BY YOUR HANDS ALONE

Meaningful Gestures Prompts

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Smoothing your fingers down your lover's tie, fixing where your lover couldn't tie it right.

Brushing your lover's waist/shoulder as they pass.

Instinctively pressing your hands against your lover's cheek as they passionately rave, only for them to stop talking and gape, completely distracted by the lack of distance.

Hooking your ankles together underneath the table.

Linking your hands together as you walk through school/a building/the streets--finger rubbing over your lover's knuckles softly.

Putting your hand on your lover's chest as they doze peacefully into the couch arm, focusing on the subtle beat of their heart on your hand.

Unflinchingly settling your head into your lover's lap while they watch television/are reading a book/doing their favorite hobby. Then asking your lover to explain what's going on/what they're doing.

On a whim, pulling your lover into an alley and pressing your lips firmly against theirs, getting lost in each other's touch while the streets bustle outside.

Holding your jacket over your lover's head as they hide from the rain, finding their formal outfit more important than your casual wear.

Whispering jokes/loving words in a lecture/school/church/a meeting. Trying not to laugh/flirt back in fear of disturbing everyone else who's trying to pay attention.

Putting your hand on your lover's thigh and feeling their eyes on you as they try to figure out your motives. Whether the touch is teasing or just for fun.

Mapping out your lover's features while they sleep in your arm, smoothing your thumbs down their cheeks, throat, collarbones, chin and nose.

Hooking a thumb into your lover's belt loop/pocket as a crowd surrounds you, making sure that you don't lose them in the people.

Pressing tiny kisses against your lover's shoulder while they're bent over a desk, trying to focus even though your touch is distracting them.

Wrapping your arms around your lover's waist and pressing your forehead against their back/resting on their shoulder, swaying to music only the two of you can hear.

At your lover's complaining, rubbing a spot where they ache, smiling as they lean into your touch and melt at both the touch and warmth.

Standing still as your lover rubs smudged lipstick/lipstick stains off of your skin, catching them off guard by pressing a kiss against their fingertip.

Pushing your lover against a wall after one too many teasing comments, but being met with unsaid tension instead of the quiet. Both of you unable to continue with the jokes.

After coming home from work/a long trip, finding your lover sobbing on the couch/in bed after a hard day, wiping away their tears with soft touches and gentle words--trying to convince them it's okay, and that you're there for them now.

Softly resting a hand on your lover's shoulder as they face something more difficult than ever, not bothering to exchange words as the touch does it all the same. You've got this in the bag.

Having your lover list everything they're insecure about, and responding with gentle caresses, kisses, and compliments about those areas.

While someone demeans your lover, standing up for them. Either in word, or by physically placing yourself right in front of them as a protective barrier.

Carding your fingers through your lover's hair after a bad nightmare, not caring that it's sweaty or matted, but just that they'll be able to get a good night's sleep, even if it's at the sacrifice of your own.

Protecting your lover's sleep as they doze on your lap, making sure nobody bothers them as they entrusted their peace to you.

Reading up on the things your lover enjoys so that when they talk about them, you'll understand a little better and be able to hold a conversation.

Tracing invisible shapes on your lover's skin as they're busy doing something stressful, keeping their attention half on what they're doing, and half on you.

Very softly placing butterfly kisses on your lover's skin up the length of their arm, either stopping at their neck, or drifting back down to their pulse point.

Reassurance in the form of food/movies/games, forcing them to take a second away and relax with you.

Not accepting that it's time to start the day, and pinning them onto the mattress with either your whole body, a leg, or more risque touches.

Visiting them at work, either with lunch, or just to spend the afternoon with them as they try to get things done. Whether they actually get things done, or thing devolve into flirting/romantic gestures is up to you.

DIALOGUE

"Hold on, let me fix this for you."

"God, you look so good."

"I'm... uh, dammit, your lips are so distracting. Are you doing this on purpose?"

"Your hands are always so warm."

"Be real with me, love. Do you really care about what I'm doing, or do you just want me to talk you to sleep?"

"If we get caught kissing in a small, dark, kind of shady alleyway, it's on you."

"Couldn't you wait to kiss me at home?"

"Please, I don't want the rain getting both of us sick. I volunteer to be tribute--take my jacket."

"Stop, stop! We're going to get in trouble, and I refuse to be yelled at because of you!"

"I am trusting you with that hand, darling. I hope my trust isn't misplaced."

"I promise I'll stay close."

"You know, I am trying to focus... but I can't deny that it doesn't feel good. Keep going, please."

"Take a small break, for me?"

"Never thought I'd have someone to sway with me in the kitchen... I'm glad I was wrong."

"You have lipstick on your cheek, here let me-- oh."

"I-- you-- where we we?"

"Kiss me, please."

"It's going to be okay, I promise."

"Let yourself cry, I'm here now. You're safe."

"You may think differently, but I love this about you."

"Every part, no matter how you feel, is amazing to me. I could spend all day explaining everything I love about you."

"You want to get to them, you go through me."

"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe."

"They're just a jerk, why don't we just go somewhere else?"

"I won't let them put their hands on you."

"I'm right here; I won't leave your side. Go back to sleep, darling."

"C'mere, I don't mind letting you sleep on me."

"Hey, leave them alone. They just fell asleep."

"Don't you dare wake them up."

"Wow, you really did your research, huh? That's amazing..."

"Next time, we can talk more about--"

"You know, you make these kinds of things not so painful, so thank you."

"Hmm... I don't whether to appreciate or complain that you're distracting me."

"I love how your pulse races for me..."

"Do I make your heart jump?"

"Come on, watch this movie with me. I promise it won't be as bad as the previous one."

"I bought this really cool game. Come and play it with me?"

"Hey, I got some food. Why don't we go eat in the kitchen for once?"

"Hrmg, I'm not moving. Don't make me."

"It's far too early for this..."

"Please, we need to get up."

"Touch me again, and I'm pushing you off the bed."

"I'm staying here, and I'm not moving. I do not care about your empty threats! Hey-- wait-- what are you doing?"

"I bought two sandwiches... by total accident, of course. Thought I might come give one of them to you, and maybe while I'm here spend some time with you, hm?"

"This... isn't doing work. But I don't think I mind."

"Thank you for joining me, love."

end of beginning

summary: you’re back at camp half-blood after spending months on the princess andromeda and all you feel is the haunting of luke’s presence

featuring: SPOILERS for BOTL and TLO!!!, brief spoilers for the outsiders (just mentions of a quote from the book), 3+1, multi-pov: reader, luke, and percy, angst and only angst (i cried a little while writing)

word count: 2.4k

author’s note:guys, the end is near. there’s one blurb, and then the post heroes of olympus fic. so crazyyyyyy

series masterlist ||| previous ||| next

connor and travis stoll

the hustle and bustle of the city was a nice contrast from the stifling loneliness at camp half-blood. most people wouldn’t describe the hidden oasis buried between the forest and long island sound that way. they’d talk about the camaraderie between cabins, or the sense of family within their own. maybe they’d emphasize the humidity, and the temperature controlled barrier which prevented major storms or severe weather. then again people like clarisse and annabeth, those with a warrior mindset, wouldn’t feel the cloak of loneliness as they’re too busy with clashing swords and grunts of pain characteristic only to the training arena. 

none of those things, however, were pertinent to you. so, when connor and travis invited you to the farmer’s market to sell the overflow of camp strawberries, you jumped at the chance to escape. 

“i can’t believe we made it here in one piece,” connor exclaims, closing the door to the van once it's in park. 

“hey! i needed to practice my driving at some point,” travis defends, meeting you and connor at the back doors. 

while the boys argue back and forth about who’s the better driver — you or travis — you start unloading the cartons of strawberries. the farmers market is already starting to get busy. between other vendors setting up their booths and the diehard organic hippies already perusing the options, it seems like today will be an eventful day. 

and you were right. 

your eyes catch on someone lurking a couple booths over from yours. the guy is tall and wearing a leather jacket, so he sticks out like a sore thumb while sifting through the oranges in front of him. you squint in his direction. he looks vaguely familiar but you can’t place it. he must feel someone staring, because he turns to face you. you gasp at the sight of him, dropping the small carton of strawberries in your hand. 

“you okay?” connor asks, approaching you. 

you shake your head, crouching down to pick up the berries before they get squished under someone’s birkenstocks. connor is right beside you, speeding up the process. you can’t help it when your eyes drift back to the direction where you saw luke, but the person is gone. 

you let out a sigh of relief, “sorry, had a moment of clumsiness there.” 

connor nods in understanding, “all good. besides, i wouldn’t expect anything less from you since i’m around. i know my good looks and charming personality make you nervous.” 

you laugh loudly at his words, shoving his shoulder before he can walk away to discard the ruined berries. 

annabeth chase

“the bookstore is just down this way,” annabeth exclaims, sipping on her drink from the cafe. 

you nod, mustering a smile as you follow her lead. when annabeth asked you to visit her over spring break, you were hesitant, but she was insistent. there was a lot of history between the two of you, most of it revolving around your traitor boyfriend, but neither of you mentioned it. and whenever the subject did get brought up, one of you quickly changed it. 

“they have so many books. and i think there’s even a record section too,” she explains, pointing toward the quaint bookshop on the corner of a street in san francisco 

the awning is a faded emerald green, and the white letters detailing the store’s name are barely legible. but you can tell that it’s well loved. there’s a large bay window where a young mother and her children are sitting, flipping through a picture book with a pig and elephant character. you stop in your tracks for a minute, letting annabeth get a couple steps ahead of you. 

that could’ve been us, you think, twirling the golden band around your finger three times. it should’ve been us. 

“you okay?” annabeth asks, stopping at the base of the three cement steps. 

you nod, taking one more fleeting glance at the little family, “fine. just lost in thought i guess. you think they’ll have a copy of the outsiders?” 

“probably. maybe in the young adult section,” she answers, opening the door. 

a bell chimes overhead, and the middle-aged woman behind the counter greets her warmly. annabeth stops to talk with her, while you hover awkwardly. it’s so clear to you that she’s built a life for herself, one outside of camp half-blood and her demigod status. she laughs at something the woman says, and you almost feel jealous of the fourteen year old. she’s lost so much, yet she has so much more. you can’t say the same. 

there’s no one else for you. he was the one. you’ve always known that, even aphrodite confirmed that a long time ago, claiming that you two were one of her favorites. that never seems to work out though does it? her favorite couples always ending in a tragedy: romeo and juliet, orpheus and eurydice, liam neeson and natasha richardson, and now you and luke. 

you won’t get a happy ending, that you’re sure of. 

“you didn’t have to wait, i would’ve found you,” annabeth appears, startling you. 

you wonder how long she’s been there — how long you've been staring off into space. looking down at her, you meet her inquisitive gray eyes. she’s trying to get a read on you, but you don’t want her to; it’s not what either of you need. 

you grip her shoulder, the one without the tote bag, and say, “let’s go find the outsiders.”

she nods, but somehow you know the conversation isn’t over as she leads you down the aisle. the store is fairly quiet, not many shoppers except for the family, a group of college students, and the two of you so it’s easy to navigate. the young adult section is even emptier, but it still makes you feel claustrophobic. the smell of books and the thick tension is suffocating you. the teen must feel the same way, because she’s the first to break it after picking up a book. 

“you don’t need to feel guilty. i don’t blame you,” she whispers.

you gulp at her words, tugging on your baby tee as you pretend to pull off a string. 

“neither does percy, or anyone else at camp,” she finishes. 

you nod, picking up a copy of the outsiders. the cover is black and white, featuring a photo of a boy in a leather jacket. his face is turned downwards, but you see him clear as day: brown eyes and a white scar. 

“you know what i like about this book?” you ask, but the question’s rhetorical.

“i like johnny’s take on the world. there’s so much good in it, but we get so caught up in the bad that we forget…we forget how beautiful it is,” you say, choking on your words as tears well up in your eyes. 

“i think he forgot that too,” you whisper, and you don’t need to specify who you’re referring to, annabeth just knows. 

she throws her arms around you, squeezing your abdomen tightly. you close your eyes, struggling to hold back the tears, but a few drip down your cheeks anyways. you sniffle, and she squeezes you even tighter. when she pulls away, you look over her shoulder. you swear you meet brown eyes and a white scar. 

may castellan

luke hated westport. everyone there was the same, entitled, stuck up, and selfish. all the houses stood in a line. each one an exact replica of the one before it: pocket white fence, pristine green lawn, and a faded blue siding. his house, or rather his mother’s house, was no different. 

everything looked exactly the same as when he returned at fourteen. her kitchen window looked over the front yard and main road. he can picture her standing there, washing dishes and mumbling unanswered prayers to a god who never cared. he hates how easily she fell victim to him and he hates how emotional it makes him. 

at same time, there’s something different about his childhood home. a place that should have been filled with love, warmth, and happiness no longer harbors the coldness and terror he always associated with his childhood. somehow, the house feels more homey. there’s a floral wreath hanging on the wooden door, hidden behind the screen. he spots a vase of sunflowers on the kitchen windowsill; their bright yellow petals starkly contrasting the darkness inside. the house almost looks lived in. if a neighbor were to walk by, they would never guess it’s inhabited by a crazy person. luke would never guess that, especially with the beat-up red pickup parked out front. 

wait, he thinks, doing a double take. 

he’s seen that red pickup before, but he can’t figure out where. he looks at the license plate, hoping that will give him a clue into the owner. it’s navy blue and yellow, a clear sign that it’s from new york and that alone makes luke think of you. 

he’s come to visit a couple times, and each time he’s almost gotten caught. at the farmers market with connor and travis it was pure luck that he startled you into dropping the berries. when he showed up to talk to annabeth, it was a coincidence that you were there too. (it’s not like he had silena beauregard keeping tabs on you or anything.) but even if he did, hypothetically have her reporting back to him about your every move, he never expected you to be at his mom’s house. 

the front door opens, and he can hear your voice ring out into the stillness of the neighborhood: “i’ll be back later this week, okay may?”

“shit,” he seethes, crouching down behind one of the neighbor’s suvs. 

he hears a commotion in the house, and watches as you wait patiently at the door. his mother must say something to you, because you smile softly and nod your head. he wishes he could hear her words, but he knows you’ll catch him with one move. 

that’s not necessarily a bad thing, says a small voice inside his head. 

he shakes his head at those words, curls bouncing from the action. he runs a hand through his hair, frustration and anger building up inside him. he ruined this, not you. and no matter what he truly wants, luke knows there’s nothing he can do to win you back. 

the creaking of the wooden porch stairs and slam of the screen door draw his attention back to what’s right in front of him. it takes a bitter laugh out of him; ironic how he’s longed for your proximity and now that he has it he’s ignoring it. 

you freeze at the gate, left hand on the hinge and right on your ring. your eyes dart around the neighborhood, looking for the cause of the noise, but you never find him. he watches as you release the breath you’re holding and twirl the golden band three times. opening the gate, you step towards the truck.

he waits patiently, not daring to move a muscle until your car pulls away from his mother’s house. even then, when the engine is nothing but a faint rumble in the distance, he doesn’t move. he remains crouched behind the suv for a few extra minutes, gathering both his courage and sanity. with a final breath, he gets up, fixes his jacket and approaches the house. 

“mom,” he calls out, knocking on the door, “i’m home.”

the door swings open and her arms wrap around him. she smells faintly of burnt cookies, but it’s overpowered by shea butter and coconut shampoo. she’s crying into his shoulder, mumbling about how she always knew it wasn’t true; that wasn’t her son’s fate. 

but she has no idea, luke thinks, that i break everything i touch.

luke castellan

percy hears your scream before he sees you.

it’s loud, shrill, and gut-wrenching. his heart sinks to the bottom of his stomach and bile climbs up his throat. 

i’m gonna be sick, he thinks.

percy faced a lot today. silena died. ethan died. annabeth almost died. now he’s stuck watching as you try to console luke.

you’re sitting beside him, bow and arrows haphazardly thrown to the side. there’s a cut on your shoulder caked with dry blood, and other bruises litter your body. he imagines that the pain from them is the least of your concerns. 

“it’s okay. you’ll be okay,” you keep whispering, cupping the older boy’s cheeks. 

luke grabs your left wrist, his thumb rubbing over your engagement ring. “i’m okay sweetheart. you’re gonna be okay.”

he approaches the two of you. it feels like he’s intruding on an intimate scene. percy feels a strange sense of deja vu when luke squeezes your wrist before returning his gaze to him. he wishes that he just caught the two of you sharing a vape instead of your final goodbye. 

“never again percy…don’t let it happen again,” luke croaks out. 

percy promises that he won’t, all while watching you. you bite your bottom lip, turning away from luke as you squeeze your eyes shut. he knows you're trying to be strong, but it doesn’t work as tears leak past your lash line and create tracks on your grimy face. 

“i love you,” luke whispers, and you echo the words right back. 

when his eyes close, percy swears that you’ll go with him, falling on top of annabeth’s dagger. but all you do is sit there, cradling luke’s face in your hands. you trace over his features: the bridge of his nose, his cupid’s bow, and the white scar. 

percy placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a reaffirming squeeze. you sniffle, placing luke’s head down gently onto the destroyed cobblestone. your fingers brush his curls away from his forehead, and you unclasp the necklace resting against his collarbone. it’s a silver chain with three clay beads and a golden ring to match yours. you pocket the jewelry, and force a drachma in his hands. 

wiping your nose, you get up from the ground, collect your bow and arrows, and head towards the elevator. 

percy thinks he should call out to you, beg you to face the olympian council with him, but he’s stopped by a hand on his shoulder. 

“leave her. my daughter won’t be joining you percy jackson.”

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BY YOUR HANDS ALONE

neteyam sully x gn!reader

notes: silly and overtly fluffy. flustered neteyam. reupload.

"there you are."

"here i am," you mirror back instantly, hardly sparing a glance up at the far too familiar voice as your fingers continue to work at chopping up some vegetables. it's a busy day—a momentous day. there is no time to waste.

"let me help," neteyam offers, already making moves to steal your knife from you as he steps to your side.

but you weave it away from his grasp, nudge him back with your shoulder and point the knife at him as you address him. "aht, don't think so," you differ, then continue your slicing. "besides, don't you have your own tasks to get to, mr. mighty warrior?"

days like this require a lot of preparation; everyone chipping in and doing their part so that it all gets done and runs smoothly. if even one person slacks off, it could cause a rift in sanctified plans. and that simply wouldn’t do. no, it would not.

"i have completed all of them, actually," he retorts, but he shrivels when you narrow your eyes up at him. "okay, almost all of them."

you scoff, let your pupils meet your sockets with a roll as you pry the truth out of him. of course, one of the most important days of the year and it is now that neteyam chooses to have an irresponsible whim. you aren’t sure what you’re gonna do with him.

"your mother will have your tail if she finds one thing out of place for tonight, you know this." it isn't necessarily a warning, but there is some tip-off in your tone. "you must get everything done."

neteyam hums, leans his hip against the raised wood that you are using as a makeshift counter. he says nothing, simply watches you. takes into account how you dice up the vegetables in front of you diligently before sliding them to the side with your knife and moving onto the next ones. his stare is driving you crazy—no one works well under pressure, after all.

it causes you to have a slight blunder; a misstep. you cut a pattern a tad too fast and send a slice of root tumbling towards the ground. neteyam's instincts are superb, quick, and he catches it before it hits the dirt. mumbling a thank you under your breath as he places it back on the tray, you find the heir before you still not making a move to speak.

you aren't sure why it unnerves you so.

"what do you have left to complete?" it's not the question you want to ask, but 'what the hell do you keep staring at?' doesn't sound quite as nice. so you settle on it.

you take a pause, a breath, to turn to him. throughout the years you have seen the eldest sully child wear many expressions. ones tainted by smiles, irritation, pride, devotion—but this one has you tipping your head in the most peculiar way.

because timidness is not something you think you've ever seen don the strong features of neteyam sully.

he carries himself with such an air of confidence; shoulders pressed back and chin held high—not arrogant, but undaunted. he does not shift gaze unless he is avoiding scoldings and he does not suck in his cheek unless he is fighting frustration. so, you wonder, what could possibly have his face contorted in such a reticent manner. if you did not know any better, you’d almost call his demeanor a rendition of shy. but that seems rather uncharacteristic of him, doesn’t it?

"ah—are you sure you don't need help with that?" he's deflecting, brushing off your inquiry like he hasn't heard it. and you can't decide whether you find that amusing or concerning.

he's making way for your knife again and you twist your arm to hold it out of his reach behind you. you eye him carefully, flit your gaze all around him to pick up on anything that you can that would explain his behavior.

"tell me." it's not an order, you aren't demanding, but neteyam nods his head like he's respondent of such.

"my father told me i needed a, uhm," he stutters, licks his lips, like he's tripping over his own tongue. and it's undeniable the way you see his ears twitch. "for the celebration tonight. i need a.."

"a what, neteyam?" you press, cock your brow up at him. you don't think you've ever seen him like this. never witnessed him so.. "you need a what?"

"a.. date."

so fidgety.

"a date?" you repeat with widening eyes.

"no, no not a—not a date really but i need someone for the—“

"the staining ceremony.” you finish for him, continue his sentence because with all his blubbering you aren’t sure he’ll ever spit it out.

he nods curtly.

the celebration tonight is for all the young warriors who have proved themselves throughout the calendar year as being strong willed and great protectors of the clan. neteyam, of course, is one of them. has been since he earned the right to be titled as such. so perhaps it should have clicked in your head that he’d be searching for a partner for the staining ceremony portion of the night.

but a part of you—if you’re being completely honest with yourself—just figured he had one already. events like this take weeks of planning; most warriors find their artisan a fortnight in advance. because it cannot just be anyone.

the partner one chooses for the staining ceremony must be someone with whom they feel a connection. some of the older warriors choose their mates. some of the youngest choose their mother or father. some settle for siblings. others, in brazen acts of outstretched hands, choose a mate unbonded; one who they harbor feelings for but have yet to seal such in the eyes of Eywa.

you cannot lie and say you had not pondered over who neteyam’s choice would be. a part of you thought he would pick kiri—they have always been so close and she has been his partner for such ceremony before. but, you are not deaf to the murmurs of your village, you are not ignorant of what has been passed from mouth to ear of all that will listen. there have been other… prospects who have been suggested to neteyam for this special commemoration.

your name has not been among them.

“well,” you continue, tear your eyes away from him and get back to the task at hand. there is no need to dwell on such things and fall behind. you have just one more batch of greens after this to prepare then you will be done and can walk away from all this. “if you’re here to ask my opinion on who your choice should be, i’m not sure i will prove to be much help.”

a shut down; a cut off. you’d like this conversation to be over as soon as possible because it’s making your fingers itch. you’re offering him a gateway to close the topic off.

but he doesn’t seem to get the memo.

“no,” he chuckles, now, and you can tell he’s shaking his head out of the corner of your eye. it’s breathy; like he’s punched it out of his chest and finally broken past the barrier of whatever flusteredness had him trapped before. “that’s not why i came to find you.”

“if it’s to convince kiri to sacrifice herself to do it for you again this year, i’m not game for that either.” you don’t understand why his laughter leaves you agitated, why this whole situation has caused an odd twisting in your gut.

“that won’t be necessary,” he disputes, “i do not need kiri to be my partner this year.”

your fingers fumble, your slicing stutters. “oh?” and you want to kick yourself for how your voice hitches. you clear your throat, bite the corner of your lip that neteyam can’t see. “convince some other poor soul to do it for you? is it zuy’nik? i know she presented you a kill from her hunt recently.”

neteyam hums. “no. i have not chosen zuy’nik.”

you grip your knife harder, focus carefully on the blade as you chop down on a bundle of leaves. your throat is dry, your heart is thundering. you feel silly.

“sënuul, then?” you question, do your best to sound as disinterested as possible even though your chest is burning to know who could be lucky enough to have been picked by the heir himself. “i hear many young warriors wish for her. they say she has delicate hands.”

your hands—in contrast—have grown tense; your chops near erratic. being this worked up over a man who is not your mate seems so futile, so nonsensical. if your mother were here to see you now she’d call you childish.

but is it so childish to want things your heart yearns for?

“while that may be true,” neteyam agrees with the sentiment, and that makes your stomach lurch, “it is not sënuul either.”

“then who is it? who could you possibly—“

a hand covering yours has you cutting yourself off. neteyam’s palm melds over your knuckles; stops your unsafe cutting and stills your wrist’s movements. before you can even bring yourself to look at him, calloused fingers are hooking around your chin. swiveling your head around, you have no choice but to meet his gaze. and it is not averting, not twinkling with tepidness like it was before. you think, for a moment, that’s because he’s passed the feeling onto you.

“i do not wish for any other partner in this clan.” and his voice does not waver, does not stumble, now. you swallow as you listen. “i came here to ask if you would do me the honors, for tonight.”

your tongue feels like cotton; the fuzz of it floating to your brain to make everything go static. this is.. not what you had expected.

you had expected to follow neytiri’s orders for preparing the food for the meals that would be shared. you had expected to dress yourself in the ceremonial clothing and jewelry you keep for these special occasions. you had expected to stand around the edges of the circle during the opening dance, serve food to the elders, and sit with a content tight smile as you watched kiri declare neteyam’s war paint for the third year in a row before the true celebration began.

you had not expected yourself to be standing face to face with neteyam, ears twitching embarrassingly sporadic, as he asks you to join him in one of the most intimate and important events of a warrior’s life.

and you suppose you can use that element of surprise as the reason why you find yourself a tad bit speechless while you nod dumbly. a wide grin cracks across his face, curves up his cheeks as he lets out another breathy laugh.

“thank you,” he murmurs, and he still hasn’t let go of your chin. “i was worried i would not get the chance to ask you in time. i was pushing it, but i tried to get all my other duties done as fast as i could.”

now that, the mention of time, finally knocks you out of your little lovesick trance.

“hey, wait,” you huff, shove at his chest lightly with your free hand. “you should have asked me sooner! i should have already had your stain pattern planned out, and—and now i have to go get all of your paints and i didn’t factor in the time for that. you’re terrible!”

“ah, i’m not terrible. i am sure you can just wing it,” he waves off, simpers like this is funny.

“wing it?” you gape at him. because he genuinely cannot be serious. “this will be your war paint pattern for the rest of the year. if it’s bad then you will be stuck with it. you want me just to wing that?!”

“why not? i have faith in you, i’ve put myself into your hands.” and it’s meant to playful, you know this, but the way he’s looking at you proves his words hold their full weight regardless. “don’t be mad at me.”

“oh, i’m mad,” you retort, brush him away as you get back to slicing because now you really do not have the time for distractions. “i cannot believe you have waited until last minute.”

“would you like me to ask someone else?” he queries, and you whip your head over to level him with a glare. “i mean, i am sure sënuul would be honored to be the partner of the future olo’eyktan.”

“you know, i liked you better when you were sputtering and nervous,” you spit back, retract your attention once again. “terrible. truly terrible.”

“ah, do not be mad at me,” he levels again, “what can i do to have you forgive me?”

“nothing. you will never be forgiven.” with no hesitation, but also no malice. your bite holds no venom, and your cheeks are still warm. such hypocrisy you spew.

“nothing?” he questions, and you don’t even have to see his face to know he is smiling. there he is again; the neteyam who holds his chin up high and taunts his brother into mindless games to prove his worth. you admire this neteyam; love this neteyam.

this neteyam grabs your face and tugs you forward before you can think of another mindless rebuttal to spout.

the kiss is light but fervent, and if you were a poetic person you might just say that his lips taste like future promises you already intend to keep. the fight drains from your body and you find no urge to bring it back. this neteyam seems to know how to quell you, how to dispel your frustration and wipe away your grievances like fogged up glass. so easy, so effortlessly.

he pulls away languidly, breath puffing against your lips. "forgive me?" he asks again, and you find yourself nodding before he even finishes the question.

he turns your head to peck your cheek then drops his hands to finally successfully steal the knife still held in yours. you tip your head, blinking through the daze to inquire what he's doing.

"i can finish that, you know."

"i know," he answers, then flashes you a crooked grin that has your stomach twisting in a way far different than before. "but don't you think you should start planning how you want to trail your hands over me?"

and, oh. part of you wants to hit him for that. but part of you wants to tug him in by the neckpiece he dons and get him to shut up by an alternative method.

as you reach forward to run your hand ever so heedlessly up his chest, a faux illusion of planning your mapping, you think you might just settle on the latter.

sub!elliot pleaaseee

probably will but this in a fic as well bc the concept is very hot

thank u for suggestion !

OBEY

His thighs would shake, cold nose burning the flesh of your neck. Eyes squeezed shut, fast breaths would part from the boy, his arm thrown around you as you pumped him at a quick pace. His stomach suddenly tensed when you ran your thumb over his slippery tip, another high pitched moan ripping from his throat, “Fuck—I’m gonna cum,” he announced, one of his hands flying to your wrist, “Can I cum, please? I’m so fucking close—“

“Cum,” you simply said, his hips lifting off the bed as white spurts of cum landed on your white hoodie. His other hand rested on his lower stomach, while the other squeezed your arm—jerking from sensitivity when you kept going, “I can’t—“

You ignored him, smiling to yourself as you giggled. He let out a choked groan when your hand sped up once again, only twisting on the tip, his hips trying to escape your grip, “Baby, baby—ugh,” He cut himself off, trying his best to escape your grip. His body began to take over his mind as he thrusted his hips again, “It’s too much—it’s sensitive, holy shit I’m gonna cum again,” he said the last part as if he was genuinely scared, shaking his head.

You hummed, pumping harder, and when your other fingers went to pinch his balls—his head snapped to you before his mouth fell open, a long raspy groan tearing from his chest as he came for the second time.

Hard Knock Life: MASTERLIST

Rest in peace, Angus Cloud ☁️ 🕊️ ☁️

Now, there’s multiple parts flying around. Here’s a masterlist for the series:

Description: Starting your own business lands you in hot water with Fez.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

[ masterlist ]

neteyam

neteyam saving you as you fall off lo’ak’s ikran (sfw)

neteyam has something important to tell you as you patch him up (sfw)

you sing neteyam his mother’s songcord to calm him down (sfw)

you are nearly killed during a hunting party, and neteyam panics (sfw/angst)

neteyam sees you for the first time and falls head over heels (sfw),, pt 2 (sfw)

neteyam defends you from ao’nung and his friends (sfw/comfort),, pt 2 (sfw)

you take the bullet for neteyam, and are nearly killed in the process (angst/comfort), prologue (slight-nsfw)

neteyam returns from the metkayina and falls in love with you again after seeing you (sfw/comfort)

you want your avatar to become fully na’vi, but neteyam is firmly against it (sfw/slight-angst)

you and kiri overhear lo’ak giving neteyam advice on how to ask you out (sfw/comfort)

metkayina girls start falling at neteyam’s feet and you, his mate, gets jealous (sfw/comfort)

jake

neytiri is nearly killed during a hunting party, and jake panics (sfw/angst)

lo’ak

none yet…

ao’nung

none yet…

୨ꪫ loser! rodrick who smells like musk and two day old clothes, while his new girlfriend smells of the sweetest scents known to man.

though his mom has told him many times to fix the problem, it only took a couple of “i won’t kiss you smelling like that” and “ew, rodrick, get off and shower” for him to fix himself. he hates to be denied of what he wants the most so he’s very quick to straighten himself— but not without a couple complaints, of course. 

no matter, he throws extra scent beads into his drying clothes, takes showers more than every other day, and, as a reward, he gets to be close to you.

fortunately, now that he doesn’t smell of anything, every time he hugs you, your scent rubs off on him. being the loser he is, he doesn’t mind silently telling everyone that he has a girl friend. plus, he adores how you smell. that’s why he’s always kissing behind your ear or on that sweet spot under your jaw.

unfortunately, now every time you and rodrick sneak off to make out with each other during neighborhood parties, he leaves your hideout spot with a hard-on and smelling undeniably like you. it doesn’t help that his shirt is wrinkled or his hair is a mess, which only makes things worse when Susan corners the two of you. the two of you never mange to come up with a lie convincing enough to hide that you were in close proximity, when she asks.

“do you even try to be subtle?” she deadpans, staring at rodrick’s crooked collar and the telltale hint of gloss on his jaw.

rodrick opens his mouth to respond, but you can already feel embarrassment creeping up your neck. “we were just… talking.”

susan rolls her eyes. “oh, god,” she sighs. “just go clean yourself up,” she says, throwing a hand at the two of you before walking off.

you look at rodrick with annoyance all over your face. “you couldn’t come up with something better?” he only grins timidly before shrugging. you shake your head, even though you know you’re going to help him “clean up”.

“The bed’s right there”

I decided to write this bc of the lack of Elliot smut on this app, and bc of my fat crush on Dominic Fike. I’m very new to the smut writing game so any feedback is appreciated <3

Pairing: Elliot x Reader

Word count: 1.1k

Content warnings: NSFW, slight possessiveness, lmk if I missed anything

“Rue and Jules can’t come over,” you read Rue’s text and pout.

“Can’t, or won’t?” Elliot counters without looking up from the music sheets spread in front of him. He’s sitting on the carpeted floor of his room, guitar in his lap.

You turn your phone off and glance at him from your place on his bed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You demand, shifting so you’re sitting cross legged.

Your boyfriend glances up to you. “It means they’re probably fucking,” he huffs out a laugh.

You roll your eyes, but he’s probably right. They can never keep their hands off each other. Well, Jules more than Rue, but still. One time, Elliot swore that Jules fingered Rue while they were staying over.

You sigh and lie on your back, staring at the roof. Elliot plucks discordant notes on his guitar, occasionally cursing or scribbling down a chord.

You slide off the bed and take a pre-rolled joint from the bedside table before joining Elliot on the floor. You press your torso against his lean, muscled back, wrapping your arms around his chest. Elliot tenses briefly before relaxing into your hold, and you nuzzle your face into his neck. You breathe in his heady scent, a mix of weed and aftershave.

Elliot presses a sweet kiss on your forehead before focusing his attention back to the music stem he’s working on. You wedge the unlit joint between your lips before trailing one hand over his shoulder, continuing down the hard planes of his chest and stomach until you reach the hem of his jeans.

Elliot’s breath hitches, and he goes still.

Your fingertips graze his dick over the fabric before reaching into his front pocket and extracting his lighter.

“Really?” He demands, but his tone is still light.

You look down at his jeans, which’ve grown tight over his bulge. “What?” You muster all the innocence you can, flicking the light on and raising it to your joint. It’s barely a centimetre away from the tip when Elliot snatches it from your hand, tossing it carelessly among the music sheets.

“Hey,” you complain, setting the joint on the corner of the bed. Elliot turns around to face you, grabbing your face roughly and kissing you. It’s possessive and hot and drives you crazy. A whimper sounds from the back of your throat, and that only encourages Elliot. He eases you onto your back, pinning one of your forearms over your head, pressing kisses against your throat.

“Elly, the beds right there,” you say before gasping as he finds your sweet spot.

“Mmm, too far,” he says, nipping and sucking as you arch your back.

You giggle. “It’s like, half a foot away.”

“Oh, I know. Way too far.” He presses kisses along your collarbones, pushing your shirt up and exposing your stomach. “Sit up for a sec, love,” he murmurs.

You sit up, raising your arms over head. Elliot slides your shirt over your head and tosses it to the side. The look in his eyes is so lusty and intent, it fills you with confidence.

You cup Elliot’s stubbly face, kissing him slow and open mouthed until your heart is beating rapidly. You lace your fingers in his hair and straddle him, his hard dick pressed against your pussy. Elliot runs his fingertips along your hips, waist, and ribs, before settling on your tits, massaging and groping them. You moan at the feeling, rocking slightly on his erection.

“You’re so sexy,” he groans, biting the soft flesh of your breast. You’d worked out pretty early on in the relationship that Elliot had a thing for marking you up.

“Elliot, please,” you grind harder on his lap, desperate for some kind of relief.

He grinned, unbuttoning your shorts and tugging them off. Now you’re in your bra and underwear and he’s still fully clothed. You tug his shirt over his head as quick as you can, briefly admiring his broad chest and shoulders before turning your attention to his jeans. You struggle for a minute, trying to unbutton them. Finally, Elliot grabs your wrists and removes your hands. “How about I handle these and you grab a condom?” He smirks. If he didn’t have such a charming damned smile, you’d slap that smirk right off his face.

You retrieve a condom from his bedside table, grumbling about how poorly designed mens jeans are. Elliot pulls off his jeans and boxers.

“I’m not fucking you on the ground when there’s a perfectly good bed right here,” you sit on the edge of the bed, folding your arms stubbornly.

Elliot, unable to lose any argument ever, stays where he is and you just stare at each other for a minute. Eventually, though, the desperate ache in your pussy becomes too much to just ignore and, locking eyes with Elliot, you slide your lace panties off and lay back on the bed, one hand creeping between your legs.

You begin to rub your clit, moans escaping your lips until Elliots resolve breaks and he crosses the room, pausing only to tear open the condom and roll it on, before lying on top of you. His forearms are braced on either side of your head, his face hovering millimetres above yours.

“El’,” you groan as he teases your entrance. “Elliot, I need you inside of me.”

He pushes into you completely, and you gasp at the sensation. He pulls out slowly before thrusting slowly again.

“Harder,” you say through gritted teeth.

He huffs out a laugh, brushing one hand tenderly through your hair before setting a contradictorily furious pace.

“Oh, shit,” you choke out, closing your eyes as bolts of pleasure ran through your body.

“I know, baby,” Elliot says.

You reach a hand between your bodies, playing with your breasts as a pit begins to form in your stomach. You roll your hips, moaning as he hits all your spots just right.“That feels so good,” you manage to say.

Elliot watches you with hooded eyes, by the pleasure you’re experiencing.

Soon you’re at the edge, walking the line between pleasure and anticipation so strong it’s almost painful. “C’mon, baby, cum for me,” Elliot urges you, biting down on your neck. That tips you over the edge, and you roll your eyes back as the pleasure overwhelms you. Elliot’s thrusts grow sloppier and he finishes soon after you.

You ride out your highs together, staying where you are for a minute. Eventually, Elliot pulls out of you and holds you against his chest.

“What are you thinking about right now?” Elliot asks softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You look up and smile at him brightly. “How lucky it is for us that Jules is such a horn dog.”

Longing - JJ Maybank x reader

Summary : JJ Maybank discovers your secret, which makes him confess his feelings. (wc:2.1K)

Contents : fluff, angst, mentions of sex, alcohol

(this is kinda shitty but i feel like i need to write to get some new ideas so here we go)

GIF by jjmayday

"Silent treatment? Seriously ?" JJ asked you, wincing as you were cleaning his wounds.

You didn't answer, he didn't deserve it. Instead, you just pressed the cleansing pad on his bare skin a bit harder than before.

"Jesus, if you wanted to kill me you could've just let him finish !" he complained as he leaned on the sink, his hands gripped on it.

"Shut up," you finally told him as you couldn't prevent your eyes from rolling. "If you had listened to me, you would still be at the Boneyard."

JJ has never hidden his protective side over you. He's always been protective, even when you were in primary school. As time went by, the blonde boy realized he liked you but it took time for him to accept and deal with it, because he was obviously aware of the no Pogue on Pogue macking rule and he intended on respecting it. As for you, you've always had a crush on JJ Maybank but, as time flew, you came to terms with the fact that nothing would happen between the two of you and that you were meant to remain two close friends, as you have always been.

"Course, but if not me who's gonna make Rafe Cameron shutting the hell up ?" he huffed, anger coming back as he thought of the boy.

You sighed, throwing the cleansing pad in the trash can of John B's bathroom as you got up from the toilet. "He's a dick, J. We all know everything that comes out from his mouth is bullshit, you shouldn't let him ruin your party."

"You didn't hear what he said."

You folded your arms. "Tell me," you told him, not really interested but you asked him anyway so he could exteriorize his anger.

"Just some shit about you and Kie," he lied, scratching the temple of his face and avoiding your eyes.

You sighed, kind of flattered by the way he couldn't let anyone talk shit about you. You wouldn't admit it not even to yourself, but the heat you felt on your cheeks was only the reflection of the feeling brought into your stomach. You took his chin in your hand, making him look at you.

"Stop ruining your parties for Rafe Cameron," you told him, more as a command than as a request.

JJ nodded silently, nervously biting his lip. Rafe did not mention Kie, at least not tonight. However, he did mention something about you, something that only a few people knew about. The boy tried to wipe the thought out of his mind as you proposed him to finish the party you've previously left on the porch of the Chateau, with two cold beers that just came out of the fridge.

"Volvo or Mercedes?" you asked JJ, playing some dumb games while you were waiting for Pope, Kiara and John B to come back from the party.

His brows furrowed. "Ford."

"Pick one out of the two for God Sake," you rolled your eyes.

"Volvo then."

"Volvo is good," you agreed.

"Best spider-man?" JJ asked.

"Tom Holland," you answered, laughing as you saw your blonde friend tilting his head back, stunned. "What?"

"You should be ashamed, YN. I mean it," he joked.

"Shut up," you told him, smacking his arm and making him drop his can of beer on his t-shirt. "Shit," you muttered, getting up from the sofa. "Hold on a sec."

JJ, half drunk and not giving a single fuck of his t-shirt, just took it off, finishing the rest of his beer. As you were looking for another item of cloth for your friend in the spare room, your phone buzzed on the sofa, which made JJ startling as he felt the slight vibrations of your phone upon his body.

"Y/N, your phone!" JJ called out, not wanting to invade your personal space by looking at the notification (despite longing to do it).

As the boy did not hear any response coming from you, his eyes slid to your screen's phone. It was a text from an unknown number:

I kinda miss you

JJ's brows furrowed instantly, doubts filling the entireness of his body. He remembered Rafe's words, trying to piece everything together. Your phone buzzed a second time, this time it was a text from Kiara.

Where the hell have you and JJ been, cant find you

Before he could even finish reading Kie's text, you were back with a clean t-shirt and a new can of beer. "I'm sorry J," you mumbled as you handed him the t-shirt and the can.

"Thanks."

You took your phone and read Kiara's text. "Oh," you laughed lightly, "they just realized we were gone. It's about time, it's been like what, half an hour?"

You texted Kiara back letting her know that you were waiting for them at the Chateau. You then clicked on the second notification and JJ immediately saw your features changing.

"Is something wrong?" JJ asked, trying to remain as casual as ever.

You quickly shoved your phone in your back pocket, not taking care of answering the second text.

"Nope," you sighed, collapsing on the sofa next to JJ. "Everything's fine."

He nodded, knowing for a fact that something was wrong. Maybe not with you, but with him.

---

As you felt the water of the marsh meeting your body, you thought that there was no better way to spend your day than like you were exactly doing: a full day on the HMS pogue, followed by a night at the chateau where your friends and you could enjoy the heat of the Northern Carolina's summer.

Yet, JJ wasn't in such a good mood as you were. He couldn't get what happened last Saturday out of his head. Everyone noticed his change of attitude, but as soon someone wanted to start discussing the topic, he would tell you to piss off and that he was fine. The truth was that he realized he had no idea of what would be his reaction the day you would bring a boy to your friends so they could meet him. You already flirted with some guys during parties while he was there, but you never went far with any of those guys. All the pogues knew that you had kissed 2 boys in your whole lifetime, and every time it was just a stupid fling that JJ could bear with but the text you've received messed his head up. I kinda miss you. This would mean that you've already seen this person, and that something serious happened for you to delete the number. It also meant that the thing you've had with this person was serious enough for him to text you that he missed you.

"What are you thinking about?" Kie asked JJ, putting him out of his thoughts.

"Just thinking about the next surfboard im gonna buy," he lied.

"Liar," she answered, sitting on the edge of the boat as you were trying to drown John B with the help of Pope. "You don't wanna talk, fine. But don't talk bullshit at least," she went on, not on an aggressive tone as JJ would have expected it.

He sighed. Fuck, he just told himself. "I'm worried about Y/N," he admitted. "I've seen a text from someone on her phone that said he missed her. She never talked to us about anyone, so I'm just wondering what's going on."

That wasn't a lie: you've never said anything about anyone. They were your best friends and you didn't say a single word about someone who could potentially miss you.

"Maybe we should let her some time to do so," she simply said as you got onto the boat followed by John B and Pope.

"I'm starving," Pope admitted, taking the beer you were handing him.

"Same," you said as you were checking your phone, rolling your eyes as you were reading something.

"What is it?" John B asked you as he had noticed your eyes roll that went almost to the back of your head.

"Nothing important," you assured him, placing your phone back in your backpack. "Why don't we go back at the chateau and order some pizzas? I can practically hear Pope's stomach from here," you joked, smacking slightly at Pope's belly.

---

You cursed yourself as you remembered that the terrible headache that prevented you from falling asleep was probably due to the fact that you didn't put on any sunscreen today. You checked the time on your phone: 4:11 AM. For God Sake, you mumbled as you got up from the couch to go out and smoke. As you opened the door, you found JJ sitting on one of the steps.

"Can't sleep?"

"I think i'm the only person on this planet who can't sleep when she smokes a blunt," you snorted slightly, sitting down next to your friend.

The weather was nice. Not too cold, not too hot, it was perfect. The peaceful silence of the marsh would have allowed anyone to fall asleep, but not you and JJ. Ironically, the reasons why both of you couldn't sleep were closely related.

"So, what's wrong with you?" you asked him bluntly as you attempted to light up your cigarette.

"What?" JJ exclaimed, taken aback.

His reaction drew a slight smile out of you. "You're acting weird, JJ Maybank."

"I'm not," he asserted, taking the cigarette out of your hands to take a drag of it.

"You are," you told him as you took back your cigarette.

He sighed and then got up. "Good night, Y/N."

"You're not going anywhere. Sit," you said as you grabbed his wrist to prevent him from getting inside.

"How did Rafe know that you have a birthmark behind your left ear?"

You froze, this time you were the one taken aback by his question. You sighed, letting go of JJ's wrist, your eyes glued to the ground.

"Tell me-"

"Because Rafe has a lot of bitches and I've been seeing one of them for a while. But we're done, I told him to piss off," you simply told him.

If JJ were to be very honest, he would have bet everything he had on you banging Rafe Cameron behind your friends' backs. He was slightly relieved that you had no close ties to the elder Cameron, but hearing you say in person that you had a relationship with someone still had the effect of a sharp knife through his whole body.

"Is it why you're acting so weird? Because Rafe told you about my birthmark?" you asked him.

"I also read the text," he confessed, sitting down next to you.

You frown at him.

"I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't have done it. But I did, and it messed my head up even more."

You huffed, getting up and stubbing out your cigarette on the grass. "Why didn't you talk to me about it?" you asked, as you were getting angrier as every second went by. "You're supposed to be my friend-"

"I'm done being your damn friend while you're banging on kooks," he hissed, getting up and attempting to get to the twinkie. Yet, you prevented him from it by standing in front of him.

"Watch your fucking mouth dude," you warned him.

"Just let me the fuck alone-"

"Why are you-"

"Jesus Y/N I like you! Apparently you're fucking blind but please tell me you're not deaf," JJ yelled, regretting it instantly as he realized what he had just told you and considering that it was 4 in the morning.

You were caught off guard. You were so shocked that your thoughts took over your entire body, and it took you a moment to respond to what JJ had just told you.

"What the hell?" was all you found to say.

JJ knew very well that there was a risk that he would break your friendship by telling you, but there was no turning back. "Look, I just need to have a walk to clear my head and then you can lecture me on the no pogue on pogue macking rule," he assured as he walked by you, giving up on the twinkie idea.

You stayed still, unable to move. When you saw JJ come back as the sun was starting to rise, you knew you had remained there for a long time.

"I don't intend to lecture you," you said as he was about to speak.

"What?"

His innocence drew a smile out of you. "I'm actually planning to break the rule if you're willing to break it with me, so I don't think I'm in a position to lecture you," you told him.

You noticed his features change, then a smile.

He didn't answer anything but rushed towards you, took your face in his hands and firmly pulled your body against his as he brought his lips to yours, kissing you softly. You closed your eyes and inhale deeply as if you were trying to immortalize the moment.

"You could've said that you didn't care about the damn rule sooner," he joked before kissing you again.

❛ i’ve been thinking about you all day. ❜ with jj

idk why but i feel like if jj went to college he would join a frat so here’s this, characters are aged up to sophomore year

you sighed as you finally pulled into the tiny parking lot, securing the last space. you let your head rest against the steering wheel for a moment after turning off your car but then grabbed your bookbag and got out. you triple checked that your car was locked and then made your way inside and upstairs, four doors down on the right side of the hallway, you knocked quietly just as a warning but then opened the door without waiting for a response.

jj sat hunched over the small desk on his side of the room, headphones in his ears as he wrote something down. you knew he hadn’t heard you come in so you set your bag against the foot of his bed and pulled out your phone. deciding to scare him a little you sat down and opened your messages, typing one for a moment before hitting send. it was a simple “turn around” but effective. as soon as he saw it he was whipping around with wide eyes, so fast that one of his headphones caught on the handle of a desk drawer and fell out of his ear.

“you’re here! holy shit i didn’t hear you-“ you giggled as jj’s hand came up to rest flat on his chest.

“sorry, maybe you should turn your music down. i can hear it from here. what is that? nirvana?” he pulled the other earbud from his ear and unplugged the cord from his phone, pausing the song. he gave you a quick roll of his eyes as he stood up and walked the few steps over to where you were slumped against the wall on his bed.

“how was your day?” you reached out toward him, making grabby hands to tell him you wouldn’t talk until you got cuddles. he smiled and immediately nearly threw himself down onto the bed, arm outstretched for you. you let your head fall to his chest as you slotted yourself perfectly against his side, his fingers finding their way under your shirt to rub shapes on your skin.

“i thought about you all day.”

“about me? how did i get so lucky?” you smiled and leaned up to press a kiss against his neck, noticing his smile was wide as well. “how did i occupy your mind all day?”

“was thinking about this for the most part, just cuddling and relaxing with you. maybe watching some random movie or tv show.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. i also thought about how bad i wanted to kiss you, which surprisingly hasn’t happened yet.” jj gasped loudly and extremely dramatically which caused you to look up at him again.

“you’re totally right, come here.” he held your cheek as he pressed his lips to yours for a long but sweet kiss. when he finally pulled away after a few moments, you had a smile on your face again. “did i live up to your expectations?” he asked and you laughed.

“i don’t know, you might have to try again.” and he did, multiple times.