— august, tathève simonyan
[text ID: promises made by june / had rotten / by the time august came. / i’ve mistaken silence with nothingness / and unlearning it asks for courage / i know not how to muster. / this half-empty glass of orange juice, / ever-present on its throne of dust, / on this wooden table, / holds more promise than i ever will. / i, a personified you, for this is not a wall but a mirror / [personified] / i, i mean you, i mean [redacted] / you eat the sun and with your burnt tongue / try to sing songs / not about pain. / don’t you? / in july / [i] you tried to stretch the rare / moments of happiness but our feet / always seemed to stay out of the / blanket / uncovered. / how do i love something without / fully succumbing to it? / you thought you had to die for you to live, didn’t you? / you thought there’s always a spring after a winter / you didn’t think that / this vivaldian symphony hadn’t been written for bodies like ours, . did you? / in july / you didn’t know that loneliness is a crowded town / yet / it’s always been bestowed upon you / to lock the gates / and turn off the lights / every night, / did you? / june made promises it knew it couldn’t keep. / but i shall be wiser / in august.]
F**k you SOCIETY.
You've never been kind to me.
James 'Bucky' Barnes x Reader
Omegaverse Fairytale AU
Summary: Life in the village is simple and calm, except for the monster. There's always been a monster in the woods. When you discover your designation you find yourself hiding in the one place you always feared and the monster truly reveals itself.
Warnings: 18+, omegaverse, A/B/O dynamics, A/B/O & AU expectations (misogyny, enforced gender roles by other characters), missing/runaway teenagers, reader's mother hits her once, mention of domestic violence towards Bucky, minor 'baddie' character deaths, wounds, violence, blood, werewolf/shifter. Monstercuddling but not fucking, kissing, kids giving cheek kisses, sexual content, innocent/naive sex, virginity loss (m&f) including bleeding, unprotected sex, oral sex (m&f), small amount of cum play.
Reader is described as having flowers in her braided hair, the amount of braids and the way they're styled isn't mentioned. Please interpret the kind of braids and the amount however you like.
Credits: Dividers by @firefly-graphics . Beta read by the wonderful @christywantspizza who's been hearing about this fic for ages and has been very patient with me. For some reason I can't @ anyone at the moment so I'm sorry it hasn't linked.
Challenges: For square B1 'Wolf' of @buckybarnesbingo
A/N : I thought a lot about Angela Carter while I was writing this, particularly The Tiger’s Bride, so if you see similarities (mostly in the ending) then that’s why! It’s a short story and you can read it here - https://genius.com/Angela-carter-the-tigers-bride-annotated - if you like alternative fairy tales then I highly recommend The Bloody Chamber and it looks like a lot of it is free online now.
Masterlist | Bucky Bingo
There's been a monster in the woods for as long as you can remember.
Your mother always told you to stay away from the tree line, to stick to the middle of the field and be in before dark.
You toed through the wildflowers, the dry grass, the mud, the snow until the flowers came back. Taking the safe route year after year after year.
It wasn't difficult to stay close. Your village had everything you needed and sprawled across the hillside to the left of your house and the low fields to the right, before it gave way to a harsh line of trees that denoted the start of the fabled woods. In the winter, it filled with glorious, bright white snow and in the summer it radiated with vibrant reds, blues and yellows of the wildflowers. Now it was the end of spring, the yellow daffodils nodding over the mill pond had faded, dropping into the water, ready to be seen again the following year. It was the in-between time, and you loved it.
But it always made you think of the woods.
Whenever anyone strayed too close to the dark trees, your mother would gather all the children around and tell a tale, the tale of a boy who went too close, who explored the shadows and secrets trapped in the branching fingers and never returned.
James had gone to the same school as you, though he was a year older, and his story had followed you ever since. James was destined to be an Alpha, strong willed, fierce, powerful and protective. He held a sway over all of your classmates long before his Presentation year.
Despite the interest of all the children, he had a small group of close friends, classmates that had been by his side for years. James differed any natural authority he had to his best friend, Steven, preferring instead to hide about in the fallow fields, teasing the girls with flowers and mistletoe in turns as much as playing rough with the boys. You were drawn to him from the start, a childish crush flourishing under his bright eyes and cocky smile. Thankfully, your older sister was much the same with Steven, trailing after him with the cakes and pastries she baked with your mother, petting his hair and caring for him when he was sick, which was often in his younger years and taking you with her.
Though they were firm friends, both boys were very different. Where James was calculated and cautious in his actions, Steve was reckless. Believing he wasn’t destined for Alpha status, he decided to prove himself in other ways, allowing himself to be drawn into dangerous situations, helping James to protect the others, even against his friends' wishes. Until, one day, at the end of spring, before the summer began, he was inevitably drawn to the edge of the woods.
You didn’t need to hear your mother’s story to know what happened next, you were there, you saw in slow motion how the older children goaded him. How the boys teased the youngest girls until they cried, throwing their straw dolls and ribbons into the trees. None of the boys could take it, seeing their playmates cry, but they didn’t approach. Not until Steven did.
The summer air was sucked out of the sky when Steven stepped over the threshold into the dark. His hair went from golden shine, to dry straw without the warming sun, his body dipping between the silver trees, searching for the precious lost items. James followed without hesitation, grabbing onto Steven and shoving him back into the light. The girls fell upon Steven, hugging him and taking back their treasures. But you watched the trees, seeing a flash of something deep in the shadows, but James did not reappear. And he never had. But then, neither had the monster.
Rolling your eyes as your mother finished telling the story for the upteenth time, you turned back to the shard of mirror propped against the wall. Tomorrow would be your Presentation, a yearly festival in the liminal space between the fertility fâtes of spring and the celebrations of plenty in the summer. Presentation brought together all the young people coming of age and celebrated their youth and promise, but crucially, their designation. For many their designation was obvious early in their childhood, others were surprised.
Each year, when a villager came of age, they attended the Presentation and discovered whether they'd be a Beta or, for the chosen ones, Alpha or Omega. As adults, they would then be free to ask for a match and, for the higher designation, the chance to leave the village in search of others.
Your sister had always seemed to be a perfect Omega and, last year, you were proved right.
It had been Steven's Presentation too. You had all been shocked to discover that he had been an Alpha all along. The only Omega was your older sister, who you assumed had dutifully followed Steven. Both of them had vanished without a trace, seen at one moment dancing around the bonfire, celebrated by the whole village, and the next they were merely a memory.
Your mother had assured you they’d gone together to be true mates in the world beyond the hills and villages you knew. But you weren’t so sure. Your sister may not have been a close friend, but you loved each other, and she did not write or send word, leaving you with a deep feeling of unease.
Being an Omega could be your only route to adventure, but what would be the cost of leaving?
The Presentation ceremony started with a loud pop, the bonfire bursting into life around you bringing back memories of the year before. Your sister had danced with the other women, dressed in white muslin and coloured ribbons, flowers threaded through their braided hair. Your sister had approached Grandma, the oldest woman in the village and knelt before her, supplicant, showing the back of her neck with its frame of forget-me-nots. Grandma bent over her, pressing her cheek down onto her neck and inhaling.
In a flash of dancing and drums, singing and swaying in the hazy evening light it became your turn. The village watched on, expectant, and you knelt as your sister had. Grandma was seldom seen outside of her low hut at the toll booth by the bridge. She kept watch across all inhabitants and carefully studied the visitors, allowing only those she had chosen to be mated outside and no visitors in. It was her gift that she could smell all scents, even when you couldn’t yourself.
The women before you had smelt of nothing more than lavender soap and straw and you bowed your head hoping you were the same. You didn’t want a mate yet, you wanted love and care, kisses and caresses, but not a mate. Freedom and excitement, not a life of drudgery.
Grandma inhaled and paused, turning to look at your mother, whose hands had been clasped over her heart, praying to the gods for another Omega.
“Strawberries and plums. An Omega.” She declared, shaking petals over you. Your mother cheered, rushing to embrace you. She smelt as the others did, straw, lavender, milk, bread, panic rose inside of you like a tide, pulling you away and distancing you from the light of the bonfire.
No. No. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted to be a Beta, to be free to live your life quietly in the village. Staggering backwards you tripped away from the commotion your mother was making and towards the permanently fallow field next to the woods. You would hide there for a while, before you had to face the world. But they followed.
Grandma led you mother across the clipped grass of the livestock enclosure and over the style to your hiding place. Between the poppies, you held your breath, backing up slowly, dragging your white dress through the dirt until you felt soft, damp, mulch beneath your feet.
“My darling, we just want to celebrate with you.” Your mother called. “Grandma can help you find the right match!”
No, no, no. You shook the flowers from your hair, glancing up to the night sky, begging the gods to protect you from them. But there were no stars to align, just a canopy of trees.
Beyond the canopy the dark sky rumbled, clouds gathering and hiding the stars away.
With a start you jumped up, unsure whether to run into the woods and risk meeting the monster or to return to your village and the life they seemed to have already planned for you. A howl tore through the air and you yelped, running, unsure of the direction or the destination, but running as fast as you could. The mulch beneath your feet got deeper, slippery without boots or stockings to aid you.
The close, early summer evening felt thick, clouds, stormy in the gaps between the trees, releasing fat, warm raindrops.
Searching for shelter, you aimed for a cluster of smaller trees and bushes. The branches closed in, deeper, deeper, grabbing and tearing your dress until you touched soft fur. Confused, your hands clenched, digging in. Yellow eyes opened, sending you skittering away from the snarling teeth of a huge white wolf, glistening under the full moon. In any other situation, you may have found the creature beautiful.
Then it growled, low and hungry, shoulders and head bowed to the ground as it approached, locking its gaze. The wolf opened its huge jaws, letting out another piercing howl before leaping through the air and knocking you down.
You woke to the sound of humming and the smell of porridge, gentle rain on a slate roof and wind whistling through tin. Bleary eyes focused on your surroundings, taking in the single room with a fire opposite, soft blankets surrounded you in a modest straw bed. But you were not alone.
By the fire, facing the flames, sat a tall, scarred man. His hair hung down to his shoulders, roughly cut and matted in places, on one side was a streak of white, all the brighter for the darkness of the rest of his mane. The man's clothes were faded and worn, but well cared for with neat stitches joining the rips and tears.
He turned, his clear blue eyes a startling contrast to his grubby face and clothes. You blinked again, looking up and meeting his gaze.
“You’re awake.” The man’s voice was rough, but not unkind, as if it’d been a long time since he’d spoken to someone.
You nodded, unable to form any words in the face of a morning so strange.
He regarded you quietly, searching your face, “You must be hungry, there’s porridge in the pot.” His right hand pointed to the small iron cauldron, hung over the open fire and gently bubbling.
Cautiously, you left the snug nest you had slept in and crossed the room, acutely aware of your torn muslin shift.
“I can get you clothes, while you eat.” He stood, motioning to take his place on the single chair. So you sat, eating your porridge in silence and watching the man move around the room. There was something familiar in his gait and the lilt of his voice, although he lent slightly to the right now, favouring that side and that arm, keeping the left to smaller, simple tasks.
When you finished, you rinsed your bowl using a bucket of water by the door and set it back on the shelf by the fireplace. The man met you on the other side of the fire, holding out what looked to be his only other pair of trousers and a large white tunic with a brown leather ribbon laced through the collar.
“Thank you.” He turned, letting you dress and then began to fidget with his left hand, picking at his fingernails. “I hope you don’t think this is impertinent. But I feel that we’ve met before?”
The man nodded, “We have, many years ago I wondered if you'd remember me” He turned back then, and smiled, brushing the hair back from his face and you saw it in the way his nose scrunched and his eyes crinkled.
You reached out, unable to help yourself, and cupped his dirt smudged cheeks. “It can’t really be you, the monster, it took you!”
“The monster and I, we came to an arrangement,” he teased, more open now that he knew you weren’t frightened of him. “It’s not so bad, dealing with the monster, you must know, there are more things to be afraid of than the woods.” With a grin he turned and kissed your palm, making you laugh and pull away.
Now that he had confirmed it, it was impossible not to see James in everything he did. It was a relief, a relief a decade in the making, to know that he was safe and well, mostly unharmed by the monster. He had recognised you almost immediately and was ecstatic that you remembered him at all, concerned that the few childish years you’d spent together had been consigned to memory.
“The monster did get me a little, though,” he admitted, lifting his left arm by the elbow. “But it’s just a battle wound.” The wound in question overtook his whole arm, gnarled in places with teeth marks and badly healed scars, it peeked around the hem of his shirt and made his actions on that side slightly awkward. He fumbled his fingers more, but was otherwise well and healthy.
“What is it, the monster?” You asked, rapt, watching him poke at the small fire.
“The monster? It doesn’t come here anymore, I believe it to be dead, for the most part.”
“For the most part?”
“Worry not.” He bounced up, heading for the door. “Do you want to come with me? It is lonely out here, you can keep me company today.” The wooden door creaked open and you rushed to hide behind the chair.
“You’ll let the monster in!”
“I shan't. Come now, I’ve been here for years and sustained only minor injuries. The monster dare not bother us, we’ll be fine.” He crouched down next to you and pushed you to your feet, guiding you out of the door and into the dappled light of the forest.
Once outside, you wondered how you could ever have thought of the woods as scary, the light caught each leaf and flower perfectly, creating interest everywhere you looked. The morning rain gave way to a bright, sunny, afternoon, highlighting the edges of the trees with tiny drops of light. Splashes of mauve, lilac and lavender appeared between the dried leaves and twigs, making a carpet of colour for you to follow.
James spent the day showing you the woodland around his cottage, a dilapidated and forgotten little thing at the edge of a ring of oaks. It had a roof of slate, overgrown with moss and ivy and a climbing flower with five jolly pink petals that nestled in the rich green and red leaves. The woodland itself was magical, full of animals and surprise, deer darted across hidden clearings, leaving only the fluttering of flowers in their wake and an enraptured smile on your face.
“They’re beautiful,” you whispered, clutching tightly to Bucky’s shirt, still a little worried that the erant monster could come and snatch you away.
“They’re called Deer,” he whispered back. “Do you want to meet one?”
You nodded enthusiastically and he smiled back, indulgent and pleased to entertain you.
“Be very quiet.” Slowly, he stood, letting the young deer acknowledge him before stretching his hand out in greeting. The deer approached slowly and then, as if realising who it was that had greeted him, it leaped forwards and allowed James to pet him. “This is a young deer, it’s called a Buck.”
The buck nuzzled into James’ side and you tentatively reached out to pet it as well. It was soft and warm, its heartbeat wild under your touch and then, as soon as it had arrived, it ran off again into the dense trees.
“You can speak to them, James!” It seemed unnatural that he could gain such a flighty creature’s trust, and yet he had, and so quickly.
“No,” he laughed, “but we are both of the woods and he sees that. We have common ground here, we are friends, not foes. We don’t need speech to say that, we show it with our actions.”
“And what actions gain the friendship of the deer?” you asked, as James led you back through the foliage, searching as he went for berries and mushrooms.
“Protection, care, affection, understanding. I provide them with security and, in return, they give me their friendship. I don’t hunt deer as the others do.”
“From the next village, they hunt them at the edge of the woodland, so I make sure they stay afraid of the monster.”
He stopped, bending down to a wild strawberry plant and gathered a few ripe berries.
You sat down next to the plant, picking a single strawberry for yourself, but he took it from you, rinsing it with some water from his flask and plucking the stray leaves from the top. With shaking fingers he held it out to you and, despite sitting at his feet, you felt a deep sense of security. When you didn't take the fruit, he sat next to you, offering the fruit again, gently and shyly as he had with the deer. With a tip of your head you lent forwards, wrapping your lips around the fruit and biting down, the juices running over your lips and onto his fingers.
Perhaps it was just the fruit, but James felt an overwhelming sense of peace, the scent of the wild strawberry cocooning him when you pulled away, eyes locked to his, and licked the juice from the corners of your mouth.
When you entered the cottage again it had been warmed by the day’s sun and the banked fire, although the night was now drawing in and you were starting to feel worried about leaving the safety of your village home.
“Stay here a little longer.” James suggested, offering his bed and food to share again for the night.
“Where will you sleep?” You looked about the room, but its straw mattress was the only bed available.
“I - I have forgotten my manners, being alone so long. I was going to sleep next to you, as I did last night." You felt the hot rush of embarrassment flood you at his words, he had slept next to you last night and you hadn't even noticed. "But I can sleep on the floor, there is plenty of warmth.” He pointed to the earth. “After we’ve eaten, I’ll arrange the blankets."
“No! No, don’t. I have already run away from my home, I can hardly be more in trouble than I am now. We can share the bed.” He smiled and nodded. “On one condition, though.”
“Anything you wish.” He bowed theatrically, teasing you with his exaggerated manners. “For a lady, so kind as to share my own bed with me.” You swatted at him but returned his laughter.
“We should wash, I have mud for shoes and you…” You trailed off, unsure of how to politely express that it appeared as if he hadn’t washed since you last saw him many years ago.
“Perhaps you’re right, I have no warm water though, just a little from over the fire. There’s a stream, a way back from here…”
While he remembered your face, he seemed to have forgotten your taste for adventure, the afternoons you’d spent splashing in the brook that ran through the village, before he had been taken and you were once more tied to your mother’s apron strings.
"Agreed? It's cold." James cooked his head to the side, his hair falling in his face.
"I know it's cold. You think me some sort of princess?"
He stared at you, haloed by the evening light, gleaming on your cheeks and making your hair shine. Your clothes, despite being his and being dirty, gave you a graceful appearance, swathed as you were in the colours of his home. You had even replaced the flowers in your hair, giving a few over to his unruly mop as well.
After years spent mostly alone, yes, he did. Instead of answering he simply left the cottage, unsure of how to explain himself, leading you to a clear stream in viewing distance from the cottage.
James pulled his shirt over his head, used to bathing in the cold waters with no one around to view him, and dropped it on a rock at the edge of the water.
You were more cautious, paddling in to your ankles and splashing water on your exposed skin. When you looked back up, James had stripped out of his trousers too, facing away from you and sat happily rubbing at the dirt on his arms and legs. He looked as if he belonged to the surrounding trees, his hair wild and shaggy, but his countenance relaxed, turning to face the fading sunset when it peeped through the trees.
When he stood and turned you couldn't help your squeak of surprise, quickly averting your gaze.
"Are you okay? I thought you wanted to wash?" He asked. The swirling mud and sloshing of water letting you know he was closer now.
"Yes, I did, it's only that - uhm. I have never seen - I - I'm unmarried, James, I have only sisters - " he caught on to your ramblings quickly and laughed, tugging his shirt on to cover himself. It clung to the damp patches of his chest and did little to curb the feeling of warmth inside of you.
"Is this better, my lady?" He bowed, the neckline of his tunic gaping and letting you see his chest again.
"Y-yes." You'd stuttered.
"You needn't be so worried though," he sat in the shallows, toying with the pebbles he found there, "No one comes in here, you can dress and behave as you like. I have no rules and the animals wish only to be left alone."
He raised his eyebrows, looking at your clean legs, but dirty breasts and hair.
"I could not possibly!" You shouldn't, but the thought of the gentle evening sun on your skin, the water cleansing you of the Presentation, it felt tempting.
"I'll leave you, I promise." James ran a hand over his hair, little leaves settling in the damp strands.
"Let me wash your hair first. Then, perhaps, I will accept your offer of privacy." You sat behind him, scooping the clean water of the brook up and over his injured shoulder into his hair, working the mud and debris out carefully. As you worked on the knots and tangles a soft smell of woodbine and honey surrounded you, it was inviting and fresh, alluring. It made you feel warm again, a strange tingle in your stomach, butterflies taking flight and making you dizzy.
By the time you were finished, James was shivering, but clean and happy, telling you about the other animals he knew in the woods, the rabbits and foxes, the owls at night, how he had gained the trust of some and a begrudging respect from others. Relaxing into the water, you let your hands run up under the tunic, washing the speckles of mud from your chest. James watched you, the gentle movement of your hands and the rise and fall of your body.
As much as you felt the innocent, here in his home where he knew so much, James felt worse. He hadn't truly spent time with a woman since he was a boy, catching only glimpses now that he was a man.
He spent precious little time outside of his woodland home and when he did it was only with the men of the other village. Suddenly he had an ethereal presence in his home, his bed, bathing in front of him and sharing her ways. Neither of you were the children you used to be, pressing chaste kisses on cheeks, you were a woman now. And he was a man. In that moment James believed he was every bit the Alpha his family had hoped he would be. He felt a familiar stirring, deep inside of him, and an unfamiliar need to put his hands and mouth on you in ways that made his cheeks pink. Instead, he looked away, acutely aware of how intimate you'd both been with each other already and ashamed that he'd forgotten so many of his father's words.
When you were done, there was only a hint of pink lingering in the horizon, dark blue taking over the sky and hurrying you back to the cabin. The damp cling of the summer night gave you chills, reminding you of the dangers buried somewhere within the woods.
"James, let's be back in your cottage now, please." He held his left elbow out to you, attempting to show you some of the manners he wished he remembered. Instead of the delicate, feminine glance of your fingertips that he expected, you grabbed at his arm, clinging to him. "What if it gets us, the monster?"
"I told you, the monster never comes here. You're shaking like a little rabbit!" James wriggled his arm free and wrapped it around your shoulders instead, tucking your cheek against his chest. "Are you cold?"
"Oh little rabbit, when did you get so frightened of everything?"
He led you back into the house and began cutting some of the mushrooms you'd found that afternoon, along with an assortment of vegetables from the kitchen garden.
"I watched you vanish, James, why didn't you come back?"
Without turning he answered, quietly, "I could never return to my family after - after - seeing the truth of the woodland. They would marry me off, or send me away."
"I understand." You nodded, lying back on the bed. "My mother wants Grandma to find me a mate."
He stopped then, setting the knife down and facing you.
"You had your presentation?" He swallowed thickly, sure of what you would say next, sure since he smelt you mixed with the wild strawberry.
"Yes, Omega. Everyone is very happy and proud, as if that's worth anything to me."
"Did you go to the Presentation in the other village?"
"Oh, no, they don't do that." He went back to chopping in an attempt to dodge your next question.
You didn't really need to ask, it had always been clear what James would be and his scent, despite being that off the woods, was still clearly that of an Alpha.
"Oh. How odd."
James nodded, "It's really our village that is odd, little rabbit, you'll learn that the longer you stay out here."
"I can't stay out here forever, I'll return home tomorrow." Not that you really wanted to, but what could you do? Eventually you'd meet the monster and that would be the end of you.
"I'll show you back to the edge of the woods, but you'll have to go the long way around."
You agreed and settled into companionable silence until dinner, eating your stew by the fire and sharing stories of your childhood together. By the time you finished, it was pitch dark outside, only the glistening moon peeking through the curtains and you were bone tired, yawning and leaning against the warm hearth.
"Time for bed." James announced, standing and dropping his hand for you to take. He took his trousers off, hanging them over the wooden clothes horse he had placed your, now clean, dress on.
You did the same, nervously pulling your tunic down in an attempt to cover yourself, but too tired to be self conscious. You eyed each other, chewing on your bottom lip, then laughed. How silly to be nervous of someone you have known since you were children. Being Alpha and Omega meant nothing, he was still kindly and honourable, despite his slightly rougher manners. There was nothing to be afraid of or embarrassed about.
James held the blankets open for you to crawl into the middle of the bed, curled together like the rabbits he had shown you.
The darkness made you bold and, before you could become nervous again, you asked the question that had burnt inside you since James said he had been to the other village.
"Do you know if my sister is safe? Is she with Steven?"
James stayed quiet for a while, thinking, and then from the quiet came the answer you didn't want. "I, I can not know for sure"
James lapsed back into silence, but awkwardly picked at the blankets.
"I saw them, though. With Grandma, it must have been after their Presentation, judging by their dress. They were asleep, they went through the woods and I followed them to - I avoid the place unless, it's, I avoid it - she left them there, Grandma, in the back of her cart."
You turned on your side and gripped James' hand, "Did you wake them?"
"Yes, I woke them and they seemed confused, I walked with them to the far edge of the woods and they ran to the next village. But I haven't seen them since."
You lay in silence again, contemplating what he'd told you.
"Why would she leave them there?"
"She isn't the woman you think she is. You must never go with her." He said seriously, squeezing your hand.
"I've seen her before, between spring and summer, she comes into the woods and brings a couple. Then she leaves. Please, that truly is all that I know." He turned away, slow tears rolling down his cheeks at the memories of it. Each time Grandma came and left a couple for years, it happened. Until he stopped it.
James twitched his arm, allowing you to snuggle against his back for warmth. Drifting into a dreamless sleep.
The next day brought rain, this time it lashed against the treetops that sheltered you from the worst of the storm. James stood by the door and shook his head when you suggested trying to walk back to the village.
"And let you get sick? No, I'll take you back tomorrow."
You spent the day helping James, never straying far from the cottage during breaks in the rain. He showed you the animals, as he had before, and went out to collect dry wood from a store he had below an exposed rock by the stream.
That night you stayed with James, wrapped in the safety of his bed. Each morning for two weeks you would suggest leaving and James would find a reason for you to stay despite your increasingly weak protests. Then you’d spend the day together. Each night, you climbed into bed, getting closer and closer. It was becoming harder to ignore the innate desire that was taking over you. Determined to quash your Omega traits, you fought it as best you could, allowing yourself to indulge only in your dreams.
Beside you, James fought off his own instincts. You both tossed and turned until the stars had taken over the sky, the moon was gone, hiding for a while before it would return, waxing its sideways smile and illuminating the night again. All you could hear was the babbling of the brook, the animals asleep in their dens save for the owl nesting in the overhanging oak.
James turned to you, inhaling the scent of strawberries and summer, allowing sweet woodbine to wash over you. That feeling was back, deep and aching, making you damp between your thighs and hot all over. James felt much the same, except his arousal was more evident by the hardness now pressed against the back of your thigh.
“James.” You sighed into the night, unsure of how to express these new feelings. No boy in the village had ever made you ache like this, the only emotion that came close was the childish way your heart fluttered when, hiding behind the barn after your tenth birthday, eleven year old James had kissed your cheek as a gift.
“I’m sorry, this is undignified for you and I’m rude. It’s just that, you smell so -” He broke off, nuzzling your neck, inhaling deeply and sighing in response. “You smell perfect and then, it seems to have a mind of its own." He looked down at his body, his cock twitching in response.
You rolled over in his arms and nudged your nose against his cheekbone, past the shell of his ear to the soft spot where his neck and shoulders met. Breathing him in you felt another rush of warmth.
"I feel the same. It's my fault, James. Grandma said I'm an Omega, you must be an Alpha."
James nodded, he didn't need Grandma to tell him about his status, that was clear every new moon. Something wild and deep inside of him howled and clawed to get out. He paused, the night he had found you was the full moon, bright and glowing, lighting his way to the commotion at the edge of the woodland. Counting on his fingers he found his way to day fourteen, the new moon, tonight. The howling inside of him made his ears ring, he could hardly hold himself back from touching you now, his desire a raging fire, devouring him inside out.
"Your heart, it's beating so fast." You sighed, warm palms against his bare chest. This close you could feel the thick scar that ran from his hip to his shoulder, crossing his heart and joining the painful, tight, skin on his left arm.
"So is yours, little rabbit." He huffed, one hand now inside of your tunic, flush between your breasts, heaving with every ragged intake of breath. You felt it too, the earthly pull to each other that you didn't quite understand. "I want," he gasped, "I want to feel you, all of you, if you'll let me."
His hand explored your skin, skimming over your hip and thigh but stopping short of where you truly needed him.
"I want that too, want you to touch, it hurts so deeply, I need you," you pleaded, guiding his hand between your thighs, helped by the slick that so readily appeared each time you thought of him, and he cupped you, his palm soothing against your heated skin.
"You're wet!" he exclaimed. "Are you hurt?"
"It hurts, but it feels good too."
"Good, good." He nodded, "Do you want to feel me?" His tone was hopeful and you snatched your opportunity before he could withdraw it, desperate to feel his body as he had yours.
He took your hand and placed it over his heart, allowing you the time to feel how the years of hard work had sculpted him. Lower and lower, your hand found a dip in his muscles, leading you between his legs to his cock. You had glimpsed it, when you bathed together in the brook, and even then it had been shocking. Now it must be twice the size, rigid yet velveteen, and he too had a wetness leaking from him. You lifted your hand away to look at it, but it was translucent on your fingertips and then you licked it. Salty, but with a sweetness like honey that lingered on your tongue.
James watched you, his eyes flashing in the dark.
"You tasted me, why?" His voice was gravelly again, like he was holding something back.
"I was just curious, I suppose."
He did the same, licking his whole palm and then groaning with joy, "You taste like strawberry and plum and peaches and-" he dived beneath the covers and buried his head between your legs, licking and sucking at the delicate skin on your thighs, brushing his nose against your wet folds.
The sensation was as nothing you had felt before, tingling your skin and making your body jump with surprise.
He slurped as if eating a ripe peach and resurfaced with his face shining in the starlight, surprising you so much you laughed. Launching yourself at him you licked his cheek, overcome with an animal urge to be as close to him as possible, to taste not just his honey but his skin, his mouth. You licked him again and again until he was kissing you, holding you to him, your bodies aligned and coated with your mingled scent.
"I need you, I need you," he chanted, he pawed at your tunic, pushing it over your head so that you could feel each other’s skin.
You had only seen animals behave like this, and their habits didn't seem to be comfortable or to allow for the intimacy you craved with James. But you moved nonetheless, lying on your front and advising him to lay on top of you, you crooked your leg, opening yourself up to him and he understood, sliding into your tight heat. Now the pain was different, sharp and stinging when you stretched around him and you fought against it.
Panicked, James pulled away and looked down at you, touching you gently, his fingers came away bloody.
"You're bleeding! I hurt you, my little rabbit, I knew I'd hurt you eventually." He rambled, backing further from you until he almost tumbled to the floor and you turned over to face him.
"It only hurt a little, but it made the ache go away." You tried to assure him, and touched your lower stomach, fingers brushing the soft curls below and down between your legs. "I - I liked it, I think it's supposed to be like this."
James approached again, leaning over you and your breath caught. You needed him again. As soon as he was close, you couldn't help yourself. He must have felt the same, kissing you fiercely and lowering his weight down until you were once more moulded together.
This time, you remained facing each other and James took his time, easing into you, finding a slow and steady rhythm to satisfy you both. The ache in the pit of your stomach was tamed into a calming glow of satisfaction, tingling in your fingers and toes, then it started again, building in waves and crashing over, snatching the air from your lungs.
James choked above you, his eyes wide in shock, filled with lust. The rhythm he had kept faltered and his thrusts became wild, rutting into you with abandon before going rigid, groaning into your neck, kissing your cheek and ear, panting hard.
When you'd both recovered you used what little water you kept in the cottage to clean yourself. There was only a trickle of blood and it didn't hurt anymore, mostly you were covered in the same translucent substance you'd discovered between each other’s thighs before.
James tucked you back into bed, naked now and less afraid of his urges to touch and caress you. "I didn't realise it was the same for you, for women," he admitted, cupping your breasts, thumbing your nipples as if simply fiddling with a stray thread.
"The same?" You were distracted by the sensation, intimate and teasing, building a soft sense of the same tension you'd felt earlier.
"That you could get that feeling, the release."
"You've felt it before?" You asked, intrigued by the new sensations you'd discovered together and he laughed.
"Yes, when I'm alone, it's…enjoyable. But more so on the new moon, I think it's because of who we are."
"Because we like each other." You blurted out and then went hot and cold, worried that James didn't feel the same.
"A little because we like each other," he pressed a reassuring kiss to your cheek, "but more because we're Alpha and Omega. I think there's something about it, a cycle."
"My mother told me, it's called heat for me and rut for you. Maybe that's it."
"Well, it was my favourite rut." He kissed the back of your neck, rubbing his nose there until your scent filled the room again.
"Have you…with others?"
"No! No, of course not. I have never wanted to be with others."
"I have never wanted to either."
You smiled, snuggling into the blankets and falling into a sleep filled with images of James.
Your bedfellow did not sleep, torn by his instincts to keep you close and the need to send you away for your own protection. As an Alpha, he longed for an Omega, it was his birthright, something he had always been prepared for.
Though his father had embellished the need for control and direction, James had always looked forward to having an Omega of his own to care for and love. He didn’t desire the enforced submission and worship that his father insisted on, there was far more to be gained from having a partner in life. Just as he befriended the herd of deer, he hoped to establish love and trust in his Omega and be loved in return.
Watching you sleep in his bed, he understood that you were all he could ever want, he only wished you didn’t have to return to the village, but he knew that you did, and that tomorrow, he would let you.
The sun rose through the trees in dapples and halos of light, a glorious summer day without a cloud in the sky, yet James was living under a storm cloud.
As usual, you would wake and suggest he walk you back to the village and today he would agree.
“But, James…” you paused, “You said you would need to dig over the next plot of your garden, wouldn’t you sooner have the help?”
Inside he nodded, he shouted, he screamed his agreement, but he shook his head.
“It’s time for you to return, I need you to forget that you saw me out here,” he said seriously.
"What if I can't forget you?" You wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your nose into his chest, "Did we not share everything with each other?"
"We did." He held you by the shoulders, distancing himself, bile rising when he understood what he'd taken from you. He wasn't naive to the ways of the elders that surrounded you, their understanding of the world aligned with the farmer and his cattle and now he had spoiled you when he was unable to keep you.
"I've already miscounted the days until the new moon and put us both in danger. I can't miscount again."
"There's twenty-eight days until the new moon returns, I'll count, I have other rhythms in the lunar cycle to aid me."
"And I have other concerns about the lunar cycle outside of your comprehension," he snapped, eyes flashing. "You cannot stay here."
You jumped back, angry and hurt. "Fine," you snarled. "I'll go now." Storming through the trees, it occured to you that you didn't know your way home. James hung back, loping after you and coughing when you took the wrong turn and trying to point out easier routes.
"Go away!" Your shout sent the birds flying up through the trees.
James held back, "I'm just trying to protect you."
"Then why didn't you bring me back straight away? Why did you keep me?"
"I was selfish and lonely," he admitted.
"The moon, the full moon, I need you gone by then and I can't risk you distracting me from the count. How do you not see that I am trying to protect you?"
"I thought we were friends, I thought you liked me being with you, you showed me everything and now you're taking it away."
You stomped on the branches under your feet. "You have sent me back to be sold off like cattle, some mate for an Alpha who cares little for me and my feelings. But I suppose you have no love for me either."
You broke through the thick trees to the saplings at the treeline, expecting him to defend his feelings, to show you some of the love you had felt the night before.
The sun was hot, hotter than you remembered and made you feel tired so much faster than the cooling breezes and filtered beams of James' home.
You looked back, but there was nothing but a glimpse of white, fading into the shadows.
Your mother was happy to see you again, parading you back out into the village as soon as you'd crossed the threshold, scrubbing you clean and dressing you up.
"Mama, please." You batted her away when she fussed with your ribbons and patted at your hair. "Really, this is unnecessary."
"You ran away from your ceremony, you should see Grandma again," she insisted, her nails pinching your wrist where she held you tight against her side. “You will be matched and mated and behave like a proud Omega.”
It took her but a week to arrange an audience with Grandma, darning your torn muslin by the fire while she admonished you every night. You were to be matched by the woman, sent away from the village to fulfil your duty, like your sister.
You dwelled on the comparisons your mother made to your sister, perfect even in her absence.
"She vanished, mother, how would you know that she's fulfilling her duty?" Your scathing comments earnt you the back of her hand and a string to your cheek.
"Grandma has told me she's safe, she saw to it herself, you were too young to understand and I will not have you questioning me." She tugged harder, dragging you down the streets, past the shuttered homes of the families that would no longer look at you, through the village square, where the red and white patterns of the maypole remained neatly knotted together in celebration of this year's Presentation. Finally, to the crooked toll booth, overlooking the bridge into the village.
Below the bridge, the stream ran low, revealing the roots of the wild orchids that lined its banks. You couldn't help but wonder if James had bathed in the same water, if he had dipped his pail in and sloshed his way back to his cottage as you had when you were staying with him.
Grandma stood in the doorway, peering out, eyes darting across to the woods and back and then examining you. She squinted, holding a hand to her wrinkled forehead and glared, searching deep in your own eyes for something you tried to hide. Would she know? Could she see what you had done?
“Sit, girl.” She gestured to the quilts on the floor and handed you an earthen cup full of warm, herbal tea. Your mother whispered to her by the single window, glancing back at you only occasionally.
After you had finished your first over sweet cup your mother stepped away, cupping your still stinging cheek. “Behave, I will see you in a few days when Grandma has dealt with you, then she shall find you a match.” She kissed your crown and left without another word.
Grandma poured another cup, sitting opposite you on the dirt floor. “Are you ready to behave now?” She croaked.
Your eyes swam with tears, “No.”
“Shame on you, little fool.” Her gnarled, snarling, teeth separated into a wicked grin, holding her hand under your cup and forcing the hot liquid down your throat. It burned going down, forcing the tears to come faster until you could barely see, groping in front of you to push her away. Even when she backed off you still struggled, slumping to the floor as the room swam in swirls of grey and brown, the light fading.
You drifted in and out of consciousness, aware only of the day ending and beginning with the sweet scent of herbal tea forced into your mouth.
And then she moved you.
The small cart jolted over each bump in the fallow field, drawn by an ageing donkey, past the wildflowers, sprouting and dancing in the twilight, through the silver birches at the edge of the woodland and into the cool shadows of the dense trees.
The familiar call of the owl should have been reassuring, but without James' warm, comforting presence, it only heightened your sense of unease. It followed you for a while and then even its distinct whoo faded away.
Your eyes blinked open for the first time in days, sensitive even with the sun at its lowest, disappearing behind the harsh tree line. The moon shone overhead, lighting the narrow path that you had taken to return to the village, but instead of branching left towards the solace of James’ cottage, Grandma went right, further and further into the woods. Past the clearings and dells that James had showed you, sending the herd of deer skittering away, into the darker, thicker trees that even James had shied away from.
Grandma stopped in a clearing of canopy shy trees, the pattern above disconcerting in its shades of midnight black and inky blue. Without a word, she climbed down from the cart, unhooking the donkey at the front and saddling herself astride it. You tried to sit, to see where she had gone and see if you could follow, perhaps if you recognised the woodland from a different angle you would be able to find your way back to James and he could shelter you for the night again. But, as your senses returned, you realised your arms wouldn’t move, tied to the sides of the cart they were stretched wide above your head. Even your legs had been bound by the ankles making escape impossible.
The leaves around you rustled a hush descended on the clearing until - pat - pat - pat - something paced closer and closer, each placement of its feet calculated and careful, but strained somehow. Craning your neck, you locked eyes with a beast across the clearing, eyes a sickly yellow and grey fur standing on end. It had a scar across its face and walked lamely on its left hind leg, limping closer and closer, dragging its paw.
The wolf lifted its head and bayed to the moon, nose in the air, scenting, then continuing its slow perusal of your situation. At the bottom of the cart it reared, awkwardly jumping onto the cracked boards and rocking the cart from side to side with the sudden movement.
You held your breath, shying away when it bent its head lower and snarled, showing the fresh red stains on its awful teeth, the rancid smell of the wolf’s maw made you gag, heaving away from it. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was laughing at you, the way it tipped its head to the side and snarled, rumbling deep in its chest before lunging forwards and snapping. Its teeth closed around the neck of your dress and ripped it, exposing your chest and breasts to the chill air and tearing a blood curdling scream from deep in your lungs.
One moment, the grey wolf was rising up to snap again and the next it was knocked sideways by a blur of moonlit white, its claws scratching at your rope bindings and freeing your arms.
At the commotion, a second shuffling reached your ears and the screeching sound of Grandma added to the howls of the battling wolves. You sat up, pulling at the rope on your legs until it unravelled, leaving your ankles sore but otherwise unharmed.
Grandma tore at the wolf. Siding with the haggard dog, smacking the white wolf with her cane and pulling its ears and tail in turns.
The white wolf rounded on her, eyes aglow and howled long and loud before snapping forwards. When it raised its head it’s mouth was red and Grandma lay unmoving at its feet.
The grey wolf was unconcerned with its accomplice, relishing the opportunity to return its attention to you. He wasted no time in limping back to the cart and rocking the edges, forcing you over the side and into the cold mulch by the wheels. With a swipe of its paw, you rolled over, tangled and terrified. Your chest opened, beneath his claws, ribbons of muslin, dyed red with your blood, shredded beneath you.
Before he could strike again the white wolf pounced, wrestling the grey hound to the ground with a single blow of its enormous paw. The wolf lay quiet for a while, its white counterpart standing guard, and then it went limp, the fur dissolving, bones cracking and revealing an old man underneath. His left foot stuck out at an angle as if recently broken, his long hair was matted and greying like the wolf's, his body as scarred as James'.
Satisfied that the wolf, at least, was gone, the white wolf pushed the naked body with his nose, waiting for a movement, but nothing came.
Then it rounded on you.
The white wolf’s eyes were yellow too, his paws at least twice as large as the grey wolf’s had been with a jawline to match. Like the grey wolf it wasn’t without injury, its left paw was slow in its movements, but suited it fine for leaping and landing.
You cowered away, hoping the two kills it had already made would distract it enough for you to escape, but it caught you at the edge of the cart and pinned you beneath its gigantic body. In the gaps from the trees the moon picked out the edges of the wolf’s fur and you considered whether it was a comfort that at least the creature killing you was beautiful. Its jaws fell open and a long, pink tongue lolled out panting in time to its deep breaths.
It looked you over and whined when it saw the pools of blood on your clavicle. In one long movement it bent and licked from your belly to your cheek, cleaning the blood from you and soothing the wounds beneath. It tickled, and the gentle nature of the animal, after you had prepared so keenly for death, made you giggle.
Again, it cocked its head to the side and then dropped its mouth open as if smiling. Its large ears flopped about comically, despite its terrifying size and you allowed it to continue licking you.
Once the wolf was happy you were clean, it walked away and started back into the depth of the woods. When you didn’t follow, it returned, whining again and nudging your side, forcing you to your feet. With weak legs, you followed for a while, clinging to its fur for support, until you reached a familiar cottage, grey stone walls ensconced in clinging ivy and protected by the ancient oaks that circled it.
The wolf sat happily at the door, pawing at the latch but you were reluctant to unlock it, what if James was inside and it hurt him? It had already killed twice. You couldn't see through the small windows, but the room inside was dark and, unlike the nights you'd spent together, there was no banked fire in the grate.
The wolf whined again, sensing your hesitation and licked your hand instead, pressing its huge head into your belly and rumbling low in its chest. It was less a growl and more a hum, its tail wagging, brushing the fallen leaves and stray flowers around with swirls and eddies.
The wolf didn't return to the door, but darted down to the stream and splashed about playfully, bowing its head into the running water until the top layer of its fur was soaked and then bound back, raining droplets over you with a shake of its coat.
But you didn't open the door.
It waited only a second longer, and then launched at you, knocking you into James' vegetable patch where you landed on your back. Crawling slowly, it kept its belly to the ground, snagging twigs and flowers along the way. Carefully the wolf licked at your ankle, your knee and then playfully shoved its snout up under your dress, licking between your thighs. You pushed it away, as if it was as tame as one of the farmer's sheep dogs, and it let you, sticking its tail in the air and wagging again but keeping its head and shoulders lowered to the ground. Before you could stop it, it licked you again, rubbing its nose on yours and snuffling in your hair and ears.
Considering your evening, you were surprised with the sense of peace the wolf brought you. He even smelled of honeysuckle as James did. It was this thought that gave you the courage to open the door, allowing the mammoth dog into the small space.
Concerned that it might break the precious few belongings that James owned, you tried to herd it towards the bed. But you needn't have worried, it jumped straight onto the blankets, turned twice and dropped its not inconsiderable weight down, thumping its tail with joy. When you didn't immediately climb onto the bed too, it stared at you, hackles raised when you aimed for the chair but dropping to the same dopey, open mouth canine grin when you stepped closer.
With a sigh of resignation you tucked yourself into the only spare corner of the blanket and allowed the wolf to surround you. Nuzzling your neck and pawing gently at your arms and legs. You fell asleep together warmed by the comfort of the monster in the bed, your hands deep in its snow white fur.
When you woke the wolf was gone and the cabin was empty save for the smell of porridge and honey, warmed on the hearth. The only clue that the wolf had been there at all was a flurry of white hairs left along the blankets.
Your muslin remained ripped and bloody, the wound on your chest covered with a thin layer of white, clay like, mud and dock leaves. James must have returned in the night and tended to you while you slept. The thought filled you with love and a fierce desire to see him again, to feel his hands on your face and his lips tasting you.
The door swung open, announcing the man himself, laden with more leaves and a small bowl of clay. He was cleaner than you'd seen him before, hair damp and pushed back, cheeks pink with cold. He had what looked to be a new shirt on, a beaming smile that pushed all your fears and doubts away, back into the shadows.
"Little rabbit! You're awake!" He ran over to you, cupping your cheeks and kissing you with abandon.
"I am, I am, though I can not fathom how." You touched a hand to your chest over the mud.
"All is well now, please, think not of that place. Forget."
"James." You pushed him away sternly, "How can I forget?! Where did the wolf go?"
He cocked his head to the side, a movement so family that a terrifying thought made you shiver from head to toe. "James, the Wolf?"
"Please, I told you not to ask too much about the monsters." He was pained hiding his face in his hands, highlighting the streak of white hair at his temple.
"You, you are the monster?" you whispered, and he grimaced.
"No! No, certainly not. I am - the wolf - we are one and the same. But I am not the monster, he is finished now. Not half dead, finished forever." His face contoured in rage. "I should have finished him when I found Steve and your sister."
"The monster was there then, too? Why?"
"You ask too much of me, can we not forget that night and -"
"No!" You stomped your foot on the stone flags, face fixed in a stern glare and James crumbled.
"If you must, let us sit somewhere calm, this is not a happy tale."
You sat together outside of the cabin, hoping the sunshine would protect you from the truth that James would reveal.
"I was taken that night by the monster, he brought me back here to his home and -" James stopped, you clutched his hand, hoping to give him the courage to continue. "I can not be sure when, but soon I was like him, a wild beast, he taught me his ways. The woodland and the garden, hunting and eating, the moon's phases on us. On the full moon, we have no choice, the Wolf howls inside and overtakes us, we become one and it runs free, wild. At other times it is tame and mild as a lapdog. I wanted to leave, but without him, I had no guidance. The village…"
"They would have killed you." He nodded in agreement and you paused, scared to ask your next question. "The man, the other wolf, was going to kill me. Did you ever…?"
"Of course not, I was never taken there. He went alone, on Presentation, and had me guard the cottage. His pet." James grimaced again, as if he could spit his disgust for the other man out if he only tried hard enough. "He was a cruel man, he would beat me until the beast showed itself and sent me hunting. Last year, I had had enough, it should have been my Presentation. I grew tired of acting as a boy and wanted to see where he was going. So I followed."
You knew some of what happened next, James had found Steve and your sister tied to the cart and alone in the woods. But no previous stories could prepare you for James' tale of heroism. He had battled the grey wolf, leaving him lame and limping, wounded and broken, taking his title as true Alpha to the woods and running him. Steve took your sister and never looked back, too frightened to face Grandma and too betrayed to face the parents that had failed to protect them.
Someone must have cared for the grey wolf to allow him to attend Grandma's sacrifice again this year, but he had never returned to the cottage and James had made it his own instead. The animals he so lovingly befriended over many years playing alone helped to protect him as best they could. Warning him of sudden approaches with their silence or cacophony, and leading him to you when you found yourself within the trees. Your village was frightened of the monster, leaving yearly sacrifices to the monstrous man. But the neighbouring village had an understanding with James, they feared his presence but recognised the protection he had given to them by subduing the grey wolf, and they left him tributes. Clothes, firewood, food and useful objects like bowls and knives.
You sat together quietly contemplating the previous evening, the complicit village and the ending of Grandma's tyranny over the inhabitants.
"You said the man changed you, when he took you that night."
James nodded, but refused to make eye contact.
He held his hand out to you, pushing the ripped dress aside and showing your wound to the watching trees. "A cut to the heart is the first part."
"And the second?"
"The saliva of another wolf, your creator, must seep in, deep, and then, at the next full moon, the wolf reveals itself. That was my making."
"Your wolf - you, you cleaned me. Do you think that would cause a change? Will it have gone deep enough?" The idea was at once terrifying and thrilling, James had looked so free and happy loping around, giving into his animal nature. But you could never leave the woods as a wolf, the village would make you a pariah, any new habitation would put you at risk of discovery.
"Perhaps," he whispered, smiling and cupping your cheek in his hand, "but the clay should help."
Now you stay in the woods, away from the treeline, in the safety of the darkness.
. . under the burning sun, feelings become visible.
› tags . . (18+) fem!reader, mutual pinning, confused friends to lovers?, geto centric, suggestive, a tiny bit of angst.┊WC: 3.8k
› note . . honestly... I don't know what this is, it's a mountain of emotions that I tried to tame so if at some point nothing makes sense, it's okay, you're right, because it doesn't. Writing this kind of "genre" is still new to me, maybe that's why you notice that... yk? Nevermind. All I know is that this is totally self indulgent; so if you enjoyed it that's cool.
Geto swallows a raspy ball that forms in his throat at the same time as the fourth drop of water slips between the valley of your breasts.
He's tryiing not to look but it's hard when you're so close to him that if he stirs a little more on the couch his knee will touch yours and all he can do to distract himself from the overwhelming situation is count the drops that the ice you're sucking drops on your skin.
Your delicate lips curl around the cube and you suck until the wet noises your mouth produces almost overshadow the show you're both paying zero attention to.
Geto arranges the cushion over his crotch and tries to spread his knees further apart without actually touching you. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the fifth and sixth drop go through the top of your swimsuit to get lost in your chest again.
"I'm going in the pool, are you coming?"
It takes him a moment to realize you are talking to him and that the noise is not coming from the television. He detaches his attention from the screen to fixate on you, his eyes instantly falling on your hard nipples and rising like lightning to your face.
"Nah, you go first. I'll catch up with you now." He pats his back because his voice sounds unshaky.
"'kay." You shrug and drop the glass of ice on the little table in front of you. "You should chew a little, Su," you say with a chuckle, referring to the ice, "the heat's got you all red." You turn your back on him and hop over to the pool where Gojo and Shoko are.
He stands with his mouth half-open in the middle of producing some response to justify his apparent blush. He puts both hands to his cheeks and realizing that he is indeed burning up, he curses loudly, puts the cushion aside and looks at the bulge that is squeezing his pink shorts.
He glances guiltily at the image he has of his friends screaming and splashing water behind the glass window, then at the reality show on TV to finally end up at his crotch again.
Geto trots up the stairs, running away from your laughter and his best friend asking for him and finishes his marathon locked in the guest bathroom which for his good fortune is at the other end of the house, far away from the pool. His fingers squeeze the cold material of the sink and he stares at his reflection for what seems like an eternity, the mirror is stained with the boho of his ragged breathing and now there are a couple of extra strands accompanying his bangs that darken his gaze.
You can't be doing this to me, come on. It's funny, it's almost as if he's hearing Gojo's mocking laughter in his ear from all the show he's putting on.
He's aware of the crush he's had on you since you shared the entire course of Jujutsu High, he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you for a moment. And finally when you stopped talking for exactly three years —because you had to go on missions abroad— he realized that this platonic love he felt for you had faded and that he had finally moved on— until now. Great. It was day two of your four-day vacation at the Gojo family house, the one on the outskirts of town, Satoru had borrowed it for the summer vacation —by borrowed he meant totally forcing the lock— and he hasn't even been able to get in the pool because every time he sees you in your bathing suit he loses his mind and his words turn into a bunch of nonsense noises.
You look so much prettier than the last time he saw you, he swears you've done something to your hair, how is it possible that it's so much brighter than before? The warmth of your embrace feels just like flares on his chest, your smell of fresh shampoo mixed with the grapes of what he thinks is your shower gel collapsed the whole 'I'm finally over her' speech he built up for months.
He had to control himself not to say something out of place at the line of your neck in that warm hug on the first day you saw each other.
And then down there, when you were licking that ice cube all he could think about was—
"Are you okay?" It couldn't be you again... you were probably wet, whispers a little red devil to his right. "We're a little worried about you."
"Hm..." His complicit reflection looks back at him. "Yeah. I'm coming, I think it was the food."
"Do you want me to come in?"
"No!" Stop being so cute. "I'm going to sit down for a while and if I'm still dizzy I'll tell you, okay?"
He didn't mean to sound so rude. And you didn't expect your stomach to start turning. You take a step back taking your hand considerably away from the doorknob to contemplate the fact that a person you used to label as your friend probably dislikes you, what other reason would there be for him to act so strange when you're alone together?
Silence grows in the hallway. You looking for something to say that's appropriate without your voice quivering— and Geto even comes to believe you left but it's not until a couple of seconds later that he hears your bare feet echoing in the hallway that he confirms it.
Outside, the brave sun kisses your forehead again and promptly removes the slight coolness that being inside the house gave you.
"Everything okay?" That was Gojo who finishes taking a long swig of apple juice, shaking his legs inside the pool.
You mumble. "He says he's dizzy... —you furrow your brow— he says it was the food."
I want to blame the noodles too, Shoko.
"We're going out for more ice and drinks, are you guys going to be okay or do you want to come with us?"
You don't want to be left alone with someone who despises you but the discomfort is starting to move from your stomach to your esophagus and you're not sure if you'll be able to withstand the agitations of the road without throwing up, so the option of locking yourself in your room until the pair return is the best option.
"We'll be fine," you reply to Gojo, hiding from the bright rays with a hand to your forehead.
"Alright, Sho'! Let's go."
Gojo is the one who starts the walk away from the pool area and the girl hurries to follow his footsteps not without first making sure that you really are going to be all right on your own. The line of your neck perfectly molds her face before Shoko ends the hug and adjusts Gojo's sunglasses on the bridge of her nose.
She's walking by your side, your body being toasted by the sun's rays as your body loses all mobility.
"Hey Su'! Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah, I'm feeling better."
"Why don't you lie down for a while?"
You're contemplating your toenails as you inadvertently spy on the conversation going on behind your back and in a mini panic attack you end up diving into the pool, swimming what little you can escape the pair without daring to look behind to confirm what decision Suguru has made— however, the sudden dip that creates a gap between your thoughts makes you realize you're not alone so you turn around and see him floating towards you.
"You good?" You smile at him oddly.
"Sorry if I was acting weird."
"You don't have to..."
"I think it was the noodles."
"Shouldn't you lie down for a while?"
"It's hell in there." You chuckle under your breath, he's right. You have to blame the Gojo family for not taking care of fixing the air conditioner before you went to break into the tranquility of their home.
"I'll go chew ice." You're quick to prevent an awkward situation and look for an excuse before a heavy silence is created. "I'll be right back."
Geto watches you swim to the shores and tries with all his might not to turn to look at you but... he really tried at least and is thankful he turned in time to catch how your fingers catch on the elastic of the swimsuit and stretch it out to tuck it between your cheeks.
Your bare feet touch the pleasant wood, and the floor creaks under your footsteps as you make your way toward the kitchen. The back of your hand wipes away the couple of wet droplets that make your forehead glisten, and when you reach for the fridge and grab the last three ice cubes that sing as you pour them into a glass tumbler, you inevitably purr victoriously.
You pop one in your mouth and immediately the sensation cools you down a bit, your feet dangle amusedly on the countertop and you think you couldn't be more in your comfort zone when the footsteps of a wild horse coming from the direction of the pool remind you that he is here too.
You don't have time to flee to your room, to get off the counter and stick your head in a plastic bag because you're stunned the moment you see him naked— not naked, just in the same pink shorts as before, barefoot. Without the tank top he's been wearing all day you can admire his muscular torso, defined pecs and strong arms that if he had his way he could carry you from there to wherever you asked him to go. Soaking more than the floor with his hair tied up in a dripping mess and his face full of the chlorine droplets.
"I think I'm thirsty too." Geto paused in the frame the exact time you needed to check every detail your curious eyes could catch.
Only after the ice slid down your throat did you get up the courage to stop stalking him with your gaze.
"Hmph." It's literally the only thing you can add.
Majestically he moves across the kitchen past your makeshift seat and straight to the fridge where he crouches down a bit to confirm that his eyesight doesn't deceive him.
"No more beer?"
"Nope. Satoru and Ieiri went for more but we don't have any water either."
"No ice either," he comments the obvious by tapping the empty mold in his open palm.
"Hm no." And it would seem that was intentional the crunch your teeth cause as you chew.
"And we're alone..."
You don't want to answer that, though you don't know if he's asking or stating— anyway, you'd rather shut up and pause to stare at his back dotted with the occasional mole. Or are they freckles?
Geto turns around. He drops his weight on his elbows and you don't understand why he's looking at you like that.
He meanwhile, can only think about the fact of how foolish he has been wasting these days where he could have been taming his nerves and be talking to you like before.
You chew. "Yeah, I guess. You did too," you reply nibbling on your words. He had, even now he looked much bigger than before, more... adult. More mature.
"Yeah, I grew my hair long now." He brings a hand to his head and tousles his bun a little, you struggle not to follow the line his veins create on the back of his hand.
"I can see that."
You chew again and he folds his arms.
"Why do you do that all the time?" His attention to your lips and the dripping cube between your fingers gives you an idea of what he's referring to.
"It helps me control the heat more than if I just drank a lot of water all at once and the beer makes me want to pee a lot."
He laughs at your honesty and his shoulders shake a little bit, you smile because he seems so much more relaxed than he did this morning. Was he really just sick?
"Can I try?"
"I don't think so, this is the last one," you tell him wrinkling your nose, waving your prize victoriously in front of his eyes.
"We can share it."
Why... did he just take two steps forward? Now all that separates you is a single step so that his body is in the middle of your legs and you pray he doesn't notice how tense you've become.
"I don't like... I don't like sharing my stuff."
"It can be ours."
Geto takes another step forward and his big hands rest on top of the cold countertop. His hips push against your thighs demanding more space to which you end up giving in for some reason. He's hot, you mean— he feels really hot, what the fuck was that attitude, what the fuck was that... look again. Big eyes that seem to examine you and look through your swimsuit start at your eyes, go down your cold lips and get lost somewhere on your abdomen and you've never felt so naked in front of someone before— you can see his tongue push his cheek before going up to your face for the second time: his expression says nothing but there's something different in his eyes.
"I thought you hated me." The heat melted your brain because there's no way you could have said that out loud.
"I never said that." His fingers climb up the skin your bathing suit can't hide. Long fingers cradle your thighs and the warm touch of his body boils over yours.
You open your mouth and slam it shut again. The pair of thumbs carve your smooth skin back and forth and the ice, which you narrowly forget about, begins to leak, dripping down your lap until it reaches the grip he has on your legs and the change in temperature has you choking with a moan.
"Are you okay with this?"
The whole scene is overwhelming. You're not even aware if you're breathing properly.
Geto smiles broadly without showing his teeth, yet he shows he is satisfied and his eyelids droop halfway down mimicking a feline.
He stops touching you to grab your hand gently and take your fingers, the ones that almost drop the piece of ice, into the mouth, his mouth. You don't feel his tongue but it steals all your attention to see how it curls around the semi-melted ice.
"Are you sure you can't share?"
"I'm sure." You're proud of yourself that that wasn't heard broken. "It's what you deserve for avoiding me these days."
"I wasn't!" He replies defensively.
"No." You don't know why you're letting him lick again from the ice cube when you should have already moved it away from his face.
"Is it because of your... girlfriend?"
"Huh?" One of his eyebrows arches and he gently moves your fingers away from his lips so he can focus on you better and bad mistake because... the funny curve his mouth creates is very distracting. "Girlfriend?"
"Yeah... Ieiri said you were seeing someone, that you keep talking about her."
Geto does that again where his tongue pushes his cheek. "I can assure you I'm not seeing anyone."
"Oh." Your eyebrows rise in unison. Another drop lands on your thighs and makes you really realize how hot that kitchen feels. You blame the Gojo family once again.
"Are you seeing anyone?"
You bring the ice to your mouth to suck and gain a couple of seconds. "Nope."
Geto's confidence nearly collapses as soon as he catches a flash of your tongue around the dripping ice. His limbs twitch because there's something primal behind the back of his neck asking him to do something he'll probably regret. You feel his thumbs dig into your flesh with some force and you're not sure what he means by the way his eyes stare at you.
"Do you want to go to the pool again or have you been burned enough?" he taunts you after a long while of dueling heavy stares.
"I'll see you there, Su," you say with a half-smile. Wordlessly, you offer him the ice cube, which by this time has your wrist soaking wet; he takes it between his soft lips almost instantly, brushing your fingertips softly before hiding the entire cube in his mouth.
With full cheeks, he utters a low, "Thank you." And he takes a short step back to let you off the counter.
You question where you're going to get the strength to get out of the kitchen without your legs failing in the attempt.
Miraculously, you make it. Getting off the counter, getting into the pool and talking to Geto without your voice trembling the whole time your friends were away. He offered to put some good sunblock on your back, you put it on his (pretty) face, and he teased you because you'd been so careless: the elastic of your swimsuit was already toasting your skin, any more and you'd probably end up with serious burns.
"Oh! The sunblock hero, you saved me." You thank him dramatically with one hand on your chest, another on your forehead. He laughs making the bags under his eyes even more noticeable.
After that, a tanned Geto escorted you to the living room/kitchen where you both watched (you watched, he drooled on your shoulder) a car repairman show that for some reason you found interesting.
By the time Geto awoke he was alone with his body curled up on the couch, a trickle of drool running down the corners of his mouth and his long legs tingling painfully as he pulled them off the small couch. The sun had already set, the gloom in the room was broken only by the dim light of the bulb. Cicadas were singing in the distance and the heat seemed much more unbearable than hours before. If you paid attention you could even see steam emanating from the wood.
His footsteps guide him to where he hears laughter and the muffled sound of a heated conversation taking place on the second floor.
"Hey." He greets quietly from the doorway, rubbing his eyelids with his fingers.
The circle created on the floor by his best friends and you, lights up with a few higher tones in the timbre of voice, inviting him to play cards with you.
"We are betting pieces of clothing, the loser will be left naked," Satoru says with the same tone of a child.
"No we are not!" Shoko taps his shoulder not so gently. Geto's eyes go to you for a moment longer than an instant, you're curiously calmer than you normally are but you still smile at the scene without showing your teeth.
"What time is it? Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"
"You looked very adorable sleeping, sorry... we have your favorite in the fridge." Geto grimaces at your comment.
"I'll go smoke for a while first, then I'll join you. You're going to lose, Satoru and you'll have to show everyone your nakedness then!" he shouts getting lost down the hallway, earning a reproach from Gojo that he can't quite identify.
In a slow trudge he walks to the shared bedroom, takes a pack of cigarettes from the ragged jeans at the edge of his bed and grabs the lighter resting on the bedside table, then trots up the stairs, past the attic and the pool table to end up lying on top of the ceiling. With his legs in a V-shape and one hand on his stomach.
The first drag expands his lungs and numbs his tongue with the taste of nicotine. A couple more and he feels the stress slide out of his body, muscles ceasing to tense as he contemplates the emptiness of space in the sky: totally dark, with hundreds of stars shining only for him.
"Shit, you scared me," he tells you almost as a whisper (but his body says otherwise, as serene as ever).
You climb carefully across the roof, until you reach him and lie down next to him. Out of courtesy he offers you the cigarette wordlessly, but you politely decline even though the doubt as to whether you should accept it crosses you like a flash.
You clear your throat. "The guys sent me to check on you."
Geto snorts, inhales from the cigarette and then chuckles letting the smoke escape. "Of course they did."
"They care about you."
"I know they do." Only at that moment does he turn his neck so he can look you in the eye, you were already watching him from before.
"I didn't know you smoked."
He shrugs, the smoke from the cigarette dancing in the darkness. "It helps me get the bad taste of curses out of my mouth." There is no expression on his face, just raw sincerity.
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable there in the kitchen..." he said suddenly.
"No!" You interrupt him, your nervous hands at chest level seconding your words.
"I don't know what came over me, I was just playing and just know that I really appreciate you."
"And I appreciate you too!"
"You're a good friend and I wouldn't want to ruin that." Maybe saying that hurt him more than it hurt you to hear it.
You bite your lip and shake your head. "You're also a very good friend and I missed you a lot... I mean, I missed all of you."
The smile he gives you sinks your chest just a little. "I missed you too." You smile back and are forced to turn your eyes to the starry sky. Your fingers tangle around the edge of your shirt and you swallow a gob of saliva to wet your throat and work up the courage to look him in the eye.
He was already looking back at you and not only that. "Suguru." Your voice comes sweetly to his ears.
He had his hand over yours, his large palm covered yours almost completely, it felt warm, heavy and brought you a certain comfort that sheltered your heart like a campfire on a freezing day. He didn't speak for quite a while, but you notice his shoulders tense.
Then you reciprocate by trapping his fingers between yours, squeezing and releasing the tension that built in your body against his rough palm.
He takes another deep drag and the flaps of his nose dilate expelling the grayish smoke from his body.
"I'm glad you're back."
I do not allow repost— that includes translating, copying and pasting my work on other platforms, read my fics for vids, etc . . don't recommend me on tiktok!
pairing: jungkook x reader
summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.
Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.
genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader
rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)
warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much
author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!
You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.
You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.
Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.
'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'
You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.
'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'
But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.
'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'
That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.
The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks
"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."
Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.
"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."
She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"
"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."
"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"
"Nipples. Like, one of them."
Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."
The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.
Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.
"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.
He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?
"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."
September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.
Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.
So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.
"It's fine. I can do it."
Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.
"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."
Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.
"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.
Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.
Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.
It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.
Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.
And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.
He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.
He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.
"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.
You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.
Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."
So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-
He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.
"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.
Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.
Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.
"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.
You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-
"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.
"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.
"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.
"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.
"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-
He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.
Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.
"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-
He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."
He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.
"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."
But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.
"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."
"Let me see!"
It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.
When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.
But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.
Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.
You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.
Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.
So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.
So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.
But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.
Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.
The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.
But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.
You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.
With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.
It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.
And oh, did it react.
He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.
There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.
You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.
And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'
You swear you almost came right on his table.
And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.
So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.
"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"
"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."
At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"
"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."
There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"
You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.
"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."
Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.
You know he's here.
Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.
It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.
You don't see him, but you feel him.
You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.
You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.
You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.
To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-
Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.
You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.
"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.
"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"
Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."
When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.
The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.
"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.
Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.
Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.
"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.
"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."
"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"
"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.
Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.
And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.
"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"
You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.
"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"
"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."
"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.
"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.
He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.
His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.
Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.
Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.
Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.
Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.
"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.
"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.
"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."
Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.
Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.
He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.
He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.
He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.
So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.
He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.
You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.
He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.
"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.
"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.
"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"
Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"
"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."
Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.
"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"
"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"
He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"
Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"
"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.
"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"
"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"
Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."
"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."
"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"
It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."
You've made up your mind.
And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.
It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.
Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?
You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.
You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.
But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.
So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.
And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.
"I know right? Fuck him!"
"No. I mean, fuck him."
And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.
"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"
He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.
"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."
Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.
He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?
"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.
He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.
How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.
But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.
He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.
It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.
It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.
You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-
"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."
To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.
He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"
Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.
You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.
You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.
To your surprise, none of that happened.
The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.
There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.
It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.
"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.
Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.
"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.
At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.
"I'm sorry, by the way."
"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"
"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."
A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."
tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.
At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.
But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.
It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.
"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.
You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.
"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.
"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."
There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.
"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.
You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.
"You have to stop saying my name like that."
With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.
"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.
"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.
But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.
The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.
He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.
"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.
"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."
"And you came before the ride was over."
You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."
She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.
"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"
There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."
There's another pause, and then-
"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"
You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.
Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.
It's not that you're mad.
Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.
Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.
'Next time, maybe.'
And there hasn't been a next time.
The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.
But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.
It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.
Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.
'you free on saturday?'
You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.
So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.
And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.
You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.
You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.
A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.
"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.
Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.
"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.
Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.
Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.
You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.
His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.
"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.
You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.
It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.
"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.
Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.
"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.
"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.
"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.
There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."
Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.
At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.
Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.
"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.
He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."
You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"
"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."
"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"
"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.
"Okay, fine. Why?"
"You're boring and basic."
You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."
You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.
You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.
The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.
It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.
It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.
It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.
It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.
Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.
But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.
You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.
Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.
Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.
It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.
He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.
He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.
And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.
Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.
He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.
"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.
"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.
"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.
"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."
Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.
"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."
"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"
You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.
Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.
There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.
"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.
"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."
You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.
He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."
"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.
"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"
"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"
"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"
You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"
He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"
"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."
Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.
You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.
"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"
"Please, don't laugh."
That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.
She doesn't laugh at all.
"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."
"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."
"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."
"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.
"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.
"I know. I'm just sad."
"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."
There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.
"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.
It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.
He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.
He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.
He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.
You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.
'You're crazy about him.'
Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.
You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.
'And he's cazy about you too.'
Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.
That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.
The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."
You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"
"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.
"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.
She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."
Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-
He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"
He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.
"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.
"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"
"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."
Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.
You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."
"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."
You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"
"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"
The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."
He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.
He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.
The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.
This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.
"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.
"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.
Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.
"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.
"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.
Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.
He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.
Hmmmm but if venti is your roommate there’s no way he hasn’t gotten you black out drunk at least once. Like what if you invite xiao over to celebrate a rough test or smth (venti’s there ofc he has to supervise xiao) but now they both have a sleepy drunk darling who’s entirely pliable to their whims? Would venti take advantage of your sleeping form? Does he allow xiao to have scraps of affection with you?
proper celebration/ beer and pride | venti x reader x xiao
WARNINGS: NONCON, somnophilia, fingering, pussy-job, penetration, creampie, voyeurism (?), implied drugging, implied corruption kink (?), implied photography, shitty writing because I just wanted to get this done since it's been on my backburner for ages. minors DNI, if I missed anything please let me know.
summary: you're finally done with your tough semester, all thanks to the help of your tutor, xiao. your roommate venti thinks this is more than cause for celebration.
notes: seee??? i promised a fic during the weekend!! couldn't pick a title so have both. I swear I'll be done with my xiaoven x reader kick soon. theres only one more yan xiaoven and then I'm finished. I'll leave your poor, poor dashboards alone (... unless???). I'm sorry this took so long to post nonnie!!! I loved this idea sm omg. I hope I answered your question!!!!!!
ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏” ♡♡♡ sequel of this fic.
the room is warm, the imposing summer heat designating the nearing end of a long semester, and the beer in your hand and the arm around your tutor, xiao, designates the success of a semester well passed, being the insentive of a mini celebration at your house, enjoying eachothers company as best you could. you talk in idle conversation with xiao, bright smile illuminating the darkness of your room as you chat about just about anything, and while you don't get much but court responses from the man, you're just happy to be with him right now, and you can tell he's happy to be here, too.
a kick opens your door, causing both yours and xiaos head to all-but-snap to the source of the loud, obnoxious sound, and in the doorway you see the face of your even more obnoxious roommate. his presence wasn't unwelcomed, persay, but the beers clinking together and slushing in his hand and the all-too-cheery grin on his face was. you tried not to roll your eyes, setting down your own drink, knowing what's to come as the man plops himself on his knees next to you while you quirk a brow.
"am I too late? did I miss the party? please say I didn't, I got the good stuff!" he says, placing down the drinks on the lowtable with a subtle clink, eyes bright and mischievous as he eyes you both.
you let out a groan in response. "ugh, venti, no more drinks. I've already had enough for today. plus I'm still hungover and sore from yesterday, I can barely remember anything."
"one cheap convenience store beer isn't a celebration, it's a shitty frat party for lonely people, and it's not my fault you're such a lightweight."
"then let us enjoy our shitty little frat party."
"what kind of friend would I be if I let you two wallow without having true fun? the winds are practically telling me to help you both."
"it's summer, there is no wind."
"on the contrary, there's always wind, my beloved. now c'mon, drink up, let's have fun. xiaos drinking too."
you ignore the pet name in favor of looking over at the man who hasn't said anything for the entirety of ventis visit to your room, instead lurking over as you and venti interact like he's done many times in the past. venti slides over a can, and you almost laugh at the way your roommate actually thinks xiao would drink if it wasn't for the fact that xiao was actually cracking open the can and placing it against his lips to take a sip. you sit there, cold bottle in hand and eyes blown out in shock at how venti could get the man to drink so easily.
xiao has a thing about drinking infront of people, avoided it at all costs, wouldn't even do it with you, says he's scared he won't be able to control himself if he got too drunk if he did, or something like that. perhaps venti was gifted the talent to make just about anyone drink by the gods themselves, you thought to youself.
"good boy!" venti claps, "aren't you just the goodest of boys?" he continues talking to xiao like a cute dog who just rolled over for a treat, causing xiaos cheeks to heat up mid sip, looking up at your peering eyes before looking down again immediately in embarrassment. the way they acted around eachother was... odd, but they both acted odd around practically everyone, so you drop any questions that may be hanging on your tongue. you briefly wonder if venti knows that xiao barely drinks, rendering him a fellow lightweight amongst you and venti, you being another lightweight and venti himself being an all-too experienced drinker.
you get the feeling that there was something underlying beneath them, that theres a reason behind the glint in ventis eye and the way you could tell xiao felt almost obligated to pick the beer up to his lips and take a few languished sips, but there's no time to dwell on it as venti turns back around to you, face in one hand and fingers rimming the cap of the beer with the other, as though indulging you to drink.
he nods his head to a chilled green bottle that he sat on your table earlier. grapefruit soju, your favorite.
"I already had one though," you nudge towards the empty can on the lowtable as proof.
"yeah, but this one's your favorite. I bought it for you to make up for yesterday, and a little gift to demonstrate just how proud I am of you."
at that, your face flares up, flustardness running it's course through your body like you're being licked by flames. he was proud of you. to have venti actually say the words themselves instead of just showing it through his overbearing affection was one thing, but having him share beer with you out of genuine celebration and pride in you is another. it doesn't help that venti looks especially pretty tonight under the moonlight seeping through your curtains.
you find your heart racing a little at his words as you scoff, reluctantly taking the chilled, expensive bottle out of his hand and into yours as he smiles, giving the condensated bottle a once over while you silently wished venti would quit toying with your heart so easily with his words.
"it's been open," you note, glancing at the way the beer cap looked unscrewed and open despite the bottle itself seeming to contain a regular amount of liquid inside, as though it was opened but not drunken.
"I took a sip," he retorts, shrugging his shoulders as he moves closer to you, wrapping an arm languishly around your waist.
"liar. you don't even like this brand!"
"ughhh, just drink the damn beer, will ya?! xiaos drinking too, and there's no point in celebrating if you're not drinking with us. right xiao?"
you look over to the man you've accidentally ignore the entire time, watching as he doesn't look up whole he awkwardly nods. venti looks at you as though he was saying, 'see?' and with a sigh you bring the bottle up to your lips, immediately tasting an uncharacteristicly bitter taste from the drink and your face scrunches back in disgust, forcing it down your throat in hopes that you don't caught it up. you reel back, "this tastes off, what'd you do to it?" you mumble,
venti dramatically shakes his head, nudging your shoulder childishly. "you're just trying to get out of drinking with us!"
"I'm not! it just tastes- ugh, whatever." you force the rest of the drink down your throat despite it's funny taste without further complaints, simply wanting to see your roommate and friend happy. knowing venti, he probably chilled it wrong or something stupid like that after he opened it earlier, so you choose to enjoy yourself instead of thinking too much of it.
you chug down the rest of the bottle, not noticing xiaos sudden anxiousness like he knows something you don't as the drink slides down and burns against your throat, both of the men watching you like hawks, venti cheering you on with a bright grin and happy eyes.
you take a final gulp, effectively emptying the bottle despite the taste it left in your mouth,
you wipe your mouth up with your hand in sudden embarrassment, feeling their leering eyes too much to handle. pulling up your knees to your chest you look down, avoiding their gaze, feeling way too warm for comfort after finishing the alcohol, sleepiness seeping into your core.
your voice is quiet, feeling mentally exhausted after todays drinks as well as the maybe it's the newfound tipsiness in you, but you suddenly just want to finish the little 'celebration' and go to bed. "there. I drank with you yesterday, and I drank with you today. satiated?"
"good, cause..." you let out a yawn. " 'm not," your eyes are heavy. "not drinkin'" you feel too relaxed, so much so that you don't feel yourself being moved onto a warm, comfy body, leaning into it as your eyes droop close and your body folds in on itself from exhaustion. "...anymore."
everythings a blur henceforth. when did you get pulled into ventis lap, and when did he start pressing soft, little nips and bites to the collar of your neck? when did your body start feeling so heavy and woozy, so sleepy that you can barely even keep your eyelids open? was his hands always in your panties, always touching you so sensually as xiao watches? why can't you move? and why does he feel so warm?
"my warrior, you've worked so hard. here, I'll lend you my shoulder," he lulls into your shoulder, voice sending you into a sense of calm despite the bile rising in your throat, surely a result of whatever was in the beer you had.
you can barely move. you're too tired, the murmurings between the two men incoherent and distant, like you were in a void of sorts where nothing made sense. all you could do was squirm as you felt venti smile into your neck, pushing you further into himself, as though you belonged against his chest. he moves your shorts to your side, pushing his fingers inside of you until you feel unbeliably full, pumping inside of you despite your soft protests, the same ones that you can barely let out.
everythings going so fast, and yet you feel so slow, so weak.
you feel so wet, dripping with slick out of your own will and you're genuinely embarrassed from the way xiaos looking at you like a voyeur, as though he's a starved man holding himself back from a warm meal.
"isn't she pretty? like a songbird gliding in the wind," venti says, though you're near unconscious by the time he finishes his sentence. xiao can't look up from the floor, hands gripping into his thighs with an embarrassed frown painted on his face. venti takes a once over of his form before scoffing dramatically.
"gross, you're hard just from looking. don't you have any shame? you really are a perv," he mocks before finally pulling out of you, hand coated in your drip as he moves to lay you on your back gently, noting that the beer has already taken full effect and landed you into a dream state. he gets up from his seat, stretching his limbs casually as though he wasn't prodding at your still sore holes just seconds ago.
he notes the way xiao is staring at your form, golden gaze intense in the darkness as he refuses to move even an inch from his spot directly infront of you before venti let's out a low giggle. he moves over to him, patting his shoulder with his still slicked up hand as xiao tenses and reels back at the touch.
"go on, she's all yours for tonight. take your chance while you can, there won't be another," he says to the man, heading out the door before xiao has the time to speak up.
"careful with her, okay? little birdies still sore from last night." venti let's out a small another chuckle as he leaves the room, taking one final look at your form and xiaos awkwardly looming one, shaking his head.
xiao pushes back the implications of ventis words into the back of his mind, instead choosing to shuffle towards your form after sitting in pure silence while he tries to wrap his head around the situation he's in, thinking of what he should do, ventis taunting tone echoing in the back of his head. this is the only chance he'll get. his mind spirals as he looks at your peaceful form, pushing your tshirt further up until he has full access to you, breathe hitching at just how gorgeous you are.
it's not... wrong, if he doesn't put it in, right? he can't hurt you like that. he just, this'll be the only opportunity he'll get to have you, to make you his, and like hell he'll give it up. xiao decides on just using you without entering inside of you, that way no harms done. he'll just rut into you, that's it.
his hands are shakey as he unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants and boxers down, trembling like the virgin he is as he kneels above you, eyes constantly looking up at your face to see any signs of movement, any signs that you might wake up and realize just how disgusting he is.
he gives himself a few experimental pumps (though he's already perfectly hard enough as it is), smearing his precum around his tip and down his length as he wobbles up slightly to position himself infront of you, guiding his dick to your folds, almost giving in and thrusting inside of you before he holds himself back and does what he originally had planned; just a pussy job. he humps himself against your heat and he instantly has a to stifle a moan.
"so good. you're so good. I love you, haah."
fuck, you're warm. you're so warm, like a heater, and suddenly he can't think straight, getting lost in the feeling of your folds, even if they're not wrapped around his length. it'd be so much better if you were awake, if he could hear you pant and moan his name like he was yours, but beggars can't be choosers. he knows for a fact that if you two were actually having sex together, that if you were genuinely holding him tightly to you while moaning and basking in everything he could give you he'd cum the moment he'd enter you, and that's evident enough by the way he was so close without even having been inside you.
venti did an extraordinarily good job with preparing you (almost too good, like he's memorized the exact formula that would have you glistening with your own cum), cause you're practically coating him in your slick and xiao can't help but pant like a dog above you as he ruts into your body underneath him, breathing shallow and practically wheezing as he tries his hardest not to cum, trying to enjoy the moment for as long as venti would let him.
"c-can you feel that? feel how hard I am for you- fuck." it's less of a question and more of a statement, knowing full well you didn't have the capability to respond. and yet he wishes you could, let out a small little, 'yes' in your wake.
you're so good, so so good, better than he could have ever imagined, more heavily than what he's always thought you felt like as he jerked himself off and fisted his cock to the thoughts of you wrapped around him at night. it's hard to control himself, thrusts sloppy and deep, breaching your cervix and making your plush, pliant body practically bounce with every moment. your pussies sucking him in like it's a whirlpool of pleasure he can't escape, and he's sure that be wouldn't be able to pull out even if he tried. it's at that moment with you wrapped around him so tightly and milking him dry that he knows, knows that he was meant to be inside of you like this.
"so close, so fucking close, ah. you're like an angel."
blueish strands that have fallen out of the hold of his ponytail dangle over you, showing just how disheveled the man looming over your unconscious body really is. his body reels back with a choked grunt of pleasure, tears threatening to escape his eyes while he thrusts in lazily a few more times while he watches his seed spill out of you in awe, the way that he painted you and your insides white proof that he's marked you as his.
a hand caresses your face, basking in the peacefulness of it, of the way you're dreaming soundly without knowing of any of what just happened, of how xiao made you his. it's then, basking in the glory of it all, that xiao forms a new resolve, a new realization that if it wasn't him, it would've been venti corrupting you.
"I'll taint you before he can." he speaks into the night, pecking your forehead with a tenderness that opposes everything he's just done.
xiao doesn't seem to notice the faint sound of a camera in the background, too blissed out to think.
a more direct answer to your question is: yes, but only once, and only so that he can find a way to prove just how gross xiao truly is to you.
this took me so long to do because I'm so bad at writing smut. I hope this is even a smidgen of good but God did I hate rereading this. if this sucks it's because I'm exhausted but wanted to atleast try to finish this prompt bc it's just so good.
ᡕᠵ᠊ᡃ່࡚ࠢ࠘ ⸝່ࠡࠣ᠊߯᠆ࠣ࠘ᡁࠣ࠘᠊᠊ࠢ࠘𐡏” ♡♡♡ Navigation
Okay, this isn't an ask but I just got a funny idea (at least to me) about a scene from your wonderful Wittedad au⬇
Luz: [about going to camp] I can't believe you're actually excited about this!!
Luz: Why would you even want to learn about boring stuff like taxes when you could learn cool stuff, like how the national animal of Scotland is a unicorn! Or that some turtles can breathe through their butts!!
Hunter: [completely serious] Wow Luz, that's really going to come in handy during turtle season
Sorry to bother you! Love your au!!
Ahahaha! I loved this so much! I did a warmup with your idea. And thank you SO SO much for your sweet words. You're not a bother. It tickles me when I get asks/ideas sent over. c:
There's one thing that might be lost in translation with Hunter in my AU. Luz and he share the same penchant for fantastical worlds and "magic." They're actually on the same page regarding camp.
Hunter uses the "taxes" bit to convince his Dad to let him go. Even though his Dad can see right through it. Hunter wants to go to camp to have fun and make friends, and with Luz there, perhaps they have a chance!
Luz only sees it as a punishment. Hunter hasn't been the most up-front with her about it, because even he thinks she needs to be a bit more realistic at times. He hopes that camp will also help her be more rounded out. He worries about his sister, and him going to camp too is another way for him to look out for her like the good big brother he is.
Both of these idiots (below) are selective listeners. Summer Camp had a trip to the zoo planned as well as other "fun" activities with educational merit.
There are also team-building games. Socialization opportunities and just fun camp stuff in addition to the boring taxes, balancing checkbooks, and other practical skills.
Even if they had gone to camp, they still did not come out of it with friends. Though in this alternative turn of events, Hunter had an AMAZING time. He spent it with his sister and he came home with more knowledge about how he's going to help his Dad. (That are futile in hindsight since y'know, they're kind of not from this time, or realm in Hunter's case.)
Jaythony Simmersound Interview
Thank you so much to @cheesesteakphil for the amazing interview sketch! It really helped me figure out the final holes in this, on top of just looking amazing! Phil still has 2 comm slots open as of the time I'm writing this, so please consider supporting her!
Interview below cutoff! I've been excited to get some of this written down for the longest time! A little more purply and indulgent than these things are supposed to be I think, but it was fun 💖
The Grumpus gives no acknowledgment, relaxing in the field in front of Cromdo's hut with his eyes lazily shut. Headphones are wrapped over his head as vague, abrasive sound leaks from its earmuffs.
("*AHEM* Um, excuse me?")
Again, no response. None of the sights and sounds of Snaxburg are able to permeate his senses.
(The journalist gives a slight tap of the foot to the grumpus' side )
"Ugh, come on, Cromdo. You and I both know it hasn't been fifteen minutes y-" The grumpus pauses as his eyes focus on the journalist towering above him. Realizing his mistake, his perturbed frown turns to a lackadaisical smile. "Oh hey! The journalist from the gorge, right?"
("The very same. Did you have time for an interview?")
"Well, this is like the only time old Mr. Face gives me to myself all day…but you did us a pretty big solid when we were melting back there. It's only right to return the favor."
("Who are you?")
"Call me Jaythony. Simmersound! Grump State alum, math and finance whiz…professional number cruncher is probably the best way to put it! Well, all that's what I put on the resume, at least. I'm really just some guy who likes the sun and some tunes. You see that Wiggle Wigglebottom's here? Crazy, right?? A lot of deep cuts on that album of hers…"
("...Why come to Snaktooth Island?")
"Well…it's where my job took me. Not much more to it than that, really."
("A Grump State degree and financial skills got you…a job at Cromdo-Mart?")
An anxious wince breaks through Jaythony's casual demeanor. "Weird job market, right? That's one thing they don't really prepare you for in the lecture hall, heh…"
("Isn't Cromdo-Mart a bit of a shady venture for a fresh graduate?")
Jaythony's gaze turns to the ground in defeat. "I…guess I'm not giving you the full story. Cromdo-Mart was a…spur-of-the-moment choice I took. My career, my whole life in New Grump City, wasn't really going the way I planned. I needed an out.
"No, I quit. I was fresh meat at one of the top banks in the city. I had the skills and the background to make my way up the totem pole. But I…"
Jaythony shrugs. "I hated it. I made it, did everything I was told to do growing up, got all the good marks and the recommendations, got the dream job…and I grumping hated it. It shatters a dude, y'know? Not realizing the miserable kind of life you were preparing yourself for. After a month of trudging through it, I couldn't handle it. I rushed out of my cube and out the door. Didn't look back - no two-weeks-notice or anything.
("And Plan B was Snaktooth?")
"I guess that's where fate came in. I ran out the skyscraper, desparate to escape to…anywhere, really…but I didn't get too far. This gruff, shady, and pretty grumping old fellow stopped me right outside the revolving doors. He gave a clearly rehearsed pitch about some groundbreaking business opportunity in an exotic land, in the world of - and I quote - "superfood". Any other day, I wouldn't have wasted a second of my time on the crazy old man…but the very sight of New Grump City was making my stomach churn. I packed up my clothes, the tin cans on my head, and a good bit of my record collection, and we headed out in two days' time."
("What exactly IS your job at Cromdo-Mart?")
"Mr. Face titles me the 'C.F.O. of Cromdo-Mart'. In reality, I'm sitting at a beat-up wagon and taking inventory on the same 4 pieces of junk lying around like it's my summer Grump-Mart job from when I was fifteen."
("And the pay?")
"Let me put it to you this way: you know those multivitamin gummies they make for kids? Shaped like little grumpuses? 2 bottles of those make up the 'Cromdo-Mart competitive healthcare plan'. I asked about a 401k and he told me there was 'no way he was running that far'. Probably should've read the fine print, or lack thereof…"
("Thoughts on Bugsnax?")
"I'll give the old man one thing: he really wasn't kidding about the 'superfood'. Pretty amazing, aren't they? I had a bit of a scare trying out my first razzby - ran to Eggabell like a lost child when my nose turned all fruity. She didn't really like me wasting her time like that; faded away after a few days anyhow."
("Why did you leave town?")
"Wasn't my choice, really. Place was falling apart at the seams, and I don't think anyone was really keen on parading around with the Cromdo-Mart lacky, especially after Beffica called out Mr. Face on his…you know…theft."
("Can you blame them?")
"Buddy, please, can you trust me on one thing? I'm no conman. I'm just…trying to find some new reason out here. I haven't done any of the shady stuff Cromdo gets up to." He sighs. "But I did follow him to the gorge. Might as well stay on the payroll." He pauses, then continues with a chuckle. "Heh, it's funny: The guy probably thought he was getting some big-shot financier to launder his money and dodge his taxes for him. Instead, he got some aimless, unemployed twenty-something. Weird twist of fate, huh?" (He attempts to prolong his smile, but is clearly unamused by his own joke)
("Any info on Lizbert?")
"I tried to stay out of Lizbert's way for the most part. We both knew I was out of my element on this trip. She didn't say it - didn't even really imply it - but I think we both knew I wasn't meant to be here. I was more familiar with Eggabell, but even then, can't say I have much info..." (He pauses, fidgeting the headphones back and forth on his neck) "Though Eggabell said something weird when she was checking out my snakked-up nose. The way she described these Bugsnax…seemed almost l-"
(Cromdo's voice echoes out from his hut, "DING-DING kid! Recess is over. And get those dumb things off your neck for once! Scarin' away customers when you look like a grumpin' space station!")
Jaythony winces at Cromdo's gravelly orders, but returns a smile to the journalist. "Meet up with me around the campfire when my shift ends. We can keep this going then."
("Fair enough. Thanks for your time.")
Jaythony reaches up to his headphones, but stops before he can comply with Cromdo's order. "Eh...Not THAT desperate for the gig." He lowers his hands and returns to behind the dilapidated market wagon, his blasé expression contrasting hard with the carefree guise he had before the journalist cut his escapist travels short.
Go tell the English ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader
Summary: Tommy leaves the field lazarette in France with nothing but a trinket, and memories of the woman that had given it to him (Reader/OC is only mentioned. She doesn’t appear)
Note: This is the introduction to a writing exercise I did ages ago. Here, you can find the main part (3155 words). I haven’t shared any writing on this blog before, nor for Peaky Blinders, and I am curious what you think and would be very grateful for comments and feedback (style, content, anything else) of any kind. I do not consent to my work being translated, copied or posted elsewhere on this platform or any other. This hasn't been beta'd so I apologise for typos or mistakes
Warning: Description, mention and implication of violence, death and war, possible character death, rape and violence. As I am an adult, all my writing I share is unless explicitly stated for adults (18/21+). Your media consumption is your own responsibility.
Wordcount: 1551 words
January - 1917
There had been a time where he had thought that nothing could be worse than Verdun, that nothing could be worse than the Somme. That nothing could eclipse the horror of the endless screams as men lost their lives left and right.
But this was worse.
A part of him even missed the screams for they were better than the silence.
Tommy took another deep breath and leaned his head back against the beam.
They say one got used to smells and once upon a time it had made sense, after all, he didn’t remember being able to smell the “stable” on him that made his mother and Aunt Pol scold him whenever he came home.
But, like so many things, that turned out to be a lie. He still smelled the soil and the sweat and the shit all around him.
By now he was sure he had forgotten what it felt like to breathe in air, what grass smelled like and the way wind tickled his face.He would have forgotten the colour of the sky as well, if it weren’t for the ribbon he had tucked under his chest.
As they dug, he would feel it move under the movement of his pickaxe and shovels and more than once it was that feeling of the ribbon's edges scratching over his skin that made his arms continue to move. It was a reminder that it was still there.
Tommy felt his hand tremble as he reached under the rag that his shirt had been reduced to. He held his breath until he found it, twisting his fingers around the fabric as he pulled it forth.
They were short on matches, but they were always short on matches.
He shouldn’t waste them, because they were needed for torches, but he had to see.
Glancing around he made sure that all the others were sleeping, before dragging the match across the surface.
It sprang to life with a hiss and spread a small beam of red and yellow glow. As he brought the flame closer, he made sure to keep the ribbon out of reach. He would never forgive himself if it got burned or stained by the smoke.
It wasn’t a particularly fancy ribbon, not laced or embroidered, not silk or satin, not very wide and not very thin. But he would kill the man who tried to take it from him, friend or foe.
The match burned down to his fingers and the light died, and with it the colour of a summer sky faded back into memory, joining the girl that had given it to him.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes, though sleep never came.
Proper sleep hadn’t come since he had left the hospital, not since she had ghosted through the beds and soothed away nightmares with her gentle touches and soft humms.
When he tried, he could almost hear her.
The words of her favourite song seemed almost like a prophecy now, of that song she had sung while handing up the sheets, unknowing he was watching her.
That was before they had properly met, before he even knew her name. She knew his of course. She had treated him since that very first night, but that was his first concrete memory of her beyond a blur of pain and agony.
“Meet me tonight in dreamland,
under the silv’ry moon,”
It was true that he sometimes saw her in his dreams.
He saw the blue of her nursing uniform, the red cross on her arm, the traces of her hair peeking out under her white cap. He could see the way the sun sometimes made her eyes shine gold. And he could see her smile, her soft, shy smile, that made her lower her head as her cheeks were tinted just the slightest bit of rose.
The taste in his mouth turned bitter as his heart clenched.
If it was dark outside, and he thought it was dark outside, but he had no real way of telling for sure, then she would most likely be walking up and down between beds, tugging blankets into place and uncoiling hands clenched into fists.
She would stroke foreheads and whisper sweet comforts into the ears of sleeping men, soothing away their horrors.
He knew she had done it to him as well, but he would only know if he awoke one morning having slept through a night without having his dreams torn apart by shots and screams.
His heart had been racing since they had realised where they were. And he wasn’t even able to grasp a clear thought. All he could think about was the round of bullets in his revolver and the knife.
It wouldn’t be enough.
But at least he could make sure to take some of the bastards with them before he bit the bullet meant for him.
Tommy Shelby didn’t want to make his peace or say his prayers.
Fuck those and fuck God and fuck the King and the country and fuck himself because he had gotten them into this mess in the first place.
He had enlisted, he had volunteered, because he wanted to get away, because without Greta, Small Heath seemed dark, dreary and empty and entirely unbearable.
She had gone because she had considered it her duty, because she was not content with staying at home and organising charity concerts and knitting scarves for the men. Because she had wanted to do something.
She had gone to such lengths too.
He had discovered her secret soon enough, her secret she had only confessed by accident, as her eyes had swam in tears and her chest was wrecked with sobs.
Like countless others she had lost a loved one, like too many she had lost a brother, but only few, Tommy had thought, had lost a twin.
He had gone to check the lists after she had told him, his heart still heavy from her grief though by the morning she had hidden it well beneath duty and dedication.
There was only one to fit her surname-Frederic, a 2nd Lieutenant Frederic Farring, of the 36th, killed, aged 19.
And there it was, the thing that had bothered him for two nights until he realised why. If he was 19, so was she, and that meant she had no place in France. Girls below 25 years were not permitted to come to France, let alone on the front lines.
According to their laws, she had no place there, but her own laws of duty, loyalty and honour had compelled her to go.
He had thought her stupid at first- she had been too young, practically still a child, a brave and stupid child that had gotten herself into something she couldn’t possibly understand.
Not unlike John, but unlike John she at least had somewhat of an idea of what to expect. She had an understanding of war that exceeded her years. She knew it was far from heroic, she understood the pain and the grief and the suffering and most importantly, somehow, she understood the men.
She understood more of the war than Tommy had, all from her old poems and ancient ballads and legends of times long gone by.
She had brought those words to France with her, those tales of terror and grief- and of grieving, all scribbled down in her little notebook, in her tidy yet loopy handwriting.
What would you say now, eh?, he wondered. Do you have some quote for that as well then? In your smart little book?
The second he had thought it, it came back to him and he could see the page before his eyes. The corner had been folded and she had dried a flower of all things between the pages. But if one removed the dried flora, the words appeared.
They had been written in the original Greek, copied from the plaque when they had visited the country on one of their many holidays, but she had read the English translation out to him.
They could use it for him as well now, he thought, for them.
Go tell the English,
stranger passing by,
according to their-
“Tom?”, Arthur asked, making him look up, “‘s not a bad idea, is it?”, he asked.
His older brother’s eyes were red from tears and yet there was a glimmer of hope in his voice.
“What is?”, Tommy asked, glancing around, expecting the cavalry.
John had gone completely silent and was wringing his hands.
Danny was clutching that picture of Rosie and the children, and Freddie was glancing around, watching for any sign of the approaching Germans. And Jeremiah had been praying.
Or that was what they had been doing. Now they were all standing together, closely huddled as if yearning for warmth.
“A hymn.”, John mumbled, his eyes never leaving the muddy floor. “We should sing a hymn.”
He didn’t want to sing a hymn. He wanted to punch something. He wanted to fight and rage and hurt someone.
But when they had sung in the hospital, during Sunday service, her voice had always been the sweetest.
I would like to thank anyone who has taken their time to read it and I would be very grateful for any kind of feedback or comment.
His fingers closed around the ribbon, clutching it tight in the palm of his hand as he joined in.
I always ask this when I get obsessed with one of your OCs but I can't help it because it's so cute and I always love your answers: When did Lucy realize she had a crush on Eddie and vice versa?
I've admittedly have Eddie's realization a bit more planned out
Bit of background, Lucy joins Hellfire her junior year (around season 2). She's heard them having what sounds like a lot of fun, and have been interested in DnD, but Dustin can get a bit defensive of his interests, so she hasn't really played.
Fast forward, she and Eddie have become friends, she's gotten actually pretty good and they're coming towards the end of a campaign
One of the players is down and telling everybody to go so they can finish without him
Lucy, then stands up improvising a whole impassioned speech about not leaving anybody behind and rallying the whole party to go back to save their friend before turning around and defeating the big bad
Eddie has to do everything in his power to keep himself from grinning like an idiot as the Dungeon Master
After Eddie walks her to her car and she kind of nervously is like, "that was a bit much wasn't it?" Thinking that while in the moment it was fun, but she feels like a complete dork.
Eddie assures her that it was not only great, but literally the coolest thing he's ever heard in his entire life
She's quick to dismiss him and he's like, "are you kidding? You're a regular knight in shining pink sweater."
She seems to believe him and it's seeing her smiling and buzzing with excitement that it hits him like a punch to the gut
She gets in her car and drives off and Eddie is left in the parking lot wondering, "what the hell?"
For Lucy, it takes a bit longer
I keep going back and forth on whether it's towards the end of her junior year she puts it together or the summer before her senior year
I think it happens when they get on the subject of what they’re going to do once they graduate
Eddie knows 85 isn’t his year, but he’s betting on 86
He starts talking about gettin in his van the second the ceremony is over and driving straight to LA
He’ll set up his amp right in front of Capitol Record if he has to and force someone to pay attention
Lucy laughs and tells him she’d like to see that
Eddie is like, might have to wait until we play The Garden, you’re going to go off to New York, land a starring role in your first audition of there is any justice in the world, just make sure to save me some tickets
Lucy smiles along, but something feels different, maybe because that date is getting closer, but realizing there’s the very real possibility of never seeing Eddie again hits her right in the chest
She gets home and spends the whole night dissecting why she feels this way; Eddie is her friend, obviously she’d miss him but the longer she lays their staring at the ceiling the clearer the picture becomes
She doesn’t just like Eddie, she likes him
It’s then she grabs her pillow and screams out muffled curses, this can’t be happening
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.
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.
"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.
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 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.
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."
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—"
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I was able to make friends with another nonbinary person!!! I went over their place to bleach her hair and while we were talking I found out they had just come out and we were able to bond over gender things.
Also, if you have the energy, do you have any tips to getting to meet other trans individuals in person? I'm not sure what to even look up to find a group that isn't just a Facebook group which feels mildly unsafe since it's attached to personal information. But I dont want my only exposure to the LGBT community to be online. Thank you for any information you're able to give
It depends on where you live. Let's pretend for the sake of argument that you live where I live: Portland, Oregon.
I do want to say up front that in this time of COVID especially, I consider any "intentional time-specific gathering," whether on Zoom, Discord, or any other way, to be "in person." I realized I'd never clarified this when I talk about this stuff. I haven't been to anything where I sit around with other humans and breathe the same air intentionally since February 2019 save for like... 2 weeks last summer when I got to go to 2 outdoor Shabbat services in that little window between "full vaccination" and "Delta", and ECCC, which we had spent like $6k on before Delta and couldn't afford to miss.
Since we're gonna have COVID for a fucking while yet, and because even after COVID is gone, online solutions will always be an important accessibility tool for a lot of disabled people, I think it's useful to recalibrate our ideas of what "in person" are, and the value we give to those video/call/chat options.
So with that in mind, I'd start by (if you're not comfortable using Facebook, which unfortunately is one of the better places to find local meet-up groups which aren't awful) finding a local college website and searching "LGBT resources" or just searching "LGBT resources near me" or "LGBT resources [zipcode]" on the search engine of your choice.
For me, that pulls up SMYRC, the Q Center, Basic Rights Oregon, Brave Space, The Living Room, the TransActive Gender Project, and more.
From there I'd winnow down the list to what's appropriate to me (some of these are youth-focused, though getting involved as a volunteer with those might be a good option for you to meet other trans adults who are also volunteering), and go poking through. The Q Center has a Community Events calendar which lists events outside the Q Center itself (like a play called "The Queers" which was at Backdoor Theater), a Q Center Events calendar (all events currently virtual), and a Free Resource Events calendar, which includes things like pantries, name change clinics, AA meetings for LGBTQ+ folx, support groups for bipolar, late-in-life queers, and all kinds of things.
Since I'm Jewish, I would also look at Keshet's Equality Directory to find queer-friendly rabbis near me (which would likely indicate there are queer and trans folx at that synagogue). If I were Christian, I would check GayChurch.org instead. I didn't find a directory like that for pagan folx but I did see some local FB groups. There's a list of resources for LGBTQ+ Muslims on Muslims For Progressive Values.
I had some luck on Twitter also. There are a bunch of relatively loud local activists on there, and being on Twitter doesn't require you to give up much personal information. Emet got involved with local leftists by looking for people like Robert Evans, who does the podcast Behind the Bastards, and then looking at who he was talking to locally and just poking around from there.
There are also a bunch of clubs and bars and stuff, which are constantly advertising on local FB groups and sometimes on Twitter. I'm not doing those right now for obvious reasons.
If you are in a rural area, you might want to look at the nearest city, even if it's a relatively small city. I used to drive down to Bethlehem from the Poconos when I was in HS for Rocky Horror (which is another thing you can look for - RHPS hasn't aged well, but it meant a lot to us older queers and a lot of us forgive its failures and faults the same way we forgive our unintentionally offensive grandpa who tries real hard) and into Philly from Lancaster for stuff. The good news is that with stuff being virtual rn, you can test out a community without driving hours!
I'm sure there are things I didn't think of, so if anyone has other suggestions, please put them in the notes!
Hey, hoping you can help clarify for me? I’m seeing a lot of fanart for sonic frontiers with sonic holding some sort of heart and Amy being glitchy in the background / images of her - was there some sort of leak or new footage showing this ?? Specifically the heart , it’s just surprising me a few people are drawing the exact same thing , not sure if you know but figured it was a good bet to ask you! Lol
Yes! This week we started seeing more and more previews from gaming media, as journalists and influencers played Frontiers during the Summer Game Fest Play days (and also NDAs started to expire.) Most articles so far have talked more or less about the same (accessibility options, gameplay styles, combat, exploration and bits of the story demo), and some say they can't talk about cyberspace stuff until the 29th.
(Sorry for the low quality, but it's the first video that came to my mind that features the heart.)
Anyway, the heart is the same one you can see being collected in every gameplay video floating around right now, but some publications like TheGamer said this about collectibles:
You’re also searching for Memory Tokens, which are used to free Sonic’s friends. In the demo, I found all of Amy’s Memory Tokens and released some kind of digital imprint of her from a futuristic jail cell. Tails was also mentioned at the start, but I don’t yet know what other Sonic characters will be in the game. Eggman does make a brief appearance, and I got the impression he’s just as lost and confused as Sonic is.
There's also another preview in Brazilian Portuguese with a lot of interesting info, but some translations were a bit iffy (for example, some believed it said "7 islands" when it was just a mistranslation), I'm using this thread as reference for the following:
- There are also a type of collectible called "Memory Tokens", while the lore hasn't been explained, it seems to indicate that Sonic needs them to remember the existence of his friends in order to be able to reach them and rescue them.
- (Spoiler-alert, I guess) He mentions his demo ended at the exact moment Sonic found Amy and as they were going to talk to each other a mysterious figure appears in the background, which he thinks is the game's villain... he says the mysterious creature has the silhouette of a human child, but the demo ended there and it got cut off so he doesn't know what happens next with Amy, but she was imprisoned in a sort of weird looking cocoon.
And you can find information about how those collectibles are -in fact- hearts for Amy in other previews, like the Easy Allies video, which around 1:26 says:
There are different collectibles, like, there's one where you get these hearts and you're trying to restore Amy's memories and I don't know what that means...
Yeah, so, the demo starts with this, like, kinda weird vibe... 'cause Sonic is just, like, laying like a corpse in the rain... [...] and they say something about being separated from Amy and Tails.
I think there are more examples (The first IGN preview mentions the wormhole travel at the start of the demo, and I believe the GameSpot preview video also mentioned the hearts...? I watched days ago, don't remember everything), but this is basically what's confirmed about Sonic Frontiers based on a demo certain journalists and influencers were allowed to play over the last weekend!
That's why I'm also super pumped for Frontiers!SonAmy heh
【A3! Translation】 Sky Gallery (3/11)
previous chapter / next chapter
(translation under the cut)
(glitch text ignore)
Kazunari: Sumi, awesome job wrapping up the performance!
Muku: I'm glad it went well!
Misumi: Thank you~!
Kumon: Oh, and good job with your location shoot too, Tenma-san~!
Tenma: Why am I the side note.
Kazunari: Filming in a place like that must've been tough, huh.
Misumi: And our souvenirs are...~?
Tenma: Geez, you have no shame....
Tenma: Here. These are the only triangles I could find.
Misumi: Uwah~! Triangle mochi!
Tenma: And these are for you guys.
Yuki: Locally themed keychains...
Tenma: Sorry, that's all I could think of. I didn't have time to ask you guys what you wanted.
Kazunari: Tenten, we couldn't get in touch with you~.
Tenma: The film site was deep in the mountains, so there wasn't any phone signal. Though, the 'digital detox' wasn't bad.
Kumon: Digital detox?
Kazunari: Intentionally taking time away from your phone or computer. Kinda like.... a digital version of fasting?
Yuki: Of course you'd know.
Muku: I'd be a little anxious if I didn't have a way to contact anyone...
Kumon: Well, Tenma-san's like a grandpa, so maybe that's why he could handle it?
Kazunari: I'd literally die!
Yuki: Let's tone it down a bit.
Tenma: Oh, by the way, one of my co-stars said he became a fan of Summer Troupe after seeing 'WONDER RUSH'.
Kazunari: So even celebs can be stans... amazing!
Tenma: The director of the drama also mentioned seeing Misumi's play. He spoke highly of him, too.
Kumon: That's awesome, Sumi-san!
Kazunari: Yay for Sumi!
Yuki: I guess guest roles are the way to get your name out there as an actor.
Tenma: He told me about an establishment party he's having for his office, he invited all of us.
Kazunari: Look at us, finally getting invited to huge events like this.
Tenma: I don't think he really meant that though, just trying to be polite.
Kumon: Ehh~. What~.
Izumi: Well, it's still good he remembers your names.
Tsuzuru: Oh, you're all here.
Tsuzuru: I was just planning to tell Director first, but this works too.
Izumi: What is it?
Tsuzuru: Based on the stuff Miyoshi-san told me at the gallery the other day, I got an idea for a story set in a gallery where young artists come together.
Tsuzuru: It's just a rough idea, but...
Izumi: A gallery, heh. That'll be a first for us. Sounds interesting.
Muku: If it's going to be about painting, Kazu-kun definitely has to be the lead.
Yuki: Yeah, it just wouldn't feel right if he wasn't.
Tenma: I think he'd be a good fit. Out of all of us, he certainly knows the most about painting.
Kazunari: If that's what we're going with, I'll do my best!
Tsuzuru: I also had Miyoshi-san in mind. Though I'm still thinking about what to do about the co-lead and the other roles...
Izumi: Oh, for the co-lead, how about Tenma-kun? He hasn't been a lead or co-lead since 'New Theory · Legend of Kurou'.
Kumon: It's your turn, Tenma-san!
Tenma: No.... I'm busy with work right now, so I need to think it over.
Yuki: Normally, you'd choose a play over work any day.
Tenma: ---I don't know my schedule yet, I don't have a choice.
Izumi: Well, let's just hold off on deciding until we have a better idea of what kind of role the co-lead will play.
Izumi: By the way, Kazunari-kun, did you ever do anything about that open-call exhibition you were talking about at the gallery?
Tenma: Open-call exhibition?
Kumon: The company a friend of Kazu-san's dad belongs to is holding one, and he asked Kazu-san if he wanted to apply.
Kazunari: I never applied to anything like that as a student. Maybe should try to experience one after all.
Kazunari: And who knows, maybe I'll get some hints as to what I'm aiming towards as a future UMC~!
Yuki: But you'll have to create a new piece for the exhibition, yeah? Can you do that while also playing a lead role?
Kazunari: We've still got a while before the play, and it doesn't seem like it'll conflict with the creation period, so no prob!
Izumi: I see. I think it's good that you're trying different things, best of luck!
Muku: I'm sure Kazu-kun will do just fine!
Misumi: Kazu~! Good luck~!
Kazunari: Thanks, guys!
Tenma: (I'm glad filming wrapped up early. I was able to buy the things I wanted to get, and now all that's left is to head home--).
Kazunari: ....Huh? Tenten? What're you doing here?
Tenma: I got off work early, so I went shopping.
Kazunari: Ooh, wait, an encounter like this is totally an Inste moment!
Tenma: Oi, don't I get a chance to refuse.
Tenma: What are you doing here, Kazunari?
Kazunari: I'm thinking about heading to a few galleries to get some inspo for the open-call exhibition.
Kazunari: When people tell me I can do whatever I want, I have trouble getting a solid image in mind~.
Kazunari: To start, I figured I'd go see an exhibition at the gallery I regularly visit. Wanna join me, Tenten?
Tenma: I see--.
Kazunari: I know I'm getting ahead of myself--but since our next play will be about a gallery, I think if you study paintings, it might convince you to be the co-lead!
Woshite (Part 2)
Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me talking about Woshite, didn'tcha!?
In truth, since many Hanako translation teams have taken up the mantle of translating Woshite, there hasn't been a need for me to bring it up.
But in my last post, I completely over-looked some of the panels that contained Woshite! I'm gonna breeze by 'em quick as I can, but hopefully you can get a kick out of some of these secrets left behind by AidaIro.
For those that need a quick refresher, Woshite is an obsolete Japanese writing system that AidaIro uses as a language for supernaturals. If you know Japanese, feel free to translate alongside me with the table down below:
Now, without further ado...
1.) The Four P.M. Bookstacks
Besides the bookcases themselves, Tsuchigomori's boundary has several wall decorations featuring Woshite characters.
This first one most likely says 「こうあん」 at the top, which means "Public Safety." It's a little hard to decipher the last character, but this translation makes the most sense with what comes next.
What is this Public Safety warning? Well, the rest of the scroll translates to 「もっけのたいさく」 which means "Mokke Countermeasures. "
Could this scroll include tips on countering the threat of Mokke...?! (If only I could get a closer look!!)
Moving quickly along...
This next one reads as 「ひ」 in Japanese. I personally interpret this as 「秘」 or "Secret", but it could be 「火」 or "Fire", as you can see there are multiple lamps floating nearby. (A fire hazard!!)
The last poster on this wall says 「せかいのしな」 which would translate to something like "Items of the World"... a bit vague, but maybe it's some sort of informational poster? Or some kind of shop advertisement...
These next two are similar, so I'll cover them together.
The top one is 「つき」 and frames a picture of the moon. This translates, fittingly, to "Moon."
The bottom one is 「アポロ」 and shows an image of a flag on the moon. This, also fittingly, translates to "Apollo", referencing the Apollo 11 space mission to the moon.
That's all for the bookstacks! Now we move onto...
2.) Summer Lights
The only Woshite characters in this arc appear at the very end, and they appear written on slips tied to the big bamboo wish tree.
This first wishing slip reads as 「のぞむみらいがくるよう」 which is a wish I would translate to something like "I hope the future I wish for comes true."
I also hope their ideal future comes to pass!
The other wishing slip is held by this blobby supernatural. Simply put, it says 「ほうさく」 or "Bumper Crop." Must be a farmer wishing for a good harvest!
Well, that's all for Woshite, folks! Maybe there's one or two more that I missed somewhere, but I hope the few I initially missed were entertaining. ✪
𝙨𝙖𝙮 𝙞𝙩 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 ?
fandom: the lost boys
dwayne x fem! reader
length: long.. ish
warnings: slight blood mention, torn skin mention, kind of a bratty reader? but not in a weird way, sweet and teasing dwayne ( if you count that as a warning haha )
a/n: @oceansrose2002 hasn't had the best day today and since that is my bestie boo, I dedicated this to them. I'd make it gender neutral but I felt like doing another female one? I can do a gender neutral one later on though, if anyone wants that. hopefully this is enjoyable. <3 / ps. not proof read! sorry if there are a lot of spelling errors! /
( unedited, 4.24.22 )
the squealing of a rusted bike chain caught through the windy, summer night air of santa carla. a yell sounded out, one of fright, only seconds later, before the skidding of a tire was heard; followed by the a heavy thud soon after.
hissing through her clenched teeth, the female that fell from her old, out of date bicycle pushed up off of the burning flesh of her palms. she winced, as the cool, ocean air blew against her hand that she had lifted to examine. a nasty scrape covered the heal of her palm; fresh droplets of blood bubbling already, to the slightly dirtied surface. very small pebbles probed the outside surrounding the wound, making it more irritated than it appeared to be.
swallowing, y/n lifted her other hand, in which she had been leaning on, to pick out the jagged rock-clusters. it didn't hurt all that much, until she got to the one that was slightly bigger than the others; plucking it from the torn flap of skin that lingered near the base of her thumb. she bit her bottom lip as a crutch; refusing to let out any pain-filled noises, since she didn't want to seem like a cry baby for getting all bent up over such a small wound.
once the pebble was flicked out of her hold, her ( dark/medium/light ) irises drifted down to look at the new rip in her faded, washed jeans. she huffed, spotting her another scrape; yet this one seemed to be on her knee. this newly spotted wound seemed slightly deeper, too, but thank god no rocks fell into the small gash.
after using her uninjured leg to push the body of the bicycle off of her, she used her other hand, that only held a few scratches, to maneuver herself up off of the dusty side of the road she was on. since the girl was too busy struggling to stand, however, she didn't hear the rushed footsteps coming up behind her.
“ jeez, y/n.. ” the young woman jumped in slight surprise at the new voice; turning to look over her shoulder in fright, to see who exactly had decided to startle her. to her relief, it was only her new boyfriend of exactly four weeks - dwayne.
“ don't sneak up on me like that.. ” y/n huffed, sliding her foot into an awkward, sideways position, while trying her best to push off of the pavement. she must be twisted her ankle as well, though, because it stung to put pressure on it. she whined in frustration; plopping her butt back onto the ground, deciding to give up. “ this is bullshit! ” the female swore, bending the fingers of her hand that was alright, to scrape her nail tips against the ground. “ I feel so helpless! ”
dwayne sighed as he decided to fully near her. orbs falling to the wound on her knee, that was bent in a butterfly-like position, he inhaled sharply; eyes narrowing into slits as he squatted down beside her figure. “ what did I tell you about being careful? ” he grumbled out, staring his girlfriend, who was now sheepishly smiling, down. “ you're always getting yourself hurt.. ”
y/n playfully rolled her eyes, puffing out her cheeks. “ 's not my fault I have bad luck. ” she jutted out her bottom lip, refusing to look him in the eye. “ 'sides, their was a rock in the road that I didn't see.. you can't blame me. ”
“ you didn't see it, because it's almost black out. ” the dark haired male threw back, giving the girl a pointed look once she snapped her eyes onto him, finally. “ I told you not to go out, when it's dark like this. you never seem to listen to me. ”
and y/n knew she didn't listen to him - to anyone, really. but could you blame her? everyone seemed to always baby her. sure, she's had her handful of clumsy accidents, but she was nineteen. she didn't need a babysitter. “ why would I..? you're always telling me what to do. ” she huffed, stubbornly looking away again. her brows drew together, while her lips dipped into a very visible pout. dwayne seemed to find it amusing, however, because the ends of his lips twitched upwards.
“ no need to get all pouty on me, baby.. ” the vampire mumbled, though loud enough for his girlfriend to hear. she didn't respond, but by the small rush of blood that surfaces to her cheeks, he could tell she heard him. “ let me see, ” he gestured to her knee, that began to ache, due to the cold air hitting the wound.
again, y/n said nothing, but she did offer a small shrug. dwayne chuckled at her childishness, before leaning forward; propping his elbow onto his hovering, bent leg while his other knee chose to fall onto the ground in a resting position. taking ahold of her leg, he lifted it; setting the back of her leg against his own, lifted one. she slightly grimaced, which the male had noticed, but made no comment on.
“ you're lucky I keep bandaids on me, for this reason. ” he mused, the small smile on his face twitching once the girl in front of him, scoffed under her breath. “ it doesn't look too bad.. ” dwayne used his other hand, that wasn't gripping her calf, to lightly touch at the reddened skin around the gash. y/n gave out small hisses of air from the fact that his fingers brushed over the sore area, but nothing more. “ it's bleeding, that much is obvious.. and it'll need disinfected when we get back to the cave. but other than that, you seem alright. ”
after brushing away a few specs of dirt that lingered a little too close for comfort, the brunette reached into the back pocket of his jeans. two neon colored bandaids were revealed, which y/n glanced at, and immediately lit up upon spotting them.
“ you remembered! ” the shorter of the two excitedly exclaimed, smiling widely when her eyes met her boyfriends amused filled one. “ you actually remembered that I like those bandaids! ”
“ 'course I did, ” dwayne chuckled lowly, bringing one of the off-white ends of the cover to his mouth. he bit down onto it, only to reel his head back; the seal pealing away to reveal the neon orange bandaid. he set it on his jean-clad thigh, only to repeat the same process with the second one; a neon, baby blue bandaid popping up from the wrapper. “ why wouldn't I remember my favorite girl's, favorite bandaids? ” he teased, flickering his gleaming irises upwards to catch her reaction.
although y/n caught onto the fact that her boyfriend was teasing her, she made no move to snark back; instead, settling to happily grin. “ I'm your favorite? ”
focusing back onto the task at hand, the usually quiet vampire continued to peel the strips off of the back of the blue bandaid; humming in response. “ why wouldn't you be? you're my girlfriend.. ” as he pressed one over one half of the wound, his head lifted; dark brown orbs meeting the woman's own. “ my beautiful girlfriend. ”
soon as the word fell from his lips, the female inhaled softly; biting down onto her lower lip, rolling it between her canines. “ say it again, please? ” she mumbled, very much liking the attention she was receiving. although it wasn't during the best of times, y/n still loved the fact that dwayne was praising her.
“ what? ” peeling off the backs of the other bandaids slowly, he kept eye contact with the flustered girl before him. “ that you're my beautiful girlfriend? ” while he placed the second bandaid on her skin, smoothing the sides out, dwayne watched as his lover happily fluttered her eyes closed; clutching her now balled up hands, to her chest in contentment. he knew she loved the compliments he gave her, which is why he always drank up the view of his beloved going crazy over the loving names.
“ thank you.. ” she mumbled, once she felt his presence closer to her. slowly opening her eyes, she looked into the lovestruck orbs of her boyfriend's; deciding to shyly smile at him once their gazes met head on. “ I know I can be a handful sometimes.. ”
“ more like all the time. ”
“ be quiet, dwayne! ”
dwayne chuckled softly, only to wrap a strong arm around the girl's waist. as he pushed off of the heels of his shoes, he hoisted her up; an amusement filled smirk taking over his lips once he heard her yip in surprise. “ a warning, next time! ” y/n huffed, pressing her hands to the brunette man's chest, once he twisted her body to fit against his own, in a bridal position. “ I hate being picked up unexpectedly. ”
“ you'll have to get used to it when being around me, sweetheart. ” he jeered, managing a small laugh once the girl buried her face into his bicep and groaned. “ alright, I'll stop.. for now. ”
“ you're a jerk, ya' know that? ”
“ of course I do. ”
“ just shut up. ”