how much you’d changed since then.

***

You spent nearly every night for weeks studying every superhero fight video you could find on youtube and practicing the moves alone in your empty house, over and over.

It didn’t take much for you to perfect them as your new body seemed to be built for this kind of shit. Black Widow was your favorite to watch, and you made sure to spend extra time working through her signature moves, letting the flips, kicks, and punches become muscle memory.

You spent time practicing your real powers as well, though those seemed to come to you naturally. After that first delay with the book, it had almost felt like second nature to lift up the heaviest objects in your house with just a wave of the hand, but still, you practiced. Over and over and over. You quickly learned you could move people as well, namely yourself. Flying over New York in the middle of the night was something that would always leave you breathless.

Once winter settled over New York, you decided you were finally ready to try and use your abilities for good. You had near perfect control over your “magic” and you were pretty sure you’d spent more hours in the past month punching the air than sleeping.

You spent all day Sunday bent over the dusty sewing machine you dug out of a shelf in your kitchen closet. The trip to Joann’s reminded you of your mother teaching a younger you how to sew, though you two never bought yards of spandex to make a skin tight suit.

It had taken a couple minutes for you to remember how to use the machine, but you were extremely proud of the final product. You’d made a simple skin tight black suit with a zipper up the front and a mask to cover most of your face, but you figured no one could recognize you by just your mouth.

Once you finished the last hem on your face mask, you took the suit and the mask and hid them in your closet next to a pair of black combat boots. You put the dusty machine away and finally made your way into your bathroom, glancing nervously at the box on the counter.

Although you had exactly zero friends at Midtown, you had grown up with some of these kids and you couldn’t risk one of them recognizing your hair color if they saw you in your superhero suit and the box advertising temporary spray on hair color seemed to be the perfect solution.

You take the small can out of the box and spray blonde-ish highlights into your hair and brush it through until your long hair is shades lighter than your natural color and you’re happy with the results.

Your hands shook as you pulled on your suit, then your mask, and finally, the black boots. You move to your mirror and nervously give yourself a glance, only to be pleasantly surprised. You really do look like a superhero, even more so when you will your hands to glow blue with your powers.

***

That night, you learned that you had severely underestimated yourself. You thought memories of your own attack would flash before your eyes every time you knocked down a criminal, but it didn’t.

Every time you would wrap your thighs around someone’s neck to drag them to the ground you felt strong and every time the person you just saved would begin to thank you aggressively, you knew you made the right decision to help people.

You kept your guard, and your hood, up during the school days but your months of training and now your late night rescues, had caused a spike in your confidence. After a particularly hard 18 vs. 1 fight in which your zipper had gotten yanked down a bit, you just left it. It looked better like that anyway.

You wished you had someone to show the new you. You used to be so unsure of yourself, and now because of a seemingly random attack, you had the ability to help people. It definitely felt good to be doing something good.

Unfortunately, your endeavors started to become sensationalized. New York was obsessed with superheroes, you knew this. But you never thought people would start paying attention to you.

You should’ve known better. A girl with enhanced curves in a skin tight suit, flying around the city with glowing blue hands and fighting crime with her front zipper pulled down, and you thought you could remain invisible in the media too?

Luckily for you, the spotlight was cast upon another new superhero around the same time-a Spiderman. Once he entered the superhero scene just weeks after yourself, you noticed the articles you’d previously seen sexualizing you and your costume turned into articles about the two of you instead. If only those reporters knew you were 17.

You were thankful for him even though you’d never met him, and your two names “Spiderman and Sapphire” were often used in the same headlines to discuss you two newcomers.

At first you hated the nickname the media gave you simply because of the increased attention, but you learned to love it. It was nice to see people appreciating what you were doing, even though every camera that was ever pointed your way made you anxious to protect your identity.

Ever since your first winter night spent fighting crime, you’d quickly fallen into a pattern. School with your eyes glued to your desk the whole time, sweats and hoodies concealing your body, then homework until your mom leaves, then go out and help your city.

Your fighting has improved to the point that you almost prefer hand to hand combat rather than using your powers. On especially slow nights, you’ve let yourself drag out a fight with some bank robbers or kidnappers just to entertain yourself.

It was your escape. In your suit, with your face covered and your hair thick with the lightening spray, was the only time you felt like yourself. Really yourself.

But you had a plan to change that. As easy as it had been to lay low throughout the last year at school, you’d had enough. You wanted more. So you had a plan. A new body and face overnight is impossible, but over three months? Totally plausible.

You were excited for three months with nothing to do but go out as Sapphire, and you knew these few months were going to be the calm before the storm if you really decided to go back to Midtown as the new you.

God, enough with the reminiscing. You told yourself, but you do allow yourself to feel pride at how much you’d matured from your first day of school this year to your last as you tug on your familiar suit and mask.

***

You glance down at the buildings beneath you, eyes silently scanning every dark alley and corner for trouble. Your hands glow blue as you fly yourself gracefully through the sky. Suddenly, loud sirens and screams sound from beneath you and you look down to see 8 large men climbing into a bank as they smashed the windows.

You quickly fly yourself down and through the hole behind the men as they point guns towards the only two people in the bank, a janitor and a man you assume is the manager. “Give us the fucking money.” One of the men growls and the others laugh menacingly at their friend’s threat.

The manager notices you standing behind the men and his eyes widen, causing the men to start to turn towards you. You grab the gun out of one of their hands using your powers and smirk at the oh, shit look on their faces. Before you can make a move to knock the man nearest you off his feet, a web snaps through the broken window and snatches the gun from his hands before you can blink.

Spiderman comes swinging through the opening, landing gracefully. “What’s going on here, fellas?” He asks, and you can’t help but smirk at the sound of his voice. The two of you seemed to live similar lives, and yet this was your first time meeting him.

The white eyes of his mask flicker from the men, frozen with fear, towards you, and his eyes grow with recognition and maybe shock? Hard to tell with the mask. He opens his mouth to say something else, but one of the men still holding guns raises it and fires towards Spiderman without a second of hesitation.

You raise your hand quickly, stopping the bullet in mid-air and everyone around you stares at the bullet suspended in mid-air, your glowing blue hand outstretched, almost as if you were catching it. Spiderman’s eyes widen even more. “Holy shit.”

You smile to yourself and clench your hand into a fist, letting the bullet crumble to the ground in dust. “Nice try.” You say to the man. “But you’re getting on my nerves.” You turn towards the 8 men in front of you, 5 still holding guns. You move your hand to face the men, and with a sweeping motion, the 5 guns are yanked from their hands to suspend far above their heads, where they couldn’t reach.

You can’t help a small laugh as one of the men tries to jump up and grab it. You turn towards Spiderman who’s standing there with his mouth wide open. “Sorry if I stole your moment.” You say genuinely. You had no doubt that he could’ve taken care of this himself, but you had gotten here first.

“Are you kidding?” He nearly squeaked. “That was amazing, oh my god! I can’t believe we haven’t met until now.” Your cheeks blaze slightly under your mask from his praise, you’ve never had a superhero compliment you before. You adjust your focus back to the men quickly, who seem to be thinking of a way to run.

Your eyes meet Spidey’s again. “You wanna web ‘em up?” He nods excitedly, his eyes finally breaking from yours as he jumps into action. As impressed as he was by you, you couldn’t help but watch in awe as he swings around the room and with a thwick, he webs all of the men together in a cocoon, hanging upside down from the chandelier of the bank ceiling.

He swings himself one last time to land next to you again. “Cool.” You say before you can even realize your mouth is open. “I mean, you’re not too bad yourself.” He bows his head a bit, seeming shy even though it was a half-compliment to cover up your embarrassment.

“Sorry to bust in on your fight,” He says, glancing around the room towards the two terrified employees staring at the two of you in shock. “Not a lot happening tonight, and I didn’t know you were here.”

“Ugh, I know.” You agree. “Not to complain about less crime, but our jobs have been a little bit too easy this past week.” His mask crinkles as he smiles.

“We could...work together sometime if you wanted too, of course.” He says nervously, nearly stuttering on his words. “It’s just, you’re really good and you seem really cool and I-”

You interrupt his word vomit. “Of course I want to! I’ve been wondering when we would meet.” His eyes move from staring at the eye holes in your mask down to your lips when you smile. “How’s tomorrow?”

“How’s right now?” You don’t think your smile can get wider. “One sec.” He holds up a finger before quickly running over to the two bank workers, who thank you both over and over and then they both hugged him. You were wrong, your smile grows and remains goofy and big as he runs back over to you. “Let’s go.”

That night you found out that your view of the city is 100 times better when you can also see a red and blue suit swinging from building to building out of the corner of your eye.

#peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #avengers #marvel #tom holland imagine #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #peter parker fanfiction

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

We’re in heaven..

For the darling @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321​ 💖📖🦋​

Hope you’ll enjoy the story!

Baby, you're all that I want.

When you're lyin' here in my arms,

I'm findin' it hard to believe

We're in heaven.

And love is all that I need

And I found it there in your heart.

Isn't it too hard to see?

We're in heaven.

Bryan Adams - Heaven

In his bed, Hugo tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Shaking and sweating, he could not help but think about his days when he served the S.S.

For him, serving those monsters in shining uniforms was the worst period of his life. You can imagine how delighted he was when he murdered all those 13 S.S officers before he got caught.

Tortured, mocked, and jailed, he endured all those sufferings until the Basterds set him free.

However, all his nights were plagued by terrifying nightmares. He felt the bite of the whip on his skin, the freezing slap of the cold water on his body.

"Hugo?"

Her voice woke him up. He opened his eyes and turned to see (Y/N), who looked at him with questioning eyes.

(Y/N) (L/N), his silver lining in this dark world. The woman joined the Basterds as a spy and quickly get along with those misfits.

Besides, she was the only person who managed to get close to him. 

Honestly, it was not too hard for him. Since their first meeting, the deserter felt appeased when she was by his side. Donny even said he saw Hugo blushing!

Anyhow, they slowly bond together before being an official couple. Even if Stiglitz kept his stern appearance, his comrades noticed that he was less tensed when his lover was nearby.

And yet, he still suffered from those ordeals every night.

He managed to smile:

"Sorry to wake you up, Liebling. There is nothing to worry about..."

"Really? You told me the same excuse yesterday and the day before..."

She sighed.

"Hugo, please: would you explain to me what's going on?"

The soldier stayed quiet before muttering:

"It's not easy for me..."

"Try your best."

Resigned, Hugo told the truth:

"I can't help but think about all this time I spent in the Wehrmacht. Every time I close my eyes, I relive all the tortures I have been through after my arrest. I try to chase them away, but my memories always come back to haunt me..."

He shrugged.

"But I don't want to bother you with my problems. You struggle with your troubles already..."

Her soft hand gently stroke his cheek.

"It's okay, Hugo. There is nothing to be ashamed of: you only did what mattered for you. Besides, you were here when I needed the most..."

"It is the least I can do..."

She kissed him.

"Have no fear, darling. All those things are over now. Just have some rest!"

Nodding, Hugo laid down in bed, turning his back on his lover. 

At this moment, she saw the scars on his back: each white line was the stigmata of whiplashes. The very essence of the cruelty of the Nazi regime printed on his body forever.

Slowly approaching her lover, (Y/N) let her fingers lightly trace the scars. Then, she pressed her lips against the calloused skin and kissed each wound.

Feeling her delicate mouth against his skin made Hugo sigh with ease: (Y/N)'s lips were the most efficient balm he ever knew. However, the more he felt her kisses on his scars, the more he sensed a burning desire burning his chest. This woman will be the death of him!

When she reached the scars on his lower back, he struggled to stifle a moan of pleasure. 

Excited by this gently provocative little game, Hugo turned around and pinned down his lover on the mattress with a hungry smile.

"Naughty little girl. Teasing the Big Bad Wolf like this is very dangerous!"

(Y/N) smirked.

"But I live for danger, darling..."

"That's my girl!" he grinned before pressing his lips against hers.

They feverishly kissed each other as they let their hands caressing each other's bodies. Then, the pair quickly took off their clothes, revealing their bare skins in the moonlight.

Hugo looked at (Y/N) with amazement:

"Du bist so schön, mein Schatz!" (You're so beautiful, my darling!) he muttered as he traced her curves with his fingers.

"My handsome warrior..." she muttered as she touched his muscular chest.

With a sly grin on his face, the soldier kissed her once again before letting his mouth going down on her body, making (Y/N) shiver with pleasure.

While peppering kisses on her body, Hugo noticed a scar on her abdomen. He remembered when she got this wound: a few months ago, they get attacked by a Nazi patrol. In the middle of the fight, one of the German soldiers tried to stab the woman but only gave her a deep scratch.

She was a tough woman: nothing could bring her down. Yet, Stiglitz remembered this feeling of dread when he saw the blood staining her clothes. He would never forgive himself if he lost the only woman he loved. 

But here they were, tangled in the bedsheets and making love. What could he wish more?

Tracing down her body with his lips, he started to tease her womanhood with his tongue. 

Moaning with desire, (Y/N) clutched the bed sheets while enjoying this moment: only Hugo could make her feel such bliss. Besides, she always felt safe in his strong arms: they were like a shield against the cruelty of this world. And God knows she needed one.

Meanwhile, the German deserter stopped his teasing and faced her again.

He asked her with a soft voice:

"Would you let me in?"

Stroking his cheek, she muttered with a mischievous smile:

"I will always let you in, mein Liebe."

"I love when you speak German..." Hugo smirked before he kissed (Y/N) again.

Then, he slowly penetrated her, letting his lover adjusting herself to his presence.

The German felt her arms gently held him, like a caress. Her embrace felt like a healing wave through Hugo's body. Every time she hugged him, he knew nothing wrong could happen. It was like heaven on Earth to him.

He began thrusting into her, gently rolling his hips against hers.

(Y/N) sighed with pleasure as she felt him inside of her and appreciated his gentleness towards her.

Usually, they had rough sex sessions when they had intimate moments as if they will die tomorrow.

But tonight, all was different: they both needed to tend their wounds, to feel the presence of each other.

As his poundings became faster, the two lovers held each other tightly, enjoying the touch of their skins. 

She stroked the scars on his back, slightly scratching it when a wave of pleasure hit her to the core.

Their love-making session ended when they reached the seventh heaven in a last moan of pleasure.

Hugo withdrew from her, then laid next to (Y/N) and held her close to his chest.

She softly sighed as she nested her head in the crook of his neck, relaxing.

Her lover gently kissed the top of her head while muttering:

"Thank you..."

(Y/N) looked at him with curiosity:

"What for?"

"For being here."

She gently smiled as she gave him a peck on his lips:

"And thank you for trusting me."

"Always, my love. Always..."

And as they fell asleep, Hugo and (Y/N) never let go of each other. After all, when they were in the arms of the loved one, it felt like being in heaven, even if it was just for a moment.

When the world went crazy, the soldier and the spy remember that each scar will heal, as long as they have each other...

Thanks for the reading! 

I really hope that you enjoyed the story!

I can’t wait to see your requests !

See you later and stay safe! 😘🥰😍😷

#requests #inglourious basterds #hugo stiglitz #til schweiger #cate blanchett #tw: smut

[glxssylaufey]

Mischief Maker - Chapter 2

a/n: i’m sorry this is a bit longer than usual ahh! i also apologize if the writing is a little bad or if there’s any mistakes, i tried my best :) also i apologize if you’re not on the taglist, it didn’t let me tag some of you. anyways, enjoy!

summary: loki x reader ; The time has come to attend Stark’s party. How will the reader handle Loki’s mischief?

word count: 5,156

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of bullying, language, slightly spicy hehe

taglist: @alex-sulli @delightfulheartdream @mademoiselledubois @destructivebliss @kingtwhiddleston @madcrazy50 @rachel-voychuk

It was no secret that Tony Stark loved to make a grand entrance to everything he does. This morning was no exception. The time was around 8:15 when Tony practically kicked your door down to rip your blinds open. Sometimes you almost felt as if he was just another father figure in your life.

“Rise and shine!” he announced, forcing sunlight into your room. “We have a big day today, Y/N, c’mon!” he spoke as he continued to shake you awake. You lazily blinked open your eyes, groaning when Tony ripped your blankets from you. You already knew what he was here for.

“Alright, whatcha got for me?” Tony asked as he looked for the paintings he had requested the night before. You sighed.

“A headache, that’s what I have for you.” you replied, shoving your face back into your pillow.

“No, you’re not allowed to have a headache.” he simply stated. “Let me guess, you don’t have any paintings picked out?” You sat up on your bed, rolling your eyes when you saw Tony standing in the middle of your room with his arms crossed like a child.

“I can pick some out in literally five minutes, Tony, just let me wake up.” you said waving your hand at him, hoping he’d be satisfied with your answer.

“Yeah? Well make it quick, I don’t have all day.” he argued, walking towards your door. “By the way, breakfast is ready.” Tony said in a sing-song voice before leaving your room. You simply hummed in response, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Today was going to be difficult, you already knew. Even though you were agreeing to spend your time with bidding paintings at the party, you still had your heart set on sneaking Loki in somehow. You were just stumped on how you would get that to happen.

~

After a morning of much needed breakfast, you got ready to face the day. Tony had asked both you and Natasha to go to the store to pick up a long list of supplies for the party. So there you stood, scanning the store’s large selection of alcohol bottles, not knowing which one Tony would want.

“What does he have on the list?” you ask, turning to Nat. She quickly scanned through the dramatically large catalog and shrugged.

“Just whatever looks good, I guess.” she replied before looking back to the shelves. Without another word, Natasha settled for three huge bottles of vodka. You don’t argue, seeing as you were just as clueless as to what Tony would want. “So tell me, what’s been going on with you?” she asks suddenly. You both proceeded to explore the store for whatever else the list requested.

“Oh, you know.” you paused. “The usual.” What ‘the usual’ was, you had no idea. Your life hasn’t exactly been normal since Thor had brought Loki into the Avengers Tower.

“Like what, painting pretty pictures and babysitting gods?” Nat laughed, plopping a case of Coca-Cola into the shopping cart. You were about to protest against her teasing when you realized that truly was what you have been doing for the past two days.

“Yeah, pretty much.” you admitted with a sigh. Natasha chuckled, before a moment of silence.

“How’s Loki?” she asked suddenly. The question made you tense up. It wasn’t that you hated talking about Loki, just something about him made your mind go blank.

“He’s fine.” you replied plainly. You then noticed Nat raise an eyebrow at you as if she knew that you were hiding something. Which she did, of course. You opted to continue, not seeing a point in lying to your friend or yourself. “He’s not as awful as everyone claims him to be. I think he’s just misunderstood.” you persuaded. Natasha nodded, listening intently.

“What makes you think that?” she questioned. That’s when you realized Natasha only knew the Loki that had invaded New York city, much like everyone else. She only saw the villain of the story and not the god that you saw up on the hill. That’s when you began to pour your heart out.

“Yesterday when I took him outside, I saw a side of him that I don’t think anyone else has seen before. He told me stories about Asgard and it sounded like so much more than just some ancient legend. It seemed so normal. He seemed so normal.” you explained, almost passionately. “I don’t know, Nat. I think he’s actually really sweet.” you admitted. Natasha’s eyes went wide.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you like him!” she gasped. Your heart practically stopped at her accusation. There’s no way that you had feelings for the God of Mischief.

“Oh my- absolutely not!” you stammered. “I’m just simply being kind!” you insisted. You could feel your face burning, undoubtedly displaying your embarrassment.

“Y/N, you cannot like Loki, that’s insane!” Nat declared. You could practically feel the stares from the other people in the store, considering how loud the two of you were being.

“I just said I don’t!” you corrected her.

“But you most certainly are lying!” Natasha accused, halting the shopping cart.

“I’m not.”

“Say that to me with a straight face then.”

“Nat, PUSH. THE. CART.”

“HA! I knew it!”

You both continued to bicker and squabble for the rest of the shopping trip. It wasn’t until you and Natasha reached the checkout line that the childlike arguing returned back to its normal conversational tone.

“Oh god, what will Tony think?” Natasha said with a gasp. You groaned, covering your face with your hands. The longer you listened to her babble on about Loki, the more you realized she could be right. You admit, Loki was a fairly attractive person. Plus his gentlemanly charm didn’t help your case much. Oh, who were you kidding? Loki was downright gorgeous and you knew it. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you knew that you were slowly catching feelings for the god.

“Tony can’t know, he’d have a fit.” you spoke almost in a whisper, as if Tony was listening to your conversation.

“Oh, so you admit it? You do have a crush on Loki?” Natasha asked eagerly.

“N-no! Well, yes, but you can’t say a word about it!” you pleaded almost in disbelief at what you had just admitted. You had a crush on the almighty Loki and there was no denying it. Natasha simply giggled like a school girl.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” she assured you. Except the way she continued to smile about it the whole car ride home showed that she was going to have a difficult time keeping your secret.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, Romanoff, nobody can know!” you suddenly said as she drove the two of you back to the Avengers Tower.

“I’m sorry, I just have to say it.” she started. You shook your head, knowing this conversation wouldn’t end anytime soon. “You should try to make a move tonight.” she suggested, giving you a smug smirk.

“Oh c’mon, you know he’s not allowed at the party.” you claimed. “But I have been thinking about ways to sneak him in tonight.” Natasha mocked a gasp.

“Y/N, how scandalous of you.” she poked fun at you, causing you to giggle. “I must say though, I think you can absolutely do better.” she suddenly stated, making your jaw drop slightly.

“What do you mean?” you asked, slightly put out.

“Loki is a mass murderer!” Natasha indicated. “Not to mention he’s tortured our friends and acts like a complete asshole.” she continued. You wave your hand at her in an attempt to silence her.

“Like I said, he’s changed.” you defended. Natasha didn’t respond, leaving you two in silence. After some time, you thought of your task to sell your paintings at the party. You decided that it could be best if you were to just leave Loki in his room. Plus, it’s not like everything Natasha had said wasn’t true. Perhaps it's for the best that you don’t get too close with the terrorist of New York.

~

Third Person POV:

Loki watched his brother pace the floor as he sat on the bed, pondering ways to sneak himself into the party. The longer they allowed time to pass by, the more hopeless Loki began to feel.

“We’re short on time brother, this won’t work.” Loki sighed. “I say we just go with my idea.” he suggested. Thor gave him a stern look and crossed his arms.

“Loki, we are not going to tie up one of the party members to disguise yourself as them.” Thor lectured his brother. Loki scoffed at Thor’s statement. After a bit more pacing, Thor snapped his fingers as a scheme formed in his mind.

“But perhaps disguises are not such a terrible idea after all!” Thor quipped with a large grin. Loki raised his eyebrow at Thor, signaling him to continue with his thought. “Think back to when we were children. That trick you always played on me when you would transform yourself into a snake just to stab me.” Thor explained with slight annoyance in his voice, remembering those times of his childhood.

“If you’re suggesting I slither into the event as a snake, I don’t think the midgardians would be too pleased with serpents being let loose in the building.” Loki glared at Thor, thinking it was a poor idea.

“Yes, but that’s only if you are caught.” Thor urged with a devious smile. He knew his younger brother was always up for a challenge and this task seemed perfect for him. Loki gave the thought a second chance before chuckling to himself.

“Excuse me, brother.” Loki sighed, standing up from the bed. “I have a party to attend.”

~

Stark’s party was full to the brim with people. You had already known ahead of time that the event would be completely packed, yet the amount of people still managed to astonish you. So there you were, greeting people as they walked in. You gave warm smiles and shook hands with the ones who offered it. After some friendly greetings, you were approached by Tony who had ushered you away from the entrance. You expected nothing less from him.

“Alright Y/N, this is your deadline. Where’s the paintings?” he asked, feigning impatience.

“Relax, Tony, I’ve got everything set up by the bar.” you advised him, gesturing towards your stand which displayed the art.

“Oh good, because I’ve already promised like four people that I had museum quality shit here.” he shared quickly, walking towards your platform. You roll your eyes and dramatically sigh at Tony.

“Of course you have.” you said, following him. “Well I suppose I should get to work then.” you said, observing the line of people in front of the small stage.

“Good thinking. Thanks again, Picasso.” Tony thanked you, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder before sauntering over to a large group of people. You took a step onto the platform and strolled over to the small microphone displayed on a stand for you. Everyone took note of your presence and gave their full attention to you. You looked out to the crowd before sighing. As much as you weren’t in the mood to converse with a large amount of people, you always had an open heart for Tony.

“Hello, everyone!” you greeted into the microphone. “My name is Y/N and I am the creator of these paintings presented before you today. Let’s just start with a little bit of browsing, shall we?” you suggested, hoping the crowd would see eye to eye with your proposal. Much to your relief, they did, nodding their heads with agreement. “Great! Bidding will start in ten minutes.” you announced before turning the microphone off. You sighed in relief, happy you had extra time for yourself. In all honesty, you just needed time to get a drink. You were convinced you could never survive a Stark party without some sort of alcohol to give you an extra confidence boost. As you made your way to the bar, you were halted by no other than your friend Thor. He was dressed quite dapper, yet casual enough to give him easy mobility.

“Ah, Y/N! So lovely to see you.” he greeted, with a beer bottle in his hand.

“Thor, it’s great to see you too.” you nodded at him with a cordial smile. “You look striking tonight.” you complimented.

“Oh, you’re too kind. You look very well put together yourself.” Thor chuckled, giving you a friendly wink. You were wearing a nicely fitted red dress that fell right above your knees with lace to give it alluring details. You also wore black heels to give you an extra two or so inches.

“Thank you very much.” you blushed, giving him a curt nod. You began to walk away to retrieve a drink from the bar, but it seemed Thor had different plans. He quickly stepped in front of you, halting you in your tracks.

“One more thing!” Thor announced. “I believe my drink requires a refill.” he explained waving his empty bottle almost nervously. You chuckle lightly, wondering why he was telling you this.

“Are you asking me to get you another beer, Odinson?” you snicker. Thor’s eyes widen as he begins to stammer for the right words.

“No, no! My apologies, I’m perfectly capable of getting my own drink. I’d just like for you to join me.” he specified, gesturing towards the bar, awkwardly smiling.

“Oh!” you exclaimed in delight. You felt having your friend to accompany you would help ease your mind. “I’d like that, thank you.” you said as you started to walk. Thor followed closely next to you with a beaming smile.

Everything was going perfectly.

Once you reached the bar you took a seat on one of the tall bar stools. You were scanning the menu when Thor set his empty bottle on the counter before taking a step away from the bar.

“Please excuse me, Lady Y/N. I believe Stark has called for me.” Thor stated quickly. Confused, you turned to look at the large mass of people Tony was talking to. You could’ve sworn Tony hadn’t even paid attention to anything but his guests. Before you could question anything, Thor had already quickly turned to walk the opposite direction. You sighed, turning back towards the bar when you realized there wasn’t even a bartender to tend to you.

“Well this was useless.” you muttered to yourself. As you were about to stand from your seat, Thor’s beer bottle began to shake. You froze, thinking your eyes were just playing tricks on you. Suddenly, a small snake began to crawl out of the bottle and onto the counter. You gasped, jumping from your seat in shock. Surely you were imagining things. The green scaly creature paused to curiously look up at you then turned to slowly slither down the opposite side of the bar. You approached the bar once more, peeking over the top of the counter to search for the snake. Then with a green glow, the snake quickly transformed into the one and only Loki Laufeyson. He simply sighed, brushing off his gorgeously tailored black suit and looked up at you.

“Good evening.” he greeted casually. Your mouth hung open, completely caught off guard at what you had just witnessed.

“Loki, you- how- you aren't supposed to be here!” you stumbled your words in confusion.

“Yes, but was it not you who said I shouldn’t be cooped up in my chambers all day?” Loki snorted playfully. You had no possible way to protest. Instead you resorted to looking around to make sure nobody was looking in your direction. This earned a barely audible groan from Loki. “I presume you wish for me to change back and slither my way back to my room then?” he questioned.

“No!” you declared maybe a little too quickly. “It’s okay, you can stay.” you said trying to remain calm. Loki smiled at how flustered you were, finding it almost amusing.

“Verywell.” he settled calmly. “Now, my lady, may I offer you a drink?” he suggested with a tone that gave you uncontrollable butterflies. You blushed at his offer with a nervous smile.

“I think a red wine will suffice, thank you.” you replied as naturally as you possibly could. Though of course it was a difficult task trying to keep calm. Loki just nodded and turned to prepare your glass. You couldn’t help but look over your shoulder to be sure nobody was watching you. You knew that Stark practically had eyes everywhere, not to mention anybody could easily take a glance at Loki and recognize him from New York. Because of this, you spoke the first thing that came to your mind.

“Loki, we have to get out of here.” you uttered straightforward. He paused pouring your glass of wine to give you a puzzled look. “Tony is bound to realize that you’re here. Plus the bartender could come back at any moment.” you told him, quickly standing to your feet. Loki just nodded before setting the wine bottle down with a slightly disappointed sigh.

“Lead the way then.” Loki said almost in a testing tone. Without another word, the same green glow from earlier masked over his body and changed him back into his serpent form. Loki snaked back into the beer bottle that he had once emerged from, hinting for you to carry him as Thor did. You grabbed the bottle from the counter and turned to walk from the bar. Where you were headed was beyond you. At this point, you were simply just trying to get away from the crowd of people. As you walked, you looked down at the empty beer bottle to be sure Loki sat comfortably in his glass container. He simply looked up at you and poked his tongue out at you in response. As a result of not watching where you were walking, you ended up walking right into a woman’s body, nearly knocking her over. You gasp, taking a step back from the mystery person.

“I am so sorry!” you exclaimed before quickly looking down into the beer bottle to affirm Loki was okay. Though what you were not expecting was a familiar voice to respond to your apologies.

“Well would you look at who it is.” the woman spoke with a chuckle. “You were always quite a clumsy girl.” she remarked. When you looked up to identify the woman, you couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your mouth.

“Alice Weaver!” you exclaimed. You didn’t know who to expect the woman to be, but it certainly wasn’t her. Alice was a girl you had met back in highschool. She had insisted on devoting her teenage years to making yours miserable. It had started when her boyfriend at the time had broken up with her and he attempted to use you as a rebound. Her jealousy for you has been undying ever since.

“It’s so nice to see you again, Y/N!” she grinned, her shrill voice dripping with sarcasm. “How have you been?” she asked.

“I’ve been fine, thanks.” you said, shifting from side to side. You made an attempt to walk past her, but of course she quickly stepped in front of you before you could make any distance.

“Oh good!” she quipped as she looked you up and down. She then caught sight of the beer bottle in your hand. “I never took you for a beer drinker, though.” you panicked a little, hoping she wouldn’t see the small snake hiding inside of it.

“It’s for a friend.” you quickly whipped up an answer. Alice scoffed.

“That’s what they all say, isn’t it?” she questioned, keeping her seemingly sweet smile on display. You gritted your teeth. In all honesty, you were still in shock that she was even here in the first place. “Anyways, I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to hear that I’m actually staying at the compound until tomorrow. I’m here to assist Stark on research.” she went on. You listened in disbelief.

“Research?” you asked plainly, your throat running dry.

“Yes of course, I’m studying engineering and physics.” Alice gushed.

“Wonderful.” you spat as friendly as you could possibly muster. You went to take a step and she walked in front of you yet again.

“Oh, Y/N, shouldn’t you be over there bidding those… pictures?” she said, pointing over towards your stand. “Here, I’ll hold this for you!” she said quickly snatching the beer bottle. You gasped trying your best to grab it back.

“Wait, no! Alice, I need that!” you yelped, struggling to grab the bottle back. You were suddenly pulled back from her, leaving you empty handed.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?!” Tony whisper-screamed to you, retracting you from Alice. “I have a group of very unhappy people waiting for you. Now stop bugging my student and do your job.” he exclaimed before softly shoving you towards the small stage. Now you were panicking. Tony Stark and your high school nemesis were in possession of Loki and you couldn’t do a single thing about it. So there you were, nervously walking up onto the stage and turning the microphone on.

“I am so sorry for the delay everyone, I ran into some issues.” you spoke to the crowd nervously. “I suppose I’ve kept you all waiting long enough, let’s get started.” you clapped your hands together, trying to seem as normal as possible. As you continued to speak out towards the crowd, you watched from afar as Tony and Alice continued to talk. You could tell by the way the two kept glancing over at you, they were certainly speaking of your behavior. You shakily sighed, going to grab a painting to exhibit it on the easel. Once you were back in front of the microphone you opened your mouth to speak but was abruptly interrupted when you felt something crawl down the back of your neck, causing you to squeak. This earned a suspicious reaction from the people in the crowd. You quickly recomposed yourself when you heard little snake hisses behind your ear. Loki. You were immensely relieved that he managed to sneak out of the bottle. He must have quickly slithered up your arm and up your back when Alice had grabbed the bottle from you. Although you were beyond grateful for his escape, feeling his cold scales on your bare skin made you shutter. You quickly cleared your throat.

“Excuse me, I just am not myself tonight.” you managed to squeak out. “A-anyways, do we have any takers for this piece?” you stuttered out. As you continued to make biddings for your painting, you could feel Loki leisurely slither down your neck and into the back of your dress. You slightly jumped at feeling Loki enter the back of your dress, making your heart race. “Sold!” you nearly barked out, hoping it would get Loki to cease his crawling. It didn’t. He continued down your dress until he rested over the back of your bra. You began to walk as casual as possible to your next art piece. As you bent down to pick it up you felt Loki crawl to the side of your dress towards the cup of your bra. After picking it up, you subtly brushed your bicep over your side, hoping to halt Loki’s movement. With your luck, this seemed to only spur him on. Loki then made haste to sneak into the cup of your bra, causing you to gasp.

“Can we hurry it up, please?” a very impatient man nagged from the audience. You groaned in response, not entirely sure if it was from the man’s remark or Loki.

“M-my apologies, sir.” you apologized, clearly annoyed yourself. “I guess I just have a chill I can’t seem to shake.” you admitted to the audience, but mostly directed towards the small snake currently resting in your bra. You felt him nestled comfortably against your skin, finally stopping to rest. “Next up is one of my personal favorites. Do we have any takers?” you spoke out to the crowd. You continued the bidding, trying the best you could to ignore the fact that Loki Laufeyson, the God of Mischief was presently relaxed in the cup of your bra as a snake. As you continued speaking, you felt him hiss from time to time causing his small forked tongue to brush the skin of your sternum. You swore it made your breath hitch everytime. This continued until every single piece was presented to its new owner. By the end of the night, you ended up with a large amount of cash though you didn’t seem to care much about that. While you granted the very last person your last painting, Stark approached with a drink in his hand. You whined to yourself upon seeing him. You were far too flustered to even deal with his snarky remarks.

“Congrats, Y/N! You got the job done.” Tony joked. You leered at him, walking off the stage.

“Tony, not now.” you said, trying to walk away.

“Oh don’t be such a sour puss, you got loads of cash.” he continued to provoke. “Hold on, I got one more thing for you.” You felt your body stiffen. You sigh, turning on your heels to face Tony.

“What?” you asked plainly. Tony flashed you a smile as he handed you the drink he had come to you with. Whiskey on ice.

“For you, it’s on the house. Just a ‘thank you’ for tonight.” he said, sounding truly genuine. You couldn’t possibly stay mad at him, even if it was Tony Stark. You took the glass from him and returned the smile.

“You’re welcome.” you smiled. Just as you were about to take a sip of your much deserved reward, you felt Loki abruptly start to move again. He began to creep his way out the side of the cup of your bra, passing into the opposite one. This resulted in a yelp that had been caught in your throat all night, startling Tony.

“Y/N, are you-”

“Loki!”

“What?”

“I have to check on Loki!” you quickly shouted setting the drink down. “H-he’s been in his room all night!” you swiftly made an excuse. Thankfully, your excuse was adequate enough for you to get out of there. You swiftly speed walked to the nearest bathroom avoiding any more interruptions. The quicker you moved, the more agitated you could feel Loki getting. As you made your way to the bathroom you could feel him continue to slither around your bra. Once you finally reached the bathroom you slammed the door shut and pulled the hem of your dress away from your chest.

“OUT!” you screamed. Loki listened, crawling out of your bra and down your leg. Once he reached the floor, his magic glow covered him once more, turning him back into his godly self.

“Well…” he panted, clearly shaken up from how speedy you walked. “Could you have moved any faster?” he nearly growled. You could feel your anger rise and your patience snap.

“How is any of this my fault?!” you shouted at him. “What in the hell were you doing, going into my bra like that?” you asked. Loki rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Oh my apologies, in case you didn’t notice, I had nowhere else to go!” he snapped back. You loudly groaned as you covered your face with your hands.

“Tonight was a disaster, all thanks to you!” you argued, pointing a finger at him.

“Me?!” he barked, causing his voice to echo throughout the bathroom. You jumped at his sudden loudness. “I put all my efforts in sneaking into this awful party just so I could simply serve you a drink to thank you for your generosity from yesterday.” he spoke loudly, slowly approaching you. His words shocked you. You hadn’t realized that Loki only wanted to attend the event just so he could show you some kindness. Your face fell, almost feeling sorry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” you said in a softer tone. Loki remained irritated, taking another big step towards you so there was almost no more space between the two of you. Your breath became ragged.

“Perhaps next time, at least make an attempt to stay calm and keep yourself from squirming.” he requested bitterly.

“You want to speak about squirming?!” your voice raised again. “How about next time, you don’t go into my bra!”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.” Loki rolled his eyes. “Your breath betrays you, Midgardian. If I didn’t know any better, the hitch in your throat would tell me that you rather enjoyed it.” he mocked. You could feel your face burn a bright red, embarrassment flooding your emotions.

“Y-you disgust me!” you spat out. Loki snickered almost as if he was purposely trying to provoke you.

“There it is again.” he pointed out. “You get flustered so easily, it’s almost pitiful.” You remained silent, stunned by his remark. He continued to stare at you, his face dangerously close to yours.

“I hate you.” you whispered. What happened next was completely out of your control. Instead of getting anger out of Loki, your statement sparked something uncontrollable. He swiftly grabbed your hips and crashed his lips upon yours, sealing you both in a passionate kiss. Before your mind had time to register what was happening, he pulled away, removing his hands from you completely. He examined your face, searching for any sort of restraint. Realizing what he had just done, he became worrisome.

“My most sincere apologies, I-” you quickly cut him off, pulling him back into yet another searing kiss. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as the kiss grew hungrier. His hands traveled up to your face to pull you in closer, making your breath quicken. Your mind was racing with all sorts of emotions, but you knew one thing was for sure: you didn’t want this moment to ever end. But it did. You both quickly pulled away from each other when the door to the bathroom swung open. Your head snapped to look at whoever entered the bathroom and your heart sank when you realized who it was. Alice Weaver stood at the door, looking both you and Loki up and down. She laughed in disbelief at what she saw in front of her.

“Am I interrupting something?”

#tom hiddleston #marvel #marvel mcu #loki #loki odinson #fanfic #loki (marvel) #loki fanfic #loki x reader #chapter two #marvel fanfic series #marvel fanfic #loki x y/n #thomas william hiddleston

[little-diable]

Five times - Draco Malfoy (fluff)

Request by my sweet willow-lillies Hiya! I was wondering if you could do a "five times the reader realized she loved him, and one time he realized he loved her" with draco malfoy ? 🥺👉👈 I just love the idea that he would blurt his feelings as soon as he figures out hes in love with the reader (also if you want to do this with anyone else I dont mind!)

Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: five times (y/n) can’t stop falling deeper for the prince of Slytherin and the time he finally makes (y/n) his. 

I. The time he had to catch her as she was falling

“Stop staring”, Jasmin mumbled, eyes following (y/n)s gaze, resting on the silvery haired prince of Slytherin. “I’m not staring”, she found her friends smirking features, (y/n)s cheeks were flushed, hating her body for betraying her like that, “is that drool? (Y/n) you have some-”, she slapped her friends hand away, rolling her eyes at the giggles that left Jasmin.

(Y/n) couldn’t remember a day where she hadn’t been into Draco, mesmerized by his bright eyes, the mysterious aura that followed him around and that breathtaking smile he shot her every single time she walked past him. 

Though she had barely exchanged a word with him in the last five years she got pulled in deeper and deeper, there was no way out, even though she knew that Draco wasn’t interested in her. 

Jasmin tugged on (y/n)s hand, “come on, I don’t want to be late for Snape's class”, she had to shake her head, to fully rip herself out of her daydream, stopping herself from finding his entrancing features once again. 

“Did you finish your essay?”, (y/n) combed through her bag, mumbling the words as she tried to find her homework, not noticing how she slowly but surely was running into a broad chest. She didn’t have any time to register what was going on as she began to sway, blinking a few times till her eyes fell upon Draco, hands trying to reach for him as she fell backwards.

“I got you”, he had his arms slung around her waist, stabilizing her before she’d actually crash down onto the floor. Sparks were shooting up her spine, skin tingling from his tight grip. “I’ll see you later (y/n), try not to run into anybody else”, his smirk made her smile, nervously chuckling as he squeezed her side one last time, brushing past her.

II. The time they had to share an umbrella 

“Alright everybody, listen up, I want you on your best behavior”, McGonagall’s voice reverberated through Hogwarts old school ground, eyes focused on her tiny frame. They were just about to make their way to Hogsmeade, about to indulge themselves with rare sweets, chocolate frogs and butter beer. 

A smile tugged on (y/n)s lips, she loved afternoons like this, finally some time to relax, time to keep themselves distracted from the essays that were waiting to be written, the exams that would come up in the following days. 

Even though she tried to keep her eyes off his frame, (y/n) could tell that he was close, mind focused on the expensive scent of his cologne, the laugh that would wake the butterflies in her tummy. “(Y/n)”, his voice made her freeze, turning towards his tall frame, eyes instantly hooked onto his bright ones, “come here”, Draco reached a hand out for her to take. 

She hadn’t noticed how rain slowly began to pour down on them, wetting her clothes as her thoughts were still circling around Draco Malfoy. He pulled (y/n) underneath his black umbrella, smiling at her, “are you cold? Do you want my coat?”, his warm breath clashed against her cold cheeks, voice dripping with concern as he watched her shudder. 

(Y/n) only shook her head no, she didn’t trust her voice, didn’t trust herself to properly answer him, she’d probably blurt out some embarrassing words anyways. Her heart was rapidly beating, palms sweaty as he pulled her even closer, arm slowly making its way around her waist, trying to keep her warm, somehow.

III. The time he saved her from Snape’s wrath

“(Y/l/n)!”, the deep, emotionless voice ripped her out of her slumber, head still placed on her books as her eyes fluttered open, trying to locate her surroundings. 

The voice repeated her name, finally pulling her back into reality, she jumped in her seat, flushed cheeks on full show as she seemed to realize that she had fallen asleep, in Snape’s class. No words rolled off her tongue, her pupils were slightly dilated, insides churning as the professor took a step towards her desk, “am I boring you that much (y/l/n)?”. 

Some slurred, incoherent words left her as she tried to sort her thoughts, body burning in exhaustion, she hadn’t been able to catch much sleep in the past few days, mind focused on her upcoming exams. “It’s my fault professor”, Draco's voice made Snape turn towards him, waiting for Malfoy to keep on talking.

“(Y/n) helped me study yesterday, I kept her awake for too long”, his shiny eyes met hers for a glimpse of a moment, winking at her confused self as Snape rolled his eyes, “next time don’t bother your classmates with your problems Malfoy”, his cloak moved with every step the tall professor took, adding to his dark aura. 

“Thank you”, (y/n) mouthed, running a trembling hand through her hair, nervously biting her lip as she tried to catch up with Snape’s rambling. Jasmin kicked (y/n)s shin underneath the table, “something going on between you and your lover boy?”, the words made a small, breathless groan spill from (y/n)s lips, “don’t tease me”.

IV. The time he showed her how to dance 

Soft music echoed through the room, drowning out the professor's voice as she explained the dance steps, she could already tell that most students were hopeless cases. “Find yourself a partner”, (y/n)’s eyes wandered along her fellow classmates, trying to figure out who she’d ask to be her dance partner, getting distracted by Pansy’s annoying voice. 

The Slytherin kept on clinging to Draco, annoyed with his bored seeming self, “no, I already have a partner Pansy”, the words made (y/n)s heart skip a few beats, weight seemed to rest on her shoulders, of course he’d never ask her to be his partner. 

She cursed her mind for pushing her into those daydreams that would leave her disappointed and confused every time she’d get pulled back into the harsh reality. Draco grasped (y/n)s wrist, “please tell me you don’t have a partner yet”, he seemed stressed, as if he was trying to run away from something, or rather someone. 

“No I don’t”, (y/n) smiled up at him, eyes finding Pansy’s annoyed ones, a fire was burning behind them, probably already plotting (y/n)s death. “Perfect”, Draco began to pull her into the middle of the room, surrounded by a few other couples, waiting for the music to start. 

“I don’t really know how to dance”, it was just above a whisper, eyes wandering down his frame, onto his feet, wondering if he’d change his mind and find another partner. “Don’t worry, I’ll lead”, Draco pulled a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, smiling at her as they began to move to the music, swaying around the room, pulled into their own bubble of happiness, only focused on one another.

V. The time he told her she looked gorgeous

She had her eyes focused on her reflection, smoothing the fabric of her gown, trying to smile at herself, it was the night of the yule ball, a night where she’d be able to let loose, to enjoy some time with her friends. But the thought of seeing Draco with the girl he had asked to be his date broke her heart apart, made (y/n) doubt if she should go down there in the first place. 

“Oh no, stop that frown”, Jasmin entered the bathroom, tugging on her friends elbow, “don’t tell me you don’t want to be my date any longer”, she pouted, finally making (y/n) smile, chuckling as she pulled her out of the room, down the stairs. By now they could already hear the soft music, the chatter of their classmates as they excitedly stumbled down the stairs.

(Y/n) couldn’t stop herself from searching for his frame, lips slightly parted as she took in the sight of his suit, the gelled back hair and that addicting laugh that rumbled through him as he spoke to his friends. He looked happy, truly did, carrying that bright smile on the lips she so desperately wanted to kiss. 

“(Y/n)”, Jasmin sighed, shooting her friend a sad smile as she pushed a glass into her hand, “want to dance?”, Jasmin twirled around in her forest green dress, set on keeping (y/n) distracted, to put a smile onto her lips. Just as (y/n) wanted to reply she felt somebody pinch her sides, “may I have this dance?”, Draco patiently waited for (y/n) to give Jasmin the glass back, wordlessly taking his hand, following him to the dance floor. 

“You look gorgeous (y/n)”, Draco's hand wandered down her spine, her skin burned with every touch of his, struggling to process the words he had just spoken. 

The time he finally seemed to realize his feelings for her

“You know, it took me a while to realize it, to understand why my heart would suddenly begin to race as you were close, the need to touch you at every given chance. But I think I finally understand what’s going on”, Draco pressed her closer against his chest, hand cupping her cheeks, “do you?”, (y/n)s gaze fell down to his lips, how easy it would be to finally kiss him. 

“I do”, Draco softly pressed his lips against hers, smiling at the soft gasp that left her, hands fisting the fabric of his suit, not letting go of him. “I am sorry that it took me this long to realize it”, he mumbled against her lips, kissing her once again before he moved away from her, twirling her around. A soft chuckle bubbled out of her, finally everything seemed to fall into place. 

#Draco Malfoy #Draco Malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy x reader #harry potter #Harry Potter imagine #five times #Tom Felton

[harvestleaves]

Parent’s Nightmare

Prompts: @parkshan820​:Hey I was wondering for your out of breath series (which I love by the way) if you could write about T.K’s first asthma attack when he was young and how Owen would react? I would love to see that 😀

anon: Maybe you could do a story about TK's first asthma attack? Like when he was a kid? You mention it briefly in your first story and I thought it would be cute to see! We'd get Little TK!

A/N: Owen’s been kind of a shit dad this season to TK, so here’s me pretending he’s not an ass for a few minutes.  Also, this is my reasoning as to why TK finds hoodies comforting.  You can also read this on Ao3 here!

Rating: G

Word Count: 1,660

Every time Owen saw TK gasping for air, it reminded him of the first attack he’d ever seen.  It was back in October of 2000, almost one full year before 9/11 and, up until that fateful day, Owen was sure that watching TK wake him up in the middle of the night unable to breathe was the scariest moment of his life.

October 2000

Six-year-old TK grinned as he wormed his way out of his mom’s arms to throw himself towards where Owen was talking with one of the other firefighters in the house.

“Dad!”

Owen raised an eyebrow when he heard TK’s voice and smiled when he got a sudden armful of his son, nodding to Gwyn when she handed him TK’s overnight bag before she headed out.

“TK, hey kiddo.  How was school?”

“It was okay.  We get to go to the Bronx Zoo for our field trip next week!  I hope we get to see the tigers!!  Mommy said you can come and chap-chap...help watch,” TK grinned, bouncing in place from the excitement of the upcoming trip.

“Mommy said I was gonna chaperone?!  I’m sure I can do that for my favorite son,” Owen smiled as he peppered kisses over TK’s cheeks.

“Daaad!!  I’m your only son,” TK laughed at the kisses, squirming away to try and avoid the kisses before his laughs started turning into coughs, causing him to wince as he caught his breath.

Owen immediately stopped his movements, his brows pulling together in concern as he watched TK’s coughing fit calm down, gently rubbing over his son’s back.

“You okay kiddo?  That was some coughing fit.”

TK nodded with a painful swallow as he finally got his breathing under control.

“Yeah, I think I choked on spit.  It was yucky,” TK said with a wrinkle of his nose after a moment of thought.  Though to be honest, he knew it was from laughing too hard, the same issue happening whenever he was laughing too hard or running with his friends at recess.

“If you’re sure,” Owen sighed softly, knowing his son wasn’t a good liar, but he trusted him to let him know if he wasn’t feeling too well.

“I’m sure dad!  What’s for dinner?” TK asked curiously, hoping that changing the subject would be enough to get Owen off of his case.

Surprisingly for TK, it worked when Owen responded with “pizza,” knowing that the kid would be pleased with the suggestion of his favorite food.

“Really?  Yes!” TK grinned, bouncing excitedly for a moment before quickly controlling himself, not wanting to set off another coughing fit.

“Can I go watch a movie until dinner?” TK asked his dad hopefully, knowing they were probably going to get a call soon anyways with how busy the city seemed to be that day.

“Sure kiddo, you can watch Aladdin with the probie,” Owen smiled as he led TK up the stairs to the common area, smiling as his kid ran over to his favorite firefighter, Luca.

“Luca!” TK grinned as he practically launched himself into the man's arms, letting out a sigh of content at the hug he received.

“Hey kiddo, I heard you’re staying the night.  I take it you’re excited?” Luca asked with a smile as he reached down to ruffle TK’s hair, looking up at Owen when the older man smiled fondly at them.

“Yeah!  Dad said we can watch a movie until dinner!” TK nodded as he pulled back from the hug before jumping onto the couch, not noticing his dad pull Luca to the side.

“Hey Cap, what’s up?”

“Hey, probie.  It’s probably nothing, but Ty was coughing earlier after I made him laugh.  But it wasn’t a normal cough.  They were really wheezy and he sounded like he couldn’t catch his breath.  It’s probably just a cold, but could you keep an eye on him?” Owen asked, hoping he didn’t sound too overprotective.  He knew kids were germ magnets, and he didn’t want to worry too much, but there was a small part of him that had a gut feeling something was really wrong.

“Sure, of course.  You know I love that kid like a little brother.  Plus, I got my EMS certification yesterday.  If anything goes wrong, I’m ready,” Luca smiled, patting Owen reassuringly on the shoulder before he sat on the couch with TK, smiling as the kid snuggled up to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Four hours later, and stuffed full of pizza, TK collapsed onto the couch again next to Luca, stifling a small yawn as the twenty-one-year-old laid a blanket over him.  “You want to head to bed kiddo?  You seem sleepy.”

“Noooo, we were gonna watch ‘nother movie,” TK whined softly as he rubbed his eyes, blinking tiredly up at Luca again before he pressed his face against the other’s chest to hide a yawn.

Hiding a laugh, Luca nodded before he turned on Hercules, letting TK snuggle close when he felt the kid shiver.

“Are you cold still?  Hold on,” Luca pulled away from TK for a moment to tug off his hoodie and handed it to TK, smiled when the kid pulled it on, the sleeves falling over his hands as he pushed the hood back off of his head.

“Thank you,” TK yawned, his hair sticking up in multiple places as he snuggled back up to Luca, the firefighter awing softly as TK fell asleep halfway through the movie, scooping him up in the blanket to carry him to Owen’s bunk, setting him down next to the older man, who was sitting up reading.

“Thanks, Luca.  I think you’re his favorite,” Owen smiled as he tucked the blanket around TK.

“Trust me, if Matt and I were ready for kids, We’d adopt TK in a heartbeat,” Luca smiled, reaching down to ruffle TK’s fluffy hair before heading to his own bunk to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was two in the morning when TK woke up.  Though it didn’t immediately register to him what was wrong until he tried to take a deep breath and it caught in his lungs, causing him to start coughing, eyes wide as he reached up to clutch at his chest, the breath completely knocked out of him.

Looking around wildly, his gaze fell on his dad and he shook Owen’s arm desperately to try and wake him up.

“D-dad,” TK blinked back tears as he managed to get the word out, hoping it was loud enough as he leaned forward, just barely catching the scent of Luca’s cologne on the hoodie, the smell soothing him ever so slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Owen jolted awake at the shaking to his arm and sat up, his eyes darting around in panic to see what woke him up before he heard the ragged wheezing coming from his son.

“TK!  Ty, look at me kiddo, are you having trouble breathing?” Owen asked, his voice sounding much more frantic than he’d wanted it to as he helped TK sit up, turning the light on above the bunk to get a better look at him.

TK was paler than normal, his eyes wide with fear as he looked up at his dad, mouth wide as he gasped for breaths that weren’t coming.  “D-dad.  C-can’t br-breathe,” he managed to choke out, tears welling up in his eyes as the panic finally settled in.

Owen almost smacked himself at how long it took him to get out of the bed after propping TK up against the wall, but for a brief moment, he was paralyzed.   Completely unable to do anything except watch as his son suffocated in front of his eyes, the scariest moment of his life since becoming a parent.

His legs were on autopilot as he located Luca’s bunk across the room, turning the light on above him as he shook his shoulder.

“Luca!  Probie, wake up!  Tyler can’t breathe.”

Luca’s eyes shot open at those words and he sat up, grabbing for his stethoscope next to the bunk and looping it around his neck as he got up and made his way over to TK.

“Sit behind him.  Put his back against your chest,” Luca commanded Owen as he sat down gently in front of TK.

“Hey kiddo, your dad said you’re having a little trouble breathing, can you lean forward for me?” Luca said, his voice immediately dropping to the gentle voice he saved for children and animals, in that order.

TK blinked a few times before he nodded and let Luca listen to his lungs, his shoulders heaving with every gasping breath he took.

“He’s wheezing.  Everything is pointing to an asthma attack, but we won’t know until he gets looked at.  Can you carry him down to the ambulances?”

“Asthma?  TK doesn’t have asthma,” Owen frowned as he looked down at his son before nodding and moving to pick him up, holding him close as he followed the paramedic downstairs and to the ambulance.

“Alright TK, your dad is gonna set you down and we’re gonna take a little ride to the hospital.  Can we take the hoodie off so I can put some stickers on your chest?” Luca asked gently as he started to grab the supplies for a breathing treatment.

TK shook his head rapidly at the idea of removing the sweatshirt.  “N-no.  S-safe,” he choked out before coughing again, tears starting to fill his eyes.

Luca’s eyes softened before he nodded knowingly.  “It makes you feel safe?  Okay kiddo, we can keep it on for now, but lemme just stick these to you really quick,” he explained, getting the monitors onto TK before slipping the mask over his face for the breathing treatment.

“Don’t worry kiddo.  We’re not going anywhere.  You’re gonna be just fine,” Owen whispered softly to TK as he sat next to the gurney, holding his son’s hand tightly, worried that something worse would happen if he let go or looked away.

#tk strand #owen strand #911 lone star #911 lone star fanfic #out of breath series