#and. to this most recent episode. how else do you cope with that besides wanting to end it all lol :') not like you can ascend at this poin

[s-brant]

Angels Roll Their Eyes (2/2)

(gif: @toesure) (PART ONE)

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

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

Word Count: 24k

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

Hurricane Agatha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you smiling about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He isn't sure why she buys into it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

JJ misses her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Weird in what way?"

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

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

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

She sighs.

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

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

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

That part is the most fuzzy in her mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gotta catch me first!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They tried.

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

It was simple in the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fuck?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because what?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

There it is.

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

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

Her heart sinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then prove it."

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Internally, JJ is losing his shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll—"

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

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

"Promise?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's the one to break the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wasn't staring."

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

"Whatever you say."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's okay," he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could she be so stupid?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She is never skipping this song again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[shihalyfie]

Regarding Konaka’s influence on Tamers (or how much he actually didn’t have)

(Rest assured that if you’ve had a conversation with me recently about this issue, I’m not vaguing you; this conversation has come up a lot in the last few weeks, especially in my private chats, so this is just me deciding that I should write something about this for once since it’s been weighing on my head lately.)

I think, right now, with what happened regarding the DigiFes debacle, a lot of people are having complicated feelings about how to feel about Tamers, and this is completely understandable. I think there are also some things that may be inevitably unavoidable, such as starting to second-guess certain nuances in the series and what they might lead to. All of that is perfectly reasonable, and in the end, it’s going to be up to everyone to decide how they feel.

In light of this, a lot of people have been bringing up the fact that, while Konaka was the head writer, he was by no means the only person working on it. This is very much true, but I’d like to add something else to the equation: this is an issue that goes much deeper than the usual claiming death of the author for the sake of sanity. The full picture is that Konaka has always had much less influence on the series than the fanbase tends to attribute to him. Official statements have been very clear as to not attribute the entire series to him, and, among all the other controversial statements he’s made, Konaka himself has at least been very active about crediting the other staff members as far as their influence on the series! The idea that he was the only person who ever did anything substantial for Tamers is something I’ve been warning against since long before any of this happened (if you want proof, I have a post from April with this sentiment in it), and right now we just happen to be seeing what’s basically the worst possible outcome of the fanbase constantly worshipping him like the only real creative heart behind the series to borderline cult-like levels...when that’s never been true, and has resulted in unfairly taking credit away from people who deserved it.

I’ll go into detail below, and I hope this can help people understand the situation better and sort out how they feel about it.

Note that I make references to his infamous blog in this post, which I’m deliberately refraining from directly linking for obvious reasons, but all of the information is still there, so it should be verifiable if you decide to look for it yourself.

Personally, I’ve always found it really bizarre how there’s been this obsession with portraying Konaka as some kind of auteur whom the entirety of Tamers depended on. I’m not saying this out of spite towards him, because, again, even he himself was very insistent on disclaiming credit for things he wasn’t actually responsible for (he was quite humble in this respect, actually). Not to mention that I think it’s a mistake in general to constantly pin a single person in a multi-person production as the sole heart behind it, and the Digimon fanbase has historically had this strange double standard behind it when it comes to uplifting him as the only heart behind Tamers when nobody says that about any of the head writers for...anything else. (How many times has Nishizono’s name ever popped up when talking about Adventure? People are usually more obsessed with talking about Kakudou or Seki.) Konaka’s work is certainly distinctive, but Tamers had a lot more going on besides just that.

In fact, based on his own statements on the matter and all of the other official information we’ve gotten about Tamers production, while you can’t really quantify such things, it’s generally been estimated that Konaka was responsible for something like only a fourth of the series. Which is an incredibly low amount compared to what the fanbase would have told you before all of this happened, because of this fixation that he must be the genius mastermind behind the whole series. Not only that, this “brilliant auteur” image of him was so inflated that people were attributing way more of 02 to him than he deserved; 02 episode 13 was the only thing he contributed to the series and he was specifically brought on as a “guest writer”, and the overall plot of the episode was determined by the rest of the production staff and not him -- but ask the fanbase and they’ll tell you stories about how he invented some grand planned arc for 02 that got cancelled, or even that Tamers exists because of a “writer revolt” from him and other writers not being allowed to do what they wanted. (You know, as much as I understand 02′s a controversial series, it would be really nice if people didn’t make up completely baseless stories like this just to scapegoat it...)

I honestly cannot emphasize enough how much of the problem we’re in right now has been horribly enabled by the weird pedestal the fanbase has been putting him on. This is to the point where there’s even been a double standard where some of the more unpopular/criticized elements of Tamers must not have been the fault of a brilliant writer like him, and in fact was forced on him by the executives (this excuse had always been brought up anytime someone doesn’t like something about Tamers, just to make sure the image of him as a perfect writer was maintained). Turns out, as per his own admission on the infamous blog, while he wasn’t the one who initially had the idea of putting Ryou in, the part that rubbed the fanbase the wrong way -- that he came in as an accomplished senior who was better than everyone and played up by everyone in the cast -- was unabashedly his idea (he apparently was enamored with the idea of having someone like Tuttle from the movie Brazil). Again, this is a weird scenario where even Konaka himself has been more humble about this issue than the fanbase’s perception of him; he fully admitted whenever he had trouble writing certain parts. For instance, he doesn’t actually like writing about alternate worlds, felt they were out of his comfort zone, and only wrote in the Digital World because the franchise needs one; he’d stated that if he’d had his way, the Digital World arc wouldn’t have come in as early as it did, which might be a pretty shocking statement for a Digimon fan to hear.

If you want even more specifics, here are some extremely major parts of the series that Konaka was not actually the one behind:

The character backgrounds. Konaka stated on his blog that he wasn’t interested in going too much into character backstories because he felt it was too plot-limiting to say that a character is the way they are thanks to something in their past or background (basically, he cares more about plot than character for the most part), and that he’s also not into worldbuilding. Certain things like Ruki going to a girls’ school were supplied by Seki, who infamously loves worldbuilding, family backgrounds, and character settings.

Certain nuances of Ruki’s character, especially the part where she’s pigeonholed into uncomfortable places due to being a girl, were informed by Yoshimura Genki, writer from Adventure and one of the head writers of 02 (who eventually would go on to create an entire career out of feminist cinema).

According to the posts on his blog, Impmon’s character arc didn’t have much input from Konaka himself and was largely written in by Maekawa Atsushi (also a writer from Adventure and one of the head writers of 02).

The whole concept of Yamaki being redeemable in the first place was something Konaka didn’t originally plan for; he’d initially intended to make him a straightforward antagonist, but, of all things, his Christmas song, combined with the input of the other writers (especially Maekawa) humanizing him, led to the development where Yamaki eventually changed sides and became sympathetic. (This makes Konaka’s recent stunt revolving around Yamaki a bit painfully ironic.)

The director, Kaizawa Yukio, was deliberately picked because he didn’t have experience on the prior series, for the sake of changing things up, and he spent Tamers as a period of studying what Digimon should be like. Based on what he’s hinted, it seems Konaka's writing style and choices were able to have as much influence as they did because Kaizawa approved of them -- that is to say, Konaka’s detailed imagery and descriptions were extensive enough that Kaizawa could go “sure, let’s go with that.” But in the end, nothing Konaka did would have gone through unless Kaizawa and Seki (among many others) didn’t also approve of it or provide input. Moreover, Kakudou Hiroyuki (director of Adventure and 02) has also been stated many times to have been a valuable consultant on invoking Digimon so that the new staff could understand what to aim for and how to get the right feel (and also assisted with providing stuff for the mythos, such as the Devas). Nevertheless, Kaizawa also seems to have had his own strong opinions and input on the story; he especially seems to get passionate when it comes to the topic of making the story something the kids watching it could relate to and imagine. (He would eventually go on to direct Frontier and Hunters, along with several episodes of the Adventure: reboot.)

So in other words, looking at this, a lot of these things that people emotionally connected to and loved about Tamers are things that literally were not his personal creation, and were largely contributed by the other writers! Of course, Konaka’s “creator thumbprint” is very obvious -- he was the head writer, after all -- and all of this had to go through his own vetting to make sure he personally liked it as well -- but nevertheless, you can see that this very much was a collaborative effort from head to toe, with him being very open about this fact himself. Insisting on making sure that this fact is well-known isn’t just a coping mechanism to try and remove his presence in the series, but rather a desire to get people to seriously stop giving him credit that really should be going to others (especially since, again, even he himself was very diligent about assigning that credit).

In the end, I’ll leave you with another thing to keep in mind: Konaka doesn’t get paid anymore for Tamers work (unless they make something new like the DigiFes thing), so continuing to buy Tamers merch and supporting the series through fanart and such will probably end up going more towards the Digimon IP as a whole. Basically, if we’re just talking about Tamers specifically, what degree this is going to matter is only really relevant to the content in the original series, which is now twenty years old and remains unchanged. By Konaka’s own admission, he wasn’t into all of these conspiracy theories until 2010 at the earliest, so while it’s understandable to be a bit wary about the themes in Tamers having traces of the base sentiment, the original series itself does not seem to be an outlet for alt-right propaganda, and it’s probably forcing it a bit much to read into it that way. Konaka’s also repeatedly insisted that all of his attempts at a Tamers sequel have been rejected and that he’s been doing increasingly strange swerves to get around members of the original cast not entirely being available, and the Japanese audience has turned out to not be very fond of the contents of the 2018 drama CD and the stage reading for reasons entirely separate from the politics, so it’s also unlikely we’ll be getting a Tamers sequel from him or something in the near future.

So -- at least for the time being -- what’s done with him is done, and the remaining question is how all of us feel about Tamers. I think everyone will have differing feelings on it, and that’s perfectly understandable. Personally, given everything I just said above, I’m going to continue treating it as a series very important to me, and one that many people (including, as it seems, a very different Konaka from twenty years ago) worked on with a lot of effort and love, although you may see me getting a bit more willing to be critical about the series and its themes thanks to my concerns about some of the sentiments in it and what they imply. I also completely understand that there are probably people whose associations are going to be much more hurt and who will have a much harder time seeing the series the same way ever again, and I think that’s reasonable as well. But at the very least, going forward, I hope all of us can understand the depth of this situation, give credit where it’s due, and not force credit where it’s not due.

#digimon #digimon tamers

[craigily]

Adrien deserved more screen time.

Adding on to my most recent post.

(And before anyone calls me biased because of my obvious hatred for Marinette, just know I hate ALL miraculous characters equally. I’m just pointing out the obvious. )

It’s no suprise that Marinette, who the creators obviously prefer, and it shows, has more screen time than Alya, Nino, Luka, etc, but what I don’t understand is why Adrien isn’t focused on as much. 

Actually, I do get it. Why would anyone want to see episodes focusing on Adrien dealing with his abusive father, his life as a famous model, being separated from the public besides small hours at school/after school activities(fencing,) being the son of f-cking shadowmoth? Honestly, I’m so much more content with the fact that our main character has a loving family, many friends, and a talented designer. I love it when my main character has a perfect life and yet they get so much forced perfectly planned out drama that happens to them. 

Can you sense the sarcasm.

Instead of episodes showcasing Marionette's stalker-ish and obsessive behaviors and showing how non toxic lukanette is, (yet CONTINUOUSLY SHOVING Adrienette down our throats.) do something with Adrien. Make him have an actual nice moment with his father, unlike that one minute clip of him and his father playing piano. Maybe show him getting over ladybug, (and since Adrienette is endgame) and maybe starting to fall for Marinette or if we’re still going with that Adrigami plot the writers don’t give two shits about, Kagami.

Show me his STRUGGLES, show me things about his life so I can CARE ABOUT HIM. Show me how he COPES with an abusive father, a supposedly dead mother, loving someone who loves someone else!??! All we know so far about him is he’s the ‘sad rich boy’ that doesn’t have a good relationship with his father, his mother is gone, and he’s just wants to make his parents happy. I want to care about Adrien, I want to hate him slightly less than I hate all the others, but I need a reason to. And right now, I wasn’t given any. 

#ml salt #miraculous ladybug salt #miraculous ladybug #Adrien salt kind of? #Marinette salt #Not really Adrien suger-

[corpsehusband-simp]

Weight of the World

WARNING: This is a sensitive Fic that deals with depression, mentions of dark thoughts, punching a wall, and anxiety. It has a fluffy ending. 

A/N: Please put yourself first and don't read this fic if it will put you in any kind of dark place because of what is metions and please know that my DM’s are always open. Feel free to message me all hours of the day or night, I am always here to talk.

 Request: this is a touchy request so i understand if you are uncomfortable with writing it. it’s kinda a comfort/coping prompt but can you write corpse x reader where reader has been going through manic depression and just pushes everyone away and performs self destructive behavior, and corpse has to talk y/n out of su*icide? recently i’ve just.. been really going through it is all i can say. if you don’t wanna write it, totally understandable ❤️

Paring: Corpsex reader, Sykkuno x reader (best friends)

You rolled over in your bed as your phone rang, hiding yourself further into your covers. You woken up yesterday morning and your depression had hit you full force. You couldnt really put a finger on wheat caused your manic depressive episode but it was kicking your ass. It had been a while since you felt like this and you couldnt find the strength at the moment to pull yourself out of it and in doing so you were pushing away the person you loved the most. Corpse. The love of your life but you couldnt even answer his phone calls or texts. Instead you physically turned away from his caller ID, the last time you had talked to him was through a text yesterday telling him that you needed space and that was all.

The more you thought about it the angrier it made you, the angrier you became with yourself. As your mind slipped into darker, angrier thoughts your phone rang again but think time it was your best friend Sykkunos ring tone, Big booty bitches. 

Corpse must have called him. You thoguht before reluctantly picking up the phone, wiping tears from your face. “What Sykkuno”

“Oh uh h-hi y/n. I just wanted to uh call you and check up on you, you didnt come to the Among Us lobby yesterday.” You sighed.

“Im fine Sy.” Your tone was short and rough, you hated acting this way but you didnt want to pull anyone else down intot the slump that you were in.

“O-okay, well im here okay. Love you y/n/n”

“Yeah love you too sy. Never forget that.” and with that you hung up on him, tears running down your face again as your thoughts continued down a dark route.

CORPSE POV

Corpse was going out of his mind trying to figure out what was going on with you. After your text yesterday he had been battling his anxiety on wether or not he should oush the situation, corpse knew you depression could get back sometimes but he also understood sometimes people just needed space. So he turned to the only other person he could trust right now, Sykkuno.

“Hey buddy.”

“Oh hey corpse, whats goin on?” It made corpse smile to hear that at least sykkuno was still his normal cheerie self.

“I need a favor, I think y/n is having another episode butbut she wont answer my calls so I was wondering if you could try and call her for me. See if she answers.”

“Yeah of course man, but why dont you just go over there?” Corpse sighs.

“Im going to but I dont want to push ya know. Its- this is a touchy thing.” Sykkuno hums in agreement before hanging up. Corpse paces back and forth in his livingroom till Sykkuno calls back.

“Hey Corpse”

“Did she answer?” Sykkuno sighs.

“Yeah and she doesnt sound like shes doing very well.Im actually really really worried Corpse.” Before Sykkuno could even finish his sentence Corspe was grabbing his car keys and hoodie.

“Im heading over there now, Ill text you later with and update. Thank you for calling her.”

“Of course, just keep me updated.” Corpse faster than he ever had , it was a mirical he didnt get pulled over.

Please be okay, please be okay. He repeated in his mind over and over as he run up to your apartment door. He entered quietly and quickly, not even bothering to take his shoes off. You entire apartment was dark and eerily quiet but as he neared your bedroom he could hear your quiet cries coming from the bathroom. He knocks on the door and tires to open it but it was locked.

“Go away.” You cried with broke Corpses heart.

“Baby girl, please open the door.”

“NO please just go away!”

Your POV

You felt out of control as you cried so you puched and yelp in pain. Corpse wastes no time kicking in the door.

“Im sorry baby Ill fix that I promise.” He says quickly as he kneels down beside you. You didnt know if it was the suddenness of the door kicking in or him beig here or both but you broken down into even more of a crying mess on your bathroom floor. Corpse pulls you into his chest and you try to fight him off. 

“No leave me alone, go away!” He only held you tighter and closer.

“Y/N I’m not going anywhere. We made a promise to eachother remember? We promised to never leave eachother remember? Me and you together. Im promise to fight next to you. So please just breath and let me help baby please.” Eventually you stopped fighting against him and clung to him like your life depended on it, and in this moment you were positive it did. You didnt know how much time passed between that moment and when Corpse finally stood, holding you bridalstyle as he carried you to the room. You laid both you you down, never letting you leave his hold. As you laid there Corpse left sof kisses around your face and whispered sweet loving things to you.

“You are so strong Y/n” He ran his fingers through your hair and kissed your forehead. “You are beautiful and smart” Corpse kisses your temple. “You are worth every single breath you take, every single atom and molecule in this universe that you take up you are worthy of.” He gently lifts you chin so you were looking up at him with your red, puffy eyes. “A wise girl once told me, that I know it gets hard and feels like the weight of the world is one your shoulders but theres two of us now and you dont have to take the weight on alone.” You sniffle and look up at him.

“Hey I said that.” Your voice was weak and horse from crying.

“Yes baby girl, you did, and I hope you knoe its true. I am right here.”

“I dont want to burden you, I know you have some much on your plate already I dont want to throw my shit on there too.” He shakes his head and lays his forehead on yours. 

“You arent burdening me, the only thing that ever puts more stress on my plate is when you push me away because I cant help you when you do that.” You sniffle reaching up and brush your finger tips across his cheek. 

“Im so sorry I put you through this.” Tears started to well up in your eyes but Corpse qucikly wipes under them and peppers your forehead in kisses.

“Hey hey hey none of that baby. Alls well now. Im here now.”

“Thank you my love. You are my rock.’

“And you are mine”

✨Tumblr Taglist✨

@fuji175 @corbins-kinda-smart @locallolli @namjoons-crabssss @sadness-babee @reddeserths @eccedxntesi @mayempress  @shinyyoonie @amirahhiddleston @gamerjisoo @trying-to-be-nice-here @jinexedanxrchist @rensaor @yoongis-cumsock @devilishducky97 @mintchip17 @redperson58 @kutiesammyboo @caswinchester2000 @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @thoughtfullydopedragon @neville-longbottomsimp @danny-devitowo @chocolatecloudwinnerhoagie @notmewrongb1tch @moneybagmara @alxcru158 @whatinthyworld @ihavecommitmentissues @mayempress @tanya-sonigra @themeaningofstupid @heavenly3308 @nicetomeetyouamamber  @chileansoul-englishheart

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse fic #corpse husband x female reader #corpse husband imagine #youtubers fanfic #youtubers x reader #youtuber imagine

[writing-in-april]

The Five Stages of Grief

Stage five: Acceptance (5/5)

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader (Spencer’s POV)

Thanks to @zhuzhubii who helped me so much with this series and made this gif for me 🥰

Summary: Spencer going through each of the stages of grief after the death of the reader. Stage five is acceptance.

A/N: Can’t believe my first series on here is done!!! I’m not gonna lie you guys this chapter is super emotional for me- I no joke cried the whole time while writing it and while rereading to edit. I basically have been going through the same thing recently with my Nana. This chapter is very close to my heart and is definitely the most personal chapter for me. The whole series is actually heavily inspired by season 3 episode 19 -one of my favorite episodes of criminal minds- and I also used elements from season 3 episode 15. This also kinda helps explain a lot of my writing choices throughout the whole series if you’re curious. I did my first real attempt at foreshadowing in this series, I hope you all enjoy it! Thank you for all the love and support on this series- with a special thanks to @spencerreidsmiles and @andiebeaword -you all have been so lovely and amazing.

Warnings (All warnings for the whole series are on series Masterlist): Sad Spencer, References to past drug use, References to past suicidal behaviors, Small panic attack, Hopeful Spencer, Unreliable narrator (much less so in this chapter)

Main Masterlist | The 5 Stages Masterlist Word Count: 3.5k (longest chapter)

It’s been a year; One full year since they had died in my arms. One full year since they had been shot so cruelly by a heartless unsub in an alley. One full year since I had been graced with their presence and the sound of their voice.

The elements of my emotions were extremely complex according to my therapist, and surprisingly I found myself starting to feel the benefits with them more every time I went to an individual session or a group session. It was hard for me to realize that I would have to learn to accept my situation.

It was hard to learn how to understand my own emotions when I had been so willing to shut them out, to try and convince myself that they didn’t exist.

I had begun to learn that I carried around the water that felt like I could drown in, the fire that burned so hot that anyone near it would get burned, the earth that I had wished would bury me with the pebbles I had chosen to cope with, and even the polluted air of my sadness around with me everyday. But, now I somewhat accepted the fact that they would always be with me, or at least I was trying to.

I had to learn to accept.

Even if it hurt I had to learn to at least try.

The next goal I had been given by the therapist was the most daunting of my tasks yet in my opinion. Trying to convince myself to open the boxes in the corner of the bedroom I had once shared with Y/N was harder than trying to get clean. The thought that had propelled me forward into getting clean was that I felt as though I would be disrespecting Y/N by not staying clean. They had been the reason all those years ago that I had spilled the clear liquid down the toilet and I needed to do it again, if only for them.

The boxes were something that were easier to ignore. I could ignore them by turning my back to the stack of boxes, choosing instead to stare at the painted walls of my apartment instead. There was no reason for me to stop ignoring the boxes, no one was trying to pressure me to open them besides my therapist. Everyone else in my life had no expectations for me to open them at any time, if ever, including Y/N’s family.

But, it had begun to feel like maybe I could try to attempt to open the boxes. I wasn’t sure what had finally prompted my brain into thinking that perhaps it would be a good thing to stop ignoring it. I stopped trying to understand why my mind works the way it does long ago, I had poured enough time into my life thinking about that.

I had felt this overwhelming urge to be able to look back at things that once belonged to them with some semblance of peace. I wanted to enjoy the memories we had together once more. I was tired of letting the memories get soiled by the unsub, I deserved to still think back on the one that I loved with a smile. I deserved to be able to preserve their memories with happiness and not let them sour with sadness. I wouldn’t let the unsub be able to kill something else while he was behind bars, my memories.

I was ready.

I was ready to open those boxes.

I was ready to at least try.

I was ready to try and look back at the memories.

I wasn’t going to let their memory die too.

My first attempt to open the boxes in the corner of my bedroom consisted of me staring for two hours at the stacks. I knew that I at least wanted to try to attempt to open a box, even if it was the smallest of the bunch.

That day I had gotten the lid of one of the boxes open. That was as much as I could handle emotionally in that moment. There was a small part of myself that wanted to push myself to look inside the box, but I couldn’t do it that night. That night I laid down on the bed, again facing the wall, unwilling to look at the boxes. I knew if I did I’d feel as if I had failed and I had to keep trying to convince myself that small progress was still progress.

I tried again despite the swirling anxiety in the hole in my chest.

I was still willing because I still wanted to have my memories unsullied by sadness.

I still knew that I deserved that despite my volatile elemental emotions threatening to push me into another toxic loop.

The next time I tried to look in the box I had previously opened just a little I immediately got choked, recognizing the contents sat at the top surrounded by other smaller insignificant items. I only managed to grab one of their old tchotchkes that used to sit on their desk in the bullpen. It was insignificant enough of an item that it didn’t make me fall into an endless loop of my emotions. I clutched it all night while I tried to sleep, though I still faced away from the boxes.

I hadn’t given up yet I still wanted to try, if only for them.

I would still try for them, even if I didn’t succeed, I still felt better for trying.

It had taken me awhile to muster up the courage to look at the box again, even though I still wanted to try I was scared that the contents would be too much for my fragile psyche. What I had gotten a glimpse of at the top of the box was something that used to be important for Y/N.

The next time I tried to look I successfully managed to pick up the item that had triggered the painful memory in my mind. It was ironically, it was another box.

The box wasn’t something that was explicitly tied to memories that we shared together. I knew it to be a music box from their childhood, given to them by someone that had meant so much to them. Out of curiosity I cranked the knob on the side and slowly opened the lid, wondering if I could handle the sounds of a song that I had often heard every time they had opened it to listen to the twinkle of the box they cherished.

As soon as the beginning notes of Swan Lake floated into the air I slammed to top shut, unwilling to open up the box of my emotions all the way just yet. I knew I couldn’t get rid of it, it was too important of an artifact in Y/N’s life. Though I knew that this wasn’t something I could keep to myself, this belonged to Y/N’s family. I clutched the box for a second in my arms when I came to the realization that the trinket should be with someone else as if it would be cruelly ripped from my arms right then and there. I felt a little fire being stoked in my belly at the thought of people taking it from me, even though there was no one there in my lonely apartment with me.

I started a breathing exercise that my therapist had told me to use when I felt like this. No matter how much it pained me to admit it, it did help immensely in snuffing out the emotions when I could feel them begin to spiral out of control.

I couldn’t let myself fall into an endless loop of volatile emotions again. I had worked hard to get clean after I had started to write my amends. It had been a hard uphill battle even after I had written down my amends, my grief hadn’t magically gone away that day. Getting clean had been much harder without my rock and the person who had helped me get clean the first time around. I wouldn’t disrespect their memory by going back to dilaudid again.

Once the initial fear began to fade and my breathing had grown steady I forced myself to loosen my grip on the music box. I then carefully set it down in a place that would be suitable enough for a stack of things I’d pass off to other people that had been important to them. I hoped I’d soon be ready to make a donation pile despite that I despised the mere thought of giving something away that belonged to them to a mere stranger.

It was already too much for today, I could only bear looking at the one item. I didn't know how I’d be able to handle it if the box was filled with more trinkets that were important to them. I did however find myself thinking when I laid down on my bed for the night after a hot shower to relax my mind. I found my mind thinking about the trinkets they’d had an affinity for collecting. It still brought tears to my eyes to think about giving away their stuff, even if it was to people who also mattered in their life. But, I found myself thinking about their old cute little trinkets without as much pain, though it was definitely still there.

Maybe tomorrow when I try, I’d do better.

The small box that I had begun to unpack over a series of days didn’t hold anything else seemingly important to Y/N’s life. Besides the music box I had found prior, the small box was only filled with unimportant trinkets that thankfully didn’t spark much meaning in my mind. It was obvious that when the team had initially helped me to put their stuff away until I was ready that things had been put away in a slight haste. They must’ve done it so quickly as a way to try and help me. The animosity that I had held towards my team for the last year because of Y/N’s death had been slowly melting away over time. I still wasn’t as friendly as I had been before, but I knew my frigid nature after the event hadn’t been justified. I knew now that they had only my best interests at heart, even if they didn’t always pinpoint what they were correctly. I had even begun to regain some of my desk duties once I had gotten clean. It had felt good to feel somewhat normal even though the sight of their desk directly across from mine and their still empty round table chair still made my heart pang with grief.

I had even begun texting them more frequently again, though I was still aversive to text, so I guess it still wasn’t that often. Some things really do never change despite the fact that my life had turned on its head in the past year. I had even begun to write letters to my mom again.

I knew I was lucky to still have people by my side, even if it wasn’t the one I knew deep down I still wanted with me.

I thought I could have at least done the box without crying anymore.

That was until I found something at the bottom of the box that made the dam holding my memories back in my mind break to flood my mind. The book would probably seem inconsequential compared to the rest of the items that I knew sat in the other boxes. Most people would assume after just looking at the surface level what items of Y/N’s meant most to me, the ones I wanted to keep. The black paper back was well worn around the edges, almost like if I read it too frequently and I wasn’t too careful that the spine would break. I ran my fingers up and down the battered book as I began to willingly reminisce. To other people the book would’ve looked beaten already beyond repair, maybe as if it had not been loved enough, battered perhaps because of neglect.

But, just like me I knew that Y/N had loved the book more than most people would be willing to.

I knew that I wanted to keep this book, no matter how painful I knew their contents would be for me. I hoped that I’d be able to read it so much that I’d be afraid for the binding of the book, just to be able to feel close to them again. Though I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready to dig up this particular memory, it might still be too painful for me.

I remember they had bought this book for us after I had connected with a grieving father on a case. He had specifically quoted a poem to me that stuck with me for weeks after. Once I had told them of the excerpt quoted to me they had immediately grabbed a copy of where it had originated from, a long Wordsworth poem. The book “Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood” became their favorite quickly, in fact it used to take residence in the top drawer of their nightstand. They had often loved to read me their favorite excerpts at night just before bed when my eyes couldn’t stand to focus on the pages anymore.

When I opened the well worn book it flipped open to where they had set their bookmark last, I recognized the excerpt immediately. My breath got caught up in my throat when the words danced around in my vision. I wasn’t sure if I could face this specific excerpt quite yet, or even be able to read any part of the poem. The book held so many memories of them. This specific poem held so much meaning to the both of us.

However, there was something in me that wanted to try. I wanted to be able to read the poem again and remember the memories we shared fondly. I wanted to be able to enjoy my memories with them. I had come to realize over the past year that their memory deserved to be nurtured with fondness not overwhelmed with sadness.

So, I decided to try.

The memory’s attached to the excerpt immediately began flooding back even as soon as I read the beginning words. The bookmark had landed on the page that had been quoted to me by the grieving father, the words holding even more meaning in my life now than ever before.

“What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my-“

The tears in my eyes blurred my vision, so much so that I had to stop reading for a moment to wipe my eyes. I didn’t know if I wanted to continue, just those first few lines were already weighing heavily on my mind. I was already focusing on the radiance that had left my life forever. A radiance that was once so bright, but was now snuffed out, forever taken from my sight. My sorrow was creeping in with small little waves in my mind, I just had to hope that it wouldn't drown me. I didn’t want to get stuck on an endless loop of emotions again, I had just gotten fully clean a little while ago.

Even though I was feeling intensely emotional over just the first few words I wanted to keep trying. I wanted to read this poem and smile. I wanted to be able to look back at our memories with love, to take back what had been polluted by the acts of a heinous man. Once I had somewhat collected myself and my thoughts I began to read again from the beginning of the excerpt-

“What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower,”

My entire being could not help but ache as I read the words, still aching for the presence of the one who had been forever taken from my sight. When I reached that part that I remembered asking the grieving man about all those years ago, the words held an even deeper meaning to me now than I ever thought possible. There was nothing I could do to bring back the hour where I was still in my lover’s embrace. I wanted to be back in the moments of splendour in the grass and glory in the flower, I knew that soon I’d have to fully accept that it wasn’t possible.

Again I had to wipe tears from my eyes before continuing to read the stanza. This time a few tears dribbling down onto the pages, marking them with my sadness forever no matter if it dried into the parchment or not. I continued to read the page despite the saltwater that continued to drip down my face,

“We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind”

I felt a small watery smile creep onto my face, it had been so long since I had remembered to smile with sincerity. I was thinking about some of the times they had read this to me as I tried to drift off into a most likely restless sleep. Though I had always slept better when they read to me. At the time the words hadn’t meant as much to me as they did now, I now had a permanent connection to the feeling of grief that would never be erased. For the first time in a long time thinking about them didn’t hurt as much for a moment, I actually smiled, even though it was rather watery. No matter how small or sad the smile was, I was still smiling. And, I knew in that moment that Y/N would’ve been proud of me.

I pondered on the stanza’s meaning in a deeper way than I had done before. The things stated in the stanza about how I would gain strength from this situation made me contemplate what Y/N would’ve wanted me to do after their death. They wouldn’t want me to give up as I had done before, they had always wanted the best for me. They would want me to gain strength from the situation.

They would want me to grow from the pain that sat in my chest.

They would want me to move on, to accept.

I didn’t know if I’d ever find someone else that I’d ever love as much as I loved them. I didn’t really ever want to, I had found my true love already. Maybe one day I’d find someone to fall in love with again and if I did I knew they would be happy that I was able to move on with someone else. Even if I ever did move on with someone else there’d always be a part of my heart that belonged to Y/N. For now I was ready to move on in a different way. I was ready to live my life without them, by myself.

The trauma of losing them would always weigh heavily on my soul, I’d carry that with me until I rejoined them in the earth. But, I was now ready to keep living, if only for them. I felt less guilty now since I had grown to realize that they’d want me to try and live the rest of my life as fully as I could. They’d want me to try and find happiness. I didn’t know if I would ever truly find it again, whether it was on my own or with someone else.

They may have been forever taken from my sight, but I found comfort in the fact that the radiance they brought into my life would always reside in me. Instead of letting the deep hole in my chest gape until the hour of my death, I’d let it fill with the radiance of their memory.

I was ready to try.

I was ready to try even if I knew the water that felt like I could drown in, the fire that burned so hot that anyone near it would get burned, the earth that I had wished would bury me with the pebbles I had chosen to cope with, and even the polluted air of my sadness around with me everyday would sometimes take ahold of me again no matter how hard I tried.

I’d always carry those emotions with me, but I knew I was ready.

“Nothing can bring back the hour of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower.”

I knew I was ready because their memory would always be with me to give me strength and to guide me. They’d always be there to help me try to live the rest of my life peacefully.

When I slept that night I faced the boxes while clutching the book to my chest.

Even though it still would always hurt on some level, I was ready to live in a reality where I could accept.

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky @oreogutz @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar

Spencer Reid/CM:

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes

5 stages of grief:

@joonie-centric @tatesimper @half-blood-dork @mcntsee @illuxions-x @rainsong01 @nomajdetective @loveheathens @day-n-night-dreamer @reidbuck

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid series #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler #5 stages of grief series #5 stages of grief

[fenristheorem]

New Era Lance Headcanons

I told myself I wouldn’t do this before episode 4 came out... but here I am.

I originally wanted to wait until ANE episode 4 was out to post any of my own headcanons for Lance, but I know they had a fire at one of their locations recently and that has delayed the release of the episode (my heart goes out to them), so I figured I should just go ahead and post some headcanons because I’ve been dying to do so.

~Headcanons under the cut because these are long~

General:

Twice a year, on their birthday and the anniversary of his death, Lance brings Floppy (because I theorize he adopted Floppy) to visit Valkyon’s grave. Really, this can happen at nearly any time of the year - but seeing as Lance is busy as Chief of Obsidian Guard, he can’t always make time to visit his brother’s grave. However, Lance always makes sure to find time to visit the grave with Floppy on these two special dates. He'll even specifically ask Huang Hua to try and make sure his schedule isn't too busy on these two days. He never says why, but it's not hard to guess.

Lance occasionally talks out loud... to his brother... distantly hoping that - despite the fact that he’s dead - Valk will somehow hear him and by some miracle respond to his brother. He doesn’t do this very often, only when he finds himself caught in a low moment where he feels truly isolated from everyone and the ache to have his brother by his side again echos through him like thunder through a mountain valley, but when he does it means he really needs the comfort. No one in the guard knows this about him; he makes sure that he never does this in public or where anyone could find him doing this. Valkyon’s death effected nearly everyone in the guard, but Lance was still his brother and doesn’t believe most people would understand the full extent of his regrets and, further more, his ways of coping with this great loss.

Lance never visited the re-formed crystal created by Leiftan and Erika. Not once - in all 7 years. He never felt he had the right to because this situation and all his pain was primarily caused by him and, therefore, he needs to bear the pain as part of taking responsibility for his actions. The crystal room became a symbol of hope and forging forward into a new era, and while Lance is grateful for being given a chance to redeem, he's aware that he has a long way to go before he has made up for everything he's done, if he ever could. He feels he needs to find his own hope from within and help guide the guard with it, not rely on the guard and the new crystal to provide him with hope for the future.

Romantic:

Lance is very used to being alone by now. Because of this, he keeps his romantic partner at a distance when they first start off. It’s not that he’s not interested - it’s just that he’s settling into the idea that someone actually wants to be closer to him after everything he’s done, especially the woman he threw off a cliff. He’s not entirely sure how to react to a woman finding romantic interest in him, hell he’s not even sure he deserves it. It's been years since he's allowed himself to consider romantic companionship, so he's widely used to being his own rock. However, once they’ve been together for a while, he’ll trust himself (and her) a bit more and actually allow himself to be a bit more comfortable and minorly impulsive around her. Slowly he’ll allow himself to throw a few jokes around, he’ll allow himself to share his opinion on things around her more, and he’ll find it a little easier to smile each day. Now he’s not one to hide his emotions, but he certainly keeps himself in check to avoid causing damage or pain as he's painfully aware that heavy emotions can influence people. However, this disappears when he begins to trust his partner more; he's less hesitant and more confident that she won't shun him for having strong emotions and opinions on certain things.

Once they’ve been together for a while and his romantic partner has effectively torn down the walls of isolation he built around himself, she’ll find he’s... a bit territorial. After all, he’s allowing himself to become attached to someone for the first time in years; why wouldn’t he be attentive and watchful with his newfound companion? He’s not openly aggressive towards others when jealous or feeling territorial (in the rare case that he is, as he’s learned later on in the relationship that he has nothing to be insecure about), he refuses to bring that sort of disruption to the guard, but he’s certainly not above throwing Guardienne over his shoulder (without his armor on, of course) when he’s reminded of a moment earlier in the day where another man seemed to be just a bit too interested in what she was saying. Pair that with a kind, naive smile from her and a few jokes, and perhaps an encounter with a Leiftan at some point, and you have the perfect combination for a semi-jealous ice dragon who suddenly craves attention from his lover. He’ll take her over his shoulder and saunter over to the nearby bed in who-ever’s room they’re in, lay her gently down and rest himself beside her, wrapping both arms around her and pulling her close to his chest as they settle in to stay like that for minutes to hours depending on how long they have together. She better not hope to leave anytime soon then. Unless they have somewhere to be, Lance is unlikely to let her go for any reasons; he wants her attention and he's going to get it.

Lance is an ice dragon. This is well known by now and he's proud of his heritage. However, with this also comes all the responsibility of being an ice dragon; specifically the instincts. This is also something his partner needs to learn to deal with if they hope to maintain a relationship with him, because he's certainly not about to rebuke himself for having natural instincts (unless it truly begins to become a problem or he accidentally hurts someone). These instincts can range from being very territorial and possessive at certain times and situations, to keeping a special watch on her to make sure she isn't hurt at times where she could be prone to it, or treating her like a living goddess merely because the mood strikes him and he wants to show appreciation for her presence. These are only a few examples. When do these instincts hit hardest? He's still trying to figure that out, seeing that he hasn't been with anyone for a while. However, they can effect him in different degrees. Some days he'll hold her for an extra five minutes longer before she leaves to hang out with Mathieu, Koori and Karenn, other days he'll request that Huang Hua allow him to escort her on a minor mission in the forests surrounding HQ because he wants to do everything he can to protect her and give them time alone together. If they're interrupted on their mission by someone else, Lance will be deathly quiet and still as his partner and the newcomer carry on their conversation, only speaking when spoken too, and he won't be mean, but internally he'll be quite irritated at the fact that their alone-time is being interrupted when he planned for them to be alone for a while. Ideally, his partner will pick up on his distance and wrap up the conversation, and once the newcomer leaves Lance won't hesitate to take his partner by the wrist (gently) and briskly drag her away from the direction of her conversational partner. When he feels they're far away enough, he'll abruptly turn around and press her against a tree, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck with a faint growl. The best thing his partner can do in this time is hold him. He doesn't need comfort or reassurance, he just needs time alone with her. However, that's one of the extremes of his instincts. Most of the time he acts on subtle instincts. He'll pull her into a secluded corner of the guard for a few minutes to talk privately and share a few kisses, or he'll be passing by and see something in the market that she said she needed, or perhaps he sees something he thinks she'll look good with or he knows she'll like, and then track her down after purchasing to gift his find to her. At the end of the day, he just wants her to know he appreciates her, and when the sudden urge to do something with or for her strikes he has a hard time letting it go. And while Lance is very independent and doesn't wish to oppress or suffocate his partner, his instincts can become a bit overbearing at certain times. All his partner needs to do is confide in him about this and he'll try and make them a bit more comfortable (after all, his instincts tell him to care for her before anything else) but she will need to try and tolerate this as much as possible, if it's even an issue to begin with. However, Lance is quite confident that she'll enjoy the intimate side of his instincts more often than the domestic instincts, no matter how she feels about the domestic side...

I’m considering making Lance headcanons a routine post on my page - maybe one or two posts every couple of days. I have a few more headcanons that I can post, and I’m sure I’ll have more after ep. 4 is out, but I’m always open to writing specific headcanons upon request.

Have a request? Ask them here!

But first, please read the rules list for asks!

#eldarya #Eldarya ANE #eldarya lance #Eldarya Lance ane #fenristheorem writing #eldarya lance headcanons

[geekkatsblog]

Grey's Season 17x8 review

I'm kinda late but I haven't been sleeping lately so I finally managed to catch up with the episode today.

I'm still in shock from last weeks episode honestly but let's go. First I'm expressing my disappointment on the lack of Carina, she's a series regular on Grey's but all her scenes were on Station 19, I wish they would have brought Maya to Grey's just so I could feel good about seeing them cash in their regulars card. Then Deluca was laid to rest, another heart breaker seeing that they had just opened the realms of possibility for him and storylines but they just killed him off instead.

___________________________________________

Teddy

Teddy the biggest storyline at this point besides the funeral. At last we get to see what's really going on. Teddy hasn't been looking herself for a long time and it seems like Deluca's death was the breaking point for her, she was so scarred she didn't even want to wean Meredith off of the vent and when things are affecting your decisions as a doctor and not for the better, it's not a good sign. We'll get to see more of the storyline next week which honestly I'm excited to see. She managed to make me feel for her because despite everything she's done she's still the same old attachment barbie under there. I'm just glad Owen was able to put aside their differences and pick her up bridal side to take her home. The only thing I'm hoping is that it actually happens to be what the trailer was suggesting and not another Denny and Izzie situation because enough of the Grey Sloan doctors have had cancer and I'm definitely hoping that hey end the love triangle between her Owen and Tom or the better scenario in my opinion is let her get some space to breath and deal with healing without the pressures of relationship added to it.

___________________________________________

Meredith

Meredith honey, I'm gonna need you to take several feet away from Mc Dreamy, your kids and the hospital need you and you're getting a little too close to him for comfort. On that note I was once again glad to see Patrick Dempsey bless my screen as Derek Shepherd and it was as always a treat. When he talked about the kids, I'm so glad he knows about Ellis and they got to have several deep chats, so much so that I almost fell into the trap of wanting them to touch. She took a breath on her own which makes it seem as though she's improving but I don't want to get my hopes up and then have them trampled again like in the situation with Deluca waking up after surgery and then Meredith waking up only to end up on a vent in the same day.

___________________________________________

Bailey

I'm so glad that she's taking some time off. She's been running on empty since her mother died and she was beginning to remind me of the time with when she tested herself over and over again for staph with how obsessed she was about Deluca's autopsy, however with the amount of her fellow doctors she's lost its understandable plus Meredith the only one of her residents left is still on life support. If it wasn't for Richard she would have done some serious damage especially to Teddy who already was on edge. She definitely doesn't handle trauma well but besides Richard and Meredith she has experienced the most trauma. She's been through a lot and sometimes I think I tend to forget that.

And at least we got to see that small scene between her and Ben at the end so that was a plus.

___________________________________________

Richard

Is still holding up the walls of the hospital. It must be so hard for him to keep his faith with all he has been through, like I said before him, Meredith and Bailey have been through hell and back so I can definitely understand him feeling a little lost and losing his faith. However he didn't let that affect his keeping the Grey Sloan family together. I'm glad him and Catherine managed to make up because both of his support people are going through things of their own (Meredith and Bailey) so I was glads that she was able to be there for him and he didn't have to consider the thought of alchohol because that would just be too much at this point.

___________________________________________

Amelia and Link

Are doing really well right now as a couple, which scares me because whenever something seems to be going too well for a couple they throw a storm at them and I'm not ready to see their happy bubble burst just yet.

And Amelia has grown a lot her talking to Zola, she just said the right things. Mother hood as really changed her for the better. And does anyone else really want to see the letters that Zola wrote for Derek?

Link however felt the pressures of taking care of 4 kids constantly and I can understand I help out with my niece sometimes and by the end I want to pull my hair out and sleep in a corner for a week, farless 3 kids and a baby, I'm surprised he lasted so long.

Link headed to Jo's house in the middle of whatever agreement Jackson and Jo have going and got drunk. What I really liked about it though was that he went home afterwards and when he did Amelia didn't judge or yell she just talked to him and then hugged him which was amazing. They have a level of communication on the show that most of the other couples lack and it just works so well for them.

___________________________________________

Jo and Jackson

Jackson discovered just how much of a close friendship Link and Jo have and at some point he almost seemed as if he was jealous. Let the complications begin ladies and gentlemen. Plus there is the apparent potential of Dr Haynes turning it into a triangle. I guess one triangle dies to form another 🙄 and let's just say I'm not too excited for it.

Jo allowed herself to get drunk and vent which in my opinion was a step forward atleast. She hasn't really gotten the time to grieve over Alex because suddenly Covid happened and she was swamped with work. I'm just hoping that she does so that she won't accidentally sabotage any upcoming happiness she may have with someone else she needs to heal.

___________________________________________

Maggie and Winston

Poor Winston, he really doesn't know what he's signing up for by joining Grey Sloan does he 😭? Although I noticed last week he seemed to be getting the picture when Link was talking about Meredith and Derek. On the other hand seeing him with the kids was adorable, and he managed to give everyone some time to themselves without the kids which was a very big contribution. He's reminding me of a Ben which in no way is a bad thing. Go on Maggie get it.

Maggie was also devastated and shocked by Deluca as we all were and I'm so sad how their slowly but surely introducing her to the traumas of Grey's. She literally is the only pure one left and now she has to go through all the trials of the hospital until she's dark and twisty. I hope not though she's the only cheerful non broken one left on the show.

___________________________________________

Owen

Is about to have his hands full by next episode. He really is beginning to redeem himself after all Teddy did to him the whole episode he spent trying to make her feel better about Deluca and then picked her up to carry her home which confirmed my theory of it was always going to be Owen for Teddy, it was always Owen and Teddy even when she was married to ....... Henry 😭. I hope this will be the end of the over worked love triangle and they'll finally be able to move on especially Tom who deserves it.

___________________________________________

Haynes

Is utterly smitten with Meredith's children and was begging her to wake up and fight and surprise, surprise she took her first breath on her own. Honestly out of all the potential suitors for her which really isn't much considering one of them has now joined Derek as a permanent member of the beach, Haynes isn't a bad choice, I'm beginning to actually ship them. But then Krista said she was sensing a potential triangle with Jo, Jackson and Haynes and I hope not. I'm tired of the triangular pyramid of Grey Sloan love triangles. Just once I would like a relationship to be straight forward. They killed Deluca and the Teddy one is coming to an end, no need for another.

___________________________________________

Tom

Is still recovering from Covid and he seems to be going to live, a plus in the series so far.

___________________________________________

Levi and Nico

Are slowly getting closer, but I'm not rooting for anyone until Nico apologizes and they have an actual conversation about what happened without their clothes ending on the floor.

___________________________________________

Helm

Also was having a hard time coping and dealing with a bit of guilt about her over ambitious surgery hungry self. She actually reminds me of Cristina in a way, which is why I want Tom to be her teacher I really think their personalities will bounce well off of each other, especially in the episode where she had to check on Tom when he had Covid.

___________________________________________

Questions

• What's going on with Teddy? Owen said in the trailer he sees it in soldiers a lot but Grey's has a knack for reusing plots and her seeing Deluca is giving major Denny Izzie vibes, plus there's the chance that if it really is a brain tumor they'll pin all her recent choices on the tumor.

• Will someone tell Meredith they're are beaches in the real world as well, sure Derek won't be there and it probably wont be as peaceful but all I know is she needs to wake to hell up.

• What's going on between Jo and Jackson will they become more? Will they add Haynes to the mix?

• And most importantly when will Carina finally be seen in the Grey Sloan hospital? I need more Dr Carina.

#grey's anatomy #grey's spoilers #greys anatomy #grey s anatomy #greys season 17 #grey's abc #grey's season 17 #greys abc #andrew deluca #meredith grey #derek shepherd #jo wilson #atticus link #amelia shepherd #maggie pierce #miranda bailey #richard webber #tom koracick #owen hunt #teddy altman #levi schmitt #tv characters #favorite tv shows #tv shows #tv series #episode review #my opinion

[cg29]

Because of link issues with this site I’ve decided to paste my WIPS onto here as well as AO3 & FFNet. Starting with the 1st 3 chapters of the fic I’m currently working on, and have also most recently updated.

Reflections

Set after Virgil's crash during the original series episode of 'Terror in New York City.' (Season 1 episode 4) Short reflections from each of the family on nearly losing a brother and son.

Thank you to @janetm74 for the Beta on C3.

Chapter 1: Scott.

Italic/Bold speech is not mine and comes from the original episode.

“The wheels have gone; I can’t hold her… I’m… I’m going to crash!”

Scott’s heart lurched at the pure panic emanating from Virgil’s voice, but there was nothing he could do as he watched Thunderbird Two squeal across the runway with dark heavy flames springing forth. Finally, and thankfully she came to a stop and the pure white foam rained down on her distinguishing the blaze… But his little Brother was still inside… “What’s going on,” he yelled over his communicator, “why is no one getting him out?”

‘T…They’re on their way Scott,’ Brains replied, ‘I’m h…here to a…assist you with l…landing.’

‘I don’t need any damn assistance, get the med bay prepped for my brother!’

‘FAB!’

Okay, a bit harsh maybe, but Virg was in there… He’d attended too many fire related incidents, he knew the consequences if someone wasn’t rescued quickly… God damn it, they had to get him out… Finally, bringing Thunderbird One into the hangar, Scott unbuckled and shot out of his chair. The further procedures he was required to run through could wait… Virgil needed him more.

…

“How is he?” He puffed out, racing over to his father just as his two brothers were bringing Virgil out of his singed bird.

“Unresponsive… Head injury, smoke inhalation, possible broken ribs,” Gordon reeled off.

“Let’s get him to the infirmary,” Jeff said, allowing his two youngest to go ahead with Virgil before looking back to Scott, “are you coming?”

Scott heaved out a breath and nodded. “Yeah, I’m coming!”

…

A few days later…

He stared down at his sleeping brother, it could have been so much worse, and the words from that moment still danced in his mind…

“Thunderbird Two from Thunderbird One, come in Virgil... Virgil are you okay? Virgil, pull her up… Can you hear me? Come in Thunderbird Two... Virgil, you’re crashing… Pull her up… Virgil, get a grip on yourself, you’ve got to pull out of that dive!”

If his brother hadn’t dragged himself out of that dive at the last second, he wouldn’t be here… And to be honest, he didn’t know if he would be either. He would have dived Thunderbird One in after her sister ship, and tried everything within his power to pull Virgil out, but it wouldn’t have worked, and both of them would have gone down…

“You did good son.”

“Ha?” Scott mumbled, looking to his father who was standing beside him.

“You did a good job. You talked your brother through a very severe situation, and you got him home. You saved his life Scott, and because of that he will be back to himself before we know it. Now, stop thinking about the alternatives.”

“How did you know?”

“I know you,” Jeff nodded towards Virgil who was shifting in his bed, “looks like he’s waking.”

Virgil groggily forced his eyes open.

“How, are you Virgil?” Jeff questioned.

“Welcome back to the land of the living!” Scott added.

Virgil sat himself up. “What happened to Thunderbird Two?”

‘TYPICAL!’ Scott inwardly chuckled while his father went on to answer. If his brother was already worrying about his bird, then his dad was definitely right… Virgil would get better, and soon they would both be out there together again.

Chapters 2 & 3 featuring John & Gordon below the cut.

Chapter 2: John

“Thunderbird 5. My home away from home. I love being here, the solitude suits me and because of that I’m the one who is up here the most. Don’t get me wrong I adore my family and I enjoy spending time with each of them when I’m on leave but being here amongst the stars that I’ve gazed up at in wonder since I was a small boy makes me feel so peaceful. Four days ago, that tranquillity was shattered, and for the first time ever I am finding myself wishing that someone could replace me, someone could come here and take me home.

You see my first younger brother, the one who holds us altogether with his natural calming and added creative abilities was nearly killed while I was sleeping. I know, I know, me sleeping didn’t cause his crash, but if I had been awake then maybe I could have done something to help him, like hacking the Sentinel and stopping them from firing on his bird. Instead, I was on ordered downtime after two back-to-back missions which had kept me awake for over forty-eight hours. The first required Thunderbird fours assistance, the second was in space with Alan. After I called in the third requiring just Scott and Virgil my dad, believing it was a rescue that wouldn’t require my expertise, ordered me to communicate any vital information I had to my brothers, then relay Thunderbird Five’s communications to Tracy Island so I could spend the next ten to twelve hours asleep. I managed the full twelve and after a shower and food I was ready to return to work. Except, the reply I received when contacting base wasn’t the one that I was expecting.

Ten minutes it took for me to make contact, I can’t begin to explain the thoughts that had rampaged through my mind when no one was responding, Alan finally answered looking slightly pale and very tired. Immediately I demanded to know what was going on, the answer drained me completely. The Sentinel had fired missiles at Virgil, thankfully dad had been able to reach Washington and stop the meaningless attack, but the damage that had already been received was great and my little brother was extremely lucky to make it back to the island. Well, I say lucky… Head injury, smoke inhalation, broken ribs, several cuts, and bruises. Yet, it wasn’t until the following day that he regained consciousness… But he was still alive, and that’s what mattered.

After a long chat with the youngest to make sure he was coping I signed off and instantly logged into our islands security feeds so I could see the crash. Yes, I know it sounds a little morbid, but the reality was probably not as dramatic as what was playing through my mind. Thankfully, although extreme, it wasn’t. However, what seeing that crash didn’t do was alleviate the need that I still have now to see and talk to Virgil.  What it did do was produce another need, one that I could do something about, and that was to make sure that the man who recklessly fired at the kindest person you could ever wish to meet receives some sort of justice. Nothing too malicious of course, we are in the business of saving lives and not taking them, but maybe I’ll put my hacking prowess to use and make sure he gets discharged from his position. Whatever I choose though won’t be pretty but will be fully deserved…

…Oh, one moment, I seem to have a call coming through from home - - - - It’s Virgil… Sorry, but I have to go, he still looks really groggy and probably won’t be able to talk for too long, but I’ve desperately been needing this chat… Catch you guys later, Thunderbird Five out.”

Chapter 3: Gordon.

The ocean before him was calm, the turbulent thoughts raging inside his heart were not. All caused by his current location. The Sentinel… Gordon had arrived two hours before and introductions had immediately been made between himself, the crew, and the Captain. The same Captain who had given the damn order to shoot Thunderbird Two down. Yes, they had presumed that an attack was possibly imminent. Nonetheless, they should have done a comprehensive check before going all gung-ho. Then they would have realised that it wasn’t a strike vessel, it was an International Rescue aircraft, and a person was on board. A person who was loved. Loved by a family who had already been torn apart by the loss of a mother and wife. A family that didn’t deserve to lose anyone else.

They had been reckless, and even though most on board had asked after the wellbeing of his teammate, the Captain, the idiot who had ordered them to fire had not made any queries. He had approached him, introduced himself, and then begun immediately filling him in on their trajectory and any further details he might need. After he had contacted Scott, the Captain had ordered one of his officers to assist, then sheepishly made his excuses and left, guilt plastered all over his face. Five minutes later Gordon was being shown to the sleeping quarters where he could get some shut eye in between any updates he needed to make.

He would probably take some downtime soon. For now, he just wanted to gaze at the ocean. The sea made everything better. Here he could switch his attention from the surface to air missile launchers that had taunted him with their sickening capabilities upon arrival, and instead concentrate on his mission. A mission that would normally be routine. Instead, two men who were trapped and injured had to wait just over twenty-four hours. Two lives might be lost because they shot his big brother down. Gordon gripped the rail and slowly breathed out while focussing on the rhythmic pulse from the ocean waves, and the fact that Virgil, although severely injured and definitely needing some time to recuperate, had survived the atrocious crash.

However, it had come so close to being a different outcome and the gut-wrenching, mind-swirling sickness at the thought of ‘what could have been’ had buried itself deeper and deeper into his heart and refused to release its grasp. Needing to go inside to retrieve Virgil had made those feelings more horrific. Sure, he had saved countless lives from fires, but to have to rescue a brother, a member of his own family, ‘that’ he wasn’t used to. His brother had been crumpled over, a deep cut on his head was bleeding, and his eyes were tightly closed. For a horrible moment, both himself and Alan had stood there before moving forwards. He thought he had lost Virgil, that his big brother was already dead. Thankfully, upon reaching him a pulse was discovered. Virgil was alive. Professionalism immediately kicked in, and he and Alan worked together to get him on a stretcher and out of there as quickly as possible.

Since then, Alan had avoided Virgil. Obviously, the kid was still in shock and processing what had happened. Hopefully, by the time he returned his little brother would have gone to see Virgil, otherwise he would need to drag him in there. Of course, he had done the complete opposite and had not wanted to leave his brother’s side. He needed to ease up though. Virgil knew what his game was and had tried to reassure him several times that he wasn’t going to disappear on him. Yes, he would need to step back a little when he returned, after he had once again checked that his kind-hearted, generous brother was still alive and well.

His ever-forgiving brother, who never held a grudge, had even suggested that they use the Sentinel to save lives. Okay, that made sense, the two men were trapped; their lives were what mattered, not how he felt about the Sentinel. Unfortunately, Gordon wasn’t that big of a person, and boy was he stewing over his feelings right now. A yawn emitted from him, and he looked at his watch. There was still just over two hours to go before he needed to check-in with Scott. Plenty of time for a power nap in the quarters. He certainly needed one. During the past week he’d either been helping out with two, doing his usual maintenance checks or sitting by his brothers’ side and he hadn’t managed a lot of downtime.

Tomorrow would bring a tough rescue and he needed his full alertness to save the two men, especially with the lack of time they would have left. There was also Virgil’s ‘big brother’ voice inside his head yelling at him to get some down time. He breathed in the fresh air, allowing the knowledge that he would continue hearing his brother’s nagging to engulf him. A smile formed. That’s what mattered, not his infuriation towards the Captain, or his current location. Virgil was alive. Thunderbird Two would be restored to her former glory. His eyes switched from the azure sea to the vastness overhead. Then, one day soon she would be soaring with her pilot, his best big brother, through those illustrious oceanic blue skies.

chapter 4 Here...

#Thunderbirds Fanfiction #Thunderbirds #Thunderbirds Original Series #Terror in New York City #Thunderbirds OS #Thunderbirds Are Go

[macorni]

Talk To Me

  Ship: Moceit

Date I wrote this: 12/10/20 (December 10th, 2020.)   

  Mini-Fic                                TW: Arguing, crying, self-harm in a way, unhealthy coping, and swearing. Just Janus Angst.                                                janus angst

Word Count: 2023 

Janus felt as if the world was ending, his best and only friend broke up with him (meaning they're no longer friends) after a misuse of words during an argument, Janus covered his mouth and laid on his bed to soften any cries and to be at least comfortable The argument was silly and useless, Janus recently gotten back from another discussion with the Light Sides and Remus was there waiting for him, "You might as well be another Virgil." Remus told him, Janus raised a brow, "What is that supposed to mean?" Remus rolled his eyes, "It means you're going to friend them and leave me alone, even if you say you're not leaving, as Virgil once said, 'I will not leave.' But we all now know that was a lie. So, are you gonna leave as well?" Janus was taken back by that statement.

"What? That is prosperous! No I will not." Janus gritted through his teeth, he hated to be compared to that emo. He felt a bit of himself die when Remus said, "You're a liar, how am I supposed to know, Deceit?" Now, Remus knows Janus's name, so it hurt to be called 'Deceit' when he's not Deceit, he is Janus. He didn't want to be only seen as Deceit, just how Remus didn't want to be seen as only 'Intrusive Thoughts' but he kept his mouth shut about that statement, "I don't lie all the time, you should know that, but again, you're a monster, not logical." Janus felt the words slip through his mouth. It sounded so sour and harsh but in such a careless tone. It sounded like nothing at all. Remus's breath fastened, and Janus slapped his hand over his mouth afterwards, it was a very loud silence, "Remus, I- Uh- I-" Janus stuttered but Remus interrupted, "No no, if that's how you feel then so be it." Remus snapped, going to his brother, leaving Janus alone.

That leaves Janus here, in present, sobbing on his bed. He didn't mean any harm but he speaks too fast, and words cloud his mind like air pollution and the words fall out like a waterfall. He shouldn't be crying, he didn't get hurt, Remus did. This was so fucking selfish and stupid. He gasped for breath but it seemed as if his lungs gave up on him, eyes watering and burning. He can't lose his one and only best friend, no, not again. He can't lose anyone else- first "O"(Orange Side who left to god who knows where when they were teens), then Virgil, and now Remus? Not to mention Roman will definitely tell everyone else and everyone will hate him more.

Janus shuttered at the thought. He can't handle emotions well, he tries to hide the bad ones, but he rarely laughs at anything at all anymore. He watched an 15 minute vine compilation and laughed- more of a soft huff- three times. Janus has breakdowns pretty often but he doesn't tell anymore or wants anyone to know, so when he does, he takes the anger and confusion out on himself, example being: He hits him, sometimes the head, or stomach, or the legs. He holds his breath until he is about to pass out. He scratches at the covered scales. He also rips up old photos, to the point where he makes 2x copies of the same picture because he will rip it eventually.

He decided to head to the library in the mindscape, or the light mindscape. The dark sides don't have much, which includes a library which Janus hates. He waited until he was presentable, tidied up his outfit, and then started to venture to the library. He'll definitely see Logan. Janus walked into the library and sure enough, blue boy was there reading a book about philosophy during the Ancient times and up to the 1980's. Estimated 500 pages from the looks of the thick dark green book with golden text on it saying, "Philosophy Throughout The Ancients to 1980's." with a smaller text with the author.

Janus disregarded the man, Logan and him we're on neutral terms, though Logan found it frustrating when Janus would deceive the others as him, and Janus found it frustrating when Logan would constantly lie about how he felt. Logan noticed the yellow side wandering by him, "Salutations, Janus." Logan greeted and Janus gave him an awkward wave, "Hi." Janus walked to a Psychology area and grabbed the books labeled, "Understanding Emotions." "Opening up." "Life Advice." and "How to deal and help with mental illnesses."  Janus sat down at a small table, 3 tables away from Logan, and began to read the first book, "Understanding Emotions."

Janus read for about an hour before Roman and Patton entered to hangout with Logan. Roman's face twisted in disappointment when he saw Janus sitting down, Patton smiled, he didn't mind the snake after the previous Sanders Sides episode, not counting the Asides. "Salutations, Roman and Patton." Logan told the two, waving. "Hi Logan!"  Patton smiled widely and Roman responded with a simple yo. The 3 we're relatively loud but Janus liked some noise then none. Silence was sometimes so violent, it drove Janus insane, being left alone in your thoughts. Patton decided to talk to Janus, and made his way to the other side, sitting down across from him.

"Hi Janus!" Patton smiled, "Hello Patton, do you need anything?" Janus asked, not many people willingly talked to him. Most hated him, including himself. "Nah, I just wanted to chat. We never chat outside of discussions, I want to know you better." Patton explained, Janus was taken back from his kindness, even if he didn't sense it, he convinced himself it was a lie, "Oh okay, I'm not very interesting, just a fair warning." Janus smirked, Patton giggled a little, "Everyone has some sort of interesting piece of them." Janus shrugged,  "I'm kind of ordinary. Besides appearance wise." Janus continued to read, "Whatcha reading?" Patton tried to read it upside down, and failed miserably, "A book about understanding emotions better." Janus told him, "Ooooh! Neat!" Patton moved next to him, leaning over and reading along.

"You should read funner books." Patton suggested, which triggered Logan's grammar sense, "Patton, 'Funner' is not a word, it is pronounced 'More fun.'" Logan said loud enough for him to hear, which caused Janus to chuckle, "Sorryyy!" Patton said fast, "I would but I don't feel like it has a educational benefit for the next crisis." Janus said honestly, "For someone who was people to self care and do what they want- if it's not dangerous- you really don't take your own advice, do you?" Patton explained, Janus paused, "W-Well that is because I don't feel as if I need it. I need to be doing my work and learning more. I gotta help Thomas, ya know." Janus found the right words to say. "You don't feel as if you need it?" Patton said, more quietly, Janus nodded. "I actually have a question, could you help me?" Patton asked, "Uh sure." Janus shrugged, looking away from the tan pages to the freckled boy, "Could you help me choose what gift I should get Remus for Christmas?" Patton whispered, not wanting Roman to hear, Janus nodded.

The two went to Patton's room, "So, Remus would most definitely hate a more colorful makeup pallet- since he does a lot of Special Effects Makeup." Janus suggested, "Ohh, thank you!" Patton smiled, writing that down. Janus got up to leave but Patton grabbed his arm which in response, Janus flinched and pulled away a bit, "Uh, yeah?" Janus asked, "Can we talk?" Patton asked, Janus sat down, nodding. "Have you actually been taking care of yourself?" Patton asked, Janus hesitated, "Uh, of course." He lied, "Janus, I saw your books. Are you okay?" Patton asked, as if he actually cared, which was way to absurd and unrealistic in Janus's mind. The words stung, does he actually want to know? Janus has so many questions, "Hey, I won't tell anyone anything, talk to me." Patton grabbed Janus's hands in a soft manner, smiling. Janus felt tears prick, "You don't really care, do you?" Janus asked, forcing the tears back down, "Pitying me?" Janus assumed. The light blue side shook his head, "No, I really do care," Patton started and Janus looked away but Patton took one of his hands and turned his face turns him and cupped his cheek in the same hand, "just talk to me, I'll listen." he finished.

Janus felt a single tear stroll down his face, nobody ever wanted to listen, he know he shouldn't but he does anyways, "Emotions confuse me. I don't know how to help them or react. Whenever something bad happens, I get obviously sad, and I began to cry too much or too little. And when I don't know what to do, I break down. I don't know how to.. stop breaking down. I always end up hurting myself or breaking some valuable. You're probably annoyed now, I'll shu-" Patton shushed him, "No no, rant to me, I like the sound, I like your voice." he smiled, lovingly, which made Janus confused on why he cared, "If you insist.. I can't talk to anymore or be my own self because I am too scared of being even less likeable, and if I open up too much it'll scare people away, make them uncomfy, or I'll be too much and they leave me. I-I just feel so lost and I do no good, even when I try. Maybe me leaving all together would help everyone, including Thomas. Having no denial or deceit may be good, but the bad of having absolutely no self preservation could do. I feel like him on auto-pilot now." Janus couldn't stop talking but Patton didn't mind.

"Sometimes, I feel like I'd be better dead. I mean, in the long run I'd be helpful if I just went awa-" Janus got cut off by a bone- crushing hug from Patton, "Just lay down, okay?" Patton suggested and Janus did, he laid down on the bed and Patton laid down too, the two facing each other. Patton wrapped his arms around Janus's waist and pulled him closer, and Janus wrapped his arms around Patton's neck, Janus's head resting in the crook of the others neck. "..See, just stay like this.. You'll feel better soon."

Janus felt the tears just pour from his eyes, he sobbed onto Patton knowing he'll never feel this type of love again. Patton rubbed circles into his back, Janus was so vulnerable, anything could just hurt him right now, a shaking, sobbing mess. Patton never knew Janus held in so much, he didn't know one of the 2nd most serious side held so much pain within, he knows that Logan is going through it too. "P-P-Please don't t-tell anyone about t-this.." Janus said in between sobs, gripping onto Patton and his shirt, "I wont ever tell anyone, promise." Patton said softly. They stayed like this for at least 15 minutes, then Janus stopped crying, he was just shaking.

"We can stay like this for awhile.." Patton told him, noticing the boy still shaking, "S-Sure." Janus repositioned himself so he was laying on his right side and Patton cupped him, rubbing his chest. "Cute." Patton told him, "Uh-huh, ssssssso cute." Janus lightheartedly said and rolling his eyes in a playful manner, and hissed, Patton giggled at this hiss. Janus took off his hat and threw it onto Patton's desk chair. "Thank you ssssso much, Patton." Janus smiled.

"No problem."

- Minific by m.acorni

#janus angst #sanders sides #sanders side fic #tw crying #tw arguing #tw swearing #tw self deprecation #tw self harm #janus sanders angst #moceit #janussandersangst #sanderssides #please follow me on wattpad #my user is #lemonxde_cola

[beyoncesdragon]

Cause a scene (Poe Dameron)

Requested: NO

Warnings: just some cursing, jealous drama queen Poe and him being a tiny bit too okay with PDA 

Summary: Poe’s not one to be too possessive, he knows his place. It just seems as if one of the newbies does not know his place and Poe is pretty much determined to set that and some other things straight. 

A/n: i’ve got this idea whilst pretty much gushing about angry poe in that particular scene with the lovely @damnyoudameron​ I hope you enjoy it! She’ll probably release something similar too, so make sure to check her work out if you have time:) all the love<3

My Masterlist 

Of course he had no right to be jealous, he knew that. It wasn’t like the two of you were dating, whether officially or unofficially. Certainly, you flirted like your life depended on it and you sure as hell were all over each other all the time – but you weren’t really a thing.

Yet he had been pretty sure that he had gotten his point across that you were not to be approached by anyone because quite frankly, you were his and the other way around. And Poe didn’t wanted to be a possessive lover – again, he wasn’t even your lover at last – and he knew that you weren’t really his even if you were an item…but he couldn’t help himself at times. Same thing with jealousy: even though Poe knew that he wasn’t in the place to be jealous, whenever he saw you with Brody, his jaw tightened and he had to either look away or leave the room. Brody was new at the resistance, a newbie and still quite green. He’s been assigned to Poe’s unit as Blue five (a thing Poe was at odds since the beginning of time) and served and flew under Leia’s (and ultimately Poe’s command) for a month now. And when Poe was an understanding and patient commander, known for not only his tendencies to do the opposite of the task given but also caring greatly for his squadron, he found himself struggling to cope with the newest addition to the team. The problem was not that Brody was one to talk back when he absolutely wasn’t in position to do so – though it obviously contributed to the loathing Poe felt against the man – but also the constant complaining about certain things. He seemed to know better about maneuvers, formations, weak spots of TIE-Fighters, tactics and even X-Wings at times. Constantly talking about the importance of not overheating the compressor system or the cryogenic power generator, when Poe clearly couldn’t give a shit less about that. Sure, an exploding power generator wouldn’t be fun, but Poe would surely not stop on some foreign planet just to check the eventual bad state of a generator. Either the whole thing blew up in his face or it did not, and as long as BB-8 or any another astrodroid didn't report on anything, overheated power plants were not Poe's biggest concerns. Especially not when hunting down a bunch of TIE-Fighters in the vast blackness of space.

True hatred for the fellow pilot had however only truly sparked when that annoying prick started to notice you, as you worked your way through every X-Wing after the landings. The quick check-ups with your team were not only a necessity but also where you could spend some quality time teasing the hell out of Poe. And he loved it, every snarky remark and cheeky wink you gave him, every smile and silent eyeroll of yours. It had went so far that you usually approached Black One first, letting your team take over the rest before you moved on to Oddy or Jessika. You had even started to teasingly call his X-Wing your very own child and always made sure to scold him about damages and dents he brought home. Like a caring mother you always patted the titanium alloy, giving Poe a disapproving look whenever you discovered a new scratch in the black ferrosphere paint. He’d always grin and either wrap his arms around you, or flee from your unbridled rage whenever he had completely messed up the shields again. Not that you would actually hit that mischievous little bastard, you’d admittedly died every time he took off and prayed for his return.

After all, Poe Dameron had an effect on you, like he had on every one, varying from never ending annoyance (definitely General Organa), hatred (the first order), a headache (Leia again), admiration (literally the whole hangar and piloting community) to faster beating hearts and sneaky glances (all the female and some male members of the resistance). And as much as you hated to admit it, the latter definitely applied to you.

When first you had tried to brush his flirting and compliments off, telling yourself that he basically did this with everyone, you too had soon sensed a change. The flirty comments became more recent and you were distinctively often aimed at you and you only, he had his eyes on you across the cantina or walked you to your dorm. He waited for you after lunch to take a walk like you mostly did, never let his X-Wing get checked by anyone but you. He had the habit of staring off people, wordlessly telling them to back up and not approach you ever. His hands were always somewhere on you, resting on your lower back, around your shoulders, in your hair, around your waist or his pinkie linked with yours. Now, Poe’s always been a touchy one, but when even your friends started to point out how incredibly handsy he was with you, you began to wonder. Maybe even hope, a bit.

Especially when he started to display some slight jealous behaviour whenever you talked to other guys longer than he found necessary. Not that he ever said it out loud, his body language just spoke for itself: straight back, tensed shoulders and a muscle in his jaw constantly clenching and unclenching. To your own amusement he always stayed quiet until the end before either walking over and dragging you to his X-Wing for some “changes and stuff” or wrap his arms around you somehow, indicating the conversation to be over now.

It was no surprise then when as Brody started to chat you up after missions, he was ready to flip a table.

He couldn’t believe his eyes when one day after another successful mission, the one person he disliked the most had the audacity to prevent you from coming over to him first. Smoothly pulling you into a conversation and swiftly distracting you from your intention to walk over to the now fuming commander first.

He was charming, you had to admit that. His attempts on hitting on you by complimenting your skills and whatnot didn’t go unnoticed by you, though they had little to no effect on you. Firstly because you sure as hell didn’t needed any confirmation from some newly recruited pilot, you knew your profession and your shit, besides, you were leading your team not because of luck. Secondly, as charming as Brody may seemed to be, you did have your eyes on someone else. Someone who’s wit and charm outmatched the blonde’s by far. But he was nice and you acknowledged that and saw no reason to treat him any different.

Quite the opposite of Poe actually, who was totally ready to smash in his control screens with Brody’s face, to get your attention back again.

After ten minutes of jealously waiting for you to finally come and check up on his ship, he decided to just simply get you himself. After all, he was the commander and he wanted you to himself for at least five minutes before having to share you with some irritating asshole again.

When you had seen him approach, your eyes lit up immediately, much to his satisfaction. You’d placed the clamp down immediately and met him halfway with a warm hug.

“Hello there flyboy.” Your voice muffled by his flying suit and arms still around his torso, he felt a wave of relief flooding though him.

“Evening love.” He had only managed to whisper before gently letting go to inspect your face. “You good?” he earned an eyeroll for that one comment. “Me? Which one of us just returned from a deadly mission from space? You or I? I should be asking that question, dumbass.”

Long story short: the two of you were cute, and everybody knew and shared that opinion. Everyone except maybe Brody, who had a knack of ignoring the obvious and after similar episodes of him simply trying to snatch you away from Poe, Poe actively despised him.

So when he caught the two of you around one of the large holo-tables, after a mission that had been demanding anyways, he simply snapped. He’s already had a long day, he was already a bit needy for you especially after you had spent a ridiculously short time at his X-Wing. And when Brody rose his arm to place it softly around your waist, he saw red. That was the last straw and he was ready to strangle that fucking know here and there.

“Poe?” Finn sounded alarmed as Poe rushed past him, his eyes following his friends burning gaze to you. He immediately understood and extended an arm towards him, trying to hold the furious man back.

“Poe hold on a minute…” he tried, finding it hard to sound somehow like Leia, knowing about her being one of two people having the actual power to stop Poe from something. Though, not even Leia could, not always. The only one to truly control his extremely impulsive friend was you, and you were occupied right now.

“Let’s not have a scene now, yeah?” he tried again, Poe’s sleeves slipping from his fingers as the pilot angrily continued his way towards the two of you.

“No, let’s.” his voice was hoarse of anger and jealousy as he finally reached you. Eyes ablaze and fist clenched, and everybody made sure to stay out of his way.

“Y/N…” his voice made you snap around, immediately seeing it as an opportunity to shrug off Brody’s hands that had again settled on your waist. You turned around to Poe, eyes wandering over him with an amused sparkle in your eyes. He had already changed into a dark leather jacket, similar to yours actually and a greenish shirt. His hair was curled unruly still, single strands of black hair falling into his stern face.

And, you had never seen Poe so tensed up and ready to eventually riot, and you would lie if saying that it wasn’t attractive. With his eyes basically burning a hole into Brody and he hands clenched tightly he radiated the energy of a panther about to snap.

“Engine’s down again.” He only pressed out, his mind not even bothering to make up a good explanation why he was prone to end this conversation now. “Really? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” You asked, in wide eyed innocence. “Forgot about it. BB-8 just reminded me.” He muttered, getting momentarily distracted by you adjusting his jacket. 

“Poe Dameron. When will you finally stop wrecking my beloved ship?” you mused, looking up at him with a twisted smile.

“Probably happened during that one moment when we split formations. In my opinion a tactical error, clearly that only…” Poe growled lowly, tensing up again and you quickly placed a hand on his chest.

“Oh yeah?” he snapped, his whole hatred against Brody laced with his spat out words. You raised to your tiptoes trying to get Poe’s attention back on you. It worked, but only for a split seconds, until Brody decided to open his mouth again and broadcast his wisdom.

“Yeah, every child knows that TIE’s attack in squadrons and therefore have the strength in blasting away a whole squadron easily. There is protection in a crowd, that also applies to the rules of space…” “The rules of space? That if an X-Wing explodes next to yours, the flying scrap simply goes around your engines in the process of getting hurled through space? Are those your rules of space?  By staying close you literally endanger the whole goddamn team you fucking…” you simply reached for his hand, silencing him quickly.

“What the fuck do you see in him.” he hissed under his breath, eyes darting down to you whilst Brody was trying to actually argue about that now. You sighed softly.

When you were highkey amused and smug about Poe’s obvious jealously, it bugged you that he actually believed you could feel anything more than mere friendship towards Brody. Not only because you literally had Poe Dameron around you twenty-four seven, but also because he just wasn’t your type. You were sure that there were people who were into lean, know it all, messy blond dudes with buzzcut, it just wasn’t your piece of cake.

Your eyes trailed over his angry face again. You made another attempt by carefully brushing over Poe’s jacket again, trying to flatten out wrinkles and just generally calm him down. You knew him well enough to know that if you couldn’t distract him soon, he’d have his hand at Brody’s throat in no time. Not that you could really blame him for it though.

Poe almost immediately reacted to your touch, shoulders slumping down a tiny bit. His hand finally found his place on your waist, his touch letting chills run through your body. You reached up to his neck, adjusting the thin silver chain with the ring that had caught itself in the collar of his jacket. He shivered softly at your touch and you couldn’t help but grin softly at his hyperawareness of your fingers on his soft skin.

“Let’s check up on my baby then.” You said softly, innocently tilting your head at him. The way you said it insinuated the possibility of you not only talking about the black starfighter but perhaps…Poe let out a breath he had not been aware of holding, looking down at you.

“Make sure to come back quickly after that. The conversation was just about to get good!” Brody winked with a laugh and Poe…it was enough, definitely and finally enough. Without hesitating a second, he cupped your face with both of his hands before smashing his lips down on yours. You froze for a second, overwhelmed and surprised by Poe’s sudden snap of character, but you quickly recovered and returned the kiss eagerly. After all, it was long overdue. A fire danced from his lips to yours, the warmth and neediness of his lips sending shivers down your spine. He bit down on your lip just lightly, enough to make you gasp softly and part you lips. But it was enough for him to quickly sweep over your bottom lip with his tongue as if to ask if you were okay with that. Of course you were, it took you a millisecond to grant him access and deepen the kiss. You could almost feel him smile against your lips before he backed off suddenly, looking satisfied and smug as ever. Then his gaze hardened, falling on Brandon again. 

“We’ll see about that.” And with that he turned around, hands still on your waist and making sure that finally everyone knew, to who the hell you belonged to.

#poe dameron #poe dameron x female oc #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #oscar isaac #oscar isaac imagine #Poe Dameron imagine #star wars #star wars imagines #star wars the force awakens #star wars the force unleashed #star wars sequel trilogy

[anogete]

In Between

Hi, folks.  I’m sorry I have nothing to offer as far as fic goes.  Things have been... ::sigh::  You know, I don’t know what things have been.  Not good, not bad.  Just... things.  I wanted to talk--get things out of my head--this morning, but I realized I don’t have a person/outlet who can accept these things right now.  So, I will put them here for anyone who cares to read them.

1) My car blew up.  Well, the engine did.  I was on my way back home with groceries last Saturday, and I lost all ability to accelerate and brake.  So, I puttered out on the side of the road and waited to be saved.  The issue may be covered under the warranty so I had it taken to the dealership.  They’ve had it for a week and still don’t have answers for me besides an offer to lend me a car for free until they can figure out what to do with my car.

2) This deserves it’s own point, though I almost included it on the first point.  I’ve never bought a car without my grandmother.  She was under five feet tall and had a tendency to wear sweat pants and Christmas sweaters year-round.  She smoked Winston Lights and carried a purse covered in rhinestones.  The car salesmen didn’t know what hit them because she wasn’t at all the sweet old lady who would roll over and accept their first offer.  She was hard to read and she wouldn’t give an inch.  She also wouldn’t tell them what she was willing to pay.  No counter offers from her; she’d just tell you to “do better.”  Anyway, she worked her magic when I bought all three of my cars.  When I realized the problem with the engine was serious and might require me getting a new car, I went into a mental tailspin.  Yeah, yeah, I was worried about fitting it into my budget and all that, but mostly I couldn’t seem to cope with buying a car on my own without my grandma there to hold my hand.  I’m almost 39 years old and the thought of doing this without her had me sobbing in the floor.  Except, I didn’t realize my tailspin was due to my grandmother at first.  At first, I just thought I was incapable of handling stress.  Maybe that’s still accurate.

3) While we’re talking about expensive-ass shit, I knew the air conditioner and furnace on this house needed to be replaced sooner rather than later when I bought it last February.  It looks like the time has come.  I managed to find a nice man with very odd hair (think a longer version of the Prince Valiant hair-do, but bright white) through my boyfriend’s dad.  He does this for a living and said he’d give me a discount and do for $5,000 what other places were telling me would cost $9,000.  So, that’s happening next week.  I have the money, but the idea of writing a $5,000 check makes me want to puke.  Ugh.

4) The days are running together.  I’m working from home.  I can’t complain, though.  I’ve got it better than most.  I’m alone all day.  I have a library with a desk.  I can go downstairs and make tea or lunch in my own kitchen.  I’m getting paid my full salary with bonuses.  I can pretty much make my own hours.  The company I work for is taking the pandemic seriously and has told us that we can all work from home until we feel comfortable returning to the office.  Their timeline for “normal” is months.  I don’t think I’ll be back in the office until late summer, if that.  Those who want to return are permitted to, but they can’t use the public areas (kitchen, conference rooms) and have to abide by some strict safety requirements.  And they can choose when and how often they go into the office, working the remainder of the time at home.  So, better than most.

5) I’ve been doing this social distancing thing since March 19th.  It’s not difficult for me.  On good days I’ll exercise (I have a Peloton) before logging into work around 9am.  On not-good days (which seem to be more often than not), I’ll skip the exercise and just log into work early.  Work keeps me busy and I spend a decent amount of my day on the phone with clients.  I go to the grocery store once a week, but I order for pickup.  Someone else does the shopping for me and loads it into my trunk.  This is nothing new.  I’ve been shopping that way for years.  Now it’s just harder to get my usual pickup slot because everyone else has joined the party.  I do miss taking a break from work and leaving my office to grab a coffee and sit outside on a bench downtown.  I guess I could do that outside my own house, but it just doesn’t feel the same.

6) A few months ago, a husband and wife who are clients came in to meet with me at my office.  They’re in their 80s and both were having trouble walking.  They parked in the garage next door and couldn’t find the elevator to exit.  I walked over and escorted them to our office building.  They were both struggling with walking and the wife (Rose) had been fighting lung cancer for a couple years, so I suggested they wait outside and I’d valet their car once we were done.  The thought of making the trek to their car alone was painful to me because it was a monumental struggle for them to walk down a hallway.  Their daughter-in-law called me two days ago.  Rose passed away two weeks ago.  The husband, a former literature professor for a university, was in the hospital with four broken ribs because he’d fallen shortly after Rose’s passing.  He was a Jewish child in Nazi Germany during the war.  He’d told me stories about hiding from the Nazis, surviving off of tree bark and whatever he could find in the forests.  He also jokingly told me that he’d live until he was 120.  Now, it looks like he won’t survive the year.  He and Rose would tease each other all the time, but you could see all that love between them. Whenever I’d call him, he’d ask me in that wonderful accent to wait while he got “the boss” on the phone as well.  Rose thought it was silly that she was “the boss,” but she humored him.  You know, they’re shorties, too.  Five foot, nothing.  Just like my grandma.  Hearing that Rose was gone and Dr. (he’s a PhD) was likely soon to follow just broke my already fragile heart.

7) Fragile heart, huh?  Yeah.  After the car situation and the realization that one day I’m going to have to do big life things without having my grandma to help me, I was feeling pretty raw.  But I’ve been trying to be responsible and do things I’ve been putting off lately.  So, I gathered up all those medical bills from Ferguson’s illness last September.  (Ferguson was my soulmate little chihuahua mix that I had for over 13 years.)  I had pet insurance on him and hadn’t bothered to make the claim because I couldn’t handle it.  But it’s been almost a year so I pulled out the invoices, which were over $2,000, and logged into the website and starting inputting the info to file the claims.  The little box asks for a description of why I took him to the vet.  And answering that question just brought back all that shit like a wave.  I remember reading this nice description of grief and how it is like waves.  At first they’re big and they knock you around and you can’t breathe.  But over time they get smaller and you learn how to navigate them.  Still there, but manageable.  Filling in that box resulted in a bit of a tidal wave that knocked me on my ass.  My boyfriend came home to find me sobbing at my desk like a lunatic..  He’s... not so good with emotional shit.  And I usually keep it bottled up so that no one knows what’s going on inside me.  But some days...  Some days it just overflows.  So, after confirming that nothing terrible had occurred and that I was reliving September 2019, he slowly backed out of the room to leave me with my grief-wave.

8) I want to be one of those succulent people.  You know, the ones who have succulents lining their windowsills.  The dining room and kitchen windows are full of this oddball little plants.  The boyfriend hates it, but I told him he’d have to deal.  I’ll die on this hill.  I’m a succulent lady.

9) I’ve been reading memoirs or, rather, memoirs through collections of essays.  I don’t know if it’s the mental state I’m in or if social distancing has got me subconsciously reaching out for life beyond my head, but I can’t seem to read much else.  I loved Liz Phair’s Horror Stories.  I’m reading The Book of Help by Megan Griswold right now.  I’m determined to procure a signed copy of What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Blacker by Damon Young.  He did a virtual event for a local bookseller recently and they have signed copies available for purchase.  I just need to muster up the will to call them and ask them to hold one for me.  The little snippets of their life and experiences via these memoirs through essays bring me some measure of comfort.

10) I tried to watch Euphoria on HBO.  I managed to make it through the first episode, but I don’t think I can watch more.  I can’t relate, but that normally isn’t a necessity for an enjoyable story.  Maybe it’s just too depressing for me right now.

11) I binged Dollface on Hulu and wish I had more to watch.  Parts of it hit me hard.  I’ve always had trouble maintaining friendships, period.  But maintaining friendships while in a relationship has been damn near impossible for me.  Just like Jules.  Except, I’m not nearly as cool or gorgeous as Kat Dennings.  And I have no friends in this city to go back to.  Just friends at work. 

12) I haven’t worn makeup for 2 solid months.  I’m starting to miss it.  I found old selfies I’d taken in which I don’t recognize myself.  Did I ever look like that?  I must have since here is photographic evidence.  I look like shit now.  I’m forever in yoga pants and a hoodie with half-wet hair from the shower.  Maybe putting on a pair of jeans and a cute shirt and some makeup will make me feel like a human being again.  Maybe I’m not doing as well as I thought in quarantine.  Huh.

13) I hope you all are well.  If you’ve sent me a message, I’m so sorry for not responding.  My mental state has been delicate lately and the silence from me has nothing to do with your kind words.  I promise I read and treasure and appreciate anything that is sent to me.  I’m also sorry for having no offering of fic or a promise of something to come.  I haven’t written since last summer.  It’s been almost a year.  I guess I’m in a dry spell.

14) Since I’ve been struggling with loss/grief lately, I’ll leave you with a quote from Philip Pullman, taken from his novel The Amber Spyglass.  It’s about death, I suppose.  Or maybe just a transition to something else entirely.  It’s nice to think of my grandma and Rose and my sweet, sweet love of a dog falling in the raindrops and riding on the wind through tall grass.  If it wasn’t raining, I’d take my computer outside right now.

“Even if it means oblivion, friends, I'll welcome it, because it won't be nothing. We'll be alive again in a thousand blades of grass, and a million leaves; we'll be falling in the raindrops and blowing in the fresh breeze; we'll be glittering in the dew under the stars and the moon out there in the physical world, which is our true home and always was.” 

#Anogete in real life #personal #coping with grief #Mental health where did you go #adulting #struggle bus

[fiction-in-my-blood]

Obey Me! Brothers x MC’s Job HC

So this is a headcannon based on each brother’s MC having a job or experience in a field that would be somewhat benefit to them the most in work and play ;). Ya girl just wants to feel useful TT 

Warnings: The SLIGHTEST reference of NSFW in some of the HCs

~~~~~~

Lucifer: 

Okay, maybe an elementry school teacher wouldn’t directly help Big Brother Lucifer the most, especially when you were just out of supervised training, but you sure as hell can help keep some of his more troublesome problems at bay. 

Having to deal with overexcitable, emotionally unstable, and honestly frequently hyped-up-on-sugar children just out of infancy has given you a backbone, not to meant a glare that’s strong enough to stop everyone still, but not scare. 

Unless you wanted it to. 

Not to mention that voice. 

The range of your vocal cords could be heard even by Diavolo in his castle. 

You needed it, dealing with crying children and sometimes parents who thought their child couldn’t possibly bully the girl they ‘crushed’ on when you had seen it with your own eyes.

And even after grabbing everyone’s attention in a room full of strong personalities, you’re more than capable of turning it down a bit to explain what the issue is.

“Levi, you can’t chop off Mammon’s hands to stop him from stealing your things.”

“Don’t you laugh, Mammon! You’re not off the hook just yet. Give Levi his figurine back before I put Goldie in the microwave, hm?”

“Asmodeus, you can’t go around stealing my underwear! What would your mother think of this?”

“Beelzebub, you can’t eat other people’s food without asking. How would you feel if I went along and ate all your blackbelly newt legs and your monkey brain pudding?”

“Mammon, this is your last warning. Put the money back where you found it.”

“Belphegor, you need to stop sleeping on the floor. Mamo keeps tripping over you and I don’t think we can afford any more screaming in this house.”

“Mammon! Do I need to send you to the quiet corner again?”

“Satan, clean up your books or they’re going back on the shelf out of order.”

Your use of their full names definitely felt like their were being reprimanded by a teacher.

Even if you sometimes treat the younger brothers like children, which will often cause a few snickers, you can’t really help it when they act the way they do. 

Sometimes you get a little too carried away, on instinct threatening to cancel the end of year pizza party unless they start behaving, but Lucifer appreciates your attempts to restrain them all the same while chuckling along with everyone else. 

You may act before you think, but you’ve brought his family closer together. 

Mamo: 

Being a professional pocker player would be just too easy. 

That’s why it’s your weekend gig.

Besides from your backers and frequent trips to pocker tournements, you spent your nights, and sometimes at day parties, as a mixologist. 

It may not seem like much, but bartending has helped you nuture a skill to read people and help them talk out their problems.

Which is the only reason Mamo hasn’t been thrown into the fiery pits of hell when a revengeful witch comes knocking every now and then. 

You hear out his fraud victim’s troubles and show your understanding, wondering in the back of your head why, in Diavolo’s great Devildom, Mammon would agree to give away some of Satan’s incantations for a credit card that looked similar to Goldie?!

You manage to talk her out of taking his liver as payment and agree to help mix some potions you recently learnt at school, being a mixologist has helped in that regard as well.

A few times you’ve had to play some other demons in a game of cards in order to get Mammon back home safely. 

It was only when you beat Soloman that Mamo first noticed your professional-grade talent. 

You didn’t really want him knowing, you knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself but use you to his advantage, so you first said that it was a natural skill humans had- which no one believed and only made them all curious.

Eventually, you gave in to Mamo’s pestering and it was then you said you weren’t going to give him money. 

At first, he was a little offended you’d think he would use you like that, but, for once, he listened to everyone’s harsh words and understood why you had that idea. 

He was the Avatar of Greed, after all.

Ever since, he’s been working hard to show you he would never use you again.

Unless it was a life or death scenario with that one witch he conned a dragon’s egg from. 

Levi: 

It was impressive when you picked up Ancient Languages so quickly, but the otaku didn’t question it, at that time he didn’t have that much interest in you. 

Then you were able to annunciate those words better than Satan or Lucifer or Diavolo, but maybe you were a quick learner?

It was only when you nonchalantly offered him the latest, unreleased, series of a longer-than-necessary-anime-title did Levi think to ask. 

You were a translator in the human world. 

Had more interest in the words than the story, but that was enough for him to start treating you less of a normie and more of a fellow recluse like him. 

It didn’t take long after that when he realised you were THE MC. 

The MC who had translated most of the anime he watched, even though he didn’t need to read subs, you were stil famous, and not only for translating. 

You had dabbled in voice acting, mainly due to one conference call you had where the client asked you to voice for a minor character that would only be in for a few episodes of TSL. 

It was a disasterous when the character died, having been quite a noble and vicious knight to the Lord of Shadow- who, of which, the lord also liked.

You weren’t going to tell him the character was booted off because you weren’t comfortable voice acting anymore. 

However, he will have you read aloud lines he had found on a certain website where many like-minded fans wrote their own stories about the characters. 

Lucifer caught the skript-like paper when he saw the word ‘master’ printed next to a less than savoury subject the eldest brother would not allow you to be tricked into saying. 

Levi wasn’t too happy about that, ranting and raving how it was unfair and he needed to hear the Shadow Knight confess to the Lord of Shadow the way the fandom, and most of all, he, deserved.

You may have little clue what the animes your translating are about, but you never again reject the offer to have one of your own, walking to Levi’s room the second it reaches you in the mail and you spend practically all night binging on every word you wrote for him.

Satan: 

When you first came to Devildom, you were particularly overly-curious.

Maybe it was because you were in a knew place, surrounded by beings you once thought only existed in stories? 

Maybe you had that same respect for knowledge as Satan did? 

Well, it would be easy to think that if it weren’t for the types of questions you asked each of the brothers, as well as the angels, Soloman, Barbatos and even the Prince of Devildom himself. 

“What do you like to do on your days off?”

“Are you a tits or ass guy?”

“What’s your relationship like with your family?”

“Do you like men, women, or a bit of both?”

Every demon, witch, angel and whoever you met at RAD had the pleasure of being interrogated by you, your gracious smile and genuine concern for their answer coaxing them to tell you more than they would think to like.

When you wrote in that little journal, stock full of flyaway papers, the victim of your inquisitive nature would worry, for some reason, what you thought of them. 

Still, you never let anyone look, not until you had the perfect match for the client.

A matchmaker, that’s what you were in the human world.

You paired couples, looking for marriage or a short term thing, with their perfect better half. 

And you had been struggling to pair Satan with anyone.

“You have no interest in either of the sexes. How am I meant to find a girl for you when all you care about are dusty old books?” You muttered dismissively, speaking directly at the pages of your book, the two-page profile you had on Satan spread across the fine lined sheets. 

You had been so enraptured in you quest for love that you didn’t notice the warmth looming over you. 

“Who’s dusty old books?” The familiar teasing whisper graced your ear, way too close for comfort. 

You turned, slamming the journal shut, but it was too late. 

He had discovered your plan. 

You quickly explained that you were a matchmaker back home and it was hard to hold back. 

Even when you were with your human friends, you got carried away, pairing them with nice guys you met in the bar when you went on your weekly girl’s night. 

Satan laughed at first, who couldn’t find their own mate? 

Until he realised you couldn’t find anyone for him. 

You’ve never seen him combust into flames so quickly. 

You would be scared if you weren’t so annoyed. 

“This is exactly my point! No one will want to be with you if you get this angry all the time!” You pouted, not realising the brothers that had run in at the drop of the proverbial hat, frozen in the doorway as they watched you, a human, talking smack to a demonic Satan.

They had come to save you once they heard him roaring in anger, but you seemed to be coping just fine on your own.

It took both of you a few weeks to realise, the reason you couldn’t find him anyone is because you wanted him.

Asmo: 

You and Asmodeus had surprisingly philosophical conversations when you had only just met.

You would answer his teasing comments with very deep and personal questions, asking about his past relationships and how it made him feel to flirt with everyone he laid eyes on.

You had caught him off-guard a few times with your out of left-field inquiries.

One time, after you asked about any childhood trauma he may have had that could lead to his sexual nature, he actually got a little angry, losing his cool and throwing your question right back in your face.

He usually seemed to enjoy the strange back and forth, so you watched him devole into his demon-form with a startled gaze.

“I-I’m sorry, Asmo, I shouldn’t have asked that. Force of habit.”

You were blunt, distant and sometimes rude with your short questions, but when you told him those questions were something you were so familiar with they were a large part of your vocabularly, he had to know.

“How could that possibly be a habit?”

You were a relationships councillor. 

You spent your days with arguing couples, coworkers who just couldn’t get along, and the odd friendship that had been torn apart thanks to one sleeping with the other’s partner.

You weren’t used to dealing with overly-friendly cilents, most would be crying about how sorry they were or silent with stubbonness, so you wanted to put that professional gap between the two of you.

But you never intended to hurt him or rehash memories you had no right to know.

“I’m meant to help people, but I can’t even treat the people I care about right.”

Before you had arrived in Devildom, you were pretty much a loner.

You were ambitious, pretty much a recluse outside of work, mainly because anyone you talked to would also get your brain shrinking questions. 

“No human likes being asked if they really trust their partner.”

The self-deprecating laugh that left your down-turned lips in that moment pushed Asmo right back down to his usual laidback demeanor, imploring you to explain what you meant by that.

It was only right, you thought, you had been far too invasive for too long.

Asmo respected the work you told him about.

Even if long-term relationships weren’t his thing, or they hadn’t been until he met you, he understand that not everyone could live off the joys of primal lust. 

Most people needed a lifelong partner that understood everything they were, ever the dark, twisted parts of them.

But, he didn’t like you tales of the threats you received when certain couples didn’t make it through your counciling sessions.

One too many times had a brick been thrown through the windshield of your car or had been generously gifted a death threat in the mail.

They never worried you, you were used to people finding you odd and anti-social, but it did hurt.

You had only ever wanted to help.

From then, Asmo learnt the psychologist tricks you had up your sleeve, intending to use them on his brothers if they were being particularly secretive.

Especially when you were the subject of their conversation.

He would often bring you to parties, pointing out couples on the dance floor or groups of people who were meant to be friends, asking you who had sexual tension and who were on their last straw with their other half.

You told him time and time again that it didn’t work like that, that you couldn’t just look at someone’s face and defer they were a serial killer.

But body language is a hell of a thing.

Beel: 

Being a chef, you were often in the kitchen during the day, trying out recipes Mamo, Satan or Asmo had suggested to you.

Of course, they would often be pranks, potion recipes that would literally blow up in your face the moment you added the frog’s leg or eye of newt. 

But, even the smell of the fire place blazing brought the Avatar of Gluttony sniffing around.

At first, he didn’t care what you made, he always cleaned up the mess of your failed experiement made.

When you actually started acting sad when his brothers pranked you again, it was his time to step in.

Instead of leaving you to do your own thing and reap the rewards of your failures, he sat in a wooden chair much too small for him, bearing with the emptiness of his stomach so he could really teach you about the ways of his world.

He told you what you actually needed to make his favourite meal, which he had overheard you ask Mammon one time as you walked to class together. 

It was gross and difficult to learn how to cook with a cauldron and entrails of creatures, but you dealt with it because the look of pure, yet subtle, joy on Beel’s face when he ate what you meant to make was far worth the displeasure you went through to cook it.

When you got a couple days vacation from RAD, you somehow talked Mammon into taking you to the human world so you could buy real ingredients you were used to cooking with.

You wanted to prove to them all you weren’t as useless as you seemed when you first got there.

Of course, you would have to alter the recipes to the demons, but it shouldn’t be too hard. 

You were a trained professional, after all.

And you definitely proved them all wrong.

Plates of fine dining, fresh vegetables, cakes and sweets.

Abundances of foods of varying cultures and spices. 

It took you a whole day to make it all, but the stiffness in your back as you watched the demons, angels and Soloman alike walk into the banquet hall with looks of awe on their faces was enough to ease that pain.

You were exhausted and didn’t want to eat anything yourself, but that went unnoticed by everyone else.

Everyone else but Beelzebub, Avatar of Gluttony.

He pulled his attention away from the amazing food in his mouth long enough to see you sitting in your chair, hugging your legs to your chest and eyes closing a little longer every time you blinked.

You had never looked cuter, but he had never been more worried about you.

“You’re not going you eat anything?” His mouth was full of the fruits of your labour as he leaned over to grab your attention, continuing to shovel food into his mouth as he waited for you to reply.

“The best thing about my job is watching people enjoy it. I’m not hungry.” You yawned through a smile, letting your head rest on his shoulder as your heavy eyelids almost completely restricted your view of the show. 

Everyone finally seemed to be getting along.

Diavolo noted to himself he would have a few words with you once the dinner was over. 

Belphie:

“You’re a barista.” 

Soloman smirked as you two sat together in class, waiting for the ending bell. 

“No, I develop energy enhancers, which does include coffee. I literally make new, healthier products that help boost energy and motivation.”

Sure, your part-time job was in a coffee shop, but that was only to pay yourself through college. 

The course was nutrionism, paired with a course in chemistry. 

You had hoped to use your degree, when you did graduate, to make a product that didn’t cause heart attacks with the sugar content or make people stressed beyond belief on addictive caffeine. 

You were a tired teen and survived high school on coffee, but that didn’t do well with your heart. 

Now you had a medical condition and got even more tired than you did back then. 

Since you couldn’t have coffee anymore, your research was mainly for you.

That’s why, when you hung out with Belphie, sleeping, ironically, you couldn’t be more jealous. 

He slept and slept and slept, not a care to the centuries he was wasting doing so.

When you two got close, closer than he and Beel, you somehow managed to get him to test a prototype you had developed with the help of Solomo. 

Being the only other human, he actually understood your aims, even if no one else did.

The brother teased you about the fagility of man until you told them about your condition, showing them the medication you had to take everyday to keep your heart beating. 

The ones that did bully you, take a lucky guess, first unbelievably guilty, but you got them to pay you back by being your test subjects.

Often, they wouldn’t work, you were still trying to figure out what all these new potions meant and trying to work with the differences between demons and humans. Not to mention the strongest demons there are. 

When Belphie did get tricked into drinking the energy concoctions you made, and when they finally worked, he wouldn’t be off the walls like Mammon and Asmo.

He remains docile, talking for a little longer than usual, actually showing interest in what his brothers, and you, did.

It’s not like he was a completely different person, he was still your Belphie, but he had just that little more energy he needed to seemed interested in life as a whole.

When you did admit to him that you had been esstentially drugging him, he took a moment to compute.

MC, the first human he had trusted in so long, had been tricking him to stay awake longer?

To ignore the sin he repesented?

You quickly explained that you had tested it hundreds of times, several times on yourself, like a true scientist, and that you just wanted to spend more time with him, he managed to calm down, just a little.

He jokingly second guessed every drink you handed him from then on, but, honestly, he was happy you had used him like that.

The reasoning for it, for you two to be able to spend more time together, getting to no each other when he wasn’t half asleep or yawning at your every other word.

Mammon had invested in your business venture, but Belphie would be your top customer.

#obey me! #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me mamo #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me hc #obey me headcanons

[wolftrapped]

                    THE PODCAST — DRINKING BUDDIES.

Drinking Buddies é um projeto independente que busca compreender artistas de maneira intimista sem recorrer ao escândalo e à invasão desrespeitosa, propondo-se à outorgar um espaço para justificativas, diálogos sinceros e correntes. Usualmente regada por bons vinhos — embora existam outras opções para convidados abstêmios — a entrevista consiste em um ritmo de conversa entre velhos conhecidos, sem tempo previamente definido ou obrigatoriedade de resposta. Detalhes de vida pessoal e a tão pública carreira se sobrepõem, criando uma nova perspectiva de indivíduos sob a constante pressão dos holofotes, humanizando-os.

TRANSCRIPT OF THE HIGHLIGHTS: Entrevistada da semana Abbadon de Rosas, inte e três anos, cantora e atriz. (@mosquinhainthewall)

So, not to be that kind of guy, but I feel like to know you personally, we should brush over your personal life. And that includes past relationships.Despite having dated a couple celebrities, I think your most recent and most high-profile partner was that one guy. So... you have dated the butcher. Girl, what the hell was it like?

A: It was like a roller-coaster ride, you get in very excited and you get scared halfway through, you scream a lot, you get your heart racing and you leave that shit shaking and wanting to puke for your own bad decisions and still wanting to do It again. It's fucking nuts, because he's a really charming person and he can really make you fall in love like right off the bat, but the guy is also an asshole who has a lot of issues and there is a point that people just can't take It anymore, the whole sex, drugs and rock n' roll It's too real to be good and It's fucking awful to see. He's good in bed, tho, I have to give him that. When he's not passing out drunk, he's a great boyfriend.

That was... wow. I think this has been the first time you have been so open about this, so I'm kinda honored. I think the glamorization of all those issues associated with success and music in the rock scene is very unnecessary. You can have hits and put out great work without falling into the cliché of the supposed demons that come with it all. I might be on the wrong here, but I don't think you necessarily have to sign a deal with the devil to make it. I can only imagine things got heated in a bad way, because such problems must have taken it's toll on you. And yet, you were together for a surprisingly long time. Not at once, of course, but you had that on and off again relationship. I assume it can be exhausting, emotionally speaking, at least. How did you cope? And why did you stay in on it so long? I mean, it sounds kinda toxic. And as you highlighted it, I assume the drinking was a major problem... how did you deal with it?

A: It's because everything already went to hell, so fuck It. He's going to be pissed off at me anyway, so might as well just say it for once. I'm not going to bash on him for that, there's a lot of fucked up shit going on and that has happened before that makes the whole thing make sense, but like there are other things that just make everyone around him be in a constant state of alert and It's tiring. Yeah, I'm not the easiest person to deal either, but like, even I got limits. Well, that's the thing, like when you love someone as much as I love him you don't want to admit that you can't help and that the whole thing is becoming something that's eating you alive, you don't want to say ‘enough’ because that means giving up, that means putting your feelings above someone else’s needs, but sometimes we have to. It wasn’t toxic and I know It sounds like something someone in a toxic relationship would say, but the thing about Dragan is that everyone thinks that he is the "butcher" for things that he's done to others when in reality the only person he's hurting is himself, he just doesn't see nor understand how that can affect people around him. It's fucked up? Totally, I won't deny it that it got to the point where my parents stepped in and where like 'maybe you should spend some time in Argentina and just step back' but it wasn’t like a toxic or abusive thing where I didn't knew what I was doing. I don't think I dealt with that, because, like, there's no stopping someone with a drinking problem, they won't just put the bottle down and listen, you just have to be there and try to make them see and, well, take care of them after.

So, tiring, you say? Why is it tiring? What is tiring? What happened, if I might inquire. Well, if we really analyze it, no one is actually easy to deal with. We are complex beings with even more complex emotions, so I guess the best we do is just try and navigate feelings and situations in the less crappy way possible. But sometimes, we are driven to the extreme and that makes it very hard to take control of certain situations. I guess what I'm trying to say is that mental health sometimes requires a little bit of what might seem like selfishness, but it's actually not. I mean, you can be empathetic and sympathetic, compassionate even, but people shouldn't expect you to put your needs aside all the time just to think about others. In order to actually be helpful, you must be in a good place about your own feelings, so it doesn't become a vicious cycle of resentment and problematic situations, you know? So I get what you're saying. Besides, if we really weigh things... you're pretty young. Not a kid, of course, but rather young when compared to him. You shouldn't put your health and your youth aside to try and nurse a dysfunctional adult back to good shape while wasting yourself in the process. Love is as much about letting go as it is about being there for someone else. So if you say it wasn't toxic, I believe you. As an outsider, I might not have the full picture, so I can't step in and say you're wrong about how you see the things you went through. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been, to watch someone dear slowly waste away, you know? I guess with alcohol and any other addictions, really, it’s kinda complicated to make the person see how damaging that habit is. I guess they don't see themselves in bad shape. I think at this point, it's only fair to assume you saw the worst of it, as you said you took care of him during his drunken haze. How was it for you? Where did you get the strength to do it?

A: The whole thing, I guess. Because you're constantly thinking if that person is going to do stupid shit because he's high or If he's high because he's about to go into a depressive episode, and the later it’s not really his fault, you can't really blame someone for, like, trying to cope and just kill what's killing them, but for someone who's around and who's emotionally involved in that process, not knowing can be tiring. I don't think really the age It's a factor, I've been in Hollywood for so long that I can tell you that having a relationship with someone I loved, fucked up or not, was the least of the things I did that can be put out as wasting myself. I'm really afraid that I haven’t seen the worst, because If that's true then it's really even more of a risk and it just breaks my heart. I have no Idea, never thought about It. And I'm being totally honest right now when I say I really didn't gave that much of a though on that when It was happening, because It's easier that way.

Yeah, I hear you. You did start on this business at a very young age, and had your share of trouble, with your image and your habits and all that pressure over your shoulders. You coming out on top of that situation and standing in a brighter and more hopeful place is kind of an statement that you can get out of harms way. But having been there, at rock bottom might have given you a different perspective in that whole situation. Tell me... did your experiences made ir more difficult to be involved in it? I mean, I can only imagine you must have felt dragged back into something you were just getting out of. Also, I would like to reinforce that any questions that make you feel uncomfortable, just give me a heads up and we'll move on. This a conversation and in no way I would like to seem intrusive. And on a brighter note... let's be a little intrusive, as well, because I'm simply human and I am curious in an almost voyeuristic way... how were the good times like?

A: Very young. I was a baby And it's not just that, when you're in Hollywood everyone that is around ends up affecting how people see you, like, I was 17 going into rehab for a sex addiction that I didn't have because people around me had a problem and everyone thought that I had a problem too, then. I would like to say that it made it easier, but I think that It definitely was difficult, it brings a certain anxiety every time shit goes down. But I didn't felt dragged, that's actually really a point, people often think that he was, like, a bad influence, like, making me do drugs or other stuff, when he wasn’t, he was very against people taking drugs and getting pissed drunk. A little hypocrite? Of course. Don't worry, I'm fine for now, I think It's the wine. And... it was great. As I said, roller-coaster, when you're on the top It's just the best feeling ever and he was a really sweet person.

I wouldn't say hypocrisy, I kinda get it. I mean, real friends wouldn't offer you drugs, and as a drug addict, it makes sense that he knows how dependent you get on those things and not wanting people he cares about to end up in the same situation. I have a friend who struggled once with addiction and he used to say that very same thing: people who care about you will never want you to go down on the same path as them, because they know how hard addiction gets and no matter how good the rush, it’s just not worth bringing loved ones down. I mean, junkies still harm people they care about, even though in a different way, but I guess in their thought process, it makes perfect sense to make that kind of damage control. Oh, it's good wine, I'm getting kinda tipsy as well. So, that's difficult for me: seeing him as a sweet person. With all the troubles you went through, I have no problems actually imagining you as very nice. And to be honest, I'm delighted to see that you actually are. When it comes to Dragan, however, it's nearly impossible for me to look at him an think 'oh, there goes a nice dude'. I guess it must have something to do with how he is usually pictured in the media but, to be honest, he kinda paints those images himself, with all the reckless behavior, the aggression and the sexual scandals... and his infamous birthday party, of course. I can only assume that must have been another complication, since he is very evasive and closed off to the point of getting violent, whereas you're really open about most things. Did it cause some clash of opinions? How did you manage the public image issues?

A: I get It, I really do, but it's hard not get angry towards It when the person Is getting angry saying that he doesn’t have a problem and then be like 'Yeah, but you can't do this or that because then you will have a problem', It just makes you sigh and go like ’oh, please, just don't’. But he is. He is lovely when he's not having cameras shoved on his face. Well, thank you, It's good to know that I'm not being mean, people tend to say that I look mean. It's just... he tries really hard coming off as not caring and sometimes he can be an asshole, I mean it, the biggest asshole of all, but most of the time he is this great guy that even when you say shit will just help you anyway and try to be kind. And he has the best date ideas and getting away landscapes. A lot. But It is just another thing that we worked around, like I don't mind paparazzis, but he does, so I know that I'm not dragging him to, like, Four Seasons or whatever when I know It's going to cause him anxiety. And It's just common sense I guess.

Well, the people who say you're mean clearly haven't made the smallest effort to actually know you. And don't worry, if I come off as flirty, let me warn you that I am very much gay. So I'm totally not hitting on you now. I guess having a personality and standing up for yourself might come off as mean nowadays, buck fuck people who say that, honestly. I mean... still hard to believe, even with you saying he is nice and all that, I still have a hard time believing he would not try to get me killed for posting this interview, you know? You said it yourself: he'll most likely get angry, and publicly, that doesn't tend to end up well. Getting dark here again, so I'll try to mix things up. Still relationship wise, I have to ask: sex stuff. How was it? Don't judge me, you've seen the butcher and I speak for the people saying I would like to know how was that.

A: Oh, thank you! Well, don't worry, I'm used to coming off as flirty, I know how It's like. I have a friend If you're single, I'm trying to set him up with someone with actual decency. He's not, maybe he'll say something about It If asked and It might get a little heavy, but like It's only because as you said, he is very closed off...And It isn’t your fault, the most likely one to end up with the fault It's me, preach. Oh... I've seen the butcher, alright. You know when people tell you that someone is really good at bed and has a big dick and you don't believe them and then you find out it's actually better and bigger? That's how It was like.

Oh, if you're talking about your co-star, we know you two dislike each other and we'll talk about that in the next section of the interview. If not, thanks anyway, but I have been happily married for a couple years now. God, this is getting racy. I won't even ask anymore because we have to keep things at a bare minimum not safe for work. But well, I guess now the internet would be driven wild: theories that the butcher has a big dick have been confirmed first-hand by his ex-girlfriend. On that note... You've seen the butcher. Not the naked man, the song. Some people say it's about you. Some people speculate many of the songs he wrote are about you, which is an interesting thing to say, since the man can get really poetic. I mean, at least lyrically, he is very versatile, being able to write the most sexual things one minute and switch to the most deep and depressing words the other. I guess what I'm trying to say... can you confirm or deny you're the subject in that piece of music? Because said theory also sparked rumors that you two have been a thing longer than the public eye knows, with some even daring to say he started a physical relationship with you before you were a legal adult, which is controversial, to say the least. I really have no formed opinion on this, since those comments came after a few interpretations of the song, which can be a little absurd, with some claiming is about taking a girl's virginity (said girl would be you, in their version of the facts), some saying it's just about sex with no deeper meaning and some more radical individuals claiming is about a serial killer.

A: No, I'm not talking about Florian, and he doesn’t dislike me, he hates me. Oh, that's cute, my parents are happily married for so long that I'm sometimes ashamed that I don't have a long-lasting relationship. Well, I can assure you that things only get more NSFW, so It's better not to ask... I don't know about that, like, he never told me anything about writiing for me, so I can't really be that much of a helping hand on this matter, but the whole underage thing is not true. I will let recorded for further actions that I did not slept with Dragan while I was underage, you can rest now internet avengers. And I do think It's about sex with no deeper meaning, but I don't know, I didn't wrote it. How that fuck is that about a serial killer? That doesn’t even make sense! That song is clearly about sex. Like the other song that it's about oral sex, there's no deeper thing, that's it. It's about sex.

STAY TUNED FOR MORE!

#( Drinkind Buddies. ) #( Extras. )

[unblot]

@tsukimyo​​:    silver stirs from his rest, a gentle cough being muffled into his pillow as he slowly begins to rise. a few blinks are all it takes for him to fully wake, staring down at the first-year beside his bed, green hair messily splayed at the edge. a half-smile tugs at his lips & he leans down to mess those locks up again, pushing them back to reveal his forehead with a gentle touch. a pause. then his body naturally falls a little further so that his lips can brush over his revealed forehead. “thanks,” he whispers before peeling himself away & getting out of the bed, removing the blanket to drape it over sebek’s body.

( don’t mind me i’m just thinking abt post-sleepwalking episode silver and sebek protecting him by staying by his bedside haha nbd

unlike silver sebek is a fairly light sleeper. he’s been that way ever since he can remember. for a good portion of his life it was something he’d disliked about himself as it would come to be very difficult to get a decent amount of sleep at night. however once he was appointed lord malleus’ guard, sebek was finally able to see the perks of it. this way he can always remain alert & prepared to defend his future king even in sleep. & thankfully over the years sebek has learned how to cope with very little sleep, having become almost unhealthily reliant on coffee & tea. it’s no matter really. whatever helps him protect the young master is worth it.

but this time it’s not malleus sebek is protecting. no, the resting beside him is not the prince of the fae, but a mere human & not just any human either. the boy resting beside him, the boy sebek had spent the night watching over is none other than silver. there’s a twinge in his stomach when he thinks about it, a twinge of discomfort &...something else. he’s supposed to hate silver, supposed to prove himself that he’s better than silver. but sebek has failed in both places. he cannot seem to prove himself superior to silver no matter how he tries. & he cannot bring himself to hate silver...no matter how much he wants to.

it’s an infuriating situation to be in. to be seen as nothing but a nuisance by someone, to have your heart torn into pieces by them long ago...& then not being able to hate him like he deserves. sebek cannot hate silver & as the night had passed the half fae starts to realize how far from hatred sebek’s feelings for silver really are. 

now as sebek wakes from his slumber to silver’s soft coughing, he’s hit with another reminder. his eyes briefly open to assure that silver isn’t in harms way, only to soften as they find silver’s face. the elder boy has always looked so peaceful in sleep, even when they were young. it has only been more recently that silver’s night terrors had become more severe. sebek would rather die than admit it but there’s an unbelievable comfort in seeing silver look more at ease. 

that night before, seeing silver look so distressed ---  sebek doesn’t think he’s ever been more scared in his life. he’d do anything to make sure he never saw silver look like that again. even if it means staying by his side every night. & the knowledge of that only makes sebek more angry at himself & this stupid situation he’s put himself in.

sebek’s eyes are already closed again as silver stirs from his sleep, the younger boy appearing to still be asleep. sebek is not asleep in fact but merely pretending, hoping to perhaps get a moment of peace before he must prepare for the day. therefore he’s completely alert as he feels silver shift closer to him. sebek’s nose scrunches up subconsciously as the other begins to tousle his hair gently. admittedly it’s not a bad feeling & if it were someone else maybe sebek wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable by the sudden affection. though nothing could prepare him for when silver presses his lips to his forehead, bestowing on him a kiss with a tenderness he hasn’t received in years. not since they were children.

sebek’s eyes fly open, stunned speechless as he stares wide eyed at silver’s departing figure. he can’t move, he can’t speak, he can’t even breathe. why? why would silver do that? for years sebek had thought he’d hated him. & even now as that has been proven false why -- why would he kiss him? he can’t wrap his head around it & this time around he can’t think of any motive silver would have to treat sebek with such gentility. 

silver knows his weaknesses & sebek knows his. such is the fate of a pair of boys who are always in each other’s company. if silver wanted to disarm him or attack him, there would have been ample amount of other things he could’ve done before having to resort to this. & it’s not as if silver likes him. sebek can accept that perhaps he’d been wrong about being hated but there’s only so much he can believe without becoming completely delusional. but then why? why would silver do this? why would he so blatantly play with sebek’s heartstrings like this? it makes him feel sick to his stomach. for silver to so cruelly toy with him just when sebek is trying to understand what he’s feeling. it’s despicable & he certainly won’t stand for it.

even so sebek can’t help but feel his heart flutter when he thinks about silver, thinks about how warm he feels next to him, how soft his lips felt on his skin. wait -- no! he’s not doing this! sebek doesn’t have time to stray from his duties. & even if he did, he’d never waste his time daydreaming about a boy who couldn’t care less about him. that’s simply asking to have silver break his heart once more. & truthfully sebek doesn’t know if his heart is whole enough to survive any more damage to it. 

after another few moments of stunned stillness, sebek quickly rises out of bed. his gaze immediately finds silver as the elder begins dressing for class. sebek springs upon the other, still slightly breathless as he reaches to take silver’s wrist. ❛    silver, i...   ❜  but for once silver manages to silence sebek, turning to meet his gaze with those startlingly beautiful eyes of his. sebek’s words die in his throat, feeling his face grow hot as silver stares at him expectantly. he can’t even remember what he was going to say now. though perhaps this is for the better as anything he’d been hoping to say about silver’s kiss would most likely make this situation worse for both of them. sebek swallows, clearing his throat as he withdraws from silver. ❛    if you are in need of my assistance again tonight i will be in my chambers.    ❜

with that sebek scurries out of the room, all too aware of his rapidly beating heart as he runs back into his bedroom. he closes his door with a slam, breathing heavily as he feels his knees threaten to give out. his face is completely flushed, feeling lightheaded as he leans against the door for support. what’s happening to him? why does silver continue to have this effect on him? sebek had thought he’d had all the answers before but now he’s not so sure. he groans, slowly lowering himself to floor by his door. this is going to be a long day.

#asks. #tsukimyo #interactions: sebek. #long post #i’ve always been hotblooded but the warmth in my chest when you call my name is unlike anything i’ve ever felt before ( silbek / tsukimyo. ) #verse: canon. #SORRY THIS IS LARGELY INCOHERENT #my brain went in like 20 directions but uh #i wanted to write the first step in sebek realizing how he feels #:')

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Madelaine Petsch//Three Months

Request: Madelaine petsch x reader where Madelaine gets caught up with Vanessa and starts neglecting r and all their fans notice and Madelaine finally realizes it after it had been happening for a while and makes it up to r.

For over a year, you and Madelaine have been dating. A year and three months to be exact. You see each other every day, due to working together. You just recently talked about moving in together because you practically already lived together, you barely spent any time in your own apartment. You’ve even looked at adopting a dog together. You were a constant in each others lives. Wherever one was, the other was. You would be in her vlogs, Instagram stories (as well as basically everyone else’s), you were all over her social media accounts, and she was all over yours. You did literally everything together. 

However for the past few months, she seemed to distance herself. It started slowly, she would miss a few date nights, or she’d bee too busy for you to come over. Which of course you understood. She was a busy woman who had a very demanding job, as did you, but you still always made time for each other before. However, you let it go, deciding that maybe she just wanted a bit of space. However as the days turned into weeks you saw her less and less. 

Anytime you tried to talk to her at work, she would be talking to somebody else, mainly Vanessa. You still hung out after work, but each week it seemed to get less and less. She was always too busy. You hadn’t been in a video of hers for about 2 months, and even though its sounded trivial, it still hurt. It was like she’d replaced you with her best friend, leaving you to wonder what you’d done.

But the worst thing was that everyone seemed to notice, except her. The rest of the cast made an effort to hang out with you more, while also trying to talk to her, but no use. She was to wrapped up in her new friend to notice she was neglecting her girlfriend. 

A part of you wanted to hate Vanessa for taking your girlfriend away from you. But you knew it wasn’t her fault. You were glad she had made a new friend, and it wasn’t Vanessa’s fault Madelaine had been ignoring you. 

Today was your day off. You weren’t needed on set, so you were hanging out at home, moping in your bed. 

Usually you would hang out with Madelaine, even if she was still on set, you’d just go with her. But you needed some time away from that place, and from her for that matter. The more she ignored and neglected you the more your view of her soured. But you were conflicted. You gave her space at the beginning of this whole thing and that seemed to make everything worse. 

As you lay in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, your phone buzzed beside you pulling you from your thoughts. 

madelame is live now! The notification made you sigh but you opened it anyway. A few seconds went by until your girlfriend appeared on screen, beside her was Vanessa, the two of them smiling brightly.

“Hey guys!” She greeted and you couldn’t help the small smile that forced its way on to your lips. That smile could still cheer you up, even if you felt a million miles apart from her and wasn’t intended for you. That thought makes you frown and focus your attention back on the screen. “We have a little bit of spare time in between takes so I thought we could do a Q&A! We’ve already tweeted about it and you have all been asking a lot of questions, so thanks! Anyway, V, do you wanna start?” She asked, turning her attention to her friend. 

“Sure!” She smiled back before looking at her phone. “How’s season 4 going?” She read and the two of them smiled. “Great!! We have some great storylines this season! And all the secondary characters have much more screen time!”

“Yeah!” Madelaine jumped in. “Y/n has been in ever-” She cut herself off with a frown and you sat up, your eyes glued to the screen in front of you. Was she actually noticing? “Anyway.” She shook her head and you sighed, lying back down. The weight on your chest that you’d been feeling for the past three months, just got a whole lot heavier. “What has been your favourite on set story of this season?” Madelaine asked, facing Vanessa. 

“Oooo.” Vanessa thought for a second. “Oh! I’ve got it!” She said suddenly making Madelaine giggle a little. “Can you remember when we were filming the an episode, and it was like 2am. I think practically everybody else had gone home apart from us, KJ and Cole, and while we waited to be called to set we just hung out and talked about life and stuff. And you told me all your future dreams and then you fell off the bench we were sat on.” She explained before the two of them laughed loudly. 

“Yeah!” She giggled. “And KJ walked past us and called us tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum, before he tripped over a branch and fell face first into some mud. When he stood up he had leaves and twigs all over his face and he had to go back to make-up.” She continued and you sighed. You remember that night, and not just because Cole had told you. You were there that night. Sitting a few feet away from them, not that they seemed to have noticed. 

You decided that that was enough heartbreak for the night, so with a heavy heart you closed down Instagram and placed your phone on the bedside table, the thoughts of your and Madelaine’s relationship swirling around your head until you fell asleep. 

“Okay!” Madelaine clapped her hands together. “Final questions. Are you and y/n still together?” Madelaine read, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Yeah! Of course we are, what makes you think that?” 

“Loads of people have been asking.” Vanessa interjected. “Its like one of the most asked questions...” 

“What makes people think we’re not together anymore?” She repeated her question. 

“Apparently you’ve forgotten about her.” Vanessa replied, reading the comments from a few Twitter replies. “People are saying that she’s been in none of your videos or social media posts. And people have started picking up on it. Apparently you’ve been too caught up with me to focus on her.” She explained. 

“What?” She whispered. “We’re needed back on set. It was great answering your questions and I’ll try and do another one soon...” She explained, trailing off at the end before ending the video. “Have I really been ignoring her?” 

“I dunno. I don’t think so.” Vanessa shrugged. “Why don’t you go through your Instagram, and your videos. I’m sure she’s in them.” She said, trying to reassure her. Madelaine nodded before going through all her accounts. 

“She hasn’t been in any. Not one for the past three-ish months. Not even in the background.” She sighed. “When was the last time I text her?” She asked herself before checking her phone. “A week ago.” 

“What was it about?” Vanessa asked, looking over her shoulder. 

“What time she was going to be on set the next day.” She sighed and Vanessa placed a hand on her shoulder. 

Madelaine thought for moment, and then it dawned on her. For the past three months she’d been unintentionally ignoring you. She can’t remember the last time you slept at her house, or went out on a date. She barely acknowledged your presence at work, let alone any other time of the day. Three months ago you’d been talking about moving in together, and now she can barely remember the last time you just properly hung out together. “Shit!” She shouted, making Vanessa jump. 

“Its okay.” She squeezed her shoulder. 

“Its not! I’m officially the worst girlfriend in the world. I’ve ignored her, basically replaced her. Jesus Christ, I’m the worst!” 

“You’re no-” 

“I am! And I literally have no excuse for it.” She said while gathering her things. 

“Where are you going? We’re due back on set in fifteen minutes.” 

“Tell them I’m sick.” She replied before throwing her jacket on and running out the door. 

--------

“Y/n!” A heavy pounding on your front door wakes you up from your nap and you have to blink a few times to get your bearings. Its only been two hours since you’ve fallen asleep, but from the sound coming from outside it sounds like the entire worlds gone to hell. 

“Hold on!” You shouted back and stood up, slowly walking towards the door. For a few seconds you forget everything that has happened with you and Madelaine, for a few seconds everything is normal and fine and you have a great girlfriend that loves you more than anything. That is until you open the front door, and all that comes crashing down around you...the sound almost deafening. “Madelaine?” You asked in disbelief. A part of you thinks that you’re still asleep and that this is what your depressed self has come up with to cope with the fact that your girlfriend has abandoned and replaced you. 

“Can I come in?” She asked, tearing you from your thoughts and you look back at her. 

“Yeah, sure.” You shrugged and moved so she could come in. She sends you a small nod before walking passed you, and you watch her look around the living room. 

“Is that new wallpaper?” She asked and you sighed. 

“Yeah. I er-I decorated about two months ago. I did try and talk to you about it...just to see if it was worth it because of-well because we had talked about moving in together. I got a vague answer back so I decided to just do it.” You explained, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly.

“Ah.” 

“Yeahhhhhh.” You trailed off. “Do you want tea or something?” 

“No, I’m good. I wanted to talk to you.” 

“Oh, er-okay?” You said before sitting on the sofa. She sat beside you and the two of you looked at the opposite wall, both unsure of what to say. “Listen.” You started and turned to face her. “If you’re gonna break up with me, can you just do it already because I hate feeling like this. Like I’m stuck in some sort of in between until you decide you want to keep me around or not. It sucks, and its not fair on me.” You told her and she felt the wind being knocked from her lungs. 

“Y/n.” She said softly, her hands reaching out for yours. Tears pooled in her eyes as she squeezed your hands. “Do you really think I would break up with you?” 

“Well, I mean...kinda, yeah. We’ve barely spoken in the past three months. I just assume you’ve moved on. But don’t worry.” You forced a smile. “Because there’s no hard feelings. We’re still gonna work together and shit so we can still be friend-” 

“Y/n.” She interrupted you and you looked at her, your hands pulling away from her grip so you could wipe the tears from her face. “I don’t deserve you.” She sobbed and you stared at her. “Look at me, I ignore you for months, I practically replaced you and everyone could see it but me. And then I come over here to make it up to you, even though I don’t deserve you’re forgiveness and I’m the one who starts crying. And then you comfort me. This should be the other way round, or you should be shouting and screaming at me.” 

“Do you want me to shout and scream at you?” You asked and she laughed slightly, which made you smile. 

“No.” She shook her head. “I just-okay. Let me do this again.” She took a deep breath and wiped the rest of her tears away. “Y/n.” She grabbed your hand again. “I am so sorry for ignoring you, replacing you, neglecting you, basically forgetting about your entire existence. I don’t have any excuses, but I guess I just got caught up with making new friends and memories, meaning that I forgot about my best friend who I share all my memories with. I really am sorry and I know I don’t deserve it, but can you please forgive me?” She pleaded and you stared at her. 

All the hurt you’d been feeling for the past few months disappeared. Of course some of it would be there for a while, and she would have to do some groveling, but how could you not forgive her? She was the most perfect woman in the world and everyone makes mistakes. Plus, you had been miserable without her, breaking up would make that so much worse. 

“Okay.” You replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “I forgive you.” You said and she sent you a watery, but bright smile. 

“Really?” She asked and you nodded before she pulled you into a very tight hug. “I love you so much.” She mumbled against your neck. “I’ll never do anything like this ever again. I promise.” 

“You better not.” You quirked an eyebrow as you pulled away. She placed her hands on your cheeks before kissing you deeply. She kissed you as if her life depended on it. As if she was trying to show you how much you meant to her. As if she was trying to tell you how much she loved you. And slowly, but surely you started to believe her, even if it would take some time. 

------

One Year Later 

“Is that all of them?” You asked as you placed a cardboard box down on the floor. 

“I think so yeah.” Madelaine replied as she hugged you from behind. Her arms wrapped around your waist while she rested her head on your shoulder. “The bed isn’t gonna be here until tomorrow though so we’re gonna have to make do on either the sofa or the bed.” She said with a sigh and you turned in her ams, a bright smile on your face and a glimmer in your eyes. “What?” 

“I have a much better idea.” You grinned. 

“What?” 

“Blanket fort!” You cheered and she laughed. 

“I love you.” She mumbled. 

“I know you do.” You replied and pressed a kiss to her cheek before wiggling out of her grip. “Come on, we have a ton of boxes to unpack. I can’t believe we own a home together.” You said, still in disbelief that you got to wake up to her everyday and spend all your time with your best friend and most favourite person in the world. Just the two of you and Ella the Bulldog you guys rescued a few months ago. Ella ran in from the backyard just then, like she knew you were thinking about her, and she ran straight into Madelaine’s legs making the two of you laugh. 

“Wait a minute.” Madelaine grabbed your hand and pulled you back to her. 

“Babeeee. We have to unpack.” 

“Not yet. We have a lifetime to unpack boxes, lets just enjoy this moment.” She said and wrapped her arms around your waist again. “Dance with me.” 

“There’s no music.” You raised an eyebrow, but wrapped your arms around her neck anyway. 

“Thats okay. We don’t need music, we’ll make our own.” 

“You’re so cheesy.” You rolled your eyes, despite the smile on your face and she giggled. “But then again, I already knew that.” 

“What do you mean?” She asked as the two of you swayed slightly. 

“Oh you know, just the time you filled my apartment with flowers like two days after we got back together. Like you filled it, I couldn’t move for flowers, and it wasn’t just one kind, it was every single type of flower you could think of, all crammed into my apartment. And then there was all the cute little notes you put around yours and my apartment so I can see them.” 

“Yeah, just because we moved doesn’t mean thats gonna end. There’s gonna be so many more because this is actual house. There’s so much more room!” She said excitedly making you smile. 

“See.” You replied and she rolled her eyes. “And then there’s the cute little dates you take me on, all the appreciation posts you put on Instagram, I think you post a picture of me at least once a week and I honestly don’t know where you’re getting all these pictures of me from.” 

“What? My girl’s pretty and amazing, I need to tell people.” She shrugged and you rolled your eyes again. 

“The video montage of all our sweet moments that you asked your twitter followers to help with?” You asked sarcastically and she looked at the ground. 

“Okay, fine. Maybe I am a bit cheesy...” 

“A bit!” You replied. “The video was half an hour long and you made an entirely new email address for people to send you videos that they may have had of us. You had been planning it for four months.” 

“Fine...a lot. But you love it though.” She shrugged. “Don’t you?” 

“Of course.” You replied and kissed her softly. “I’ll never stop loving you.” 

“And I’ll never stop loving you. Not for three months, three years or 300 years.” She said before kissing you. 

“Good.” You pulled away. “Now, lets go find some blankets! Give Ella her first blanket fort!” You said excitedly before walking into the bedroom, Ella following closely. 

Madelaine blinked, thinking about what you just said as she watched you walk up the stairs. “How do you know she’s never been in a blanket fort?” She called after you. 

“I just do! You can tell when someone’s never been in a blanket fort. And she hasn’t. It makes someone sadder.” You replied. “They have a vibe about them.” 

“...she’s a dog.” 

“And?” You replied, popping your head round the door. 

“I really do love you.” She laughed. “I’ll never stop, no matter what.” 

#madelaine petsch #madelaine petsch x reader #madelaine petsch imagine #madelaine petsch x you #riverdale #riverdale imagine #cheryl blossom #cheryl blossom imagine #cheryl blossom x reader #cheryl blossom x you #cheryl #cheryl imagine #cheryl x reader

[no-te-lo-voy-a-dar]

Sibling Jealousy - Chapter 4

Fic’s Summary: Reader has known the Winchesters for a long time, almost two years before Cas entered their lives. After that, since Reader was the only one actually teaching the angel about humanity customs and stuff like that, properly, they developed a closer relationship, on the parent-kid way. But it was never verbally acknowledged. Now, with Lucifer’s child on the way, life stabs some sense and realizations onto Reader, but there’s no time for feelings in this house.

Author’s Note: This is mainly a fic with the purpose of developing a family relationship with the characters, of mutual support, and I don’t plan on adding romance for Reader, because that’s not my final goal.

Pairings: Castiel/Reader (Platonic), Jack Kline/Reader (Platonic), Dean and Sam Winchester/Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: Usual canon violence and conflicts, as well as injuries and blood mentions, emotional struggles such as feeling unloved, like an outcast, low self-esteem issues and if you think something else should be mentioned let me know.

<<Last Chapter - Next Chapter>>

Chapter’s Author’s Note: Uni has been wild, so I haven’t had a chance of watching but one episode for the whole week, but I do have a couple of chapters already written so here. I took the ‘use of grace’ idea out of the woman who killed Ishim and was hunting Castiel’s garrison, but it’s just a bonding idea I came up with, probably it won’t last, probably I will use it later, I don’t know. I don’t have a Beta reader and that’s alright, I have to somehow practice my English and not rely a lot on auto-filling I suppose. Season 15 has already started, and I’m trying to not get too spoiled, but I do see some stuff, as usual, which is basically how I have ‘kept up’ so far. If you are watching, good luck, stay strong, don’t let ‘em clown us.

Chapter Four: Don’t Cry, Scream

Word Count: 2011

You weren't sure how long you fell asleep for, but when you went to the main room on the Bunker after having a quick cereal with milk as breakfast, you saw Sam working on his computer and checking the cameras around the place.

"Morning Sam. What are you up to?" You were watching from behind him, eating a complementary Apple to your...whatever hour it was meal.

"Oh hi (Y/N). I'm checking the cameras to see which room might be the best to go practice with Jack.” he seemed to have already chosen one, because he started to pick up a notebook and a pen, leaving the laptop with the feedback on over the table.

“Wait, what are you planning to do? And where’s Dean?” You were following Sam, because even if he was on your side about bringing Jack to the Bunker, you weren’t so sure about him not really hurting him. Or Jack accidentally hurting Sam.

“Dean went with Jody to help an old friend of us. A psychic. Apparently there’s something killing them and the most recent victim was her protégée.”

“Oh, uh, I think you’ve mentioned her once or twice. Don’t remember her name though. And about my other question?” You and Sam were now in front of Jack’s room door.

“Ah, well, that…” Sam proceeded to knock on the door and wait for Jack to open it, not finishing his answer to you.

“Hi, good morning Jack. Uh, just wanted to check on you, you haven’t come out since we set you up yesterday night.”

“Yes. I was just...tired.” 

“Understandable, it’s been quite a ride these past days. Anyway, as I was about to tell (Y/N) here, I had a plan for you today, about training your powers.”

“Train my powers? How so?”

“Well, come. I’ve picked a room for you and I to do so.” Just as Sam was starting to walk, you cleared your throat to catch both of their focus.

“I think Jack should have breakfast first. They don’t call it the more important meal of the day for nothing. Come Jack, I hope you are fine with cereal and a glass of juice for now, I’ll go buy groceries later.” Jack nodded and walked besides you just like last night, just as you heard Sam closing the door to Jack’s room and follow you.

---

You left both of them on the room Sam had picked, and told them you were going out to get more food stuff and some other thing’s for Jack’s stay, so you wouldn’t be back on the same day, since you were going a couple of towns away.

When you were back you saw the Impala outside of the Bunker’s main door, so you decided to left the stuff on your car and go inside to say hi before parking inside the Bunker and take the shopping items to the kitchen and to Jack.

Of course, things couldn’t go as smooth as you wanted them to. They never did, even if it was something as mundane as a greeting and getting the shopping items on the shelves and fridge.

You meet Dean before going inside, and went down the stairs together while he and Sam started talking about the case and “the kid”.

Just as Sam confronted Dean about him telling Jack he would kill him, things started to get heated up, and you were just on the side, trying not to say anything while Sam called out Dean for not giving Jack a chance, about how he didn’t put a bullet on Sam when his father told him to, or how you both helped Sam with the blood addiction issue.

Great, now there was no way you could just walk away from there.

“You saved me. So help us save him!” Sam really got worked up and you were guessing he had some talk with Jack. You’ll ask them about it later.

“You deserved to be saved. He doesn’t.” wait what? You had to say something to him.

“Wait a second Dean. He does. He was just born. He didn’t even know what orange juice was until I told him not even a couple days ago. No human is really born evil or rude or racist or messed up stuff like that. They are taught that way. And we are not going to teach him that!” And Cas had faith in him, so I will too. Just by that thought, a lump started forming on your throat.

“Look, maybe Sam cares about him because he sees him as an interdimensional can opener, and he only cares for what he can do.” He directed that part only to Sam, even when he was answering you, but the next part he kept glancing between his brother and you.

“So if you wanna pretend, that’s fine! But me? I can hardly look at the kid. ‘Cause when I do all I see is everyone we’ve lost.” You hated how Dean usually approached emotional issues by screaming.

“Mom choose to take that shot at Lucifer. That is not on Jack.” Sam was trying to keep his brother at bay, to make him see thing for what they really were. 

So that’s what happened when Mary got out of the house and why she didn’t come back and her body wasn’t there alongside Cas’ and Kelly’s. You didn’t like this was the first time you were listening and learning what happened. Mainly because of how you were.

“And what about Cas?!” He looked at you, and then went back to glance at the taller Winchester, waiting for a reply. 

“What about Cas?” Just as Sam’s voice expressed, you also didn’t get what Dean was trying to make you ‘understand’.

“He manipulated him. He made him promises. Said “Paradise on Earth”, and Cas bought it. And you know what that got him? IT GOT HIM DEAD!” He took a couple of seconds to avoid crying in front of you, but you weren’t so sure, your vision was already pretty blurry.

“Now you might be able to forget about that, BUT I CAN’T!” Dean kept screaming at Sam’s face, but his eyes went to yours every then and now, trying to make you see, feel his point, and you could see Sam was trying not to cry and break in front of Dean too.

That’s it, you weren’t staying in that room any longer. You had to go find Jack and then get the shopping from the car you took. Just get your mind busy, then maybe to shut down and your body go on automatic.

You contemplated getting drunk, but that would have to wait for Jack to be asleep, and by the time your exhaustion would take care of putting you to sleep by itself. Besides, doing so wasn’t your favorite coping mechanism.

“Yeah, well guess what Dean, it’s not like we have forgotten. I know I haven’t. But Jack didn’t made promises on the frigging womb. His powers showed what he is capable of, and since he’s not evil what Castiel saw was a better world. You know who I blame? Crowley. If that bastard hadn’t hickjacked Rowena’s spell, Lucifer would have been actually sent to the cage, and there wouldn’t have been a confrontation and we would probably be eating the pie and ice cream and stuff I got. Or maybe trying not to burn the kitchen while cooking something. But no. And that’s NOT Jack’s fault!” Your voice kept breaking while almost screaming to Dean, but you didn’t care.

“Oh no, don’t bring Crowley into this, this was not his fault, he actually helped us and sacrificed himself to leave Lucifer trapped.” Oh so he was defending the bastard now?!

“Yes well, why don’t you see Cas’ death as his sacrifice so you both, Jack and heck, even I, could get out of there alive?!” Before storming to the way that leads to the bedrooms, you had to add something else.

“I miss him too Dean, I freaking do, and just like you, I haven’t had time to properly mourn him. But you could at least respect his memory by helping Jack, trying to see why he decided to take care of him. Castiel was thrilled to have a purpose again, and you want to kill a kid who even protected us from Asmodeus without really knowing us.”

When neither of the brothers said something, you finally stepped out of the main room, only to see Jack, with his eyes glowing gold, whispering a constant chant of Castiel, so low you were only capable of hearing it because you were close to him and the Bunker was a quiet place.

You sniffled, and tried to even your breathing, before approaching him.

“Jack? Jack, are you alright? Hey, it’s me, (Y/N). I need you to breath with me.” His eyes locked with yours, and you could, kind of, feel the power emanating from him, something strong, like a push and pull, but also...sadness?

“Breath in...breath out. Relax your muscles. Breath in...and out.” After some more breathing repetitions, you weren’t sure if you were doing it for Jack or yourself, but your vision cleared and his eyes went back to light brown, so it worked for both of you.

“Come, help me get the groceries out of the car. And I got you some stuff for your bedroom.” Both of you walked to the garage, opened it, and then you parked the car inside.

While passing some bags to Jack, and you grabbing others, the silence was predominant, but once you reached the kitchen with the first batch of bags, he broke the silence.

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure about what, but he truly sounded sorry.

“About what? Did you break the tomato sauce bottle?”

“No, about me getting Castiel dead...what’s tomato sauce?” Okay, not the time to explain what tomato sauce was.

“Jack, you have to listen to me, and believe me when I say, Castiel’s death is NOT your fault okay? He committed to protecting you and taking care of you. It was his choice. He used his free will to go against Lucifer. He could have taken you and ran away, but we all know Lucifer would have followed you and Castiel didn’t want to be running from him, so what he did was the most logical thing.” You wanted to say so much more, but if you did, you were going to have a mental breakdown and Jack shouldn’t see that or he would feel guiltier.

“But Dean…!” “Dean has the tendency of projecting his pain on others, trying to make others feel what he feels even if that means hurting them more than they already are. Just, you gotta be strong and try not to let it get too much into your head, this shall pass. Sam and I are going to do everything that we can to try and calm Dean down, okay? You just gotta focus on trying to relax and get a hold of your powers.” You patted his shoulder and signaled him to follow you to the car again, to gather the stuff you bought him.

“About that...Sam told me to try and move a pencil, but I couldn’t, I’m scared of using my powers and hurt more people.” He sounded like an actual child right there, and a bulb went on inside your head.

“Hey, what if I try to teach you how to use your powers to heal others?” “But, you don’t have powers, do you?” there he goes with the head tilt again.

“No, but I once had angel grace inside me. Long story short, I was kind of a package box until we got to the angel who owned the grace. But I learned a few things.” You winked at him while throwing the new blankets, which he caught.

His face light up with a smile, and yup, there was no way this boy was evil.

“Come on, let’s teach you how to put these on your bed.”

.

.

Sibling’s Tag List:

@carryon-doctor-lock @theferretkids @sapphysaph(idk why i can’t tag u m8) @hazelle-uvu

(If you wanna be added, please say so in the comment’s section of THIS post)

#supernatural reader insert #jack kline x reader #castiel x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #gender neutral reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #castiel x platonic!reader #jack kline x sibling!reader #castiel x child!reader #father!castiel x reader #??? #still not sure what to do there #if i add #jack kline x sister!reader #would more people come read this??? #My Creations #my fics #sibling jealousy fic #supernatural #spn