#but yeah. it’s just hitting me a lot harder than these things normally do

[grapejuicestyless]

Seven(ways to Neverland)

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: “And I’ve been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted. Your dad is always mad, and that must be why.” Y/n and JJ grew up together, and while it was inevitable, Y/n and JJ swore they’d never grow up. Not even when life told them it wasn’t possible to be young forever.

“My Ma is always saying dad left because he was a piece of work.” The girl said softly into the cold silence. Waves lapped at the shore calmly, and wind blew through her wild hair. She twisted the loose ring on her middle finger, a hollowed out and ground down acorn that was more brown than green nowadays. She spun the slightly wet ring around on her skin. “But I don’t believe her.”

The girl tucked her chin into her knees, curling up like a turtle in a shell. Her eyes glistened in the pale moonlight.

“Why?” The tow head blonde boy asked, curiosity in his defeated gaze.

“She drinks a lot.” The girl shrugged like it was normal. “She always did, but more now that dad is gone. Her friends do too. They talk about how their ‘glory days’ are behind them…or something like that.” She overshared her mother’s secrets, her young mind not comprehending the idea of dirty laundry and why you don’t air it out.

“Oh.” The boy looked down at the sand. “My dad drinks too.” He looked to the girl, who was now drawing circles in the sand mindlessly.

“Maybe it’s a grown up thing, and we don’t understand it yet.” She said hopefully, but her voice was low and quiet, and she looked awfully sad when saying it.

“Maybe.” The boy responded just as quietly.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if my mom married your dad?” The girl suddenly questioned. “Then maybe they wouldn’t drink as much. They wouldn’t need to, and my Ma’s friends wouldn’t have to sleepover in my bed.”

The boy nodded slowly, considering the idea before tossing it out the window.

“You wouldn’t want my dad to marry your mom.”

Silence filled the beach again, and the boy took some sand in his hand and watched it drain out slowly back onto the ground.

“He’s always angry. Sometimes he’s not, but it feels like he is.” It was the girls turn to look down and try to find some words of sympathy.

“Yeah. Parents suck.” The girl smiled, knowing the feeling of helplessness all too well.

They were only seven, but they knew a whole lot about things they shouldn’t, and they understood that just because the world worked that way for them, that didn’t mean it worked the same for everyone.

“Does he hit?” The girl asked curiously, her smile fading. The conversation seemed so casual, calm. Little children who should have been cowering, already accustomed to the treatment.

“Sometimes.” The boy answered truthfully, and the girl nodded.

“So does my mom.” The girl said quietly, still doodling in the sand beside her feet.

“Do you hate her?” The blonde boy asked after a beat passed, looking to see what the girl would say.

She thought about it for a moment, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth and twisting and pushing against the acorn on her finger.

She shook her head.

“No.”

That was her answer. Plain and simple like there was no other reason for it. She was her mother after all, and she was a kid. She would cling to her and try her best to be great for her, and when her mom would hit, she would try even harder to be great because even if her mom was a bad person, she was a bad person that the girl wanted to love her so badly.

The innocent and the good look up to the horrible and the ugly.

“Would you run away?” The boy pressed further, maybe because he was curious of what the girl would say, but maybe also because he was curious if anyone else shared the same thoughts.

“Would you come with me?” She asked.

“Why?” The boy questioned with his brow raised, his head cocked to the side.

“I don’t like being alone. I don’t like the dark.” She hugged her knees even tighter.

As the wind blew warm salty air onto the shore, waves crashed more violently against the sand, the tide rolling in quickly.

“You’d hate my house then.” The boy joked with a chuckle. It sounded almost bitter. “Dark, quiet, scary.”

“Sounds haunted.” The girl looked back into the boys blue eyes.

“Maybe. But ghosts aren’t real.” The boy shut down the girls observation quickly, picking at the loose threads at the ends of his board shorts.

The girl hummed and silence fell over the two kids again. Messy blonde hair and two tangles braids with dead ends fraying in the wind. A faded pink shirt with cursive writing and a dusty white tank top. They were so young.

“Well, I think your house is haunted. Your dad is always mad, and that must be why.” She spoke up suddenly, kicking the sand and standing up.

“My dad isn’t afraid of any ghosts.” The boy stood up quickly, looking straight back at the girl. They were at the age where he could still stand eye level with her, but he figured in a few years he’d have a few inches on her.

“But he must be afraid of you.” The girl reasoned.

“My dad isn’t afraid of any seven year olds either.” The boy argued a little more firmly, feeling protective of his father, or his lack of, despite all the cruelty he was shown from such a young age.

“Well then, why does he hit you? He has to be afraid of something if he’s hitting you. My mom says it’s because I look so much like my dad. Like I could be the ghost of him and she hates it.”

The boy fell quiet, which was unusual. Everything about the way he acted around her was odd. He wasn’t a quiet boy, wasn’t one to just sit and talk, he’d rather pace around and pick at his nails.

“I didn’t think of it like that.” The boy said softly, looking down at his dusty boots. “Maybe I look like my mom…” He agreed, but he didn’t really know what his mom looked like.

“Well, I bet she was really pretty.” The girl said, her eyes shining despite her lack of a smile. Like she was calm on the inside despite the outer furrowing of her brows.

“You think?” The boy asked, raising a brow and his head.

“I know.”

She was looking right at him, his blonde hair and his blue eyes. His skin was tan, soft looking. He had sun kissed freckles on his nose and pink lips. Anyone that pretty had to have a pretty mom, she thought. But they would never know.

The boy blushed, and he held out his dusty hand until she took it in a loose handshake.

“JJ. JJ Maybank.” He smiled, looking back into her eyes. He was only seven, and he wasn’t like his friend Pope. He wasn’t the kid who read in his free time or who practiced spelling on his weekends. He was out between the sand and the weeds, picking at the dirt and getting his knees muddy. But even he could see the wild look she had, untamed but gentle.

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” She smiled in return. She had a sweet smile, JJ thought. He’d never thought that before, or if he had he hadn’t thought about him thinking that. She had a really sweet smile. She was sweet. Blush from the wind on her cheeks and coloring the tip of her nose. A missing front tooth, which, by the cut in her bottom lip right where it should have been, JJ figured she’d knocked it out herself.

“Y/l/n.” JJ hummed, putting it to memory.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Y/n hummed, her hair pulled back into two uneven braids, the part in the back a mess. JJ had done them for her today.

“Shoot away.” He replied calmly, smiling and tugging at the end of one braid, watching the girl’s head tilt closer, her feet crossing in an unbalanced step. She slapped his bicep weakly.

“JJ!” She laughed through her annoyance. She could never really be annoyed with him, she believed. She hoped JJ didn’t know it because Y/n figured if he did, he’d push through every fragment of tranquility they shared. He’d find a way to bring her right to the brink of frustration and then make her laugh it all off over and over again.

“What does JJ even stand for anyway.” Y/n huffed, crossing her arms over her chest, wrinkling her waffled shirt. “Probably something stupid.” She smirked, unraveling her hands to tuck them into the pockets of her hand-me-down overalls.

JJ punched her, his lips drawn in a thin line. Y/n rubbed her arm quickly to soothe the sting, her brows kissing at the center of her forehead. “Ow!” She yelped.

That was the thing with growing up, some get stronger, and others get left behind. Not to say Y/n was weak, the bruises on JJ’s arms from her little shoves and playful punches were proof enough, but they were nearly twelve now, and JJ figured he could probably bench her by this point.

“You started it!” He argued, though his palm still smoothed over where he hit her maybe just a but too hard. He’d check to make sure he didn’t leave a mark later.

“Did not!” They fought like children, and smiled freely like they did when they were seven, like they didn’t have all the reason to frown, to cry. To let genetics be hereditary and become the punishers. But instead they swung weakly at each other and laughed everything off until nothing really mattered anymore.

A silence fell between their giggles, a silence only broken my JJ’s pointer finger and thumb playing with the little tail tied off at the end of the braid.

“I don’t know. I never asked, I figured it was just my name. JJ.” He shrugged. “Simple. Like me.”

Y/n nearly snorted.

“You might be a simple boy, JJ, but you are not simple.” She smiled, eyes flickering down to her muddy shoes, bright red converse with holes in the sides so wide, ants found refuge in the warm shelter.

“John?” Y/n threw out an idea. JJ shook his head.

“Nah, we already got a John.” He pointed out, stuffing his own hands into his pockets.

“Well, your dad didn’t know that at the time.” She argued, and still, JJ couldn’t get on board.

“Okay.” Y/n thought, humming and biting her bottom lip, sucking it between her teeth, and swiping her tongue over the faded scar where, she had in fact, lost her front tooth all those years ago. An adult tooth had grown in since, but the scar, now pink instead of bloody, lingered like a faded memory.

“Jackson?” She looked at him, and for a moment, he thought about it. Then, he hummed, pulling his own lip between his teeth.

“Nope, too fancy. Maybe if I was Kook royalty.” He joked.

“So maybe one day?” Y/n teased back, wiggling her brows. JJ gave her an amused look as if to say, yeah right.

They went back to listing names, stumbling down the list until random names became those that started with a J. She tried out George with a J, followed by Jerry, and Jeremy. But all fell flat. It seemed to look as though the boys name was nothing more than two letters squished together.

Then, with a click of her tongue to the roof of her mouth, and a sparkle in her eye, she looked up at the blonde with wonder, the start of an idea.

“Jesse James.” She spoke matter-of-factly, her hands cupping her hips confidently.

“Who now?” He raised a brow.

“The outlaw?” She said in return, like it was common knowledge. Like her and Pope didn’t stick their noses deep into western books all summer much to JJ’s dismay. Not that he hadn’t know she was a bookworm, as if she hadn’t lugged around whatever second hand book she could snatch without the librarian noticing, but the summertime was time for the water, the waves, the tide. Not dusty pages written in small cursive letters with stupid plots less lively than any adventure JJ could drag her on.

And, no, he wasn’t jealous. That’s not why he went on a long list of reasons why he didn’t recognize the name, how it evolved into a complaint of her time spent glued to Pope instead of him, because JJ was surely not jealous.

“He was an outlaw back in the 1800’s. He robbed, killed, fought. Ran a gang with other outlaws.” She explained with a plain expression.

“Oh, so an asshole?” JJ shorted, and the sound made Y/n laugh.

“No. Well—yes, but that’s not why I think it’s so fitting. It’s adventurous, fun. Risky, you know?” She gushed over old literature, and god, if it had been Pope or anyone else, JJ swore he would’ve rung their neck by now, or at the very least ran as far away as possible. But Y/n explained it with a giggle, and JJ simply couldn’t resist listening to each word pouring from her mouth.

“Anyway, I think it’s fitting on a surface level.” She shrugged finally, and then, her eyes flickered over to his. “But I think I like plain old JJ the best.” She smiled sweetly, and then, she licked her chapped lips.

JJ figured if she liked it, he liked it too. He never really longed to know what his name stood for, if it meant anything, but her questions always raised his own. He thought a bit more as they walked between the broken branches and thick grass. He felt bugs on his shins and sweat beading down the back of his neck. He adjusted the old, beat up hat that flattened out his messy blonde hair against his forehead.

“Well, what about you?” JJ finally questioned, itching to hear her philosophies some more.

“What about me?” She continued walking, the sound of running water nearby tumbling down smooth rocks.

“Well, if I’m some outlaw, what does that make you? The damsel?” He smirked, and Y/n couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Could he really picture her in a corset? A layer over another until she was all fabric and barely any skin and bones. A big skirt hiding the frame of her hips and the sweet curls of her hair. She laughed at the image she painted for herself.

“If anything, you’d be the damsel.” She pointed her finger into his arm, looking up at the ground ahead now, and then let out a peaceful sigh.

“The accomplice.” She smiled, hooking her arm in mine. I let my hand slip out of my pocket so she could pull me closer. “But never the follower.” She raised her brows, a serious gleam in her lively eyes through her long lashes.

“Anyway, crime isn’t for me and it isn’t for you either, blondie. You’d end up in jail, and I’d have to bail you out. Hell, I’d probably be behind bars with you too.” She dreamed up the image, already seeing the way JJ would be leaned back, laughing at her stressed out expression. Cool and unbothered, the way he always seemed to be.

“And I don’t know about you, but I don’t just wanna be the kid from the cut who ended up as just another sheriffs little pet. I wanna be something. Someone.” She clenched her fist in determination.

“I wanna be that girl even in my eighties, dancing in the rain and running up and down the beach like my bones can’t flake away.” She smiled brightly. “And I want to scream, I want to yell! I’d scream ferociously, leaping between the waves like we do now, and I’d finally jump from the rocks, and I won’t be scared because I’ll have done it thousands of times.” She painted her future, her desire.

There was no money, no big house with a picket fence and an army of children. Just the ocean, some laughter, and enough fearless ambition to spill into the next lifetime.

“Sounds nice.” JJ agreed, but he didn’t have the same imagination as she did, he didn’t have it in him to dream a dream as pure and grand. So what, he wished for a little money, it didn’t make him any less noble. He didn’t need to live on figure eight, he just didn’t want to be stuck with three jobs until he turned to dirt.

“It will be. And you’ll know it because you’ll be there with me, and we’ll be the same pirates we are now. We’ll smoke on the roof and wear fancy clothing that we made ourselves. We’ll ride the waves and make lemonade and sweet tea like John B’s dad does. We’ll have mustaches from the sugar, and we’ll be young forever with the grass between our toes!”

She stopped, suddenly grabbing his shoulders at the opening of the thick greenery, the sandy beach an open land that laid out for miles around them. The waves hit the smooth rocks, the rougher ones that stood tall thrashing with the heavy water. Sea salt coated their glistening skin.

“We will be interesting forever.” She promised with a serious smile, like she knew there was no other fate for people like them. “And nobody will ever forget how we lived like real people should and how we never let the temptation of a corporate paycheck take away the big picture.”

Her hands wrinkled the shoulders of JJ’s old tank top, the sides cut so far down, it was nearly just a napkin with a hole for his head. Everything about their attire screamed kids from the cut, there was no fooling anyone, yet they carried themselves with pride, like the lack of civility in their lives was a thrill, the dirt and the worms and the bees and sweltering sunburns were all a gift to have been rubbed across them on their walks in the rain, in their summer time hikes to the secret beaches they weren’t supposed to venture on.

The Kooks had it good, an easy life, but Y/n declared that they were the only ones living.

“Well, we can start on that dream now.” JJ declared hopefully, looking out to where the waved lapped at the shore. His ringed fingers pointed out at the rigid rocks that overhung the deep waters.

“If we’ve got a thousand of leaps to take, you have to start with one.” He looked back at the girl, the way she nervously fidgeted before setting her hands stiffly by her sides.

“And then we won’t be scared.” She repeated to herself, but more to him.

“No, we won’t ever be scared again.” And there was a shared understanding, an understanding that dreams are just dreams until they make them more. If she could do this terrifying thing, all for the rest of her deepest wishes to come true, there was a new found certainty that anything scary could be done.

That she and JJ could do all the scary things the world could offer, even just as the awkward children they felt they had grown into. It was possible.

JJ sat in jail for the first time when he turned sixteen. He hated it. His head hung heavily in the palms of his hands, elbows pressed sharply against his thighs, eyes focused on the dirty floor between his old boots.

It wasn’t his fault—not fully at least. Yes, he agreed he had instigated Popes anger, but to JJ he saw everything they had done as self defense. Pope was a good kid, a smart kid, second in the class—no. First. He was first now. She was first, but now she wasn’t. Funny how things can change so quickly, rearrange to make it seem like nothing changed at all.

The point was, Pope had a future, and JJ sure as hell didn’t. Any dreams he had were replaced when she had shared hers, because he decided then that he wanted those things too. But that hope had long vanished, and now Pope had a real chance to chase his dreams, so JJ took the fall. He sunk to a new low just like the boat, sitting alone in the cell she had once warned him about. Only now, she wasn’t there to share it with him.

He thought about that day a lot. Just a year after they’d taken the leap, started the path to their future filled with laughter and whispered secrets, meticulously planned schemes and toothy grins. JJ woke up early, ready to sneak around the back of her house that sat beside John B’s and knock three times on her window. He’d beg her to go sneak away and let loose with him, and of course, she’d agree.

He biked the short distance, ignoring the storm clouds, ignoring all the signs that led straight to the forming pit in his stomach. The worry, the dread. He hadn’t felt it yet. He only felt the dust clouds kicked up by his feet and the rust scratching his shins from his old bike chain.

The police lined her driveway. Sheriff Peterkin stood with her hands in the loops of her belt. Men stood with their weapons drawn, her mother sat on the gravel, handcuffs binding her violent hands. She looked angry, but her eyes were dark with the evidence of liquor. She looked well-rounded from a far, but JJ knew the truth, and the dirt under her nails made his stomach flip.

In the line up of tin and metal, a van with a label he’d known so well from watching his old classmates getting whisked away. Child Protective Services.

“Y/n!” He’d nearly fallen to the ground at how fast he jumped from his bike, the petals grinding against the gravel. He ran the rest of the way, desperate to know what had happened. He had seen her yesterday, she was happy yesterday, what happened? Why were the authorities at her front door?

“Y/n/n! Where are you?” He reached the back window, only to find the emptiness of the bedroom through the cracks in the glass. It was messy, but untouched at the same time. Every single item thrown around left where it had been yesterday. Her pajamas she had laid out, still thrown over her flattened pillows. Untouched.

He hadn’t seen her leave, didn’t hear her cry. The van was empty, he’d caught a glimpse through the tinted windows. They hadn’t snatched her away yet, so where could she have gone?

“Come on!” He grunted, his palms pressing underneath the stubborn window, the wood groaning as the glass slide against itself. His thirteen year old arms bent under the weight, and he cursed his scrawny limbs. The glass only cracked more as it finally shot up enough for the blonde to wiggle himself into the room, soft thuds and gasps escaping his lips as skin pressed between wood and plastic.

“Y/n!” He pleaded more softly, weary of the fact that he was sure the entirety of the Kildare Police Department was lined up outside, and the breathlessness that came with the pressure on his lungs.

He earned no response, and in a desperate effort to trace some clues back to her, he began further ripping the room apart, spinning in circles for some sort of clue, evidence she still existed, that she wasn’t just some name in the wind, another urban legend spread around Kildare for the tourists to gawk at. Underneath her bed, behind the small table she’d made herself with rotting wood and hot glue, in the piles of clothes thrown around. He spun around and bent over until everything ached and he grew dizzy.

His eyes found the crooked clothing rack, a cheep bar of metal she had found with him in a ditch beside an old thrift store. She had painted it teal in the fifth grade and carved her initials into the posts. Her favorite pair of overalls hung limply from where they were draped over the bar, swaying in the wind with a crinkling sound in the front pocket laid flat out in the center of the chest, still covered in mud from their last adventure.

He investigated curiously, and in his best attempt to slow down in his desperate hurry, he pulled out a small slip of paper with his name scribbled on the front.

“Jesse James.” It read just beneath his real name, though it seemed now that she had become the true outlaw.

He opened it with shaking hands, his brows furrowing. When he saw the familiar scratchy handwriting, he internally let out a sigh of relief. Thankfully, this wasn’t another one of her failed cursive lessons he always failed.

“JJ,” The note began, “The rich are the bane of my existence. I hope one day, when we are older, we are rich in all aspects of life but the literal sense. Maybe it’s just Kildare, but the more money that lines their pockets, the more cruel people seem to get. But we will be kind forever, and we will continue to swing from tree branches and work long and hard for the simple pleasures. I’ve been ratted out; or—my mom has. Ward Cameron passed by earlier to return a shirt I left at their house at the end of the year party. It was one of her bad nights, you know how she gets. Anyways, he must have heard her, seen it. I didn’t even get the chance to wipe my blood off of the window before the cops started pulling into the driveway. I’m running. I’m running far away into the trees where nobody without a heart will be able to trace me. I promise to come back. After all, what is an accomplice without her influence? But I cannot keep our dream safe in a faraway place where they want to take me. If you need me, picture me in the weeds and you’ll hear me in the folk songs at the Chateau. Until we dance again, Y/n/n.”

JJ stood there in the silence, the banging from outside the house leaking indoors, and soon, he had no choice but to slip out of the familiar sanctuary that was her bedroom, the paper hidden in his blistering palms, damp with the sweat the coated his now clammy skin.

They were thirteen then, freshly graduated from middle school and ready to take on high school. She had been leading the class in all ways, kindness, brains, bravery, and now, there was nothing left but the crumpled note JJ had thrown in the fire out of bitterness towards the Kooks and whispers about the girl who disappeared.

To Narnia, they said. The ball of sunshine and endless life had slipped away to a place where only the creative are let in. She would be a pirate there, she wouldn’t have to hide in the closet on beneath the sheets in fear. She was as free as the August breeze, and JJ was as lost as a drunken sailor.

JJ decided he didn’t want to be an outlaw anymore after his first time behind bars. It wasn’t as fun as she had pictured it. Maybe if the trouble was something interesting, a scheme they could have conjured up together, but it wasn’t a sadder reality. Pirates weren’t on peg legs with eye patches and parrots anymore, and the good and interesting were more boring as they tried to come up with philosophies that could never measure up to the youthful spirit she once had.

He wished for all the beautiful things he once had, and often he found himself wondering if they even still existed. His friends were his life, his soul. But he could still see her braids in woven patterns, hear her feet hitting the concrete and whipping in the tall grass in the breeze, and her laughter in those old cheesy folk songs John B’s dad used to play.

JJ found bliss in recklessness. Partially for himself, but also for her. He always believed in the idea that no matter how far he strayed away, pieces of him would always reflect his father whether he liked it or not. So, when presented with the possibility of a gold hunt that led him right into his jail cell, he took the chance, gambling away his safety for the thrill of the chase.

They had gotten so close too, the heavy metal sitting pretty and shiny in his hand. But he never won, no matter how hard he tried or how much he gambled and chanced and risked, he always came up short, the small half of a wishbone, the edge of the party crackers. He felt like an outlaw now, and it wasn’t nearly as fun as it should have been.

How they all ended up on some boat, JJ had no clue. Well, he had some hints, another forbidden treasure stolen just when he thought they finally won, and now, nothing but heavy breathing in a heated storage container that had no food, no water, nothing but pointless rope and endless trash.

The B team, is what he referred to himself as, which Kiara had taken offense to. Sure, it was low of him to refer to her like she was a worse option, but the blonde was itching for some action.

But he was benched. Benched because he was everything she loved. Reckless, unpredictable, free. He protected that sweet sliver of childhood beauty he found when he thought of her memory. Her sweet eyes, her sweet smile. He had never thought about anyone like that before, and not ever since. He hated braids, hated the way they reminded him of her, how Sarah and Kiara would slap his hands away and grumble about how childish he could be. She wouldn’t have gotten angry, she would have laughed. Or maybe she wouldn’t, he didn’t really know anymore and that killed him.

It killed him that he couldn’t know because he didn’t even know if she made it, if the trees were kind to her or if she had swung herself over the edge on a vine stretched too thin.

She would be eighteen now, just like him, though he was a little older. He wondered if she still wore the two loose braids down over her shoulders, taming her wild hair and tucking her curly strands behind her ears. Did she still swear by overalls? Dare to run barefoot over the hard cement and dive head first into thrashing water? Were there still beautiful things to her, or had life finally caught up to her?

JJ didn’t know her face, and he was sure if it weren’t for the hours he spent trying to find her, trying to trace her cheeks even in photographs, he wouldn’t recall it at all. She was five years older, and so was he. He wasn’t scrawny, he’d swore to get strong so that the day she would finally return, he could slam the windows open and keep her tucked safely behind him.

“What are you thinking about?” Kiara spoke up, legs swinging softly from where she sat on top of piles of plastic and wooden crates. JJ sat curled up in the corner, his elbows resting heavily on his knees. He’d never been so sweaty.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged plainly, focusing on the small circles on the floor made of rubber. They weren’t very comfortable.

“You gonna tell me, or should I guess?” She smiled, tucking her hair behind her ears. He saw a flash of someone he once knew sometimes in her. Sometimes it was nice, other times it made him angry. It wasn’t Kiara’s fault though, not her fault she had spent so much time around the lively firecracker of a girl that she had also become another version of Y/n.

“I know I said a surf trip would be good. I mean it would, but do you ever think about what you might do with all that money?” JJ furrowed his brows, licking over his lip, the split in the corner of the bottom lip stinging at the sensation.

Kiara hummed, leaning back and stretching her neck to catch the passing breeze through the small opening in the top corner of the metal container covered by a vent.

“I mean, yeah. A stable home life would be nice. Then, I’d probably do something with turtles. It’s a lot of money so, could probably do a lot with it.” She reasoned, wiping her skin with her palms and blinking the salty liquid away from her eyes.

JJ hummed. She had it all figured out, her real, serious dream that had stability and certainty. All the things Y/n’s dream never had, the very dreams she made JJ want just as bad.

“You know what Y/n would do with all this money?” JJ snorted at his own thoughts, practically hearing her voice ringing through his head. He heard Kiara hum, waiting for him to continue, and he simply smiled wider. “Absolutely nothing.” He laughed to himself.

Kiara laughed too, knowing deep down he was right. Maybe a tree house, or a small plot of land on the outskirts of society where all good things green can grow and only the wild folk dare to stumble, but nothing more than that. A few thousand, if it even were to cost that much, and the rest pocketed, maybe donated. Maybe just enough left over to buy some new shoes, some good shoes for dancing.

“A lifetime supply of overalls and red converse. Maybe even some nicer scarves to tie in her hair.” Kiara entertained JJ’s thoughts. She still thought of the girl every so often too, they all did, but no one more than JJ. After all, nobody had known her nearly as closely as JJ had. A bond that only comes once every few lifetimes, that’s what they had, Kiara was sure.

“She’s probably outgrown the overalls.” JJ added, and silence fell over them. Then, in the still air that coated the small space in a thick layer, laughter bounced between the pair.

Such a funny thought, to think Y/n could ever change. She had been a lot of things, but she was always herself. She found what she loved, and she loved them dearly. There was no changing her free spirit and old habits, it was who she had grown to be, through and through.

“What do you think she looks like now?” Kiara wondered out loud, looking down at JJ to see the way his brows furrowed and he pulled at the corners of his lips.

JJ thought for some time, because though at first he had tried to piece together and image of Y/n all grown up in his head, he’d long given up on those fantasies because they were never her. Only bits and pieces of the girl he could never forget.

“Bangs.” JJ said suddenly, followed by nothing else. He could picture them, hair sun kissed and twisting up in wild curls that were swept to the side. Not full, choppy bangs, but those cut with rusty scissors in the early morning, just framing bits to tug out when she put her hair up.

“Bangs?” Kiara chuckled, her hands subconsciously slipping over her stomach, and her arms tucking into a firm grasp, a hug she was giving herself. “Nothing else?” She smiled, curious because she had thought about it a lot.

Her hair would no longer be in braids, and those sun kiss freckles would have multiplied like the sparkles in her eyes did. She would have an eyebrow slit, or a piercing, maybe even a stick and poke, all of which she would have done herself to make herself stand out. Maybe she would have finally grown out of her nail biting, but Kiara doubted that part.

“Nope.” JJ said wetly, leaning back further and letting out a deep sigh. “Just like she was, only taller and older.”

Part of JJ wondered if it was his heart forcing him to believe Y/n would never change, and then the other part of his would remind his aching heart that it didn’t matter, because he would never know. All he could do was do as she asked so nicely before she left, picture her in the trees, jumping wildly from stone to stone and dancing in the breeze.

“Do you think she made it?” Kiara wondered out loud, her temple now pressed against the metal confines of the container. The breeze soothed her burning skin, and her sweaty palms threaded through her tight waves.

“Y/n?” JJ asked like it was even a question. It wasn’t even a question to him, wasn’t even an occurring thought, not after the first time he really sat down and thought it over.

“She made it.” He said confidently, because he knew the girl, and even if she had lived in the mud amongst the bugs and the thick vines that attempted to grow over her tired body in the night, she would do it happily because she was living.

“Without a doubt?” Kiara shut her tired eyes, her chest deflating with every labored breath. Sweat glistened as it rolled down the slope of her nose, sparkling on the slivers of sunlight.

“Without a doubt.”

When she said she wanted to be a pirate, she had envisioned a life close to home, lounging around on John B’s old boat with her best friends, drinking from coconuts and ripping the skin off of mangoes with her teeth until the juice stained everything she touched. She imagined a life of pure peace, where the little things were enough and money was an afterthought.

But here she was, skin slick with sweat, hair stuck down to her forehead in damp curls, and her shirt clinging to the denim that covered her. The deck was cooler, a free space for her to stretch her eager legs, and though it was confined, she found peace in the open ocean, a vast space of blue expanding as far as her eyes could see.

Now, her back ached, her wrists just as damp as her face, and with each swipe of the backs of her hands against her temples, she simply spread the wetness across her forehead in a streaking mess.

She fed the flames, shoveling coal and other waste into the small opening, trying to fuel the large ship with what little energy she had left to offer.

Her back ached, and her knees were sore. She loved a challenge, yearned for the work because at least it gave her something to do, something to stick her needy palms into, but she was too worn thin to carry multiple jobs all at once. She desperately waited for the girl she had come to call her close friend to return, shovel in hand and thick gloves covering her relatively well-manicured hands. Cleo, she learned to call the girl over her few months spent on board, had abandoned ship, split when she needed her most. Nobody had said anything about her absence, so Y/n was led to believe she had left without warning.

It was hell below deck, a new low, and Y/n knew low. She could list a few things just from the past couple days if she wanted to scrape the surface, but most memories came from her earlier years, when college still seemed so far away, and she swore she would never grow old. She missed when her joints didn’t ache with even the smallest movements. She missed jumping from branch to branch and swinging herself into the depths of the ocean with reckless abandon.

More than that she missed him. Her best friend, and the only person who had ever believed her when she swore to live out her most childish fantasies. Anyone else always looked at her like she had dreamed of being a fairy, a mermaid, a princess. All things unrealistic and unreachable in her living situation and the rules of the world, yet JJ had always seen it as completely plausible.

If she said she wanted to jump to conquer a fear, there he was tugging her along and laughing the whole way down. If she wanted to dance, he would learn the steps, and fall into line with her, spinning and dipping her in the wet pavement that scraped against their bare feet.

So, as she shouted for some sort of assistance in the basement, she couldn’t help but wonder if she should have let them take her away that day. If she hadn’t been so set on remaining untouched, unfiltered, wild and free, if she had let the warmth of a calm, civilized home find her, would things have ended differently? Was it her mistake for chasing after a feeling of childish wonder that had been stripped of her? Was it wrong to want something so badly simply because her own life had been too hard to ever enjoy at a normal pace?

She hadn’t seen the thick greenery in years, the daffodils snd the daisies only vibrant sights when their stems were sliced and their leafs were wilting. She missed the mud between her toes, the summer air lifting her up. When she wore braids not because they kept her thick hair off of her neck, but because she liked the way they looked. When her overalls were a fashion statement, not because they shielded her from the dangers of her work. She missed the bright red fabric on her converse, and the old doodles from her friends on the soles when they got bored. They were caked in oil, and grime, and sludge. Dimmed by the struggles of her reality. She wondered internally if there were still beautiful things.

Then, like her prayer had been caught in the wind by her savior, there was some scrambling that echoed across the floorboards, followed by distant shouting and metal hitting metal.

Mumbling and chaos shook the frame where she stood, distant cries and grunts as bodies slammed together leaving her torn in a moment of desperation. Her heart ached to go, to run and finally catch her breath, to see what disaster had swept over the ship in such a short moment of time, but her brain thought logically, told her to feed the flames to keep everyone afloat. It was a split second decision, the divide between rational and reasonable.

And then she thought about all the good in the past few days. She thought of the glimpses of the world she’d stolen between the bustling mornings and the restless nights, of the small treats she stuffed in her pockets and the beautiful sunsets and clear constellations in the center of a world untouched by light pollution. She thought of Cleo, her only friend she’d found in a life where she only knew abandonment and fear. Where the only affection she had ever accepted had hurt her, and the only good and gentle people in her life had fled, Cleo had appeared like an angel, a thick accent and a toothy grin. Born and raised as a thief, and trained as a fighter. She was smart, and kind beneath her rough edges, and Y/n thought of the sadness in her eyes each time she worked until her bones stung. She thought of how badly she wanted to dive into the waves below them and pull the girl with her to show her how freeing running can be.

Faced with fear, she could not save either of them if she waited for another miracle, another moment to excuse her actions, to make her breaking loose seem justified if it were to all go wrong. If they’d have her head for betrayal, the ocean waited for her on all ends, and she believed in her ability to survive confidently enough to take the risk presented to her.

She took the stairs two at a time, and the door to the outside air swung open with such force, it echoed like a gunshot when metal connected with metal, bolts grinding together angrily, her soot covered hands staining the rusting exterior, the cheap white paint flaking off where her hand had pressed firmly against the door.

“Cleo!” She shouted in the wind, her arms covered in goosebumps as the slick sweat became a layer of gel that turned her warmth into an uncomfortable chill.

She looked frantically, turning corners and sprinting over ramps and down steep stairwells. She hopped over ropes and swung from bars, her dirty sneakers slapping against the floors in heavy steps, and her breathing coming out in short pants through her nose.

“John B!” A quiet shout rattled down the thin hall that lined the perimeter of the deck, bouncing off of the thick walls and hollow railings. It was a name she hadn’t heard in a while. For a moment, she thought she had imagined it, that in her moment of desperation to grasp onto the bits and pieces of bliss in her hellish life, her mind had reeled and found a temporary way to cope. But then it came again.

“Where is he? John B!” The voice called out again, whiny and pleading, and much too loud on a ship crawling with people who were indescribably more dangerous and destructive than the cruel people who lingered in her hometown.

Then came the struggle, more grunting, and the sound of shoes scraping against the floor in a slippery mess. She could hear faint taunts, familiar names of people she longed to see again ever since the day she had left, and the sounds of exasperation over the loud lapping of waves against the side of the ship.

“Kie, now!” She heard suddenly, a deafening shout that silenced all other chaos around her, her breathing slowing in her ears and her heartbeat pounding against her temples.

It was as if time slowed, and all things far away rushed at her in a blink of her eyes. It was slow, yet so fast, her vision blurring into a jumbled mess to the rhythm of her unsteady heartbeat drumming against her ribs, begging to get out.

It was a voice she prayed to hear again, only deeper and raspier, but still the same. A voice that called to her in her darkest moments and pulled her from her slumps, reminded her of all the beauty of instability, of pure trust in luck and intuition. A voice that she had grown to love and hold dear to her, one so precious she found herself covering her ears so that she would never forget the sweet sound of it.

“JJ?” She pivoted quickly, her hip slamming harshly into the metal railing and her shoulder making contact with the opposing wall as she used the accidental thrashing as momentum down the long, swaying strip of flooring she ran on.

She felt crazy, delusional chasing after a sound she wasn’t even entirely sure was real. She had been dehydrated, overworked, underpaid, forgotten about and thrown to the side amongst all the other treasures that laid untouched beneath the deck. She used to scream ferociously anytime she wanted, and now it felt more like her life had become an exhibit at the zoo, a cage for her bosses to look down on, tossing fish to keep her from starving. What had happened to her freedom, her love for recklessness? She decided to hold onto her delusion, to chase it because to be wrong was better than to be certain in her correctness and abandon her love for the chase.

“JJ? JJ!” She shouted, her voice coming out in broken cries, knuckles whitening with how hard they gripped anything with a corner or a curve. Anything that could keep her afloat as she dove into waters so deep, she couldn’t touch anymore.

“Cleo!” Her cries echoed through the tense air, carrying over the grunts and slamming and shouting that passed through coworkers, some she knew, and others she didn’t. If she couldn’t be given the life long dream to reunite with her drive, her motivation to keep going, she prayed to whoever was listening to her that at least her friend would be waiting for her at the end of the hall.

The boat rocked with a shift of weight, a crane groaning under the intense pressure of something indestructible, and in the glistening sunlight, Y/n caught sight of something truly magnificent. A golden cross shining in the halo of sunlight that surrounded it in all of its glory, a true treasure that had been, unbeknownst to her, been stuffed away just mere feet away from where she had been working until not a single inch of her body didn’t know pain.

She stumbled back at the sight, the jewels imbedded into the holy fortune sparkling with a beauty Y/n had never seen in person. It took her back to her days at Sunday school sat right beside JJ. Her mother wasn’t a religious woman, but JJ’s father was, and so with an excuse to be cut loose from the torture of her house—because she refused to call it a home; she too began to believe in something greater than what she was supposed to believe in.

For the first time in her life, her neck craned up to look at the artifact which swung ferociously in the wind, the groaning crane whipping it around erratically, Y/n closed her eyes, and she prayed.

She didn’t ache for the chase, for uncertainty in this moment. She was unchanging in all her beliefs, but for one singular second, she prayed and pleaded that for once, there would be certainty in who she would stumble across.

Then, with a sudden feeling of calamity in the midst of reigning chaos burning over the life she had grown accustomed to, Y/n rounded the corner, stepping down the last bit of the hall into the thicker opening of the side of the deck, lined with a few stray crates to block off broken pieces of the rusted railings.

And there it was, the sudden loss for breath, the heavy feeling that weighed down everything she could once do without even thinking. Her feet refused to move, and her nails dug into the ragged shorts of her overalls. The wind blew her curly, sweaty bangs across her face, tickling her nose. Her entire world shattered and then became rebuilt at the relieving sight.

It was a man she did not know, someone who had joined the expedition under the employment of someone Y/n wasn’t allowed to know. A man who simply worked for another man much wealthier than she was, erratically swinging his curved machete around in an act of violence against two people she recognized clear as day as if time had never passed them by.

Kiara sat bent over, the wind knocked out of her as her cheeks puffed up to try and keep what little air she had left inside of her. Her hair hung over her bright eyes, her pink lips bitten raw, Y/n could make out that detail even from a distance. But there, just s few feet away, stood JJ backed up against the railing, leaning dangerously close to the edge, his hair wild and untamed like the rest of his appearance.

He wasn’t the boy Y/n had left behind. He wasn’t the scrawny tow headed blonde who liked to tease and run, but rather a more muscular blonde with a fire in his eyes, passion that couldn’t be manufactured, but found through growing up. He was just as beautiful as she remembered, just as dear, just as lovable. Even without a single bit of insight on what he had been up to, how he could have changed, Y/n’s feelings for her best friend had been long cemented within her heart. She loved him like no other, to the moon and to Saturn.

She was only broken out of her lovesick visions by the sight of the unfamiliar man growing closer to her friends, his grip tightening around his weapon like a threat, and Y/n feared the worst.

“JJ!” Y/n found her tongue, which had previously gone numb at the sight in front of her. She had shouted out for the boy to warn him, to try and get him to recognize the mans posture, how he stalked over Kiara like a looming threat, but she was foolish to believe that the sight of her, even so many years later when she was sure he would have learned to forget her, wouldn’t stop him in his tracks.

His blue eyes found hers, and she could see how his body seemed to tense, and then very quickly, slump in shock. His jaw fell slack, eyes widening and brows furrowing, almost as if he was in pain, in some sort of conflict. To run into her arms, or to focus on why her shouting was so desperate, so raw and broken.

He wanted to speak, to beg her to tell him if this was all real, or if the heat from the container had caused some sort of heat stroke and he was hallucinating her up to comfort him in a time of crisis. But his breath refused to come out, and in a blur, the blunt end of a blade struck his head, and his feet swept over the edge of the boat, plummeting him into the depths of the sea below.

In that moment, Y/n realized three things. One; she had spent so much of her life dreaming, she had left so little time to go and live those dreams. Two; in every single thing she had ever wanted so badly it had become a part of her dreams, JJ had always been there right alongside her. In most, he even led her confidently, and three; that very same boy she had been dreaming of for endless nights, until her entire youth was filled with only dreams of him, had just gone overboard, and now, so was she.

Her dirty shoes scraped the edge of the railing. Part of her felt like spreading her arms out wide to welcome the wind, but as her wide eyes flickered from the golden hues of the sky to the deep blue that seemed miles away, fear struck her body.

It was a long drop. Much farther down than the rocks she had learned to leap from effortlessly, hand in and with her best friend to guide her. Water thrashed below her then, and it did so now too.

He floated below her, face down and limp and she felt her blood pumping. Back then, he had held her hand firmly and whispered out promises into her ear with each doubt she had. Back then, she believed every word he said when he promised there wasn’t a single possibility she would get hurt because he was right there. And when she leaped with him, he had been right.

“Wasn’t it fun?” He had laughed back then, so excited to have been right. Her face was unreadable, her lip trembling and eyes wide. For a moment, he had panicked, even at twelve years old he understood what it felt like to want to keep something so special safe. He held her face, cradled it in his wet palms until her cheeks lifted into a smile.

“Can we go again?” She had giggled, feeling a familiar warmth in the pit of her stomach spreading.

“Yeah. Yes!” He encouraged, proud of her bravery and her ability to find pleasure in things that once scared her.

He was always more brave than her in her eyes. She imagined if it were her down there, he would have already jumped in no hesitation.

Y/n looked down again, and then back at Kiara, who was back up on her feet, limbs tangled with the man she still didn’t know the name of. She was struggling to a degree, but quickly got some ground to push off of.

“Y/n!” Kiara called out from over the mans broad shoulder, eyes frantic and her skin dusty from the mans shirt and the wooden deck.

She could see her internal debate, both people who were so special to her put in situations where they were nearly helpless. To leave JJ meant he would be on his own, but to leave Kiara opened up so many more possibilities.

“Go! I’m okay!” Kiara promised as he pushed the man away, getting some leverage, and at the desperation in her voice, something inside clicked within Y/n.

The bottom of her worn out shoes scraped against the old metal, and for a moment the wind felt freeing as she leaped out, the warmth from the sun made it feel like flying, like by some miracle she could never fall. But the cool water below crushed her imagination as it wrapped around her body like a cold blanket.

When she surfaced, the world around her spun, echoes of her old pleas to go again ringing through her ears as her limbs cut through the waves desperately, goosebumps pebbling down her arms almost instantly.

“JJ!” She shouted, her voice raw and ripped from all the desperation she felt, how vulnerable and helpless she felt.

He laid on his stomach, submerged with no air like a starfish, only bobbing with the current. He seemed completely washed of all life.

She felt weak splashing over to him. She kicked and cut through the waves like she needed it to survive, and yet her malnourished bones only let her go so far so fast. It felt taunting to her, having to watch him get closer at a snails pace.

Y/n’s arms wrapped around him feebly, his larger body resting heavily on her shoulder. He was broader now, no longer the small boy she had to leave behind. If only he knew how quickly her dreams were crushed in order to survive, if only she’d been more careful, if she hadn’t left her shirt. If only she’d didn’t look like her father, if only her mother was a good woman.

“JJ hey, I’m back, wake up okay?” She smiled weakly, like her presence could shake him. He swallowed so much water, she knew it. If only she wasn’t so scared. If only she hadn’t been stripped of all the bravery she had learned from him.

The boy’s head rolled to the side with each tap of her wrinkled fingers, the cold biting their limbs with each lap of the waves crashing into them.

“JJ, come on wake up please!” She grew frantic as the water seemed to only grow rougher, a vision of the thrashing water between the jagged rocks clouding her reality and his weight sinking them down below the surface.

“JJ!” She cried out, her voice ripping through the heavy pants and her nails digging into his body. Blood stained his hairline, his blonde hair now darkened from the water and strawberry at the roots from his wound.

She knew it better than she ever had. He had grown stronger while she had been whittled down into only a shell of who she had once been. He was taller, faster, braver than she ever was, and as hard as she kicked her legs and splashed around, it felt like more and more waves seemed to pull them under momentarily.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She apologized towards the sky, guilty for not being able to keep them afloat in the choppy waters. “I’m sorry, I love you.” She promised, and she held onto him tighter with each passing second, even as her vision started to blur.

After all, he always loved the company and she was afraid of loneliness and the dark.

“I love you, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m trying J, I really am!” She promised through gasps of air, water falling from her lips more rapidly now.

“John B!” She screamed, her voice piercing through the empty space. “Pope!” She called out again, hoping that just one of her friends might hear her. Would they recognize her voice, she wondered, or had growing up changed everything about her? Had she become unrecognizable?

She surely didn’t recognize herself anymore. She avoided mirrors, and parties, and small talk often. She hated the sound of her voice and how it had changed and how she’d grown taller and how her freckles seemed to dot her face more messily. How she had to live with the changes that would make her harder to recognize if she would ever get to meet her friends again.

“JJ, please wake up.” She pleaded again, all other sounds beyond her heavy breathing and the faint ringing in her ears falling deaf.

She recalled the last time she heard him laugh. She heard it in her sleep, covered her ears to drown out anyone else’s late at night to savor the sound. She recalled running her fingers through his hair under the stars, promising him one day everything would be okay. It would be okay, right? One day it would be okay?

“Kiara!” Her throat felt raw now, the salt water tearing apart her dry lips and stinging the scrapes on her palms and knees. Everything hurt, the more and more she begged and cried for help, the longer time seemed to stretch. The heavier he grew in her arms.

There was nothing she could do to change what was happening to them, no plywood or branch to grab onto, no ladder or savior to come and save them. Her heart felt empty, her chest closing in. If she had a mirror, she would’ve seen the loss of color fading from her skin. She missed the certainty she once hated. She missed everything about knowing what tomorrow brought, when she knew JJ would still be tapping at her window, when he wasn’t lying limp in her arms.

She hated it and cried about it, though it was pointless. She cried out for help but her voice was muted with bubbling water, her head bobbing below the surface. For a moment, her vision cleared as the waves dipped, and she swore she saw the outline of a figure in the distance, but she couldn’t be sure. The waters rose just as quickly as they fell, and with a deadly grip, her arms wrapped around JJ to ensure not even the strongest currents could pull them apart as her body gave out. And in a sudden moment of weakness and a final soft apology and a kiss to the blondes cheek, the feeling of sinking was a gift.

Then, the tugging. It was desperate, nails drawing blood by her neck, three or four pairs of hands pressing their palms deep into her raw skin, fingers all wrapping around her before the depths could take her. She felt the rough material before she saw it, the dark grey fabric lining the outside of the small boat, a large motor in the back and each empty space filled with a familiar face, all of their legs bent upwards in an impossibly uncomfortable position to save space.

Her breaths came out ragged, heavy dry heaves leaving drops of water heavy with saliva stringing from her mouth. Blood trickled down the bridge of her nose, a new, burning scratch earned in the messy tug-o-war to save her from sinking.

Y/n swore she felt her heart stop with each cough, eyes squeezed shut and her back hunched over in pain. Her palms pressed into the bottom of the boat until her body found the floor, and her knees slide beneath her.

Still, she recognized two things; one, the air sent pins and needles down every bump that had spread over her skin, her joints screaming with each small bend; and two, JJ was laying lifeless just a few inches away.

His head was propped up against the side of the boat, the fabric wrapped around what Y/n assumed was an inflated portion of the body. His face was tiled away from her, having lolled to the side as the boy Y/n recognized as John B through her blurry vision frantically steered the boat.

The blood had stopped trickling down JJ’s forehead, but the sight of his breathing so shallow and uneven, as if he was fighting each time to get another chance to breathe, sent an uneasy feeling through Y/n’s body, and panic shot straight into her brain.

“JJ!” Her voice came out rough, stripped from all her panic alongside the copious amounts of water that nearly filled her lungs. But despite her obvious aching and tender pain, her hands grasped the boy with a new found determination, her knuckles shaking with the intensity of her grip on his skin.

JJ’s head rested against the boat, but his back no longer pressed at an awkward angle between the elevated sides and the hollow floors, but rather laid tucked against Y/n’s lap, her left hand pulling him close, even as her arm shook with his weight mixed with her weakness all while her right ran affectionately through his wet hair, trying to rouse him from his unconscious state.

“No, no, no, no. Please, please I just got you back please.” She begged, her trembling hand connected against his cheek in quick, soft taps.

Her eyes filled with tears immediately at the horrific sight, her lip trembling all the way down through her chin. She breathed deeply, but choked it all the way down. She could barely swallow, her saliva and her pride stuck between her teeth. Guilt consumed her.

“JJ!” She shouted, nearly demanding that he wake up like a distraught child. Her voice was laced with a whiny tone, each plea falling from her mouth more broken than the previous.

Y/n’s hands connected with JJ’s chest, no longer providing that warm comfort that her delicate palms had as her fingers ran through his hair and cradled his wet face, but rather quick jabs at his firm body, just below his heart.

Her curtain-like bangs hung in curls over her face, dripping onto JJ’s chin and neck and reflecting small images of the girls distraught expression. With each shake, another droplet rolled off of his skin, and with each push she felt his back dig into her knee.

Y/n felt hands on her back, soft, smaller hands gently pressed against her shoulder blades, right between the crevice between the bones. The fingers were adorned with rings, the delicate hands rubbing soothing circles as her back shook with suppressed sobs.

“It’s all my fault.” Y/n’s voice broke, her lips trembling and her words nothing more than a shattered whisper. She stopped hitting the blonde boy, and instead covered her mouth to contain her cries of guilt, and grief. “If I had been braver I could have gotten to him sooner.” She tried to reason, needing something to blame to give her some form of organization, even if the blame was inflicted onto herself.

“Y/n.” The girl who kneeled closely murmured, her hand a point of stability as Y/n watched the sky fall. “It’s not your fault.” She tried to provide comfort, but her attempts fell short.

“But it is!” Y/n nearly snapped, but not out of anger, of something else.

Everyone was looking at her, she had caught it the second they had pulled her from the sea. She was a spectacle, a great vision of the past, a figure that had slipped from the lives they had grown attached to long ago. Someone they had all missed and grieved in their own time. And so they stared at her and drank up the changes they had missed.

She was pretty. Y/n was always pretty, but now she was especially pretty. She grown up to be taller than she was when she left, her hair curls twisting all the way down her back, the short hair now a distant memory, and her body curving in ways that gave proof of her aging. She was the more mature version of the firecracker that had been shot too close to the sun too soon. Their light that had burnt out prematurely.

And so they all looked at her, ogling like she was something out of a fantasy film instead of looking at him.

“No, no, no! You don’t get it!” She threw her arm up in frustration, tilting her head back to force the building bile in the back of her mouth to go down. Why couldn’t it just all go down? Push it down, that’s what she needed to do. Push it down. Forget it, and push it down. “I’ve ruined everything. A-and I’m no good and I’ve fucked it all up!” Y/n sobbed, her head hanging forward now, shoulder slumped and her hands now gripping the wet shirt that clung to JJ’s body so tightly, her knuckles turned white.

“I should’ve jumped, I should’ve jumped in but I was too scared and he was there, he was there and if he hadn’t and it had been me he would’ve. He would’ve jumped in because he’s not afraid of anything. He would’ve have held my hand and he would have told me it would all be okay because he’s braver than me and he’s a whole lot better than me.” She rambled, and the wording of her breathless explanation made little sense to those who crowded around her, those who hadn’t experienced the moments Y/n and JJ were free of civility.

“Y/n.” Pope, the smartest of them all, spoke up, his voice emerging from behind a blonde girl she recognized as Sarah Cameron even all these years later and the familiar, yet somehow, not comforting face of her newer companion, Cleo.

Y/n didn’t listen, she refused to, too overpowered by her self blame, pointing her fingers at herself before anyone else got the chance. Why wasn’t anyone else freaking out? Did the loss of their friend not rip them completely open like it had her? Or had her best friend she had kept as a fond memory, completely kind and loving grown bitter and cold over the years? Was he not the JJ she knew?

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” Her eye contact was fleeting, and in a final attempt to cling onto what she could before all was lost, her head fell to JJ’s chest, her forehead pressed against his shirt, listening to the fading beating of his heart.

Then, a cough, then another and another until a loud heave tore open JJ’s lips, a thick mixture of warm salt water and stringy spit drooling down his clammy skin, splatters of the mixture falling into Y/n’s salt-soaked hair.

She didn’t care, of course she wouldn’t, not even if it were blood and vomit, she swore she wouldn’t as she raised her head, her eyes flickering to where JJ’s brows furrowed, his shoulders drawing forward.

Y/n rested her hand in the dip on the center of his chest, applying soft pressure to ease his wheezing.

“JJ.” She breathed out, relieved and yet completely broken from the near loss, one she couldn’t handle again.

The thought alone shook her. He would never know how hard it was for her to leave, how badly she wished she had just hidden in the closet. But she knew her hiding could only do so much, the evil would find her and she had to go, she had to go to save them both.

"Yeah, yeah! Cough it out, cough it out baby!" John B encouraged, a sea of instructions following from the others in a desperate hurry, all reaching over to simply feel for a steady thumping of a pulse, all while the deafening ringing filled Y/n’s ears, her eyes stuck to the pretty sight of JJ’s face.

Y/n sat back on her heels, but her body fell forward in a deeper slump to protect the boy from the burning sun. She felt sick, and crazy, and confused. She wanted to throw up, scared of how fragile the boy might have become.

"Welcome to the land of the living, dude." Popes voice cut through the distant bells, the busy streets, all the background noise that flickered in short fragments through her head.

At her realization of his return, as it really sunk in, Y/n’s touch became a hovering sensation over his body, fingers shaking over his chest like she believed she had the power to only cause harm to what was already hurt, like she could fracture what had been a small crack.

Her chest felt like it was closing in, her ribs clenching around her heart tightly, and she wondered if it was what dying felt like, if JJ had felt something similar while each breath became less full.

Her mind spun like a broken clock, thoughts of self deprecation running in a constant loop, leading back to the same problems in similar processes with no end in sight. How beautiful was the feeling to be pulled from her spiral by the sight of his blue eyes focused on her face, tracing the curve of her nose down to the cupids bow on top of her lip.

She waited for him to speak, to say anything to her. Her heart pounded waiting to hear his voice, how lovely each syllable rolled off of his tongue. But the silence stretched on, just heavy breaths and tight grip that kept them connected.

His arm raised from where it lay limply by his side, his index and his thumb reaching by her arm to twirl the end of one of her braids between his fingers. In a swift motion, the pads of his fingers pinched the loose strands, and tugged for a short moment hard enough to tilt her head to the side.

She let out a soft gasp, only in reverse. All her air had deflated out of her chest, spreading a soothing sensation through her tightly wound bones just like the warm smile that expanded across her flushed cheeks.

Her laughter was a work of art, the most beautiful music JJ had ever heard, just as light and sweet as he remembered it. She hadn’t changed much, yet she had. She had more freckles now, and he found Kiara was right about the bangs. Yet her hair was still woven into the familiar pattern of two braids that now hung loosely at the bottom of her head, twisting and falling over her shoulders perfectly. She was taller, older, but he felt the shortness of her nails against his skin, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself knowing old habits die hard.

“There’s my favorite pirate.” JJ finally spoke, his voice gravely from the exhaustion that traveled through him, leaving his body heavy and soft in Y/n’s arms.

“Theres my favorite outlaw.” Y/n joked back, her voice just as soft as it was the first time he heard it that day on the beach. Just like it had been when he heard it even when she was gone, in the trees, and floating through the folk songs that spread throughout the old Chateau.

“Welcome back to the good life.” JJ laughed, and the sparkles in his eyes as he said it held every bit of truth within that statement.

It was a life that promised all she ever wanted to be. One where they could be interesting forever, where they would be kind forever.

This was the best life, the most freeing one she could ever dream of. It wasn’t about swinging from the vines or leaping from the ledges anymore, but rather the guiding hand on her back as she scraped her knees and chipped her baby teeth. It was always him, the influence to her accomplice.

She had promised to run freely with him again, to dance with him just like they used to and lucky enough, Y/n’s shoes were good for dancing.

“I claim thee, Poguelandia.” JJ’s foot propped up against the old tree that hung low over the sand. It’s tilted stump holding firm in the breeze, and its ancient branches shaking from the way John B’s hands gripped the leaves.

“Do we get a vote?” Sarah complained, rolling her eyes at the uncreative name JJ had thought of on the fly.

“Nope.” JJ smiled, pointing a finger at the blonde girl. “It’s already patented and pending.” JJ spoke confidently.

“Define that.” Pope sassed, crossing his arms and lying back against the old bark. Silence filled the sandy space, soft laughter echoing around the small circle everyone had created, sitting as comfortably as possible of the dying drift wood.

JJ shook off the comment, a smile forever present on his face despite the pounding headache and small bump forming on his temple.

“I like the ring of it.” JJ ignored Pope, pressing his palm against the large tree everyone gathered around and leaning into his hip until his shirt hung just above where Y/n’s body sat slumped in the sand.

She let out a soft laugh, if it could eve be considered that. More of a huff of air escaping her nose, a smile slowly spreading across her cheeks. Despite the quietness of her amusement, it seemed to only push JJ on, his eyes sparkling at the familiar sound he had gone without.

“I’m gonna make a flag. It’s gonna have a chicken on it. With a coconut bra smoking a ‘j’ in crocs.” He continued with his wild fantasy, watching how the girl beneath him hunched over with laughter and brought her hands to cover her toothy grin. “Y/n likes it.” He pointed out proudly.

“Yeah, I didn’t say that.” The girl quickly argued, tossing her head back and stretching her neck to catch his eyes. Though she tried to keep that same fight she once had with him, that natural bickering that made their relationship so beautifully complex, the reality that she finally had him again set in swiftly, and her serious expression failed to mask her excitement.

“Whatever, she totally does.” The boy swatted his hand, playfully pushing the girls head forward until she nearly bent in half. Just where they had left off, completely comfortable in each others touch and always ready to give back what they took.

“We were feeding a broken engine for hours, I think we’d both take anything over that.” Cleo pointed out, bumping her shoulder against the flustered girl beside her. Y/n couldn’t help but give Cleo a soft shove. An old habit she never really squashed.

“We? You bailed ship Cleo, don’t think I forgot.” Y/n said, pointing a finger at the sweaty girl who seemed uncomfortably close even with the endless amount of space around them. A whole island to themselves.

Then, with a careful glance to make sure JJ had leaned away from her, she stood up quickly, wiping sand off of the wet denim that clung to her skin, each cuffed leg weighing her down just a little more.

“Why don’t we leave the naming stuff to Kiara or Pope. Or you know…not you.” She twisted her braids between her hands, tugging the stretched bands out from the ends to free her now nearly dry hair from the patterns woven throughout. As she ran her knuckles through the tangles, her hands clasped around the legs of her overalls, her hands unrolling the pants until they sat just above her ankles.

“Where are you going?” JJ called out for her, not used to the proximity of her now that he had grown used to the distance. He chased after her as quickly as she began to walk away, chasing after the rush just the faint smell of her gave him.

“It’s gonna get dark soon, right? Can’t live off of salt water, J.” She teased, her feet leaving wet prints across the sand, kicking up the dirt in clumps that stuck to the backs of her heals.

He followed like a dog, practically weaving between her legs with his tail wagging in excitement, a familiar rush that was only brought out in the forever thrilling presence of her.

She took the pocket knife from the ripping pocket in the center of her chest, dark denim carrying puddles of the ocean in the stitching. With a bend of her knees, he watched as she dug the blade into the fabric that dripped around her feet, slicing the legs with a tearing sound just above her knee. With her other hand, she rolled the overalls higher, and stuck the closed knife back into its home. She left the cut pants in the sand where they had pooled by her ankles, walking by like it had been nothing. JJ figured she had done it before, probably when she was younger and on the run.

“I don’t remember you being so quick around a blade.” JJ teased, bumping his elbow against hers. He wanted to tug at her hair again, but his fingers curled around nothing by his sides as he decided on admiring the slope of her nose down to her pretty smile instead.

“Bull—shit, yes you do.” She laughed, turning to him with a sense of wonder in her curious gaze. “I used to cut you out of shit all the time!”

“Nah.” JJ played it off, but the blush on his cheeks betrayed him. “I let you. So we could play pirates and all that.” He lied through his teeth, recalling all the times he stumbled through the thick bushes just a little too carelessly and how Y/n’s rusting knife had cut his laces just a little shorter each time he lost a boot in the entanglement of twigs.

“Oh is that what we’re calling it now?” She bickered back, biting back a large smile in exchange for a playful grin. If she had access to the dusty space that she had once called home, she would have hung up the dusty laces that had been stored away in some box shoved beneath her bed.

“Yup.” He popped the p, licking over his dry lips with his tongue swiftly, tasting the salt on his skin.

A comfortable silence fell over the pair, her steps falling into line with his, and their hands shoved deeply into the depths of their pockets, fingers poking through the holes at the bottom from rough knuckles and heavy rocks.

With a heavy sigh, JJ tried to catch her eye, yet it remained trained on the sky like it was the most perfect thing she’d ever seen. He wondered silently if she’d seen the hues they once adored so much as kids recently, or if the thrilling life on deck had swept away her favorite thing, stargazing and watching the sky change as if she needed to put it to memory.

“So.” He finally broke the silence, her breathing hitching only to relax once her eyes found his, a gentle reassurance that everything would be as it once was, that the chase was finally over. “Was it as cool as it was promised?” He couldn’t help but ask, the same childlike wonder sparkling in his eyes.

“What?” Y/n let out a breathy laugh, wiping her hands on her tanned thighs.

“The pirate life. Where civility doesn’t exist and dreams can come true.” He clarified.

To anyone else, they might have believed it was condescending, a taunting question to shame her for her deathly grasp on all the childhood promises nobody ever kept for her. But to Y/n, she knew he really meant it when he asked, that he wanted to know if what they dreamed up was really as good as they pictured it on paper.

“It’s no Peter Pan story.” She breathed through her nose, eyes flickering down at the way her body was blossoming with bruises from her restless work, her dreams all crushed within the first week spent on the sea.

“I tried to make it Neverland, I really did. But you can’t change what happens to you, no matter how far you run. It’s like running in a circle. You go so far, yet nowhere at all.” Y/n knew she would never enjoy the pirate life she once dreamed of. In her dreams, JJ and her were co-captains, sailors with fancy white hats and no hooks for hands.

Now she felt like she should be fearing the ticking of the clocks, and running from the danger that once excited her.

“Did you believe it?” She couldn’t help but ask, wondering if her JJ had really waited to hear all the stories she promised to share with him, all the hustle and bustle of her fantasies.

JJ paused, then, looked at his sad friend’s face, and gave her a sympathetic nod. It wasn’t completely truthful, but that’s what happens naturally. He always believed in her and her curiosity towards the simple things in life. He believed that all the times he felt he had an ounce of childhood to hold onto were only beliefs because she had made them so. And when she had to go, so did the nice things he saw in nothing at all.

“I won’t confess that I believed it, that I didn’t have my doubts, but I always figured you’d be okay. That you’d find your way and maybe even come home.” What he didn’t say is all the times he’d left the lamp on, kept it burning on the porch so she’d know someone was home if she were to return.

He didn’t tell her that he had only gone on the wild gold hunt because part of him believed if he had the money to back it up, he could search every part of the earth to find her. Because it wouldn’t matter if he had or hadn’t told her, it wouldn’t make a difference and it wouldn’t change a thing.

They both made promises they couldn’t keep, and that was just the way life seemed to go. So she didn’t ask where he had been all these years, and he never asked about where she had gone. The timing would come to them eventually, and it would all work out. There was no point in catching up for two souls that had never been truly apart.

JJ and and Y/n had walked themselves to a ledge by the end of their conversation, nothing but soft breathing and the comfort of the wet, warm winds to wrap around them like a soothing blanket of serenity.

Y/n would be lying if she said the height didn’t scare her, if the wild waves below didn’t cause a crisp trepidation to shoot through her limbs. It was a big jump, the final leap she had always dreamed of.

The waves hit the smooth rocks, the rougher ones that stood tall thrashing with the heavy water. Sea salt coated their glistening skin, and as the wind blew through her hair, she came to a realization she had never considered before.

All this time she believed she had been something like Peter Pan. She joked about pirates, and running free, and all things children should know and love, and she acted fearlessly like she would forever be that version of herself. Yet, as time closed in on her and she grew taller, maturity had grown into her bones with each added inch. She was no Peter, she was more of a Wendy, and at first it had killed her, but only for a moment.

When she looked over to her side, she saw the blonde she had fallen in love with when she was still so little. They were young, and with their spirits, she was sure part of them would always be. And she knew then, if she was Wendy, he was her Peter.

“What?” JJ smiled, catching her glances. Standing proudly beside him, only older than the last time they’d met up. She had promised to grow up and come find him. She guessed she wasn’t lying about that.

"We will be interesting forever." She recited her promises from their youth, promises that were oceans deep with a serious smile, like she knew there was no other fate for people like them. "And nobody will ever forget how we lived like real people should and how we never let the temptation of a corporate paycheck take away the big picture."

Her hands reached up to hold JJ like she had when they stood only five feet tall. Now here he was, towering over her like he always promised he would. She wrinkled the shoulders of JJ's old tank top, the sides cut so far down, it was nearly just a napkin with a hole for his head. Everything about their attire screamed outlaws, pirates, lost boys, fighters, and believers. There was no fooling anyone, yet they carried themselves with pride, like the lack of civility in their lives was a thrill, the dirt and the worms and the bees and sweltering sunburns were all a gift to have been rubbed across them on their walks in the rain, in their summer time hikes to the secret beaches they weren't supposed to venture on.

The Kooks had it good, an easy life, but Y/n declared that they were the only ones living.

“Do you still dream the same dreams?” JJ asked softly, the wind blowing through his messy blonde hair, and the ocean rolling calmly below them now.

She nodded, letting her hands fall into his, and tugging at the loose threads that fell from his worn out friendship bracelets. Just fractions of the ones she had littering her own wrists.

"I still wanna be that girl in my eighties, dancing in the rain and running up and down the beach like my bones can't break away." She smiled, and he noticed how much more sincere it felt now. "And I want to scream, I want to yell. I'd scream ferociously, leaping between the waves like we did now, and I'd finally jump from the rocks, and I won't be scared because l'll have done it thousands of times." She painted her future, her desire with a loving glance into JJ’s blue eyes.

There was no money, no big house with a picket fence and an army of children. Just the ocean, some laughter, and enough fearless ambition to spill into the next lifetime.

"Sounds nice." JJ agreed, only now he had grown to have the same imagination as she did, he had it in him to dream a dream as pure and grand. He didn't need to live on figure eight, he didn't even mind being stuck with three jobs until he turned to dirt of it meant they would be dancing together forever.

"It will be. And you'll know it because you'll be there with me, and we'll be the same pirates we are now. We'll smoke on the roof and wear fancy clothing that we made ourselves. We'll ride the waves and make lemonade and sweet tea like John B's dad did when we were kids. We'll have mustaches from the sugar, and we'll be young forever with the grass between our toes.” She kept her word, because there it was, the same sparkle in her eyes. The same sweet, delicate wonder.

"Well,” JJ began, his eyes leading hers to where the grass overhung the large fall into the deep blue below. “we can start on that dream now." JJ declared hopefully, looking out to where the waved lapped at the shore. His ringed fingers pointed out at the rigid rocks that overhung the deep waters.

"If we've got a thousand of leaps to take, you have to start with one." He looked back at the girl, the way she didn’t seem to be nervously fidgeting like she had when he first promised everything would be okay.

"And then we won't be scared." She repeated to herself, but more to him, more for the memory of the first time she felt like flying.

"No, we won't ever be scared again." And there was a shared understanding, an understanding that dreams are just dreams until they make them more. If she could do this terrifying thing, all for the rest of her deepest wishes to come true, there was a new found certainty that anything scary could be done.

That she and JJ could do all the scary things the world could offer, even just as the awkward young adults they felt they had grown into. It was possible.

He took her hand more firmly in his, and counted down under his breath. There were hoots and hollers from the excited audience that had gathered below. Their friends filled with fear but also the fiercely spreading feeling of wonder and happiness that JJ and Y/n had found in one another.

With a deep breath, he led her off the edge, and in the moments that came before the cool water surrounded them, they swore they were flying. That they were living like nobody had ever lived before. They were seven again, then thirteen, and then back to where they found themselves now, flickering through the past as they came down.

It was only one of a thousand promised leaps, and Y/n didn’t feel any fear as the water poured into her ears.

Because when they surfaced, there he was, his hair wet and his smile wide. His hands clasped in hers, holding her arms over her head so high, her legs had to wrap around his waist.

“Again!” He shouted excitedly.

One promise kept, nine hundred ninety nine left to live.

[curiosity-killed]

//

[solelifauna]

Yandere Batfam & Neglected Reader Prt. 2

Okay, so I didn't realize how much building I was gonna do around (Y/n's) social life so this chapter is honestly about knowing (y/n). Anyways, the next chapter will be from the batfam's pov and focus more on the yandere bits! Hope you enjoy this chapter tho!

Tag List!: @sitepathos @ferakillia @uknowimdumb @shycreatorreview @niggrrooo @dhanyasri @cantfindmelol @space1crow @earth-to-mee @rosecentury @yuyuzi-ling @simpingfor-wakasa @bat1212 @sheepintherain @person-from-daaaa-voidddd @resident-cryptid @cupids-pretty-boy @danni1323

The change started slowly on a normal evening, an evening like every other. It was a football season game day, the big match between the Gotham City High Bats and the Gotham Prep Knights. For the rich prep kids, this was nothing more than another game, but for your school, this game was everything. This would help your school get the recognition and funding it deserves, and allow some students to be scouted and rewarded for their talent.

Not only that, but Gotham Prep always, every season goes to state, beating out all the other public schools in the city. They haven’t lost a game since the early 80s so there was a lot riding on this game. 

Your role, funnily enough, was representing the school as one of the Gotham City High school cheerleaders. Turns out that the gymnastics classes you took before were actually useful for purposes other than trying to impress Dick. You surprisingly took to cheerleading like a fish to water, liking the competitiveness and sense of belonging that came from joining the team. 

Anyways, you, the cheer team, and the football team were on a bus headed towards the bigger, better Gotham Prep football field. The bus was loud with music and schoolmates hyping each other up for the big game. Ethan, a friend of yours on the football team was nervously shaking his leg and squeezing his helmet so hard you thought it would crack.

Both you and your friend Arya noticed.

“Ethan, the game hasn’t even started yet and I already see a crack forming on your helmet.” You said jokingly, a gentle arm on his shoulder.

He startled, “Jesus Christ (Y/n) warn a guy next time.” Ethan spoke, offering a nervous smile.

“You need to stop freaking out bro. When you do, it freaks out the others on the team.” Arya gently said.

“I know, I know but— but there’s just a lot riding on this game. For a lot of us, this is our only way to get out of Gotham, and if we screw up the finals, we’ll be stuck here forever.” Ethan said solemnly, looking around at all his teammates.

“Well then good thing you guys aren’t gonna lose. Y’all have spent two years training to make this comeback, to make sure that Gotham City High finally gets this win. I promise you’ve worked harder than those assholes at Gotham Prep, so just go out there and put your training to use. Don’t let your nerves get to you, you have no reason to.” You calmly said.

“Yeah—yeah, we have trained harder, haven't we? Yeah, you’re right! We've just gotta go out there and play like we've practiced.” Ethan exclaimed, as if suddenly realizing why he should have confidence in himself and his team.

“Exactly!” Arya said, matching his enthusiasm and hitting Ethan playfully on the shoulder. 

The rest of the bus ride to the stadium was louder than ever, the coach and other teammates taking turns to hype up the more nervous members, to get them confident for the field. Everything was about normal once everyone made it to the stadium. The band was set up, and people were flooding the bleachers. It wasn’t until the last ten minutes before the game when normalcy died.

“Hey (Y/n), isn’t that your family?” A girl, Maya, says.

Lo’ and behold, Bruce Wayne and his entire gaggle of children were sitting on the home side of the bleachers, sporting Gotham Prep t-shirts. 

“What—oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. What the hell are they doing here, they don’t even like football like that!?” You shout in frustration.

It was then when you remembered a conversation Dick, Bruce, and Damian had at the dinner table. Something about how it would help Damian out if he started going to school events and games, getting him acclimated to what being a normal teenager was like. That was all fine and dandy, but you didn't think the entire damn family was going to show up. Oh, the gossip columns are gonna have a field day with this. You could already imagine the headlines, “Bruce Wayne openly isolates daughter (Y/n) Wayne” or even, “The Wayne Family once again publicly shows dislike for daughter (Y/n) Wayne.”

You rolled your eyes at the thought, you had bigger things to worry about right now.

“Are you good (Y/n)?” Arya questions softly. 

She was one of the only people who you spoke your sorrows to, one of the only people who actually knows of just how lonely you were. Of course everyone knew that Bruce Wayne and his family didn't really like you very much– thank you Vicky vale– but nobody but Arya and Ethan really understood the crux of your situation. 

“Yeah, I'm all good bro, don't worry about it. Just focus on the game.” You said dismissively. It didn't bother you anymore, sure it hurt a little bit, but this was expected.

“Alright, its time to shake hands with the other team, everyone line up!” the football Coach, Coach Daniels, all but yelled.

You sighed, moving to the front of the line for the cheerleaders; you were team captain after all. Both the football teams and cheerleaders made their way to the center of the field where they met. You looked back at the rest of your team, you all knew that this was going to be an unpleasant interaction, it always was. The Gotham Prep cheer captain walked up to you, disdain and poorly concealed disgust on her face. You all quickly shook hands, trying to get this exhausting ordeal done and over with, but of course the other captain had to open her mouth.

“You lower end city girls sure have your own sense of style.” Darla, which was basically code for calling you and your team sluts. Wow, how original.

“You should see what’s underneath the jacket.” You replied, giving her a sharp smile.

She floundered, clearly expecting her insult to rile you and your team up. 

“Ugh, as expected of Bruce Wayne’s biggest embarrassment. You sad Daddy doesn't like you? Or maybe she’s just glad she gets to mooch off of him before he ends up disowning her.” Another girl pipes up, drawing mind grating giggles from the rest of their team. You recognized her, she was the daughter of some hot-shot CEO.

You just tiredly look back at your team, a few of them getting angry on your behalf while others looked to you in concern. 

“What, not going to say anything?” The other captain haughtily questioned. 

“I mean, what exactly is the response you’re expecting? Yeah, Bruce Wayne doesn't like me, but at least I didn't have to buy my way into the cheer team or have my daddy pay to make sure I wasn't held back.” You stated boredly.

She was silent in shock, right before the anger came bursting through.

“You whore! I’m going to fuck you up, take you to court and sue you!” She shrieked.

“You’re going to sue me? You mean sue Bruce Wayne?” You snorted, “Like that’ll ever happen. And bitch, you couldn’t fight if your life depended on it, so next time you threaten me remember–I can and will beat the ever-loving shit outta you.”

That must have sparked some fear in her because she just turned around and led her team back to their side of the field. You’re sure others noticed your altercation, obviously having no idea what was being said, but it was clear to both sides of the field that nothing good was said. You’re ready to turn back to your side when you accidentally make eye contact with Tim. The cold, calculating look in his eyes has you shifting in discomfort, you quickly look away as the cheer team and football players head back to their respective sides.

The players took their place onto the field while your team got into formation.

“Aright guys, this’s the big one! Give it all you got, just like we practiced!” You yelled.

Just like that, the whistle blew signaling that the game started. 

By the time you reach half time, Gotham Prep is fifteen points ahead of Gotham High. Your school does its low budget halftime performance which pales in comparison to the extravagant Gotham Prep performance. Your side of the stadium grows louder, louder in support of the football team. Before you know it, the boys are lining up for the second half of the game. Thankfully, Gotham High shoots up in points, the score now becoming 34 to 29. The issue is, the game is starting to come to an end with only two minutes on the clock. The crowd is loud, but everyone knows it'll be damn near impossible for Gotham High to win now. The only way to win would be to score a touch-down, which would bring Gotham High to 35 points.

It isn't until the 36 second mark when Ethan sees an opening and makes a run for it with the ball. The crowd is booming, your own voice adding to the mix of cheers and shouts. 

“Come on Ethan! Come on!” You yell, voice undoubtedly hoarse.

There's 5 seconds on the clock when Ethan dives over an opposing player and rolls into the other team's touchdown zone. The score board changes, the numbers now showcasing 34 to 35. Gotham City High with 35. Everyone goes crazy. You and Arya are holding each other jumping up and down. Holy shit, yall won! The football team was celebrating on the field, as they’re announced as the winners, a big trophy being handed into Ethan and his team's hands. And by tradition, you, Arya and the coach go grab the large gatorade barrel and proceed to soak the football team with it. There are yelps and laughs but everyone knows what it means, it means “you’ve won”. You and Arya run up to Ethan launching into him, uncaring of the gatorade now soaking your uniforms. 

It was a good day, a happy day. Everyone started loading up into the buses, starving for the victory dinner at Taco Bell. You honestly, truly forget that the Bats were even here. Shit hits the fan however, when you're in the middle of messing up a chalupa and Bruce Wayne and the rest of his brood walk in, making awkward eye contact with you. You promptly proceed to choke, Arya hitting your back to get you to stop. You do, but holy shit was that embarrassing. Also, what in the ever-loving fuck were they doing here!? 

Before you could voice your utter disbelief, another familiar face barrels into your table. Oh great.

“Hey ladies, how’d you like the game? Betcha I looked good on the field.” The voice of Adrien, a freshman player on the team, made itself known. 

He even made it a point to flex his arm muscles, hoping to impress you and Arya. You both just looked at each other before bursting out laughing. This poor freshman has been trying to get with y'all all year, despite you and Arya being sophomores. His god-awful attempts at flirting were absolutely adorable and downright hilarious. 

“Guys please don't laugh, I promise I have better pick up lines.” he begs, his demeanor that of a kicked puppy.

“I'm sorry man, you're just too adorable, we can't take you seriously.” Arya says amused.

“Why don't you go talk to one of the freshman cheerleaders? I'm sure I heard Hiba and Darla talking about how good you did on the field.” You pipped in.

“No way! Are you serious!? Oh-uh, gotta blast ladies! See ‘ya around!” Adrien stutters, excitedly scrambling off to go find the girls you mentioned.

You and Arya broke off again into a fit of laughter.

“Were you guys teasing Adrien again?” Comes a lighthearted scold from Ethan.

“Not anymore than usual. Plus, I think we finally got him to pursue girls in his own grade.” You responded, a smug smile on your face.

Ethan just chuckled before sitting down with you and Arya. You all talked and laughed some more, your mood only being slightly soured by the Wayne family’s presence at the table across from yours. You did your best to avoid their not-so-casual glances in your direction. Why they were here is a can of worms you had to marinate on later. But for now, you'd just enjoy the rest of your night.

It didn't take long before everyone started getting ready to leave. Some students had their parents come pick them up, probably to go celebrate the school's victory with their families, whilst everyone else was getting ready to load back up into the buses and head to the school where parents would be waiting for their kids. You, however, would be biking back to the manor on your own. Sure both Arya’s and Ethan’s parents had offered you a ride, but you had declined. There was no need for them to go out of their way for you, especially when they should be spending their time celebrating with their children. You’d honestly just ruin the mood with your shitty circumstances.

So as you threw away the last of your trash and started walking to leave the restaurant, you were not expecting to be stopped, let alone stopped by Bruce Wayne. You froze, not knowing what to do. What did he want?

“(Y/n),” He started, voice lacking any tell-tale emotions, “no need to get on the bus, you’ll be riding home with us.”

You noticed immediately how he didn't really give you a choice, just an order meant to be followed. You swallowed nervously, you did not, under any circumstances want to be in a car with any of them.

“There's no need for that Bruce, I–um actually left my bike back at the school and I can't just leave it there so…yeah. I’ll–I'll see you back at the manor.” You said nervously. You weren't used to talking to him and to be quite frank he scared you.

Bruce of course took note of the fact you had not called him “dad” or “father” and had called home, “the manor” instead. This is when Dick decided to chime in.

“What, you're not going to bike all the way back home, are you?” Dick jested sarcastically.

“Uh, yeah? It's how I get back home everyday.” You mention abashed. Did they seriously not even know how you got home? Whatever, you’re too tired for this.

Bruce and Dick glance at each other, their shared look holding a meaning you couldn't understand.

“Well, it doesn't matter. You’ll just ride home with us from now on.” Dick stated, faux cheer in his voice. 

“Wha–what? Hold up, I can’t just leave without my bike! It’s gonna get stolen or–”

“We’ll get a new one, now stop fussin' and get a move on,” Jason grumbles, cutting you off.

You just sigh in defeat. Why the hell are they doing this? Why now? In the end, your questions don't matter as you get marched over to the waiting Rolce Royce Limo. That was when Arya and Ethan noticed you walking away from the bus, not even noticing the Waynes in their hurry to catch up to you.

“Hey (Y/n), why are ‘ya–oh.” Arya yells out before going silent after noticing the intimidating figure of Bruce Wayne and the even more intimidating figure of Jason Todd.

“Oh, hey guys. So–uh, I actually have a ride back to the manor now so I'm all good.” You say awkwardly.

“That's–that's great! But, what about your bike bro?” Ethan questions worriedly, the awkward and almost tense energy affecting him.

“I'm just going to pray and hope that it's still there when I come back for it tomorrow.”You answer tiredly.

“Damn, well, get home safe and get some sleep. We’ll see you soon girl.” Arya says, hugging you.

You hug her back.

“You too guys, get home safe. And Ethan, good job on the field bro, we’re all super proud of you.” You voice, a small smile on your face while you give him a hug.

“Thanks (Y/n), couldn't have done it without y’all hyping me up.” He says.

“Alright, alright no more sappy, corny lines. Now get on the bus before Coach Daniels pops another blood vessel.” You joke.

“Shit, I didn't even realize that was him yelling! Ethan, we gotta go! See ya (Y/n).” Arya exclaims, practically dragging Ethan to the bus with her.

You wave at them, your smile slowly disappearing as you realize you're about to have the worst fifteen minutes of your life on this car ride. The staring you were trying to ignore when talking to your friends was more prevalent now, making you anxious as you entered the car, squirming and fiddling uncomfortably in your seat as everyone else piled in.

You internally sighed as you heard the door shut and the car engine start. Perhaps it’d be better if you drank acid and died instead, but alas, it was too late for any of that. 

You’d just do your best to stay quiet and avoid the eyes boring into your very being.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 22: Crossing Lines

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: angst, Paige and reader are getting stern talking too, fluff

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: Figure It Out

Welcome to the chapter 22 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

Paige’s POV

Practice had started like any other—well, almost. There was an awkward tension I couldn’t shake. Every pass, every sprint, felt heavier, as if the weight of my conversation with Y/N the night before hadn’t entirely lifted. I was trying to focus, but the sound of Coach Geno’s whistle cut through the air, jarring me out of my thoughts.

“Bueckers, CD wants to see you. Now,” Coach called, his sharp tone leaving no room for argument.

I sighed, wiping the sweat off my face with the hem of my jersey as I jogged over to the sidelines where CD stood, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“Sit,” she said, nodding to the bench.

Coach Geno followed, his expression unreadable. “Alright, kid. Spill. What’s going on?”

I frowned, glancing between the two of them. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb,” CD snapped. “You’ve been distracted. Your passes are off, your energy is low, and don’t think I didn’t notice you and Y/N being sent home yesterday. You’re not just off your game, you’re off in general. So, what gives?”

I clenched my jaw, staring down at my shoes. “It’s… complicated.”

Geno sighed, sitting on the bench beside me. “Look, Paige. We get it. Life outside of basketball can bleed onto the court, but if you don’t handle whatever’s going on, it’s going to cost you—and your team. So, whatever this is with Y/N, you need to fix it, fast.”

CD added, her voice softer now, “We’re not asking to be in your personal life, but you’re one of our leaders. If you’re not okay, it affects everyone. You’ve got to figure this out before it spirals.”

I nodded, their words settling in. “We talked last night,” I admitted. “But it’s… hard. We’re both scared of what happens next, especially with me leaving for the WNBA soon.”

Coach Geno leaned back, his face softening ever so slightly. “Fear’s normal, Paige. But letting it control you? That’s a choice. Don’t let it ruin something good.”

“I won’t,” I said, more to myself than to them.

“Good,” Geno said, standing up. “Now, get back out there and show me you’re ready to lead this team again.”

I nodded, standing up with a renewed sense of determination.

Y/n’s POV

The hum of the lecture hall buzzed in the background as I typed notes on my laptop, trying to focus on the professor’s voice. My phone vibrated on the desk, Nika’s name flashing on the screen.

I hesitated but declined the call, sending a quick text: In class. Call you after?

The reply came almost immediately: Fine. But it’s important.

I sighed, tucking the phone away and forcing myself to concentrate. It wasn’t until class let out that I stepped into the hallway and hit Nika’s number.

“Finally,” she said, answering on the first ring. “What took you so long?”

“I was in class, Nika. Mandatory, remember?” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. So… did you and Paige work things out?”

The question hit me harder than I expected. I walked toward the campus quad, finding a quiet bench to sit on. “I mean, we talked,” I said hesitantly.

“But?” she pressed.

“But… I don’t know. It feels like we’re both holding back. She’s scared about leaving for the WNBA, and I’m scared about what happens when she does. It’s a lot.”

Nika groaned. “Of course it’s a lot! Za ime miloga! You two are practically a walking soap opera. But, Y/N, come on. You’ve got something special. Don’t let fear ruin it.”

“I’m trying,” I said softly, staring at the ground.

“Try harder,” she shot back. “Paige loves you. I’ve known her for years, and I’ve never seen her care about someone like this. You’re it for her, Y/N. But you’ve got to meet her halfway.”

Her words made my chest ache, but I knew she was right. “I love her too,” I admitted.

“Good. Then tell her that. And don’t let her run away from it either,” Nika said firmly.

“I won’t,” I promised.

“Good. Now, go fix it. I’ve got a game to prep for,” she said, hanging up.

Paige’s POV

When practice ended, I sat in the locker room, staring at my phone. Nika had texted me: Talk to her. Like, really talk to her. No excuses, Bueckers.

I smiled slightly, shaking my head. She really didn’t let up.

Grabbing my stuff, I headed back to the apartment, my heart racing. Y/N was already there, sitting on the couch with her laptop open. She looked up when I walked in, her face softening.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” I replied, dropping my bag and sitting beside her.

“Long day?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Yeah,” I said, hesitating. “Can we talk?”

Her brows furrowed, but she nodded, closing her laptop. “Of course.”

I took a deep breath. “I know we talked last night, but I don’t think I was completely honest with you—or myself. I’m scared, Y/N. Scared of how much I care about you and how fast this has all happened. Scared of what happens when I leave.”

Her eyes softened, and she reached for my hand. “Paige, I’m scared too. But we can’t let that fear control us. We especially can keep anything bottled in anymore.”

“I know,” I said, squeezing her hand. “And I don’t want to lose you. I’m going to mess up, and I’m going to be scared, but I love you. And I want to figure this out, together.”

Her lips parted, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I love you too, Paige. We’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”

Relief washed over me, and I leaned forward, pressing my forehead to hers. “Thank you,” I whispered.

“For what?” she asked softly.

“For loving me,” I said, pulling her into a hug.

For the first time, our fears they didn’t feel so heavy. Together, I knew we could face whatever came next.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza , @paxaz535 , @0phantom0 , @starlighttsv , @authentic-girl03 , @sevyscoven ,  .... (more to be added)

[magical-reid]

A Little Bit of Normal

Paring: Stiles Stilinski x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.2 K

Summary: In the midst of Beacon Hills' chaos, you find solace in Stiles Stilinski's playful distractions and heartfelt words, gradually realizing that your friendship is evolving into something deeper. As he confesses his feelings for you, you both share a tender moment that marks the beginning of something real and meaningful.

It was another quiet afternoon at the library. The hum of pages turning and the faint chatter of a few students were the only sounds filling the room. You sat at your usual spot by the window, attempting to study for your next exam, but your mind kept wandering. The books in front of you blurred into a mess of letters and formulas.

You sighed and leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples. It wasn’t that you didn’t care about your grades—it was just hard to concentrate with everything going on in Beacon Hills. Between supernatural chaos, werewolves, and endless mysteries, school was the last thing on your mind. But you couldn’t just ignore it, not when your GPA was on the line.

“Hey,” a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts. You glanced up to find Stiles Stilinski standing at the table, his trademark goofy grin plastered across his face.

“Hey, Stiles,” you said, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. He had that effect on you, always able to make even the most stressful days feel lighter.

“Shouldn’t you be studying?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned against the table.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I’m trying. It’s just... hard to focus, you know?”

Stiles gave you a sympathetic look, his expression softening. “Yeah, I get it. Believe me, I do. But I have a solution.”

You raised an eyebrow, curious. “Oh? Do you now?”

He flashed his signature mischievous grin. “Of course. It’s simple, really. All you need is a little Stiles distraction.”

You laughed. “A distraction? I’m supposed to focus on my studies, not get sidetracked by your endless supply of weirdness.”

Stiles smirked, sliding into the chair across from you. “First of all, you’re welcome. Second of all, weirdness is an understatement. And third, who says you can’t do both? You study, I distract. We’ll call it a study session.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m adorable,” he corrected, leaning forward with a playful gleam in his eyes. “And I’m about to prove it.”

You couldn’t help but smile as he launched into one of his usual rambling monologues, jumping from one bizarre idea to another. He told you all about a “brilliant” theory he had about why every fast food chain’s fries tasted exactly the same and how he was convinced there was a conspiracy behind it. His enthusiasm was contagious, and before long, you found yourself laughing at his absurd theories and forgetting about the stress of school.

When he saw you laughing, Stiles seemed to glow with a certain pride, as if he had just accomplished the greatest feat. His smile softened as his eyes met yours, and for a moment, you felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you in that little corner of the library.

“So, I have to ask,” Stiles said, his voice suddenly quieter, more serious. “Why do you always look so stressed, (Y/N)? I mean, I know Beacon Hills is... a lot, but you seem like you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders sometimes.”

You hesitated. The weight of his question hit you harder than you expected. You’d gotten used to the chaos, to the constant danger, but there was always that undercurrent of worry that never seemed to leave you. You pushed it away as best as you could, but it wasn’t always easy.

“I guess... I don’t really know how to stop worrying,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “There’s just so much going on. I have to keep everything together, and sometimes, it feels like I’m barely holding it all in.”

Stiles’ expression softened even more. He leaned in closer, his voice low and gentle. “You don’t have to hold it all in. Not with me. You know that, right?”

You looked up at him, caught off guard by the intensity in his eyes. Stiles was always the jokester, the one who made everyone laugh and took everything in stride, but in this moment, he was serious—genuine.

“I know,” you said quietly. “It’s just... I don’t want to burden anyone with my problems. Especially you.”

He reached across the table, his hand brushing against yours in a way that made your heart skip a beat. His fingers lingered for a moment, the touch warm and reassuring.

“You’re not a burden, (Y/N),” he said softly, his voice thick with sincerity. “And if you ever feel like you are, I’ll be the first one to remind you that you’re not. We’re friends, right?”

You nodded, your throat suddenly tight. You felt something stir in your chest, a warmth spreading through you as Stiles’ gaze never wavered.

“More than friends, though,” you murmured, not even realizing you’d said the words until they were out in the open. You felt your cheeks flush, but when you looked up at him, you saw the surprise in his eyes.

“You mean...?” he trailed off, his voice quieter now, almost tentative.

You swallowed, trying to steady your nerves. “Yeah. More than friends.”

There was a long beat of silence between you, a breathless pause where everything seemed to hang in the balance. You watched as Stiles’ expression shifted, the playful grin replaced with something softer, more vulnerable. He reached out and gently took your hand in his, his thumb grazing over your skin in a way that sent a flutter of nerves through you.

“I’ve been wanting to say something for a while now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I didn’t want to mess things up. But... I really like you, (Y/N). More than I should, probably. And I’ve been kind of terrified to tell you that, because... well, it’s you. You’re amazing. And I’m just... well, me.”

You felt your heart race as his words sank in, your chest tightening with emotion. You had no idea that Stiles felt the same way, and hearing it out loud made everything seem more real, more intense.

“You’re not just you,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “You’re Stiles. And that’s more than enough.”

He smiled then, the same goofy grin that you loved, but this time it was softer, more genuine. Slowly, almost like he was afraid you’d disappear if he moved too fast, he leaned in and kissed you. It was brief, but the moment his lips touched yours, a wave of relief washed over you. Like everything was falling into place, like you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

When he pulled back, his hand still holding yours, his eyes were full of that familiar mischief, but there was something deeper there, too—something raw.

“See?” he said, teasing once more. “Told you I was the best distraction.”

You laughed, your heart still racing. “I think you might be right about that.”

Stiles grinned, leaning back in his chair, but this time, he didn’t let go of your hand. It felt different now, more intimate, and you both knew that this was the beginning of something more than just a friendship.

In the middle of all the chaos, all the supernatural madness, you had found something simple, something real. And for once, it felt like everything was going to be okay.

[seoups]

close as strangers - y. itadori

yuji thought everything would be the same when he came back. cw: angst w a bittersweet ending song: close as strangers by 5sos a/n: if i have an opportunity to write angst, i will take it.

"TELLING YOU I HAVENT SEEN YOUR FACE IN AGES. FEELS LIKE WE'RE AS CLOSE AS STRANGERS."

Yuji spent an entire month picturing this moment.

In every spare moment- between training in the basement, laughing with Gojo, and going on missions with Nanami- he thought about you.

He daydreamed about seeing your face again. About wrapping you in one of the tightest hugs he could manage and spinning you around until you laughed and smacked his shoulder as hard as you could, so he’d put you down.

He thought about sitting next to you at lunch and stealing bites from your food, sending you stupid TikTok’s that made you giggle at late hours, walking you back to your dorm room after missions just to talk to you a little longer.

And when he finally saw you standing there with Megumi and Nobara, he thought- Finally.

“Hey! Didja miss me?” He grinned, expecting a dramatic reaction. “You absolute dumbass,” Nobara scoffed, slamming a fist into his shoulder that was a touch too hard to be playful. Megumi let out a sigh of exasperation, “Welcome back.” Yuji laughed, rubbing his arm where Nobara had punched him, and turned to you, “And you? I bet you were devastated without me!” You blinked at him, lips parting, eyes flickering with something unreadable. Then, after a second too long, you smiled, “Yeah, I missed you a lot.”

It wasn’t what you said. It was how you said it. Like you were forcing the words out. Like you weren’t sure if they were true.

For the first time since he’d come back from the dead, Yuji felt uneasy.

He told himself things would go back to normal. You just needed time. You were probably still in shock. Afterall, he had died. That was a lot to deal with.

So, he gave you space. He didn’t want to push you further than you were ready. But after a few days of dry texts and halfhearted smiles, he decided enough was enough.

“Let’s go out.” You looked up from your textbook, brows knit together, “What?” “On a date! Y’know. Movies, snacks, maybe the arcade? Classic,” He grinned, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Come on, it’ll be fun! It’s been forever since we hung out. Plus, I heard human earthworm 4 is in theatres.”

You hesitated.

And that hesitation hit him harder than any curse ever could.

“Yuji…” you sighed, closing your book. “I don’t know if-” “Oh, nope- none of that!” He wagged a finger at you. “No excuses! You need a break. I need to make up for lost time. And I want to spend time with you, so… let’s go!”

There was an ounce of desperation in his voice that he hoped you couldn’t hear.

You stared at him for a long moment. Then, finally you agreed.

Relief flooded his chest so fast it made him lightheaded. Maybe things could go back to normal.

They couldn’t.

Yuji had tried everything. Everything he’d done with you before. New things. None of it was working.

He took you to a movie and cracked jokes through the trailers, but you had barely laughed. He won you a stuffed dog from a claw machine but you didn’t tease him for going all out like you normally would.

He filled the silence with endless conversation- jumping from one random topic to the next- but your answers were always short, your laughter never quite reaching your eyes.

It was like trying to hold onto something that was slipping through his fingers.

But Yuji was good at ignoring things. He could push down the sting in his chest and drown it out with more conversation, more jokes, more desperate attempts at being normal. But when he walked you back to your dorm room and reached for your hand, you pulled away.

It wasn’t dramatic. Not like you were disgusted or unhappy with it. Just… instinctively. Like you didn’t even realize you were doing it. Yuji felt his heart shatter.

He didn’t bring it up.

Instead, he tried harder. He called you every night, sent you stupid tiktoks, and went out of his way to be around you.

And at first, you humored him. You answered his calls, texted back, and sat with him at lunch.

But it was different.

And deep down, he knew that too.

He just couldn’t admit it.

Because if he admitted it, then he’d have to face it. And he wasn’t prepared for that.

The night he finally let himself say it out loud, it was raining.

You sat across from him in a tiny ramen shop that Yuji had sworn was amazing, your hands curled around a steaming bowl, looking exhausted. Not just physically- but in the way you held yourself, in the way you looked at him, like this conversation had been waiting to happen for a long time.

Yuji gripped his chopsticks a little too tightly, feeling the developing indent on his fingers, “You’re different.” You exhaled slowly, staring down at your food, “So are you.” His chest tightened, “I don’t want to be.” For the first time that night, you looked him in the eyes, “Neither do I.”

Silence.

The rain pattered against the windows, the hum of ongoing conversations around them buzzing like static.

Finally, Yuji spoke, his voice quieter than usual, “We’re not us anymore, are we?” You swallowed hard, “No, I don’t think we are.”

He should have seen this coming. Maybe he had seen it coming and had just been in denial.

“I really wanted this to work,” his voice cracked, barely above a whisper. You nodded, “Me too.”

Another long pause.

Then, you reached across the table, reading your hand in his, “You’re still my favorite person, Yuji.”

His breath hitched.

Yuji forced a small smile on his face, not allowing this to end on a heavy note, “Yeah?” You smiled, tired but real, “yeah.” He flipped his hand, curling his fingers around yours, “You’re mine too.”

You squeezed his hand, just once. And then, slowly, you let go.

And this time, Yuji let you.

[hyewka]

hii !! this is my first question thing .. can u maybe do a perv!yeonjun?

warnings: perv bestfriend!yeonjun, jealousy, corruption kink, stealing clothes, sniffing underwear/yeonjun has a thing for scent in general, obsessive behavior, switch!yeonjun, not proofread

"you save yourself?" he breathes, blinking rapidly like he was trying to piece this sacred information together.

"yeah, i mean, i just sort of ...grew up with the expectation." you say shrugging. it wasn't a big deal, you've always just went through it, not having the desire to be sexually active during your teenage years anyway.

yeonjun stares at you mind boggled, lips slightly parted before he just lets out a light scoff, brows slowly knitting together.

you shift awkwardly at his reaction- you're not sure what you expected but it wasn't whatever ...that was. yeonjun was the most open minded person you've met and know. exact reason why it's a breeze for you to confide in him about anything and everything.

you've never told him about your stupid virginity pact assuming he'd never live the information down-- a sophomore at college was a virgin? it didn't help that yeonjun's reputation included a lot of...well, the opposite of a virgin.

but the more you got to know him, the more you let the worry go-- he never seemed the type. until now, the regret slowly creeping up of ever mentioning it.

yeonjun suddenly takes a swig of his drink, still dazed.

"i mean i get it, it's not very feminist of me is it?" you try lightening up the mood, laughing at your own joke.

yeonjun's not on the same thought train. whatsoever. your earlier statement about finally 'trying it out' sticking out sorely in his head now knowing you were a virgin. "and...and you're going to give it up to fucking wooyoung?" he spits out with a mocking sneer.

okay, now you're confused. you turn your body on the couch to yeonjun, who had his forearms laid on his knees, posture bent with a strong grip on his red cup eyes focused on the crowd dancing to the blasting music. "what's wrong with wooyoung? i mean he's my boyfriend. and you guys are friends...did he do something wrong?"

yeonjun's venomous smile withers, practically evaporates as he throws an arm around your shoulder- if you hadn't spent hours doing your hair, he would've normally ruffled it, but his hands avoid it, his trademark teasing smirk that you could probably draw from memory showing up, "nothing, nothing's wrong. i was just messing with you. i got you, didn't i?"

you blink dumbfounded, but before you could question the sudden transition he had already switched topics and you reluctantly let it go.

yeonjun who goes home that night, far from his original plan to get trashed, opening his closet in desperate search of the cardigan you forgot on his couch a few days ago. when he spots it, he gulps, grabbing it and looking down at the baby blue in his hand for a second.

when he originally recognized it as yours, thoughts of calling you to pick it up weren't lasting. see, yeonjun has recently been hit by a sudden infatuation with you the past year, even after you started going out seriously with wooyoung. he wasn't too concerned, afterall, it was natural-- you were attractive, of course in the way of your friendship he'd eventually feel something more. it happened with more than half of his female friends, it always proved to be fleeting.

but the longer he caught his eyes trailing down your ass, subconsciously licking his lips, before snapping out of it and stuffing his perverted hands in his pockets to stop himself from losing control, the harder he felt he had to have you. it was so bad that his occasional flings mortifyingly started sounding a lot more like you...and looked a carbon copy.

so what if had a sickenly desire of touching, ruining every inch of your body? what could he do with your silly cardigan anyway?

yeonjun who finds it almost bothersome as he approaches his bed, grip tight on the fabric, wrinkling it in his hand. the fabric that's responsible to the haven that was your scent, stenched with you, everything you. you've always worn it out, to the point he thought it was your only jacket (to which he tried suggesting to gift you a new one), but you told him it was because the fabric was breathable, comfortable compared to most things in your closet.

he guessed it was your favorite.

so what would you think of him now? staining your favorite piece of clothing, hand shaking as he immediately shoves his nose in the line of the cardigan, his control breaking as he takes a deep exhale in, flickering his eyes shut, his lungs filled with you. the power of smell, it felt like you were right next to him when he had his eyes closed, taking another whiff before frantically trying to smell every inch of the fabric. his head light with ecstasy, his hand drive themselves over his bulge, feeling his hard on through his loose sweats, before his pace picks up, palming his dick, his breathing heavy and unrhythmic -- the mere scent of you making him go mad.

perv!yeonjun who gets dangerously fast to his climax, his hand faltering as he takes another whiff, groans easily slipping out of his mouth with the way they shamefully hung open-- so addicted he thinks he might go insane, his drool trickling down under his chin, some wiped on your cardigan because he was a dog with a bone. a crazed animal he realizes when he finally shudders, soiling his boxers, watching a large wet path spreading rapidly with growth on the area of his crotch.

who knew he could fucking get off of a cardigan? that's when the panic settled in as his hand shake in realization of what the fuck he just did.

he ruined his pants...because of your cardigan.

perv!yeonjun who feels like such a freak when he bumps into you at campus, yet continues to use your cardigan to his free will, hips canting against his bed with his head buried in the fabric, "f-fuck, y/n, you do this to me..." his babbles are so shameful to the way he carries himself, strong, masculine--anything but weak to a scent of a mere girl.

but it was you. the girl he felt he could spend eternity laying his head on, eternity hearing just a laugh, a snappy retort, a stupid dumb joke-- anything, he could do anything for you, with you, anything and he would find no use with anyone else.

he tries to get rid of his concerningly growing infatuation, deciding that he was acting out because of his lack of pussy-- going to every frat party on thursday, taking a pretty girl to a secluded enough space, have a pretty good fuck, feeling pretty fucking good on his way home-- until he's on his toilet again, left hand jerking off his swollen cock, his tip leaking precum, gawking down at your new post, biting his lips so painful at the shot of your ass in skinny jeans. "fuck!" he yells, strings of his cum spurting all over his screen, so frustrated with the hold you had on him, especially when you spared him zero romantic attention.

you had your heart reserved for someone else, and it was never not shoved in his face. it was the main drive for him-- when he spots wooyoungs hand sneakily going dangerously under your waist, his lips too close to your ears, body pressed against your ass a little too much for his comfort-- the occasional eye rolls were impossible to control in the first place, but these days, rage got to the best of him.

as far as he knew, based on your rambles lately, you haven't slept with wooyoung yet. you were still a virgin. and the scent of you was wearing off the cardigan, not able to get himself off properly.

he couldn't return it, the fabric was ruined with stains of his cum not washed off even after the third circle in the washing machine-- he impulsively opted to buy an identical, praying to god you wouldn't notice the difference.

perv!yeonjun who has a habit of lingering in an embrace with you, nose buried in your hair, discreetly trying to inhale your smell, before you awkwardly try to pull out of his suffocating grasp. "yeonjun, you're acting like you haven't seen me in years." you say, finally breaking the embrace with yeonjun's hands defeatedly falling to his side, staring at you with such intensity you don't notice.

its so so full of pity, his eyes, hidden with all the perverted things he would do to you- hes' thought of doing to you. his mind was rotten, if you let him, he'd take you right then and now. slamming his hips into his best friend's tight pussy, breaking your hymen, mixture of his seed and proof of your virginity taken-- a sight to be imprinted in his memory foreer.

hes dreamt of it even more vividly, being the one to take your virginity, in his fantasies- the one you've reserved for him. it's why you haven't fucked wooyoung yet, right? you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

yeonjun who has built a pile, a haven of all the guilty stolen treasures. clumsy with the elastic bands of his boxers, quick as he flings out his dick from the restriction of his pants, his hand slow on his shaft, dragging up and down with the stickiness of his precum, burying his nose into h like the fabric would evaporate into thin air at any time, like this was his last shot at getting something remotely reminiscent of you, deep groans of your name that sometimes get out of his control, turning to loud moans, the family next door unappreciative.

perv!yeonjun who's addicted to taking your things, stuffing it in either his pockets or bag, ruining it back at home the same day with his filthy thick load, your suspicions rising only making it more thrilling with each trashed item.

yeonjun who loses his last bits of restraints when you're jokingly pushed directly on his lap, floors of the living room being occupied by most of your friends invited for the group watch, the couches all full, chairs all used, of course they thought it'd be funny if you sat on yeonjun. you didn't mind it all too much, finding no issue with sitting on your best friend-- you've done it a few times before, skinship was normal between the both of you. but you still wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

you lean your head back to whisper in his ear, noticing the way his pronounced adam apple bopped up and down, which was odd-- yeonjun being nervous? but you ignore it, "i can stand if you're not comfortable."

his eyes tear from the premier that has the entire living room roaring with excitement, "n-no, it's okay, you're alright. i'm alright."

"...you sure? you don't look like you're alright."

"i'm seriously good y/n, let's focus on the show, we've been waiting for a whole year."

hesitantly you nod, it's true, the cliff hanger last season was a bite in the ass, so you ignore your gut, tuning in with the rest of your friends.

yeonjun who can't help the soft whimpers escaping his lips the more you jump at a scene then fall back down, his boner growing harder and harder, trying to go to the bathroom, but you're too focused on the show he's stuck under you as you adjust your position every few minutes, your ass with no knowledge, getting him off. his breathing gets heavier, nose flaring, so thankful the lights were off and it was night, too crowded for anybody to catch onto the way he was bucking his hip up into you, making the friction enough to get his head dizzy, arms snaking around your waist, tightening the closer he gets, the way you're so clueless spurring him on-- his face dipping into the crook of your neck, sweat dripping down his forehead, taking a deep breath before muffles his moan with a bite down his lip, whimpers as he finally releases.

he throws his head back on the couch, trying to calmly catch his breath, a grin spreading across his face letting his mind drift to how heavenly itd feel being inside you if grinding against you felt this good.

you turn your head back, voice hoarse and quiet, "...yeonjun?"

"yeah?"

your eyes trail down, and it takes the perv a few seconds to realize before his forehead crease flatten.

oh shit.

yeonjun just stained your leggings.

----

[its-de]

Imma be honest, ever since that omnipotent perception card dropped and my brain chemistry got completely altered, can't go back to normal because of that 🫡.

That card awakened something in me..

Discovering new sides of rafayel, the vulnerable one to be specific and him opening up about his past and his emotions, also him telling us about the lemurians perceiving their lovers thing was all just so *chefs kiss* 😗👌🏻

Looking back, he always showed that side, the always concerned, always looking after us and taking care of whatever we are going through, comforting us no matter what it is in every memory, but i didn't think much of it before that omnipotent perception card because i just connected it to him being the type to care for others more than himself, now after that card, things changed, looking only at the name of it "omnipotent perception":

-Omnipotent: having total power, able to do anything. *the word "god" appeared a lot in the examples*

-Perception: the way you notice things, especially the senses.

So basically it's not just a "normal thing", we are getting perceived by a god, lemurian sea god to be exact 🫡.

Then i thought about it some more with this new different perspective while replaying his old memories, it literally started as: "hehe 🤭 silly, no wonder why he always wins in kitty cards, turned out he was cheating by sensing our emotions all that time"

Until realisation hit me so hard and i was like: "now hold onnn a second 🧍🏻‍♀️.. he always loved us.. in all of his lives and in all of the timelines.. does that mean...?"

Yeah.. and that Your Fragrance card? was always one of the most emotionally intense memories IMO, now it's even more intense with this information in mind because not only him hearing from us what the "dream" was about, he also felt what we felt at that moment, tried not to show it and comforted us instead 😭.

Idk if i am making sense but y'all i am in tears.

Rafayel, the man you are 🙇🏻‍♀️, there's always something to discover about him, and it never fails to make me love him harder than i already do ☹️❤️.

[sciencegothic]

do you think athena ever resents Zeus for robbing her of the chance of having had a "normal birth" and a mother like everyone else has? does athena ever imagine what being a child would have felt like? what holding her mom's hands and hiding behind her dress would have felt like? i wonder if hera is nice to athena because she knows athena never had a mother. she was born before Zeus and her got married, after all, so Hera has no real reason to hold grudges like she held against Apollo, Artemis and Dionysus (all born out of affairs and not out of a previous union). Hera and Athena are often in the same side, they supported the acheans against troy and seem to generally respect each other.

Am I thinking all this just because of that "Hey, baby" in Hera's level in God Games? YEAH ABSOLUTELY.

ohh you came to the right person because mother-daughter dynamics drive me wild actually

i think there’s something to be said about a girl raised by her father because her father had his will that she would not have a mother. a girl who was born adorned in armour because her mother crafted it for her. athena was born a warrior of the mind (quite literally), and though zeus may shaped her and taught her as she grew, a lot of who she is can be attested to her birth. to her mother. so i think, yes, although athena is loyal to zeus, although she is his favourite, pe4ect daughter - there is still going to be a part of her that grieve for the mother she didn’t get to have, an resents the father who bears the reason.

i do like the idea that hera has a maternal dynamic with athena, then, because i think it would be good for both of them. athena finally gaining a mother-like presence in her life, and hera making a conscious choice of treating her as a daughter, knowing that the decision is hers, the girl is hers, and this isn’t like the other children of zeus. i think the “hey baby” line is quite telling, i definitely interpreted it as a sort of maternal-inflection, mother greeting daughter (in a sense). also just the whole way that hera interacts with athena in god games is really interesting. specifically her lines:

Try harder

and:

You can do better than that

it’s almost like she wants athena to win. where all the other gods presents their own arguments against odysseus, hera is giving way for athena to presents hers for him. she’s actively encouraging her to persuade her; she knows what athena - goddess of wisdom - is capable of, and she’s waiting to be hit with the wit that she knows athena posses. she knows athena “can do better than that”, she wants her to. she’s by far the most relaxed and causal of the gods throughout the games, i think to her this is just for fun and she sort of just wants to play around with athena for a bit. i like the interpretation that they’re locked in a dance during their conversation, like hers is using this as an excuse to just have some fun. maybe just for her own sake, but also maybe to spend sone time with athena.

headcanon wise, i do like the idea that hera is the one to take athena away after zeus’ wrath, or at least is the first to go to her. like i said, she seems to see the games as a very casual thing and doesn’t show any real contempt towards athena like the other gods do. she probably didn’t expect things to ever actually get dangerous. and of course, she also has her own qualms with zeus, so seeing him do something so heinous to his own daughter - i feel like that would kick in some kind of material instinct within her. she’d want to keep athena safe.

i should preface this all with the fact that this is all based solely in the context of epic. i’m sure the gods and their dynamics are different within wider mythology, but looking solely at the musical, these are some of my takes

[twisted-writing]

Azul, Jade, Floyd x fem!reader

For Anonymous 

Who asked: Hi!!! Can you do headcanons for octavinelle reacting to their fem! s/o that they thought was a human orphan just appearing as an octopus mermaid to them and saying that she discovered that she was just half human, and the Ursula's granddaughter and accidentally poured a potion on herself that made her became a full mermaid, so now she is permanently an octopus. Please and thank you! (Bonus points if you add how azul will react to her acting clumsy and copying the movements of his tentacles because she has no idea how to move in this new form)

POV: First person 

Characters: Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Azul Ashengrotto, Female!reader 

Pairing(s): Azul x fem!reader, Jade x fem!reader, Floyd x fem!reader (separate) 

Word Count: 820 

Azul: 

•When Azul had heard that you had an accident in Crewel’s class which was the result of an explosion, he was immediately worried for your wellbeing and safety. Many scenarios ran through his mind as he had made his way to the infirmary as soon as the news reached him.• 

•But this?• 

•Seeing a magical tank in the infirmary?• 

•And seeing the one who is in said tank is you? And not in the human body that he's so used to seeing but rather as an octopus, much like his own.• 

•Well it blew whatever scenario his mind had come up with out of the water.• 

•(Pun not intended 😆)• 

•Azul didn’t even realize that he had begun walking towards the tank, his footsteps echoing in the empty space until he was stopped in his tracks. Literally. Just a few more steps and he would’ve been able to reach you, but a magical barrier stopped him.• 

•Separating you from him.• 

•Azul didn’t like it all.• 

•If he couldn’t reach you, maybe his voice could.• 

•”Angelfish?”• 

•Hearing the familiar nickname that Azul had given you the moment you began dating as well as actually seeing him, put your worried, anxious mind at ease.•

•”Azul!”• 

•”Are you alright?”• 

•”I’m great! Moving with eight legs instead of two is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”• 

•”What exactly happened?”• 

•”Well…it all started in Crewel’s class…”• 

•And he listened to the entire thing, absorbing the fact that not only were you half human, but also the granddaughter of the great sea witch.• 

•”The tank and the magical barrier, did the headmaster set this up?”• 

•”Please.” You scoffed. “That cheapskate? No way. Professor Crewel, Trein, along with Sam set this up for me. I’m glad you’re here Azul. I didn’t want to go through this alone.”• 

•”You won’t.” He promised. “Not as long as I’m here.”• 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Floyd: 

•”Shrimpy! Hey! Wake up!”• 

•Floyd’s voice reached you from the barrier, rousing you from your sleep. Who knew sleeping in a tank could be so comfortable? It was the most peaceful rest you had ever gotten.• 

•”Floyd?” Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you made eye contact with your mer-eel boyfriend, he would have been closer to you, if not for the barrier in his way. “What time is it?”• 

•”Three a.m.”• 

•”Why are you in the infirmary at three in the morning?! Are you hurt?!”• 

•”Relax, shrimpy, I’d squeeze anyone before they could get a hit on me. As for why I’m here. I came to see you.”• 

•”Me?”• 

•”Yeah, I came to keep my shrimp company. It's so boring without you!”• 

•Floyd took all of this in stride. As if it was completely normal that his girlfriend was in fact directly related to the one of the great seven of Night Raven College, the one that his dorm was inspired by no less.• 

•That was Floyd for you.• 

Jade: 

•”How are you, my pearl?”• 

•”A little less bored now that you're Jade.”• 

•”Did you finish the books about the sea witch that I lent you?”• 

•”I did! They were such fascinating reads, thank you, Jade.”• 

•”Of course my pearl, I would do anything for you.”• 

•Jade was a calming presence and much like Floyd, he was taking this in stride and came to visit you as often as he could.• 

•You were grateful for him.• 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus scene: 

“There you go, you're getting better and better at learning to move in this form.” Azul complimented you, Sam had been kind enough to expand the tank to not only give you more room, but also so Azul could be in it with you to show you how to move in this new form instead of telling you from outside of it. 

[lucy90712]

By your side- Jude Bellingham

I thought I had my life together I was engaged, planning a wedding and had just found out I was pregnant everything seemed so perfect. I don't know how it all went wrong so quickly I just came home from work to be greeted with a note from my fiancé saying he was leaving me because he had been cheating and felt he was more in love with the other woman. He was so kind to let me have the house that I bought and only took his things from it although he did leave the place in a mess doing so. To start with I didn't feel anything as I was so in shock but once it sunk in I haven't stopped crying. Luckily finances aren't a worry for me as I make a good amount of money so I can continue to pay all the bills and can afford everything for the baby but having no support has been hard especially because no one knows I'm pregnant as I'm still quite early on. 

All of this happened Friday so I haven't been back into work yet and I know I should probably take some time off to figure things out and give myself time to work through my feelings but I need the distraction I can't wallow in self pity anymore. Luckily today I just have a lot of paperwork to do so I'll be in my office just getting on with things not talking to the players who would definitely ask questions as to why I'm not wearing my ring. Something I didn't account for out of pure stupidity is all my co workers as soon as I arrived they asked about my weekend just to be nice but just being reminded of everything that happened hurt. One then asked where my ring was as I never take it off and I had to just lie and say I took it off for something and forgot to put it back on all while trying to hold back tears. 

When I was finally in the confines off my office I couldn't hold back the tears anymore my whole world has been turned upside down and here I am trying to act like everything is normal which is so much harder than I thought. Even my office still portrays my perfect life my pc background is of me and my ex fiancé and I have so many pictures of us throughout my office. In my desk draw I even have an ultrasound picture from my first ultrasound which made me think about the fact that my baby has to grow up without a dad which I was so against for my own kids as I know the struggle. 

As I was sobbing I thought I heard a knock at my office door but no one said anything so I just kept crying until I felt a hand on my shoulder which scared the living daylights out of me. Part of me wanted to punch whoever or whatever was behind me but instead I just jumped back and turned around at the speed of light. My soul came back into my body when I realised that it was just Jude although I still kind of wanted to punch him for scaring me so badly. That's when it hit me that Jude had just seen me crying my eyes out and I have to explain why I was so upset which only made me cry again thinking about it. Jude knelt down in front of me and tried to wipe my tears as they fell but he couldn't keep up so instead he tried comforting me to stop the tears altogether. 

It took a while but eventually I had no more tears left to cry and I was forced to try and regulate my breathing again. As I tried calming myself down my morning sickness kicked in at full force and my options were throw up all over Jude or try and make to to the bathroom so I picked the second option and ran towards the bathroom. I made it just in time and apparently so did Jude as I felt him gather my hair and hold it back while rubbing my back. He must think I'm insane as I've just cried in front of him for 20 minutes now I'm throwing up but his opinion of me is the least of my worries right now. 

"Are you ok?" Jude asked once I had stopped throwing up 

"Yeah I'm fine" I lied 

"Whats wrong and before you tell me there's nothing wrong I know there is no one cries that much for no reason" Jude said 

"I'm just going through a hard time" I said 

"Look you don't have to tell me but it might help to get things off your chest plus I promise I won't tell anyone" he said 

"Ok but be prepared it's a lot" I said 

"Friday night when I got home my fiancé left me a note saying he was leaving me for another woman that he'd been cheating on my with for nearly a year and to top it all off I'm 10 weeks pregnant with our baby" I explained 

"Oh wow that is a lot" he commented 

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything I'm sorry" I said suddenly feeling insecure 

"No no I don't mean it like that I just wasn't expecting you to be holding onto so much I don't know how you are even here right now I'd be wallowing in bed" Jude said which made me smile 

"Look I know we aren't extremely close but you confided in me and as long as you'll let me I want to be there to support you with anything you need and I mean anything if you need a shoulder to cry on I'll be there and if you want someone to beat up your ex I'm on it" he said completely seriously 

"Thank you your support would mean a lot just don't tell anyone at least not right now" I said 

"You got it I won't utter a word to anyone else until you are ready" he said miming zipping his mouth

~~~~~~~~~~

3 months later 

The last few months have been difficult but Jude has made my life so much easier. Every day after training he comes to my office usually with a snack of some form and just sits and talks with me as I work. He also gave me his number so anytime I need to talk I can call him or text him and he'll be right over no matter the time. He's been more caring and supportive in the last few months than my ex ever was throughout our whole relationship. I've come to realise that maybe this situation isn't all bad as if none of this had happened I'd still be with my ex settling for what I know now was a shitty relationship at best. He never cared for me he was just there and did what was necessary to stop me leaving but Jude has taught me that I deserve better as even though we are just friends I've enjoyed his company way more than my ex's.

Not only has Jude been there for me emotionally he has been physically present when I need him. He has come to some baby appointments with me he is too busy to make them all but he tries to be there as often as he can. The first time he came he didn't come in with me he just waited outside for me but the second time I let him come in and since then if he can make it he always comes in with me. It has been nice having someone else with me to keep me calm as they check that the baby is developing as they should be and having someone else there when I found out the gender was nice too. I think Jude was more excited than I was to find out I was having a girl I went sure if I wanted to find out but Jude convinced me as he wanted to plan an on theme baby shower for me so that I had some good memories of this pregnancy.

Today is the day of the baby shower and I haven't had to lift a finger Jude and some of the other boys have planned it all and are setting up. The party isn't even being hosted at my place Jude said he'd set everything up at his and he promised to pick me up so I'm literally doing nothing other than turning up. My morning was so relaxing I was able to spend as much time as I wanted getting ready doing my hair and makeup all nice and putting on my dress which I got when out with some friends as they insisted that I looked too good not to buy it. For the first time in a while I actually felt really good, pregnancy has been really hard on my self confidence but I must admit that I look good all done up. 

Jude arrived right on time to pick me up and he even brought me a cupcake in case I was hungry which at this point in my pregnancy I pretty much always am. When we arrived Jude made me close my eyes and led me all the way through his house back outside to the garden where I opened my eyes to see everyone already there and everything decorated perfectly. I nearly cried seeing everyone there for me I've felt so alone and like no one cares about me at times but knowing that they all took time out of their days to come here means so much to me. I made my way round and talked to everyone thanking them all for coming before Jude dragged me away and got me to sit next to a table which was stacked with gifts. Everyone had gotten me such lovely things and some essentials some of which I hadn't even thought about myself yet. Once I had opened everything from everyone Jude invited it was time to open the things he had gotten for me. He went completely overboard getting all sorts of really expensive items such as cribs, car seat, stroller he thought of it all. 

"Thank you so much Jude you don't need to get me all this in fact you shouldn't have it's all so expensive" I said 

"I wanted to you've had a hard time and you deserve nice things for the baby which I knew you wouldn't get for yourself" he said 

"Well thank you I don't know what else I can say or do to show you how much I appreciate all this" I said 

"You don't need to do or say anything I can tell by the tears in your eyes that you appreciate it and knowing you are happy is all I need" he said 

~~~~~~~~~~

4 months later 

So many people have told me to stop working and start my maternity leave but I just hit 38 weeks so I have a bit more time left and I don't want to waste my time off if the baby could not arrive for up to 3 weeks. I need as much maternity leave available for after the baby is here as possible as I'm the only one who will be looking after her and I can't bring myself to put her in daycare until she's closer to one which is when I'd come back to work. Working while this pregnant is difficult as I can't move as quickly as I used to and I have to pee what feels like every few minutes but I push through and get everything done with a bit of help from coworkers and Jude when he's around. 

This morning I woke up with pain in my lower back which isn't completely unusual but for some reason it felt different to the back pain I normally have. Despite the pain I got myself ready for work and drove to the training centre as that's where my office is. I made it to my office and started turned on my pc and started gathering the things I need for the day when I felt liquid tricking down my leg then it happened a big gush of what looked like water hit the floor. It felt like time stopped for a few minutes as I just stood there looking at the floor panicking slightly because as much as I tried to prepare for this moment now it's actually happening it's quite scary. Past me was prepared for this situation though as she brought spare clothes to the office a few weeks ago and I put my hospital bag in the car just incase. 

After a few minutes of panicking my rational brain kicked in and I got myself changed and found my phone so I could start timing my contractions. I waddled my way from my office down to the physios area of the training centre as I knew Jude would be there as he picked up an injury a few weeks ago so he's still getting treatment. My idea was to just deal with the contractions on my own for a while until I felt like I needed to go to the hospital but they were slightly more painful than I expected and I just didn't want to be alone. Jude had told me if I needed him he'd make himself available so I’m definitely going to take him up on that at least for a little while. 

He was exactly where I expected him to be but he definitely wasn't expecting to see me because as soon as he spotted me he told the physio to stop what he was doing and leapt off the bed towards me. There was a moment where he was clearly processing what must be going on as I never come and find him during the day and definitely not wearing comfy clothes like I am right now. It took him a second but it eventually he worked out why I was there and he looked just as panicked as I felt. 

"Oh my god are you ok do we need to go to the hospital?" He asked 

"First off I'm as good as I can be and two we can't go yet my waters have just broken I just didn't want to be alone" I said 

"Ok let me talk to Carlo and then we can go back to your office until it's time" he said 

"Wait do you need anything?" He asked before running off 

"Just some water please I didn't get chance to fill up my bottle" I said 

"Got it go back to your office and I'll be there before you know it" he said 

He wasn't wrong he got there just after I did although he did have the advantage of being able to run and not having to stop for contractions. As soon as he arrived he took over the timing of my contractions and let me squeeze his hand when I needed to although I didn't want to hurt him so I didn't squeeze too hard. Things started progressing a lot quicker than I expected and my contractions really started to hurt as they got closer and closer together which made it harder to stop myself from making too much noise like I had been. 

"Thats 5 minutes apart now" Jude said 

"It fucking feels like it" I groaned

"Do you have everything in your car?" Jude asked 

"Yeah my hospital bag and car seat are all in there" I replied 

"How about I drive your car to the hospital then so you can have everything you need" he suggested 

"That sounds like a good idea but when we get there please don't leave I don't think I can do this on my own" I said 

"I won't leave you don't worry as long as you want me there I'll be there but if you want me gone at any point just tell me it's all up to you but first let's get to the hospital" he said 

From the second we arrived at the hospital things went by so quickly I'm not sure that I remember everything that happened. What I do know is that I was already 6cm dilated when we arrived and things only progressed from there. I did a lot of walking around trying to let gravity do some of the work but when a contraction hit I couldn't keep going I had to grab onto whatever was nearest which sometimes was the bed and other times was Jude as he followed me around. 

When it got to the point that I was nearly ready to start pushing I considered whether I wanted Jude to stay because I really value the bond we've built over the last few months and I don't know if I want to ruin that by making him watch me give birth. My feelings for him go past that of just friends but of course he doesn't feel the same way as why would he want someone who's just about to birth another man's baby. Maybe having him stay would mean he doesn't want to see me again which would help me get over my feelings but then again I don't know if a harsh break in our friendship is what I need right now. In the end my fear of doing this alone won so I asked Jude if he was comfortable staying and to my surprise he said yes and promised he wouldn't look while laughing which definitely lifted the tense atmosphere in the room. 

All the doctors and nurses filed into the room and put my bed in the right position and put my legs in the foot holds on the bottom of the bed. Jude was stood right by my side as the nurses instructed me on how to breathe and when to push. It was definitely painful but the nurses and Jude kept encouraging me which kept me going even when I wanted to give up. All it took was a few minutes until I heard the most amazing sound of my daughter crying for the first time. There was no energy left in me to use to stop the tears so I just let myself cry and the tears only intensified when my baby girl was placed on my chest for the first time. She was just so perfect I don't think I've ever felt more love for anyone or anything in my life. Jude tried wiping the tears from my face but they were only replaced by more in just a few seconds. 

The nurses had to take my baby girl to do all of the necessary tests to make sure she is healthy which pained me as I just wanted to hold her but I know it's important. It was only then that I realised that I was still holding Jude's hand so I went to let go but he just held my hand tighter. I looked into his eyes and he too had tears in his eyes which made me even more emotional. His free hand pushed my hair back as it had become a mess over the many hours of labour I had been through. As he moved my hair out the way he leant down and completely unexpectedly his lips met mine in what was the best kiss I've ever had in my life. It was unexpected but I kissed him back pretty much straight away but he pulled away after a few more seconds. 

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that I crossed a line I'm sorry" he said 

"Don't be sorry I enjoyed it I've had feelings for you for a while I just didn't think you'd want me" I said 

"How could I not want the most beautiful girl in the world" he smiled 

"I hope you know I come with my mini me now" I laughed 

"I wouldn't have it any other way" he said 

[quaranmine]

Re: your 2000 word fic

Jimmys relationship to the watchers is so interesting, especially compared to Martyn’s, because they’re in the same realm of thought with different means of approach (doubly if Martyn wasn’t born into the cult like Jimmy was).

Martyn’s realm of thought: God is real and hates me and I hate it back

Jimmy: God is real and everyone seems to hate that, and I’m not sure if I do

And like. Jimmy as a character is so [synonym of interesting] because he’s sort of a sheep. He has his own personality and opinions of course, but they are largely formed off of others and how they perceive him. Jimmy works well in group situations, but when he has to be alone, he flounders. So of COURSE when left in a high stress environment and isolated because of his red life, he’s gonna go back and try to find comfort in the gods that had a community. And Martyn, in turn, is going to see this and go “what the fuck are you doing, this isn’t good, the watchers are evil remember” to which Jimmy goes “they’re the only thing that loved me at face value”

Normal about this excited to see where this goes 👍

oh this ask is making me EXCITED again!

So, we're pretty close to the same page on this. Also this story is super duper AU to Evo. I'm keeping the same major story beats of things like 1) Martyn attempting to leave 2) the Listeners contacting them 3) the dragon fight & all of that 4) Jimmy being given a mission from the Listeners and 5) the Evolutionists leaving with the help of the Listeners. But the setting itself is very altered and the day-to-day life of the series is way different. (I.e. cult-commune.) It also won't be totally compliant with Martyn's eyesandears life series AU, just in the sense that I don't care enough to meticulously adhere to all the details. It'll just be kind of loosely influenced by all of the above.

You've also hit the same idea as me on Martyn not (fully) being raised in it. For what I wrote last night, Martyn was brought in to Evo with his family around age 12 ish, and allowed to continue outside education (Jimmy is very very homeschooled.) This basically means Martyn was old enough when introduced to the Watchers to not ever really be a true believer, and also a bit of a bad influence on Jimmy. Well, a good influence in this case. So Martyn definitely grows quite bitter about it as he gets older.

And in this case, when I say "true believer" I mostly mean that they believe in worshipping the Watchers and that they're a force for good. There isn't really much of a "are they real" for any of the Evolutionists because they demonstratively are. Now, for Life Series members who are not former Evolutionists, they may not realize Watchers exist at all. And for later in life, the Evolutionists may question if the Watchers are truthful in just how god-like they really are.

Anyway. Yeah Martyn's very much like "God is real and hates me and I hate it back."

Jimmy, at least in the backstory part I've written, is a lot more like "God is real and hates me because I'm a bad person, and I hate myself because I can't figure out how to be a good one." In this case, he feels super trapped in his incredibly sheltered life and questions a lot of stuff. But he knows he shouldn't question this. Doubting the Watchers is wrong. So he wants to be good. But he can't shake all of his, like, existential anxiety about being trapped. And then he hates himself more for that. He's kind of killing himself from the inside out with cognitive dissonance. He's finding it harder and harder every day to believe but he thinks that's his own personal shortcoming.

Martyn has kind of arrived at a "I need out because the Watchers suck." He has more anger about the situation and less self-hatred. Jimmy is not there yet and is instead more like "the Watchers are right and good and I'm the problem."

(This is also pretty in line with your comment of Jimmy being kind of a sheep--he is struggling much more than some of other former Evolutionists to put aside how he was raised.) (I haven't mentioned Grian much but I think he was also raised in it like Jimmy, but unlike Jimmy he's pretty defiant of the Watchers. Which gets him nothing good in the end.)

It doesn't help that being constantly literally watched is like psychological torture? No wonder the guy's mentally ill. Which I think feeds into the eyesandears concept of Watchers feeding on negative energy. Jimmy's general existential distress is like catnip to them.

And like, he DOES join the Listeners. They DO leave Evo. He does leave, and live normally. But that doesn't mean that he comes out of his choice to turn his back on the Watchers unscathed, and that he doesn't feel guilty. I think the "I'm the problem" mindset leaves him vulnerable to going back to worshipping the Watchers again later. He still carries this deep seated sense that they're right.

So when the Watchers strike back, and he's placed over and over in horrible circumstances like death games, at some point it's all got to snap right?

"they’re the only thing that loved me at face value” - it's completely untrue and exactly the type of thing he still believes. He's the one that left, after all.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

To Hell...: Part One

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Summary: A man intentionally admits to murdering ten people he didn’t kill all because his sister is missing. The facts take you to a pig farm where a world of horror is waiting for you.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

"If there were no hell, we would be like the animals. No hell, no dignity." - Flannery O'Connor

Two weeks have gone by since the Anthrax attack. For two weeks, Spencer has been in recovery. This is the first day he gets to come to work after getting out of the hospital. Everyone is inside the bullpen and their respective offices while you're outside in the empty hallway. You need a moment to yourself to calm your racing heart.

You're still not over almost losing Spencer. He's fine now and has been cleared by the doctor but the fear of losing him is still in the back of your mind. Things like fear, panic, and sadness hit you harder than any other emotion because of how strong they can be. They hate being alone, so they try to take as many people down with them as possible.

"Hey, there you are," Spencer says from the double glass doors. "Are you okay?" You shake your head and refuse to look at him. If you do, you're scared you'll never stop crying. "Darling, I'm okay now. There's no permanent damage."

When you don't look at him, he puts two fingers under your chin and lifts your head so you're forced to look him in the eyes.

"Did you know your love consumes me? It's passionate and intense and it hurts sometimes because I'm so in love with you. I have never loved anyone as much as I love you, so when you get hurt, it's ten times more difficult for me because I'm an empath."

Spencer cuts you off by placing his lips on yours. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. You can't ever get enough of his lips, his touch, or his love.

"Just know I'm not going anywhere," he whispers. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours. "I still need to marry you and have your kids."

This time, you smile a happy one and kiss him again.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt," JJ clears her throat. You and Spencer part from each other to look at her. "The meeting's about to start."

"Yeah, we'll be right there."

JJ leaves and you reach up to fix Spencer's hair.

"I love you."

"I love you more."

"Not possible," you grin.

"Yes, possible."

You two cut your cheesy moment short and join everyone in the briefing room so that JJ can get started on the case. She starts by putting a video on the screen for everyone to watch. On the Canada Border, there are a lot of cars getting checked before going through, but there is this one that draws the attention of some of the officers.

One car passes through the checkpoint but stops right as he does, and officers gather around to tell him to move. Instead of complying, he drives his car right through the barricade, turns around, and rams right into one of the checkpoint booths.

Officers from all over get their guns out and remove him from the car, and they slam the man down on the ground face-first. They handcuff him where he lays, pull him to his feet, and he looks up at the camera.

"His name is William Hightower. He claims over the past month, he's picked ten people off the streets of Detroit, killed them, and dumped their bodies across the border in Canada."

"Has he given up the dumpsite?"

"He said he'll only talk to the FBI."

"Do we have confirmation these people are even missing?" Spencer asks.

"Two were reported missing by family months ago, but they all appear to be transients. We're having a hard time finding any information on them."

"Garica?"

"Like a bloodhound, sir," she says and leaves the briefing room to find information on the ten people.

"So, what do we know about Will?"

"Up until two months ago, he was a Sergeant in the Us Army that did two tours in Iraq. He lost his left leg in a roadside ambush. He was discharged with a purple heart and a commendation for Valor."

"The Royal Canadian Mounted Police are requesting our help?"

"They don't have a lot of choice."

"If he manages to get away with ten murders, why crash the guard post?"

"It could be an attempted suicide. Maybe he was trying to take as many people with him as he could," Emily theorizes.

"It could also be a case of post-traumatic stress disorder. Do we think it's legit?"

"I think it's too many bodies to take chances. Wheels up in thirty."

Hotch is the last one to leave the room, and before he can go on his way, you stop him.

"Hey, I just want to apologize for yelling at you two weeks ago. I shouldn't have done that."

"I understand the stress you were under. Honestly, I would have done the same thing if I were you. I hope you and Reid are doing okay."

"Yeah, we are now."

Hotch pats you on the back and leaves your side. Everyone meets on the plane and the pilot starts the three-and-a-half-hour flight to Windsor International Airport in Canada. JJ looks through the files containing the claims Will made about the murders.

"He documented them all in detail with names, photos, dates, and locations of where he took them."

"He has a Military background, so he's bound to be organized. He definitely doesn't have a type. The only consistency is that they were all abducted in the same area."

"Yeah, what do we know about that?" Emily asks.

"It's called the Cass Corridor. It's right here." Spencer points it out on a map. "It has an extremely high concentration of drug trafficking, prostitution, and homeless people. All high-risk behavior."

"Maybe for Will, it's more about opportunity than victimology."

"Morgan and Prentiss, when we land, I want you to head straight to Detroit and see if you hear anything in the whisper stream. I want to make sure we have a crime before we get too deeply into this. The rest of us will meet with the legal attache before we hit the Royal Canadian Mounted Police."

"Actually, sir, the officer in charge said that his team was part of a fellowship the BAU gave to train police forces in profiling," JJ says.

"That was the first one we ever did. His name is Jeff Bedwell."

"You know him? Is he any good?"

"He better be. I trained him," Rossi smirks.

As soon as the plane lands, your team splits up with you going with the majority to the police station. Jeff Bedwell eagerly greets Rossi when he sees him.

"Jeff, how have you been?"

"You mean besides having serial killers trying to take out our border agents?"

"Jeff, these are Agents Aaron Hotchner, Spence Reid, Y/N, and Jennifer Jareau."

"Thanks for being here. I've got a victim board and timelines set up on monitors in the conference room. Anything you need, you've got the run of the place."

"We appreciate it."

"Don't thank me, thank the unsub. He's the one that put you all in charge."

You walk into the conference room and see all the missing victims on the board.

"I need to go talk to Garcia and see if she had any luck locating the family members. I'll also check records for multiple border crosses and see if we get any hits for the days the victims went missing," JJ says and leaves the room.

"Do you believe he killed all these people?" you ask.

"It fits the profile."

"How so?"

"He's got recent physical trauma that could be a stressor, wide disparity of victims, no bodies, possible border cross, and two entirely different terrains. To pull that off, you'd have to be smart, organized, mobile, and physical. His Military background gives us all that."

"It appears as though he clusters his victims into men, then women, and then back to men again."

"What does that tell you?" Jeff asks Spencer.

"At the moment, nothing."

"Has he contacted his family?"

"No, and he refuses a lawyer."

"Is he here in interrogation?"

"Yes."

"This guy is from the US Army who demanded to talk to the FBI. He's not gonna want to talk to anyone but the person he thinks is in charge."

"Of course. I'll take you to him."

Rossi and Spencer stay in the conference room while you and Hotch follow Jeff to where Will is being held. You can see him through the two-way glass and notice his anger. However, it's not a rageful anger but a calm one. He's staring at the window as if he can see right through it.

"Has he been agitated this whole time?"

"He hasn't even flinched."

"Does he know that we're here?"

"Yeah, we told him. Are you not gonna interrogate him?" Jeff asks.

"If I go in now, he's in charge. If I wait and gather information... It's my interview. Let's see what we turn up in Detroit."

Derek and Emily noticed something strange when they got to Detroit. Not a single person isolated themselves from everyone else, and they've all set up camps. People on the streets don't usually care about safety in numbers unless something scared them into changing their behavior. Drug deals are happening in the daytime and prostitutes seem to be working in groups. If Will did kill ten people, he couldn't have done it without witnesses.

Emily asked the girls while Derek stuck to the homeless population. Derek talked to someone who seemed to know who the last victim was, and his name is Charles who was a junkie. He's been gone for two days, and it wouldn't have been weird except that a lot of people have been disappearing.

When they do, they don't come back.

It's normal for people to leave and not come back, but this guy has never seen anything like this before. Derek showed him a picture of Will and asked about him, and the man says that everyone tries to avoid Will. He's got a gun and no one wants any beef with him. He keeps asking about everyone who's gone missing, when they went missing, and just about everything he needs to make it look like he's the one who killed them.

Before Hotch goes in, you put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Can I take the lead on this one?"

"What are you thinking?"

"That he didn't kill anyone. Don't worry, I won't choke you."

"Alright, let's see what you've got."

You and Hotch walk into the room and Will gives you a stone-cold look.

"I'm Agent Y/N and this is my boss, Aaron Hotchner, the Behavioral Analysis Unit Chief of the FBI."

"Are you here to analyze me?"

"No. I'm here for your confession, and to find out where you've dumped the bodies."

"I gave you names and dates."

"Not dump sites. You didn't give that information because you don't know where their bodies are, do you?" Will stays silent, and you get the impression that he's desperate out of love. "I know you were a Sergeant that led troops, and you've probably lost some men along the way, right?"

"A few."

"How would their parents feel if they didn't know whether their sons and daughters were dead or alive?"

"Don't lecture me on notifying families," Will angrily says. He takes a deep breath and composes himself. "No one cares about those people. Why should I?"

He got angry when you mentioned the word "families".

"You didn't kill those men, did you?"

"What makes you think I didn't?"

"Because you were out there every night showing people their photographs and checking their names off in a notebook. You'd only do that if you were looking for someone. Who are you missing, William?"

It's the kindness in your voice that causes him to break down crying. You look at Hotch and he encourages you to continue.

"You intentionally made sure everyone was out of that checkpoint booth before hitting it. You never wanted to kill anyone, just like you didn't kill those ten people. Now, I believe you when you say these people are missing. Is that what you wanted? To make us investigate so we'd find whoever it is you're missing?"

"Yes," he cries.

"Who is it?"

"My baby sister, Lee. When I got home from Iraq, the first thing my mother told me was that Lee was on the streets. She asked me to find her. I managed to find her once and brought her home. We fed her, got her cleaned up, and I let her wear my dog tags for good luck. Two weeks later, she slipped back onto the streets."

"Will, you provided so much information on the ten victims, but you didn't give us anything on Lee. Why is that?"

"I hid it in my spare tire. I needed to wait until I was sure that you were on board."

"What can you tell us about Lee?"

Will gives you everything he had on Lee, and you found the file he gathered on her in the spare tire in his trunk. He even gave you his phone that has a voicemail she sent to him right before she disappeared. You leave the interrogation room with Hotch and turn to him with a smile.

"Did I choke you?"

"You did a really good job. I'm serious. Keep up the good work."

"Thank you," you grin.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[not-poignant]

Can I ask, why do you love BL romance better than het romance? What makes them better? I did not mean anything negative, and I know everyone have their own like and dislike but I want to know your thoughts....

Also what do you think that made Asian MLM (BL manga/manhwa/manhua/ danmei) romances better than western MLM romances?

Can I ask, why do you love BL romance better than het romance?

Because I had no choice for many years.

Because that choice was taken away from me by a homophobic, transphobic, queerphobic, acephobic society. So all the romances I read had to be heterosexual, all the romances I watched had to be heterosexual, all the romances I heard of had to be heterosexual.

Because I'm not heterosexual.

Because I never saw myself represented in any stories ever, for over about 20 years (queer stuff existed, but where I was situated in Perth, Western Australia, meant that I was not seeing it).

Because I was force-fed allonormative, heteronormative, heterosexual tropes, bullshit, toxicity, misogyny, patriarchal culture, rape culture and more, and because everyone assumed that was normal, which made me feel isolated, marginalised, alone, and bereft, and cut me out of knowing what a life could look like for myself, and made relationships harder, when you don't have the words or stories to latch onto.

People like me couldn't even be erased out of the media, we hardly existed in the media, and if we did, almost never under our real identities, and almost always having to pretend to be something we weren't, for many people who hated us, or wished we were dead, or simply didn't care about us at all.

So, when I finally got a choice, I made a choice.

And I do not want to read heterosexual content anymore, unless it's queer (like T4T). The only place I actually willingly consume heterosexual romantic content these days is like 80s and 90s and early 00s romantic comedies. It's the only thing I allow through my filter, because so many of them have a really strong bent of hurt/comfort in them, and it's rare to find movies that have this in general.

But yeah otherwise het is just not a thing I look for in fiction. Literally a squick. Literally reminds me of 20 years of oppression in the mass media. It's not inherently bad, it just wasn't good for me personally, to never have a choice.

So I made one :D And my life has been so much better for it. I'm never going back.

Also what do you think that made Asian MLM (BL manga/manhwa/manhua/ danmei) romances better than western MLM romances?

It's just better for me, anon! I find a lot of western published m/m (so not like m/m fanfiction which I still read) often feels stifled and too short for me, and the characterisation doesn't get as deep as I want it to get. I often can feel the rigidity of the novel structure on authors who are trying to rapid release, and the depth I'm looking for is rarely there. Sometimes that's what people want! Sometimes they don't know there's other options!

Sometimes that's true of some BL manga/manhua/manhwa etc. as well. Tbh it's probably true of a lot of it! Serial format doesn't always allow for depth either. But I find the visual format easier to read as well. If I reread western m/m it's almost always fanfiction. And tbh, I'm sure some amazing m/m was published last year, I just get tired of having to wade through it all to find something I like. It got to the point where I was reading like 60+ titles just to find one average read, and I gave up.

The recommendation systems for BL tend to be better and more on point for me, I find most people who recommend published m/m to me generally always miss the mark (which isn't their fault - I'm particular, there's a reason I write what I write - because I can't find it to read!!), but close friends like @morbidlizard who recommend BL to me almost always hit the mark!

I don't actually read much danmei, but mostly because I haven't had time to really sink my teeth into it. Aside from MXTX, I haven't explored much further.

But yeah, hope that helps! :D

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

Thank you for taking the time to answer that! But it got me thinking about another topic since you also mentioned it, the whole cheerleader comment moment. On tiktok (cause, of course) people tend to act like he's a full on pedo (I've seen people saying yeah I wouldn't leave my drink with Dean since he likes underage girls) and on the other hand we have people saying that's not Dean, that's just the writers. I wanted to know your thoughts on that whole moment, how much it is just writers, how much of it is just Dean™, and whether if that's supposed to imply he's a pedo or smth. Cause the show overall has issues and it sometimes bleeds into the characters and makes it hard to distinguish the two imo. (Sorry for asking too many questions, but I just really like your takes on him and wanted to know what you think :])

Wow, you are just hitting with all the good questions this morning! Thank you!

Our society prioritizes youthful beauty, particularly that associated with female youth.

It is not uncommon or unusual for a man who is attracted to women to find teenage girls attractive, or for a man who is attracted to men to find teenage boys attractive. (Not excluding women who find women attractive from this, but just staying on target with Dean.) Finding the aesthetic qualities of youth attractive does not equal being sexually attracted to children. Pedophilia is a specific thing, a specific sort of taboo line crossing, that I really wish we could stop conflating with the fact that our culture idolizes youthfulness.

A pedophile is someone who is sexually attracted to children because they are children. It is not someone who just finds all the physical characteristics that come with that first full bloom of sexual maturity (which does not always line up with legality for very good reasons) to be attractive.

Dean gleefully pointing out to Sam in After School Special (4x13) that he'd found out that some of the cheerleaders were legal, DOES NOT mean that he was a pedophile, it's kinda actually means the opposite. Also, there is no such thing as "barely legal." Someone is either of the legal age of consent or they are not, there is no real grey area there. Now, it is true that the legal age of consent in a lot of states is lower than 18 (which is fucking problematic) but the show operates on the assumption that "legal" = 18, as most shows do. So essentially, what Dean was excited about was that some of the cheerleaders were 18, which makes them technically fair game. This expressly means that Dean respects that there is an age threshold, which pretty clearly indicates that he is not a pedophile.

I like to think that we as a society have gotten better about toning down the whole fixation on youthful beauty thing, but tbh I don't look at magazines anymore and am really good at tuning out advertising in general, so I don't know. But I do know that through most of my life the vast majority of models were essentially teenagers and many, many actresses found it harder and harder to get cast as they aged up out of that insane ideal range. I do also know that there are A LOT of porn videos that play on the whole teenage but technically legal aspect. It was (is?) a legit problem. So it is really hard for me to crucify a generally horny guy like Dean from lusting over older teens that he is clearly putting in the effort to check to make sure they are at least old enough to consent. Add to that the fact that Dean was also shown to be very open to older women's advances and I think he fell squarely into a pretty normal range of reactions, you know, for a guy who was a bit of a dirtbag (affectionate).

[lonelychicago]

fic rec friday fun! 💌

rules: share the links to your wonderful words with the most hits/most kudos/most comments/most bookmarks /most words/least words

tagged by @spotsandsocks @littlebitofdiaz @prince-buck-diaz and @bekkachaos 💗

most hits, most kudos and most bookmarks

and this is when the feeling sinks in ( i don't wanna miss you like this ) mature | 17.4k words

Buck was supposed to come home in a couple months, pretty close to Eddie's birthday. He was finishing his tour with the Navy and then they'll get their happy ending. That's how it was supposed to go.

Then two officers showed up at Eddie's door with a flag and thanking his husband for serving their country.

And everything changed.

2. most comments

believe in one thing (i won't go away) mature | 24k words

"I think— I think we should go to therapy. Together." Eddie says one night and takes Buck completely by surprise. "Therapy? Together?" "Yeah, like, couple's therapy or something. Frank told me he can recommend someone for us." "Eddie…" Buck says slowly, as if he's trying to explain the hardest math problem in the universe to a five year old. "We're not, uh— We're not a couple." "No, I know." Eddie frowns and looks down, fidgeting with the beer in between his hands. "But we're partners." He says, this time a lot lower that Buck barely hears it. "Right?"

or; the one where buck is figuring out stuff after waking up from a coma, eddie misses his best friend and they go to couple's therapy.

3. most words

made my way to a life i would choose | explicit | 26.1k words

In which Eddie transfers from his station to the Dispatch Center to be the LAFD Liaison, change is hard, staying away from Dispatcher Evan Buckley is even harder and not falling in love with the man is god-damned impossible. Eddie makes his way to a life he would choose and to a family who will choose him back. or affectionately called the buddie at dispatch fic <3

4. least words

I'm the one on the phone as you whisper | teen and up | 1.2k words (it has 999 kudos so if someone wanted to go and read it and leave a kudo i wouldn't complain about it 👀)

"Hey, how do you feel about an impromptu romantic date at a fancy restaurant with the love of your life?" He asks once he hears the call has been picked up. There's silence on the other line for longer than it's normal and Buck is about to check if Hen hang up on him when someone finally speaks— and Buck suddenly feels sick to his stomach. "Okay." Says the voice that is certainly not Hen's. The voice that's been haunting Buck's every dream for forever. "Eddie?" Buck chokes out, stuttering and hoping to God it's not him. "Yeah…" Of course it is..Buck looks up at his ceiling again, cursing the damn universe and its awful sense of humor. He's sure its laughing at him at this point. "Why? D-Did you mean to call someone else?"

or: Buck's date cancels but he has already made the restaurant reservation, so he decides to call Hen and ask if she'd like to take Karen there. He dials the wrong number. It all works in the end.

honorary mention to famous buck au bc it might not fit in any of this categories but it's still one of my fave fics i've written:

he never thinks of me (except when i'm on TV) mature | 18.1k words

"I have been in love, yes." He says after the most torturous of seconds. "Would you mind expanding on that?" Buck hesitates for a few seconds and then Eddie sees the exact moment he decides 'fuck it' as he straightens in his seat. "There was this guy in high school. He was my best friend." Wait. Hold on. Eddie freezes. Is Buck— Is Buck talking about him? or: In which Eddie finds out years later that his unrequited feelings for his high school best friend were not actually unrequited, Buck is stupidly famous now and they pine. They get there in the end, they just need to get their timing right. Inspired by the prompt: “you’re famous and just got asked if you were ever in love this should be good– WAIT WHAT."

tagging (no pressure): @monsterrae1 @buddierights @barbiediaz @cowboy-buddie @transbuck @transboybuckley @honestlydarkprincess @bigfootsmom @lesbianmaygrant @maygrantgf @buckitup @the-likesofus @spaceprincessem @alyxmastershipper @elvensorceress @ebdaydreamer @greyacebuckley @starlingbite @lovebuck @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @911onabc @hippolotamus @shortsighted-owl and anyone else who wants to do it! 💗