#comes across or what they're implying. it happens. i just wanted to offer a different perspective from someone that has been the

[bylertruther]

sometimes. people on here will say things where i know if i point-blank asked them "hey, do you like butches, femmes, and people that do not 'look' or 'act' queer?" they'll of course say yes duh. and i know if i asked them, "cool. do you think that an androgynous person or 'very gender nonconforming' (for lack of better phrasing) is more queer than someone that isn't?" they'll say no of course not.

but then you read the things they've said about how queer people present themselves, how they "should" present themselves once they've reached a fully realized state, and how it relates to gender and relationships and its like Hmmmmmmmmmm. i don't think you do like any of those three groups i mentioned actually if that's how you really feel on those issues lmao.

it's the same school of thought behind the perplexingly popular idea that because noah wears athleisure, he couldn't possibly be gay (before he came out, this was the common sentiment; and even now, people act like finn is more queer than noah, just because he "looks and acts" like it according to them). this idea that you have to look and act a certain way to be Actually Queer or Queer Enough, and if you don't, then that's because you've fallen victim to conforming or you just aren't as comfortable with your identity. (what? as if there's a single queer identity to begin with?)

that if you're a queer guy and you behave or look masculine, then you just haven't come out of your shell and accepted yourself or experimented enough. that if you're a queer woman and you're feminine, then the same applies, or you're not as queer as a butch woman, who does exhibit gender nonconformity, for example. and if you're butch or femme (+ other equivalents), or in a relationship with your counterpart, then you're perpetuating heteronormativity, as if that's even possible, and we all know that's so very, awfully, terribly Bad, you're a stain on the community, and you have issues you need to work out.

people don't have to look or act in a particular way to be acceptably queer enough. we don't all gravitate towards certain expressions of gender nonconformity or androgyny just because we're queer, and a failure to do that doesn't suggest that we're uncomfortable with ourselves and our identity. you can continue to be yourself as you were even after realizing you're queer. that's not impossible or a bad thing.

femmes and gay men that are masculine in any capacity are not traitors, confused, or less gay. some people are the way that they are, regardless of their sexuality. we don't all morph into the same person when we realize we're queer. that shouldn't be a difficult concept to understand? that's literally just... being a human and treating queer people as such.

those evil gay people who are in "masc/fem" relationships aren't perpetuating heteronormativity either. just because they exist outside of your realm of understanding, or have the kind of relationship that you wouldn't personally want for yourself, that doesn't mean that they aren't members of your community—which is the queer community, in case you forgot—and don't deserve respect, too.

like. it's just so demoralizing lmao. what's so hard to understand about accepting that people are all different and that just because we may belong to the same community, that doesn't mean that we are all the same and must fall in line? it's so tone-deaf, insulting, and just plain unrealistic. you may not mean it that way, but it is. that rhetoric just is.

feminine gay women exist. masculine gay men exist. sometimes they may experiment with their gender expression once realizing this, but they don't always and they don't have to to be considered queer. butch/fem relationships and other similar relationships are not imitations of heterosexuality, because they're fucking gay, and they do not adhere to traditional heterosexual roles, because, again, they're fucking gay.

your experiences and beliefs are not universal. gay people are not clones of each other. stop invalidating or speaking down on other queer people just because you can't relate to them personally. i know some people don't mean to insinuate these things, but you do. you are. constantly. and the people that fall in those categories you've deemed unacceptable and other, see it.

it's so... exhausting to face that in this space, which is supposed to be a respite from the physical world where that happens, too. and those actions, those beliefs that people share, they also bleed into the physical world and how you interact with other people in your community. it's not just little words that you write and have no meaning. it doesn't start and end with a fictional character. the things that you say matter and sometimes they're very troubling.

people who have been in those "fem/masc" relationships, or that identify with any kind of similar label, have not lived a life that's an imitation of heterosexuality, nor are they any less queer than you just because you haven't been in/participate in relationships like that.

[missmeinyourbones]

oh oh okay atsumu then for the chocolate thing!! and suddenly every household chore he has becomes a shirtless one. shirtless folding laundry, shirtless mopping the floor, shirtless doing the dishes…and he folds first bcs he’s really just turned himself on thinking about what’ll happen when you give in

AFAB reader, highly suggestive, minors DNI

"and where did you get these?"

atsumu was a bit too proud himself when he came home with the surprise in hand. plopping it on the table and beckoning you over, he carefully watches as you examine the box with suspicion. 

simple black and decorated with gold lettering, it looks normal. like an average box of chocolates, one he’d get you on valentines day or as a sweet surprise after a bad week. but when he cracks it open and removes all plastic protectant, you know somethings different. 

"online," atsumu merely shrugs, focused on reading the backing of the box as he removes the contents. 

you snort in annoyance, "that's comforting."

“don't worry about it," he beams at your grumpy facade. 

there are only four chocolates inside of the box, each with an imbedded slit in the middle, implying they be broken in half and shared with someone else.

"they're safe,” he assures you, “you know i'd never give you somethin' that wasn't."

though his sweetness shines through, you roll your eyes at the entire situation. 

its not that you’re against the idea of some silly aphrodisiac, whether it works or not. but today was your designated cleaning day, and if this was atsumu’s cheap way of getting out of his share of chores, then he has another thing coming. 

"not today," you decline his eager offer. "we have things to do."

the pout that pulls at his lips is almost immediate. "baby, c'mon. it'll be fun."

he pokes your side and chuckles when you flinch at the sudden prod. he bites his tongue before it can say something smart about how you don’t even need the chocolate to be sensitive. 

"you said you'd help me clean," you remind him through gritted teeth, though your fingers still dance along the spine of the box. 

"and i will,” he childishly insists. “i can be horny and clean at the same time. usually am when yer around, anyways."

his comment receives a halfhearted smack to the chest.

"stupid," you note out loud, more so to the package before you rather than to the man beside you. "it's probably all psychological," you mutter beneath a sigh. 

atsumu’s eyes narrow in thought, "psychological...?"

"tell me you know what psychological means."

"course i do, but how?"

he watches your eyes flicker between the box and the chocolates, as if you’re teetering on the edge of decision. what he recognizes to be a nervous hand comes up and picks at your lower lip. 

"like when you tell a kid not to eat a piece of candy, it makes them want it more," you explain. 

atsumu nods along, "so yer the candy in this scenario."

"and you're the kid," you confirm.

a grin flashes across his face and you’ve known him long enough to know that it’s one of no good. 

"so if it's just psychological," he borderline challenges, removing one from he wrapper and splitting it between his fingers, holding a half out in front of you, "eat one and do yer chores."

you eye the candy in his hand with suspicion, before plucking it from his hold and weighing it in your palm. "it’s not me i’m worried about," you remind him. 

atsumu perks up a bit too quickly at your implied response. "i’ll do my chores too, swear." his hand is raised like he’s promising and reciting a boy-scout’s oath. 

and with that, the chocolates are pressed and dissolved on your tongues, and (much to atsumu’s dismay) the long list of chores to be done begins. 

he’s fine, for a little bit. sure, sweeping the kitchen floor sucks, but it doesn't suck any more than it usually does. and you’re there, too. laughing at a few of his jokes and looking all pretty for him as you wash the dishes piling up in the sink. 

and suddenly, it’s hot. was it always this hot in here? the thermostat reads a comfortable room temp, but he finds himself cracking a window anyways. and when he looks back to you, expecting to see you also feeling the candy’s effects, he’s met with disappointment. minding your own business in between soapy hands and half-clean glassware, you look focused. 

he watches your eyebrows furrow in concentration. listens intently to your tiny grunts of extra pressure applied to certain stubborn spots on the dishes. they remind him a bit too much of the noises you make when he sucks too harshly on that spot by your throat, or even the ones you make when he takes a crooked finger and presses it gently to your—

"feel anything?"

he’s borderline gawking when your innocent question pulls him from his dirty thoughts. broom idlely in hand like a moron, his jaw practically touches the floor as he drools over you doing absolutely nothing. 

he clears his throat, reminding himself to breathe. "nope, you?"

you smile at his usual determination. "nope."

the chores continue. except now atsumu is sweating. it takes few minutes for his shirt to be thrown aside with an excuse the chores making him break a sweat. 

the two of you now fold laundry together, clean linens laid out across the couch, and it’s normal. it’s quiet and domestic, or it would be, if atsumu could stop himself from silently admiring your skin.

your neckline exposed through your loose fitting shirt, he hones in on how your throat bobs when you mindlessly swallow. how your neck strectches and twists with every turn of your head. how your skin, shamefully untouched and barren, is just waiting for him to do something about it. swallow his pride and claim it as his own. and fuck, he can feel himself hardening by the second.  

"still not feeling anything?" he winces behind a tough face.

fully aware of his dwindling resolve, you decide to shrug, "not really."

his last straw wears thin when you reach down to grab the laundry basket tossed aside on the floor, giving him the perfect opportunity to watch your shirt rise with the action, your ass on full display for him. your back arched purposefully elegant. 

you think he whimpers from behind you.

"baby, yer killin' me," crawls from his throat as if he’s in pain (which he would debate, he is). his insatiable hands reaching for you hips, itching to feel any part of you that you’d let him. 

his heart flutters when you sweetly smile up at him and his selfish, grabby hands. 

"so do something about it," you innocently insist. 

atsumu nearly combusts at the five words. "really?" he gawks, still needing your approval, "can i?"

you nod permission, and atsumu’s hand immediately makes itself comfortable beneath your sweatpants and between your thighs. he easily, eagerly takes a single finger and allows it to swipe between your folds. he’s borderline cumming in his pants when he finds that it slips with ease, thanks to your built up slick. 

"fuck, baby," the feeling has him instantly tensing up his thighs. he repeats the action with an added finger, collecting more slick before removing his hand and proudly showing you the mess you’ve webbed between his fingers.

"so,” he teases through a shaky breath as he admires your work, “psychological, huh?"

your head falls back in both anticipation and embarrassment. 

"you have the maturity of an elementary schooler," you mumble towards the ceiling.

"then our analogy still stands—” atsumu growls against your stomach, shirt now riding up and skin vibrating with need as his lips press against it. 

his fingers work your pants down by your ankles as his mouth hungrily works it’s way up your thighs, "—because somethin' tells me yer about to taste like candy."

[moonmeg]

Layout for next comic done, head empty only Breeil scenario once again - this time not in comic form!

TW// body insecurity (negativity), implied eating disorder

"Bree, what's the matter?"

"Look at me!", she freed herself from his arms, "Look at my chest, my arms, my legs, my stomach! How can ye think I'm pretty when I'm not as thin as I used to be?! How can ye love me when I look like this?!"

Neil stared at her. He didn't understand what she meant, where this was coming from. He never gave her reason to doubt his adoration for her - so he thought at least. Breena kept avoiding his eyes and quickly turned her back to him, hiding herself and her body from the man she loved. The thought that he will leave her now that her body is so different tortured her. She didn't want him to leave. Neil was the best thing to happen to her...

"Bree, you are beautiful to me. And I mean that wi' all my heart. A few additional pounds willna change that. Especially not because that's more than natural in yer circumstances."

"My circumstances?", she turned her head in his direction slightly.

"Aye, yer pregnancy. Ye're growing a person inside o' ya, love. Of course yer body is changing."

He slowly closed the gap between them and gently brushed a red curl out of her face. He examined her face and noticed her quivering lip and her still avoiding eyes becoming glassy. It's rare he saw his wife so upset and vulnerable. He knew a pregnancy had its impact on the becoming mother's emotionality but something told him there was more to Breena's feelings.

"I'm just wondering, where ye get the idea from that I only love ye when ye're thin? Did I make ye feel like that?", he traced his thumb down her cheek. His voice calm and soft.

"It's not you."

...

"Was it them?"

She closed her eyes and the longer she thought about "them" the more her brows furrowed above her red-brown lashes. "Them" referred to the people that Breena was raised by. She didn't think they were worth the title of "parents". Parents are loving, they're caring and they'd never cause their child to run away from home with 16 because it's become unbearable to live with them. To Breena those two people she had to live with were but merely her creators. That was also what she referred to them as whenever they still influenced her life... like now.

"Titan...", Neil sighed, knowing that he found the reason behind his wife's behavior. Breena's creators barely were a topic in their conversations or a part of their life but whenever they did come up, it was never in good context. "What did they tell you?"

She glanced at her husband. It wasn't long but Neil was happy she had met his eyes finally even if just for a second. It meant she was willing to open up about it to him and she was building up strength to reopen a part from that chapter of her life that she actually long had closed and desperately wanted to seal and lock away. It was hard for her. He knew that.

Caressing his palms over her arms until he reached her hands and curling his fingers around them, he let her take her time. His thumb carefully ran across her knuckles - back and forth. It was his way of reassuring her. He's here. He's listening. She has all his attention. She's not alone.

Breena squeezed his hand as she took a breath. She hated that she troubled him with her problems of the past. She learned to keep her frustration to herself and in fear of bothering people dear to her never let them out. Communication never worked in her home, why should it work outside of it? Of course, Breena never would've bothered her friends nor is she bothering Neil or her newly found family-in-law with her feelings. But unfortunately old habits break hard.

"Ever since I was a lass, no older than 6, I was told that my appearance is the most important thing I have to offer. If I'm not pretty and a certain weight, I dinna deserve affection or... love. Nobody wants me if I'm not thin. Nobody would think me worthy. If I'm not in the image of my creators, I'll be lonely til my last days. So I...", she paused, taking a shaky breath, "...I always tried to fit in that expectation. Whenever I didna fit it, I was called worthless, ugly and denied food. Whenever I did fit, I was praised... at least one thing I did right."

"Oh, mo gaol...", Neil whispered, "I'm so sorry."

He squeezes her trembling hand tightly. That was the reason behind her eating habits, he finally figured. She barely ate, only small portions if any at all, and his mother and himself were always trying to get her to eat more but without much success. With the pregnancy she had started eating more at last but she always felt bad afterwards and apologized for eating so much and would deny herself food "to make up for it". He had theorized there was a reason to it but he never wanted to push her to talk about it.

"They're so wrong.", he cupped her face and leaned his forehead on hers, "Ye're worthy of love no matter what yer body looks like and no matter what ye weigh. I love you regardless. I always will."

"Ye will?", she hicced.

"Aye. I asked ye to marry me because I dinna want to live a life wi'out ye. Bree, ye are so much more than yer looks. I'm sorry yer creators told you such terrible lies and treated ye so horribly. I only wish we had met sooner so that I could've proven them wrong and given you the love and affection that ye deserve earlier."

Breena sniffed as his thumbs caught her tears. She buried her face in his palm and gave her emotions uncontrolled freedom. Sobbing she threw herself onto her husband's chest, clenching his shirt. Instinctively, Neil wrapped his arms around her back, securing her in that position.

"Neil, I-"

"Shh. There's nothing more for you to say.", he turned his face to press a kiss to her temple. He held her for a while, let her cry, comforted her by brushing through her curls. "I can only imagine how difficult it must've been for ye and how difficult it still is but... if I may, and if ye want to, I will do everything in my power to help ye heal. I'm here."

She pulled away from his chest to look at him. Cracking a smile she was the one to cup his face now. "I am so lucky and thankful to have ye."

"Aye.", he smiled back adoringly, "And I'm afraid ye're stuck wi' me 'until death do us part'."

Breena chuckled at him quoting their vows. She brushed a brown lock behind his ear before she met his golden eyes once again, gazing at her as if she was a deity and the only thing he cared about. She never knew what love really felt like but when Neil was with her, looking at her, wrapping her tightly in his arms, kissing her and smiling at her, she was sure to have found it. And she was willing to allow him to help her actually heal and actually, at last, close the chapter of her past.

"I can live wi' that."

[niobiumao3]

.

'TechPhee is rushed'

Nothing has been rushed because literally nothing has happened! The closest they've come is an awkward not-goodbye after an episode clearly showing them circling one another. What's there to have been rushed??? Phee attempting to express interest and Tech completely missing it? How do you rush the ground level, absolute first step of a romantic interaction?

'Phee needs more characterization'

Definitely! And yet somehow that's not a reason to not ship her with Fennec, whom she's never even met (that we know of), or Cid, who she's been on screen with for about 1/10 as much time as Tech. Those are the 'better' canon options for her despite little to no interaction with them. How does that make more sense than Tech??

'She was neurotypical at Tech in their last scene. '

As we all know, neurotypical people are immediately aware of how to interact with ND/autistic people, they're all taught from an early age about the differences, how to spot them, etc. <sage nod>

I'll come clean; what I saw in this scene was two people misunderstanding one another. That the reason is Phee is probably neurotypical was likely the root cause, but an autistic person in her position probably would have ALSO been frustrated, they'd simply have expressed it differently. Are you going to tell me any two autistic people are automatically better at communicating because, do I have news for you...

Phee is mildly concerned they're running off in the night, prods at Tech a little. Tech doesn't know what she wants/expects, so he offers her a briefing, which to him makes perfect sense. That's how you tell someone what your mission is about! But to Phee, it comes across as a distancing, a pushing away, which is why she reacts so negatively IMO. They've been there for, what, probably a month or more, helping rebuild after the tsunami, integrating into the community, and there's no goodbyes or anything, just a 'briefing'. So it upsets her, this cutting off that she perceives. Which is of course not at all what it is, just the entire Batch has literally no experience with telling friends/non-combatants 'going on a risky mission with little chance of returning, wish us luck!', and definitely Tech doesn't if his body language is any indication. (And yet he was standing outside the ship...)

And she tries to get through to him in the way she knows how, which obviously fails--you can practically SEE him thinking 'what does that MEAN' when she talks about not running off. What she means is, 'come back to us, to ME, in one piece'. But hey, she has her own reasons for being careful and not putting herself too out there, it's just Tech has zero context for her wording.

At which point she seems to realize there's still a long way to go in getting to know one another, in coming to an understanding about the differences in how they experience life and express themselves. So she stops, lets it go. They can discuss how friends--good ones, at least--do not go on do or die missions without at least an 'I hope I can come back' once they return. (*cough*)

I don't know how this scene could have gone differently without an implication of a lot of interactions happening which addressed some of their differences. Which would be the 'rushing' people are accusing the ship of--and it literally isn't implied! At all!! If anything this scene plays right into need to slow roll things. It's like the writing can't win; either it's rushed, in which case omg lazy writing, or Phee is being horrible to Tech for not knowing how to interact with him in more personal moments despite them still determining where they stand.

The expectation that Phee handle Tech 'more carefully' in this scene is both racist in its assumptions about her and infantalizing to Tech. Sure, she could have done better, but she didn't exactly do him some sort of irreparable harm, any more than Hunter did when saying Tech can talk for hours on a subject. But Phee is a black woman and suddenly the expectation she perform this interaction perfectly as acceptable by every fan (NT/allistic or not) is the only way for the ship to be even moderately acceptable.

No one says you have to like the ship or be remotely interested in it, but attributing characteristics to it that it clearly doesn't have reveals a need to negate it, to declare you're correct in not liking it.

You can just not like it. But claiming things with no actual basis in the writing or canon looks really suspicious.

[shinypeachdelusion]

fake bags: What No One Is Talking About

I am positive Many people have heard about faux bags, and also purchased them right before.​ Bogus bags are a tremendous trouble in the present style environment.​ They're created to glimpse precisely like designer luggage so It really is difficult to notify which happens to be which.​ It is such a bummer that individuals would even stoop so small and develop these faux luggage, which not only can be a rip off to designer manufacturers but in addition, are lower excellent.​

Once i noticed my Buddy that has a designer-wanting bag, I used to be so envious and desired to get 1 myself.​ Until I discovered that it was a faux, And that i Nearly fainted! I was so mad, realizing that she experienced probably been jipped of her cash.​ To create issues worse, the bag wasn't even well-made nor did it search pretty much as good as the real point.​ A number of times afterwards the strap broke and that's when she recognized it absolutely was a phony!

The worst part was which the bag experienced Price tag her a lot of cash.​ It was not inexpensive, but the standard was terrrible.​ It was agonizing to observe an acquaintance practical experience such a reduction.​ I imply, who truly benefits from these pretend baggage? Absolutely no person.​ And It really is not simply the big names that pretend baggage harm, but in addition little companies who craft authentic luggage and also have to contend with bogus baggage.​

I've come across a great deal of men and women that buy these faux luggage since they Believe they will just 'get away with it'.​ They may get absent with it for a while, but it's a make any difference of your time right before they understand the real cost of a fake bag.​ It is a squander of cash and time.​ Not forgetting, the morality issue.​ It's normal understanding that buying phony baggage is illegal, and nonetheless individuals continue to keep obtaining them, No matter.​

Having said that, for those who end up in the need for just a designer-looking bag, you will find alternatives like 'classic shops' or simply branded outlet shops.​ These louis vuitton outlet stores have wonderful baggage that will look terrific and final extended than a daily faux bag.​ Not surprisingly, it'll Price tag more than a bogus, but high-quality in no way will come cheap.​

Not forgetting, the phony luggage never generally Exhibit the typical attributes that genuine bags do.​ Facts like components, lining material, stitching, stamp of authenticity and even more, are missing in fake baggage.​ Conversely, the first designer luggage have an added standard of sophistication which the fake bags, Unfortunately, don't possess.​

Yet another challenge Using these phony luggage is that they are often manufactured with counterfeit materials like leather, which aren't only unhealthy but in addition degrade effortlessly.​ They don't very last extended and break aside, which, subsequently, has an effect on the standard of the bag.​

Moreover, pretend bags normally deficiency lawful warranties that include genuine models.​ Which means, even if they harm accidentally, it is possible to hardly ever get it preset with the help in the designer's label.​ This is why It is really improved to pay for a little bit more than Have a very bag that can easily stop working.​

Finally, the scent of faux baggage is almost always ample to spot them from the true offer.​ Phony bags have an unpleasant oder to them due to the fakes elements They are really created with.​ That's why it's important to check the odor from the bag when building a obtain, to make sure you're not currently being tricked.​

I recall investing in my laptop for the money required to purchase my first duplicate bag.​ I couldn’t believe that this desire of getting a designer handbag was at last within reach.​ And when it arrived, I felt like I used to be in heaven! It experienced all the things - wonderful leather, a fragile strap in addition to a vibrant lining that matched the colour of my dress.​ I felt like a celebrity.​

It had been the proper measurement for my on-the-go Way of life.​ Each time I used to be out and about, I could effortlessly slip it over my arm, have all my Necessities, and however glance trendy.​ I could also fit in all my knick-knacks plus more which made it the perfect companion for weekend outings and getting around town.​

The better part of owning a duplicate bag was that it had been way more inexpensive than the usual designer manufacturer.​ Don’t get me Incorrect…I nonetheless like designer brands, but the cost tag just doesn’t normally slot in my budget.​ With reproduction luggage, I had been in the position to conserve a ton of money and continue to get an excellent on the lookout bag.​

Despite every one of the wonderful attributes of the reproduction bag, there was a single down aspect - the durability.​ I envisioned the bag to last me for awhile, but immediately after about 6 months of applying it, the fabric started to stop working.​ The bag just didn’t hold up in specified climatic conditions.​ This wasn’t a huge deal for me as I just changed the bag with a more recent a person, but this may be really worth looking at for anyone hunting for a additional prolonged-Long lasting accent.​

The bottom line is, should you’re seeking a trendy and inexpensive bag that’ll enable you to glimpse place-collectively, a replica bag is a terrific way to go.​ From my encounter, I'm able to declare that it’s certainly well worth the income you’ll be having to pay.​

I have also applied a number of other replicas - together with a Kate Spade encouraged duplicate.​ I thought this was a particularly excellent get as it gave me the feel of a designer bag without having breaking the lender.​ I obtained a great deal of compliments for it, and it felt like it was just the proper measurement.​ It also had ample detail to really make it search very exclusive.​

I've also experimented with a Gucci influenced reproduction that was made out of higher-quality components and a more intricate design and style.​ It was Unquestionably breathtaking, having said that, the detail was a tad too much and I felt like it was also fancy for daily have on.​ I'd usually save it for special occasions or nights out.​

An additional wonderful duplicate I attempted out was a Michael Kors motivated bag.​ This was something I arrived at for whenever I necessary to search sophisticated although not extremely dressy.​ It was great for special events, yet nonetheless informal with its minimalistic design and style.​ I did discover the straps a little shorter for me, but nothing also bothersome.​

My experience with duplicate baggage has long been optimistic overall.​ I find them to become a great way to get designer appears to be like with no sacrificing a ton of money.​ I really like which i get to express my private model by way of the choice of duplicate bags I personal.​ Every now and then I like to exchange them for anything different, as they sometimes very last me about six months in advance of breaking down.​

Nevertheless, I do know that not Absolutely everyone feels exactly the same way about reproduction baggage.​ A number of people feel that they’re not worth the money, Which designer luggage are top-quality concerning top quality and style.​ I am able to certainly respect that feeling.​ What I do know is usually that, for me, reproduction luggage have already been an incredible solution to investigate a number of types with out breaking the bank.​

The moral in the story is always that it's basically not worth it shopping for pretend luggage.​ You will find a lot of challenges involved and the standard is generally not worth it.​ The first top quality designer baggage have colonial insurance policies, warranties, very good design and likewise greater substance.​ Paying a little extra will warranty you the quality and gratification of proudly owning a real bag.​ Besides, It is unlawful, and in opposition to the moral code.​ Will not be fooled into buying a phony!

[metalbuckaroo]

💋Soldat107💋

🍒 SUMMARY// At 3am, every Sunday, Bucky locks his bedroom door to watch his favorite camgirl. What's to happen when he finds out he's much closer to her than leaving generous tips on her videos?

💋 WARNINGS// m masturbation, implied f masturbation, cursing, mentions of alcohol, lil bit of fluff

🍒 AU// Roommate!Bucky x Camgirl!Reader

💋 NOTE// This is tame compared to what's coming next. Requests and asks are always open, 18+ ONLY Minors DNI

🍒Ronly Friends Masterlist🍒

💋Main Masterlist💋

Moodboard by// @commonintrest

"C'mon, big boy! Nat is gonna be here soon." You called down the hall, Bucky walking out of his bedroom as he pulled his shirt on. "I'm coming, calm down." He sighed. "Well, don't you look handsome." You smiled, smoothing your hands over his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense a little under your touch. "Oh, stop flirting."

"Nevermind, you look horrible." You teased, Bucky rolling his eyes at you as he got in the fridge for a water. "If I was to set you up with one of my friends- would you go?"

"Nope."

Though a small wave of relief washed over him, he couldn't stop himself from asking- "why not?"

"I have plenty of fun- by myself." You winked, a low chuckle pulling from Bucky's chest as he took a quick drink from the bottle. "Well, any guy who gets to date you is lucky, dollface."

You jutted your bottom lip out, reaching your hands out to hold his jaw. "Awe, Bucky. So sweet, gimme some sugar." You giggled, planting a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

Bucky looked at the tinted gloss painted on your lips and groaned. "Oh, c'mon, get it off. Sam teases me enough." He frowned. "Ok, ok. Lemme see." You laughed, pulling him down closer by the back of his neck.

"Hey!" He whined when you left another one on the opposite cheek. "Now, you match. Want some more?" You teased, Bucky trying to wiggle away as you wrapped your arms around his sturdy waist. "No, no more sugar."

"Oh, all of the sugar. C'mere, big boy." You giggled, making kissy noises at him as his face went beet red, laughter bubbling from his chest. "Stop! We gotta- we gotta go."

🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒 🍒

Bucky tried to keep his eyes from staring a hole into you the entire time you were at the club not far from the apartment. Occasionally glancing over Steve's shoulder to where you were enjoying yourself with Natasha, the hem of your dress lifting every so often to give a peek at the lacy underwear underneath.

"You listenin', Buck?" The blonde chuckled, snapping his fingers in front of Bucky to get his attention again. "Hmm? Yeah, I heard ya'." Bucky lied.

"Obviously not. You're staring so hard that it's getting creepy." Steve teased. "Is that drool?" Sam quipped, making Bucky mock laughter and roll his eyes as he lifted the glass bottle to his lips.

He had been waiting for a half an hour for a reason to ditch, seeing you shaking your head at a man who just stepped closer when Natasha walked away was the perfect reason.

"There goes Bucky, swooping in to save the day." He shot a look to Sam over his shoulder, snaking his arms around your waist and leaning to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck.

Your face heated up at the sudden action, but the look on the strangers face as he backed away made you give a soft smile and place your hands on the metal forearm that was around your waist.

"Ready to leave? I'm bored." He muttered as he pulled you away from the crowd and the lingering man, facial hair scratching at your skin as he talked. "My hero." You laughed, pulling out of his grip and waving to the group of friends who sat at the bar.

"Unspoken rule number three, it is my job as your roommate to save you from unwanted situations." Bucky smiled, pushing open the door to hold it for you. "What a gentleman."

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3am hit while Bucky was scrolling his phone. The weekly notification dropping down at the top of his screen.

This time, there were two new videos; Bucky's eyes going wide when he saw the title on the second one.

For the best tipper- Soldat107

He hesitated at first to click it, his hand slipping into the waistband of his briefs to grip himself when the video loaded.

The swirling in the pit of his stomach started quicker than he had expected. Bucky rutting his hips into his hand as his top teeth bit down into his lip to make sure you didn't hear him this time and eyes fluttering shut as he spilled over the edge.

Once he was done, his phone and headphones were thrown to the side. Being quick to clean the mess on his hand and stomach before leaving his room to go shower.

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The next morning, Bucky went on his run with Sam and Steve after breakfast. The main topic being how he hadn't asked you on a date yet.

"Just ask her and stop being a whimp about it." Sam said, nudging his shoulder as they walked up the stairs of the apartment building. "She's my roommate, that's what makes it more difficult."

"That should make it easier, Buck. You already know almost everything about each other, there wouldn't be any awkward silences if you took her out." Steve pointed, as if Bucky hadn't already weighed the pros and cons.

"It's also very convenient that her room is across the hall from yours." Sam nodded, making Bucky roll his eyes as he opened the door to his apartment.

You looked over your shoulder from washing the dishes to where he was walking in, athletic shorts low on his hips and hair tied up messily. "It was my turn to do those." Bucky said with a pointed look. "I got bored." You shrugged, feeling the heat from his form when he stood behind you.

"When most people get bored, they watch tv." He turned the water off and you turned to face him. "How was your run?" You asked, leaning back against the counter. "Annoying and sweaty."

You nodded, letting your eyes wander down to his sweat slicked chest. The shine making his muscular torso seem even more defined. "I can tell."

Bucky hummed in response and went to pull you in for a hug, your hands pressing to his chest to keep him away as a mischievous smile tugged his lips. "Get off, Bucky. I don't want a sweaty hug." You warned with a laugh. "You know you like seeing me sweaty."

Your face warmed and you curled your fingers under his to try to pry them from your waist. "Go- take a shower." You giggled, Bucky pouting as he backed away to go down the hall.

You could hear Bucky rustling around in his room as you put the dishes away, a call of your name making you walk into his view as he walked back into the hall.

"Have you seen my sweats?" He sighed. "Which ones?"

"Dark grey." You didn't let yourself look down as he adjusted the waistband of his briefs. "Check my closet if they're not in yours."

Bucky nodded and opened your bedroom door, going to looked through the folded clothes on the top shelf of your closet.

Not finding them there, he went to the trunk that was at the foot of your bed, thinking you kept more clothes in it as he opened it.

He choked on air when he saw the familiar sight of a masquerade mask along with the same backdrop the camgirl he watched and different sets of lingerie neatly placed inside.

"Did you find it?" Bucky heard your voice say as you got closer. "I fuckin' found something, cherry." He huffed, everything in him wanting him to just shut the trunk and forget he ever saw it.

You rolled your eyes and waved his hand away to shut it, folding your arms across your chest. "That's an invasion of privacy, Buck."

"I'm canceling my subscription." Bucky said, looking up at the ceiling. "You're what now?" You said, cocking your head to the side. Everything not clicking in place for you yet.

"I'm canceling." He repeated, looking down at you. The fact that Bucky had seen your videos settling in. "You- oh, god." You bit back a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand.

"Yep. Remember the best tipper? Me. Now, I'm gonna go take a very cold shower. Don't look at me for awhile, I'm embarrassed." Bucky turned to leave the room, you following right behind him.

"Bucky, please, don't make this weird." You whined, reaching to grab the metal of his wrist in your hand.

He stopped and let out a long breath through his nose, running a hand down his face. "Four months. You've lived here four months and I didn't know I watched your videos every weekend? I feel-" A visible shudder passed through him, a guilty feeling settling deep in his stomach along with a little bit of curiosity. "Lemme see it."

"See what?" You asked, letting go of his wrist. "The cherry. I wanna see it." He shrugged.

You rolled your eyes and turned so your back was to him before lifting the hem of your dress, pulling the waistband of your underwear down enough for him to see the tattoo.

Bucky swallowed thickly and moved his hands to cover himself, tearing his gaze away from your backside. "Yeah. That made it worse. I'm gonna go shower now."

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A few days passed, Bucky hadn't mentioned anything else about what he had found in your room. Everything stayed normal, except the increase in lingering looks you'd catch.

And the curiosity of what it was like to film yourself doing such personal things.

"I wanna do it." Bucky blurted out as you handed him a beer and the bowl of popcorn. "Do what?" You asked, taking your spot next to him on the couch and grabbing the remote from the coffee table. "The thing you do."

You looked over at him with an amused smile. "You'd make good money doing it." You said, Bucky's eyebrows raising. "You think?"

"Well, obviously. Look at you." You breathed a laugh, gesturing a hand towards him. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip, thinking over what he was about to say. "Do you ever think about... having a guest?"

You cocked an eyebrow at him, silently debating what he had said. Bucky had the build something like what you would see on a statue in a museum, a handsome face and delightful personality to match. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have some type of attraction towards him.

"You offering, Buck?"

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TAGLIST: @likeahorribledream @cxddlyash @iwannabekilledtwice @bookstan0618 @glxwingrxse @yliumy @pineprincess @makbarnes @cupcakehinch @doasyoudesireandlive @magicwithinnightmares @preferredrealty @andy-is-gay @stucky-my-ship @marvel-3407 @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @i-l-y-3000 @avoxzy @impala1967666 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @supernaturalbae @bucky-hues @suchababie @eireduchess

@mrsbarnesinmyimagination @rachellovesloki @teenagedreams-bucky

[common-grackle]

Miles Tuck as an outsider

I'm going to spend a couple hours typing up my thoughts so I can share my brain goop with all of you. Should I be doing computer science homework right now? Absolutely, but this is more fun.

To me Miles is the most interesting character in Tuck Everlasting, and I think it's because he's clearly different from the rest. The first time we see Miles is in the prologue, which is not super helpful for establishing his character other than "wow, he drank water." But in Live Like This, there's a lot going on with Miles.

Jesse and Miles sing their part of the number together (despite not being in the same place). The contrast between the boys is obvious.

Miles's first lines are "Off the train in New Hampshire, and it's back in an instant/The feeling that I'm somewhere I don't belong." Excuse me?? In itself, this is an incredibly effective way to introduce him as a character, but it hits even harder when we hear Jesse's verse: "Hello Treegap New Hampshire, catch me up on what's new/Your silo I see still has the best view."

Jesse belongs. Miles doesn't.

Jesse's verse is a greeting, where Miles's is closer to an internal monologue. There's also a parallel between "it's back in an instant" and "catch me up on what's new." Returning to Treegap is an adventure for Jesse; Miles has seen all that it has to offer, and he's not interested in coming back.

Miles and Jesse's parallel character arcs are something that I never shut up about, so let's keep going. Jesse has positive memories associated with Treegap (or he's buried the negative ones), and what he's looking for is a new person. Treegap brings back almost entirely negative memories for Miles, and he's looking to forget the people he used to have.

Going back to the song, we have Jesse singing "I swear/Is there anyone who still knows me?" and Miles echoing "I swear." Like I said, Jesse wants people, and Miles does not want to be here. Miles's next lines, "Almost there/This town never outgrows me" pretty much solidify this in my head; he's just tired. (Jesse's "Almost there" is clearly excitement about arriving at his parents' house.)

And then their part together: "Unaware/I'll never know why this world chose me/to live like this, live like this, forever." This is another key difference between the two: Jesse takes immortality as a blessing, and Miles takes it as a curse.

As a bonus, Miles is clearly on edge in his next scene. He is not going to his Happy Place.

In the next scenes - everything surrounding The Story of the Tucks - Miles is actually pretty quiet. (That's also just kind of How He Is, but it really stands out when he's around Winnie??) He also has a lot of lines that insinuate that he's expected this kind of thing to happen for a hot minute. Miles's role in his family could be read as the downer or as the voice of reason, and I think he knows that.

I kind of love how Miles doesn't want to participate in the discussion, but he needs the facts to be correct. (I'm now realizing that he's kind of coded as autistic but I'll let you guys figure that out.) He's the one who cuts in and actually gets Winnie to understand what they're saying at the end of the song. Miles isn't wordy, but he knows how to get his point across.

The bit that always gets me about this song is Jesse's "He survived much worse" (referring to Miles). In the cast recording his tone is closer to teasing, but I still can't tell if he's referring to Miles's family. (If he is, Miles's "Shut up, Jesse" makes it That Much Worse.)

Jesse: Stop. She's just a kid. Don't make any good thing seem like it's the end of the world.

Miles: Easy for you to say when you've never looked out for anyone but yourself.

Jesse: That's what you think of me?

Miles: Who says I think of you? (He goes to exit, but turns back.) I shouldn't have implied that you're always selfish. You were an amazing uncle. Sometimes I think about that. (Miles exits.)

So much to unpack here. I'm going to make bullet points.

Jesse becomes more abrasive when he's around Miles.

Miles is obviously holding onto a lot of resentment.

Miles thinks Jesse is immature; he took care of his family, and Jesse has only ever taken care of himself (I feel like this is how a lot of people feel about their youngest siblings).

Jesse had a good relationship with Thomas (who we'll talk about later).

It's my personal interpretation that the reason Jesse and Miles don't get along (or, part of it) is that Jesse encapsulates everything Miles is trying to push down and forget. Jesse is optimistic and young (sort of), and he still feels like Miles's baby brother, even if he's 102.

Angus: Not natural, how much that boy has lost.

Jesse: He's not the only one. I used to have a brother.

And Jesse is bitter because Miles doesn't treat him like an adult. There's growth in that area later, but not yet! It's a while before Miles appears again, and when he does, it's...it's a lot. It's also the most insight we get on Miles.

Jesse: I refuse to keep living alone in the shadows.

Miles: Jesse, if you won't listen to your big brother, then listen to some common sense. So, okay: your plan works for three years, maybe four if you're lucky - then what? Do you someday start a family, and make your children drink the water? And what about when the neighbors catch on to your secret? Then what? Do you wanna go to jail - forever?

Jesse: I already feel like I'm serving a life sentence, Miles! I'd rather do my time next to somebody who actually appreciates it! (Jesse exits upstairs.)

Miles could've spared Jesse's feelings a little more than he does (although, with The Way That Jesse Is, I'm not sure that would've been as effective), but he mostly just wants to keep his brother from going through what he did.

Miles arguably went through the most loss out of the characters in the show, but he doesn't talk much about it. When he does, it's usually vague, and always blunt. Even his song (which makes me cry) is just giving us the facts.

Anyway...those are my two cents. I should probably sleep now.

(tagging @marinesocks and @claireverlasting again!)

[s-brant]

Angels Roll Their Eyes (2/2)

(gif: @toesure) (PART ONE)

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

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

Word Count: 24k

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

Hurricane Agatha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you smiling about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He isn't sure why she buys into it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

JJ misses her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Weird in what way?"

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

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

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

She sighs.

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

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

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

That part is the most fuzzy in her mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gotta catch me first!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They tried.

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

It was simple in the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fuck?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because what?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

There it is.

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

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

Her heart sinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then prove it."

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Internally, JJ is losing his shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll—"

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

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

"Promise?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's the one to break the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wasn't staring."

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

"Whatever you say."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's okay," he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could she be so stupid?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She is never skipping this song again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[sofreddie]

Stashed Away

Summary: With their biological clocks ticking, the brothers set out to find their True Mates, before it's too late.

Characters: Alpha!Dean x OC!Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Unnamed!Omega

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Mating, Marking, True Mates, Institutionalized Reader, Heavily Medicated Reader, Implied/Mentioned Sterilization

Word Count: 2,876

A/N: For @spnabobingo 2021 - Free Space. This is my first square on my first ever bingo card. Let me know what you think!

Sam and Dean - Winchesters, Alpha hunters - for years they dedicated themselves to the life. But now that they're getting older, and still without mates, they're starting to go feral. Ruts happen more often, are stronger, and last longer. If they don't find mates soon, they will go feral, hurt a bunch of people, and die. So they do a spell, with Cas's suggestion, to find their true mates. They've always acted like they didn't want it, weren't interested, but there's no pretending anymore.

Following the tracking that the spell gave them - they track down Sam's True Mate first. Dean's more worried about getting Sam right than himself at the moment. The tracking leads them to a small town - a case is here, they quickly learn, vamps - by the time they figure out what's going on, they head to the nest, only to find a woman there, taking the head off a vamp, two other bodies at her feet. She’s a hunter - and a badass one at that, taken three vamps down on her own.

Dean's a little agitated, he needed some blood to help balance out the feral rut that's been burning him alive from the inside. Sam however, is speechless. His blood roars in his veins, pounding in his temples as his eyes lock onto her form. He knows - he can feel it with every fiber of his being - she’s his…his True Mate.

"Mega," he wines, taking a step forward only to fall to his knees in weakness, "Need you," he groans, before falling to his side and promptly passing out - the fever too high and rampant.

After quick introductions and explanations, Dean convinces her to come back to their motel. It just happens that she's in the same one, a few doors down. Dean drags Sam into the room, dropping him on one of the beds with a growl. He's getting too old to be dragging his giant of a brother like a sack of potatoes.

“I’ll get another room,” Dean offered, trying to move around her so as not to set Sam off, “I’ll check in with you in the morning,” he offered with a tight smile, nodding at her before leaving and closing the door behind him.

The next morning, seeing Sam’s much improved condition, Dean smiled before entering the motel room and seeing the Omega sat on the bed, a fresh claiming mark at her neck.

“Well, welcome to the team,” Dean joked, still keeping his distance from her as he knew Sam would still be testy over anyone coming near his Omega, “So listen,” he added a bit abruptly, “I figured you and her could snag a car, make your way back to the Bunker,” he explained to his brother, “I know you two need some time. Fresh bond and all. And I still gotta…you know,” he added sheepishly. Now that Sam’s rut had cleared, he could see how bad Dean was in it.

It was time for him to find his Omega.

Dean sighed as he put the Impala in park, looking through the windshield up at the large facility in front of him. When he and Sam did the spell to locate their mates, they looked up the locations to plan out their routes. That’s when they discovered that Dean’s True Mate’s location - was a psychiatric hospital. He couldn’t imagine why, but he hoped that maybe it was something he could help with.

He tried his best to compose himself, feeling weak and barely holding back from losing himself to his biology. Using his FBI credentials, he was led to a common room, the nurse pointing across the room to a woman sat along, staring out the window. Dean nodded to her and the nurse returned to her duties.

Dean gulped down the hard lump in his throat that threatened to burst into a growl. From the other side of the room he could smell her scent, climbing in and flooding his brain. He tried to shake it off, sweat forming on his brow from the fever, and he urged his body to move towards her calmly.

His scent hit her as she gazed aimlessly out the window. A warmth flowed through her and she closed her eyes, humming in content. She opened them once more, her gaze still outside, as she started gently rocking.

“‘Mega…” Dean breathed quietly, his eyes fluttering closed in small intervals as he approached and her scent got stronger. It was driving him crazy, but he had to be wary of his surroundings, wary of her. He had to stay calm. With long controlled breaths he finally reached his goal, pulling a seat opposite the Omega and huffing out a shaky breath.

She turned her head to look at him, her eyes gently rolling over his face and body before meeting his eyes once more. Her face was blank, but she looked pale and tired and afraid.

“W-who are you?” she asked, eyeing him warily.

Now he was here he didn’t know what to do. His brain was too full of other ideas. His cheeks had grown slightly pink from the quickly growing fever. “M-my name’s Dean Winchester,” he said quietly, “I…you…” he had to stop and clench his eyes for a moment, swallowing another hard lump in his throat, “You’re my True Mate.”

She looked him over once more, taking a deeper breath, before her eyes turned sad, “You’re dying too?” she asked, emotionless in features and tone.

Dean tilted his head at the question, frowning slightly, “Do you mean turning feral?” he had to gulp again, shifting in his seat as his body ached.

“I guess so,” she shrugged, “Too many meds to really know the difference.” She suddenly lurched forward, her elbows on the table as she looked at him intently and wide-eyed, “They say I’m crazy, you know? That what I saw wasn’t what I saw, but I saw what I saw!” she nodded manically along to her words, “You don’t need a crazy Omega.” she shook her head emphatically, looking down at her lap.

Dean jolted back in surprise at her small outburst, but his rational mind kicked in. He’d seen these places before and the meds they give patients, “I’ve seen a lot of things,” he offered, “So why don’t you tell me what you saw?”

“I didn’t do it,” she whisper-hissed, leaning forward on the table and glancing around the room before looking at him again, “He did, he came in and killed her, not me!”

Dean frowned again, his head jumping to ‘potential case mode’, “So, there was a guy?” he pressed her for more information, “What did he look like?”

“He was just a guy,” she shook her head, “B-but his eyes were weird,” she exclaimed wide eyed as if it was happening before her once more, “He killed her and he said I had to come with him because my Alpha was a very bad man. A-and then his eyes…” she trailed off, shaking her head and fighting back tears, “I got away, went to the police…b-but no one believes me.” she whispered sadly.

Dean’s body almost trembled with quickly growing anger. Someone or something knew what he and Sam had been doing. They hurt his Omega.

My Omega.

Mine.

“You’re not crazy,” he growled, quickly rising from his seat and looking down at her, “Omega, we’re leaving.”

She looked up at him in confusion, shaking her head, “I can’t leave,” she stated simply, “I’m scheduled for sterilization to stop my heat hurting me,” she explained as if it were a simple, everyday activity, “Doctor’s orders,” she nodded, turning back to look out the window.

The next thing Dean knew, he had his Omega in his arms and was standing beside the Impala. He was panting for breath and felt exhausted. He had some vague memory of a lot of snarling, roaring and punching Doctors directly in the face.

And now they were here.

“I’m gonna take you somewhere where you’ll be safe,” he breathed, looking down at…uh… “W-what’s your name, Omega?”

“Y/N,” she answered reflexively, still in an emotionless haze through it all, but relinquishing to her Alpha. “You shouldn’t have taken me,” she added, “The man with the eyes, I’ve seen him outside the window sometimes. And my heat is killing me. I’m a disposable Omega.”

“No,” Dean said suddenly and harshly, his arms held her tighter - his splayed out palms squeezing her. He bit back another growl, the scent of her heat crashing into him like a brick wall now his adrenaline fueled outburst was simmering down, “Never say that. You’re my Omega,” he pressed his forehead onto hers, gasping for breath as his body threatened to buckle as he grew weak, “Please…l-let me take care of you.”

She looked at the man, the stranger, the Alpha who had suddenly come in and tore her from her prison, like a knight rescuing a maid from a tower. She wanted to laugh at that, but she’d long ago lost her ability to emote.

They had kept her constantly medicated, to control her heat, her scent, her mind, her actions, anything they possibly could. But for some reason, something about him broke through her constant haze and made her want to just let him take charge.

“Okay, Alpha,” she agreed, just looking at him as she waited for whatever came next.

“‘Mega…” he breathed, voice breaking slightly from restraint. He held her so close, but not close enough at the same time. He could feel her warmth as he held her, her breath fanning across his lips. Some of that restraint slipped. He pressed his lips firmly into hers, the hairs on his neck standing on end as he hummed hungrily.

She pulled from the kiss, her hand gently cupping his cheek and turning his head to see several personnel searching the lot and searching for him, before one of them pointed at him and shouted for his companion.

“Right,” Dean stared wide-eyed before shaking himself back to reality. After ushering Y/N into the car, he quickly climbed in, the loud tire screeching of the Impala tires shortly following as Dean tore the car out of the lot and sped down the road.

When he said ‘somewhere safe’ before, he had meant the Bunker. The way his body was reacting right now however - aching, yearning, pleading to just touch her - he was ninety-nine percent sure he couldn’t last.

There was that motel just a few miles out though…

Y/N said nothing during the drive, her eyes out the window as before at the facility. She seemed still and calm, but also fragile and numb. But inwardly she felt trapped in her own head and unable to break free. She had dreamed about her Alpha, her True Mate, many times as had most people. And now that he was here, she was unable to even really experience it.

The next thing she realized, she was waking up in an unfamiliar room. She was somewhat dazed but her mind and body felt clear for the first time in a long time. She opened her eyes, sitting up slightly to two men at the foot of the bed she was lying in. One was the Alpha from before, the other a new stranger.

“I’ve healed and cleansed her,” Castiel explained, “But Dean-”

Dean had stumbled back, leaning against the wall as he eyes remained on fixed on Y/N. Castiel’s words were like white noise to him, he knew she was healed. If he thought her scent was powerful before, now with all the suppressants - and fuck knows what else - out of her system, it was like it had been turned up to eleven.

His head dropped back with a thud against the wall, his eyes clenching with a restrained growl. “‘Mega…” he breathed, his chest heaving and sweat forming on his brow.

She whimpered as her eyes set on him. She hadn’t felt a full heat in a long time and this one was especially bad. She knew it was him. She could remember their words, his touch, his lips.

“Alpha,” she called meekly, tentatively reaching up a hand in invite from her position on the bed.

“-Sh-she’s still in full heat,” Cas finished his sentence, taking a wary step back as he eyed the duo cautiously.

“Out,” Dean ordered, not even turning to address the Angel.

And Cas vanished.

Before Y/N could blink, Dean was there. His hands bunched in the back of her hair as he hungrily devoured her lips.

She moaned as they connected, his heat and weight soothing her ache and need. Her heart swelled, but a part of him also felt familiar, as if she’d known him all along. She pulled from the kiss, gazing into his eyes, frantic with need but also wanting to savor every moment. When she noticed how far gone he really was, she decided to let him take what he needed.

“My Alpha,” she whispered, kissing him once more.

There was a small rumble in Dean’s throat as his bloodshot eyes gazed directly back into her. He breathed, “Mine,” before his eyes fluttered closed and his mouth attached to her neck. He kissed and sucked a trail down to her collarbone, pressing his body into her as he fully mounted the bed and towered over her. He wanted to smother himself in her scent, every touch sending waves of need through him.

His hips rolled into her, his brain fogging as he quickly pulled at her shirt, ripping it clean off in one swoop before he hungrily mouthed at the swell of her breast.

She could feel the tremble in his muscles as he fought to keep the beast at bay, trying not to scare or hurt her. But she knew he needed more and she wanted to prove she could handle whatever her Alpha gave her.

“I won’t break,” she pleaded, pulling his lips from her body, “Take what you need Alpha, please,” she whispered desperately.

Dean’s eyes darkened, staring at her half-lidded before his hands moved fast. As he hungrily devoured her mouth once more, he quickly stripped them both of their clothes. His hands roamed her with need, quickly moving down to her center before two digits swiftly dove into her core.

He growled as he felt her slick, curling his fingers and pressing firmly into her g-spot, his eyes rolling back as she moaned in surprise. He quickly withdrew his fingers, moving to grab her hips and flip her onto her stomach. He hoisted her hips up to meet him, letting out a low moan as he rutted his painful hard erection through her folds.

She moaned wantonly, arching her back and presenting for him obediently. She purred, rutting back into him, desperate for her Alpha.

He moaned out, mouth hanging open longingly. “My Omega…” he growled lowly, positing the head of his cock between her folds and gripping her hips tightly, “Wanna knot you…” he growled again - hungrier - before slamming his hips forward with a loud grunt. She was perfect, tightening like a vice around him that he hissed blissfully, quickly pistoning his hips with choked huffs and growls.

She moaned loudly, panting hard as Dean set a brutal pace. His grip was tight, his cock filling her completely, slamming hard into her cervix on every thrust. She reached her arms above her, grasping onto the end of the bed for something to hold onto. Using the leverage, she pushed her hips harder back into him, lifting her head to groan out.

Dean leaned forward, his breathing quick and erratic as he pounded her. His lips grazed and sucked on her neck as he moaned, feeling the muscle at the head of his cock begin to swell. His grunts became strained as fought to keep his pace. “Cum on my knot, ‘Mega,” he demanded, releasing one of her hips to rub hard circles on her clit.

Feeling his knot swell she knew she was close to losing her mind. When his fingers found her clit, she stuttered and screamed as her orgasm washed over her, her walls clenching his throbbing length within her. Dean seemed to draw it out as her pleasure seemed to never end.

As her wall clenched him impossibly tighter, Dean roared through one final harsh thrust, holding himself as deep as possible as he finally came, his hot cum shooting deep and filling her. The hand still holding Y/N’s hip gripped bruisingly tight as Dean suddenly bit into her skin.

As her mind finally broke free of the haze of bliss, she realized he had positioned them on their sides spooning. Dean was nuzzling into the mark on her neck and humming, his hands grazing over her skin.

“Who was that man from before?” she suddenly asked, remembering feeling free of the medications and seeing a man there before he just wasn’t there.

“‘N Angel,” Dean mumbled, breathing in her hair and holding her tightly to him, “Cas. Healed you.”

Y/N smirked to herself, rubbing a hand over his forearm that was wrapped around her, “I see you’re still in caveman mode,” she teased.

He smirked with a small hum, not letting her go, ever.

Forevers:

@sis-tafics

@lyarr24

@calaofnoldor

@hobby27

@spnbaby-67

Dean Winchester:

@akshi8278

@jerkbitchidjitassbutt

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Unexpected Places (Pt. 11 of 11)

Pairing: Ivar the Boneless X Reader/Bjorn X Reader

Word count: 2 K

Summary: As a princess, you've lived in a golden cage all your life, always a piece on someone else's game. But everything changed when the Norsemen came crushing down on Wessex, like waves in a violent storm. Their king spared your life and decided to take you with him to his kingdom, in what felt more like a rescue than a kidnapping. There, you were not only confronted with a completely different culture and lifestyle, but also with two of his sons. The oldest one has his eyes set on you, but it's the youngest one, Ivar, who gets who claimed your attention since the first sight. And he seems to have an unnamed interest in you. Of course you hoped whatever that was would pass, but when unexpected feelings start to flow a different way, things begin to change.

<- Previous part (10)

{Vikings Masterlist}

×

Home

Walking slow, you keep up the pace of a heavily pregnant Aslaug. The news of the child on its way came on the last day of the feast for your wedding and it was well-received by everyone. The snow falling gives Kattegat an amazing look, with everything painted white. The ocean is starting to freeze, but there are still boats coming and going, doing the last trades by sea before the ice keeps them away, having to endure the walk instead of sailing here.

Heading to the main hall, you stop when Aslaug stops, a hand on her swollen belly. “Everything alright?”

“Yes. I just need to lie down for a while.” She answers, setting in motion again. “Ragnar sons are always–” She's cut short once you enter the hall, the high number of people gathered around getting both your attentions. “Did something happen?” She asks, raising her voice. Ragnar comes to stand beside her, very protective ever since he found about the pregnancy.

You make your way to where Ivar is, seated on Ragnar's throne. “What's going on?” You ask him. “Bad news?”

“Boats were seen sailing this way.” He answers, gesturing, and dismissing the men. “With your brother's flag.”

“What the hell does Aethelwulf want?” Shrugging your shoulders, you stand beside Ivar, who takes your hand and places a kiss on it.

“Ask father.” He says, clearly annoyed.

Raising an eyebrow, you look at Ragnar. “Last raid I might have left implied that you were here on Kattegat, so... I think they came to take you back.”

“Why would you do that?” You inquire, hands on your hips.

“They were really pissing me off.” Ragnar justifies, and you roll your eyes.

“Are they coming for war?”

“No,” Bjorn says, entering the hall and dusting off his clothes from the snow. “I don't think they're planning on battle us, on our ground, with such few people.”

“Good. It means I can just tell them I don't wanna go and they'll leave.” Sighing, you look at Ivar. “And here I was planning on asking you to take me on the next raid.” You complain to Ivar, shooting Ragnar an angry glance. “England came to me.”

“Missing home?”

“Are you seriously asking me if I want to sail for weeks, stay on a camp in the woods for the entire summer for any other reason than to staying with you?” Faking an annoyed tone, you raise an eyebrow at Ivar.

Giggling, he bites his lip, nodding his head. “My mistake, princess.” Winking, he turns his attention back to his father. “Let's do what we have to do and get this tiny problem out of our lives so I can enjoy winter with my wife.”

“Speaking of enjoying the winter, I'll fix myself a warm bath and I hope you to join me.” With that, you turn around and head inside, ignoring the low chattering your words caused.

The word got out, you think, about Ivar being able to perform sexually. But since you were the first one to know, you don't mind the gossip.

The girls don't take much time to get everything ready, and you let them help you undress before you step into the tub. You always use Ivar's tub now, since you just moved into his bedroom after the wedding. As if you weren't sleeping here before. A few moments later you hear Ivar coming inside, taking off his clothes before joining you, making the hot water spill off when he moves inside, settling down next to you.

“You're so beautiful.” He whispers, immediately pulling you into a kiss, and you can't help but smile as you cave in, running a hand through his chest.

“Thank you, handsome.” You mutter when you pull away to breathe, biting your lip.

“Won't you even consider it?” You don't follow, so you pinch your eyebrows together, looking at your husband.

“Consider what?”

“Going back home.” There's fear in his voice, and that's a sentiment he only shows to you.

Ever since the announcement, Ivar has been listening to some rude things. People are mean, some of them at least. They say you'll leave him, trade him for a full man. That you'll get tired of him soon enough. You've been into awful arguments with some people about it, and Ivar have nearly killed a man a few weeks ago. With time, these comments are fading away, but it always gets to him. And when it happens, it's your mission to reassure him your love hasn't changed, it has only gotten bigger.

“I am home.” Caressing his cheek, you smile. “This is where I belong.” Your voice fades when you remember you have something to tell Ivar. It's been a while since you've been feeling odd, and your period is very late. “Actually, I need to talk to you about something.”

He furrows his eyebrows, a question on his face. “What is it?”

You know he wants kids, you've always knew. And you've been waiting until you're sure. And you're kinda sure at this point. “Ivar, I... I may be with child.” Speaking low, barely a whisper, you focus on his expression, trying to read it.

But you don't need too much. Ivar's lips break into a smile, and he kisses you deeply, until you're out of breath. “I'll be a father.” He says when you pull away.

“Yes, you will. And if it depends on me, you'll have a bunch of children, my love.” You can't wait to tell everyone, to let them know Ivar can do what they all doubted.

“I love you, (Y/N). More than everything.”

“We need to talk names now.” Giggling, you caress his face. “Everyone will have a suggestion.”

“We'll have to do it later.”

“Later? Why? Are you planning on doing anything now?” Smirking, you don't need any other answer than the kiss he gives you, and suddenly all the rest is put aside for a moment.

°°°

Hours later, when the sun is about to set, you're at the docks, watching as the two boats approach. A great number of people came too, of course, to see how it'll play out. There are soldiers, ready to fight if that's the case, but if it depends on you, it won't come to that. It doesn't look like they're here for war.

It gets your attention when one of the men, standing on the edge of the ship, recognizes you. He raises his eyebrows, but you don't show any expression. Slowly, he and a few men step out of the boat, eyes scanning through the Vikings, ready to defend themselves and their leader. That's when you recognize the man, Sir Wilfred, one of your father's man, now working for your older brother. He was kind to you, so you don't have your walls all the way up.

“Princess (Y/N).” He greets you with a small smile, taking your hand and placing a kiss on it. “It's a true blessing to find you alive and... Well.”

“It's good to see you too, Sir. Hope you made a safe trip here. But may I ask why did you and such a small army bothered to sail all the way to Kattegat?” Cutting straight to the point, you offer him a small smile. Ivar, who stands beside you, gets a worried stare from Wilfred, and you can feel his anger emanating.

“King Aethelwulf, your brother, sent us. After Ragnar Lothbrok told him you were here, brought by your own will, he decided to give you a chance to reconquer your old life, as a princess, by his side.” There's more than he's saying because you know your brother. It doesn't sound like something he would say. Aethelwulf wants you back because he can't even begin to imagine who would want to stay here. And he's ego demands him to try and get you back, so he can present you to his court, telling them how you came back to your senses and abandoned the barbarians.

“Tell my brother I have no intention of leaving Kattegat.” You begin, getting a weird expression from Wilfred, and some of his men start gossiping with each other. “I made myself a home here, among the Vikings. I even married one.” Gesturing at Ivar, you have to bite back the laugh that threatens to emerge at the surprise on Wilfred's face. “This is Ivar the Boneless, my husband and the father of the child I'm carrying. And I believe you know him very well Sir.”

“My princess, I don't understand–”

“I'm thankful for this... Rescue party you brought with you across the ocean, but I don't need to be rescued.” Cutting him off, you step back a little, gesturing at the people who stand behind you. “This is my place now, my people. My house, my King and Queen, my husband and friends. I'm not being held against my will. In fact, I didn't come against my will.” You raise your voice, so all of his men will listen, so the truth can find a way to your brother's ears. “With the same people you call soulless, barbarians, monsters, I found great happiness, something that I never had back in England. And I apologize if you had to endure such a journey for nothing, but I won't be going with you. And, just in case you were ordered to take me by force, I must advise you not to try it. Because you will lose.”

“My princess, those aren't the orders,” Winfred speaks again, clearly uncomfortable. “King Aethelwulf commands that, if you are indeed here by your own will, and refuses to return home, he will tell your people you died, and never again you'll find refuge in his kingdom.

Laughing a little, you shrug your shoulders. “So be it.” You simply say, looking at Ivar, who has a smile on his lips. “I'm not going anywhere.” You tell most to your husband than to anyone else. “It was good to see you one last time, Sir Wilfred.” But now I must ask you and your men to sail away from Kattegat. Your presence here isn't welcome.”

“I wouldn't stay even if you invited me, Prin... (Y/N).” He quickly corrects himself, and the change of humor makes you giggle.

“I wasn't planning on inviting you, Sir. Have a safe trip back to England.” Nodding at him, you turn around, walking away with Ivar next to you. Everyone steps out of your way, and you notice how some of Ragnar's men take a position to follow the Saxons back to their ship and until they're far enough from the town.

The commotion soon stays behind as you make your way back home, the wind, which gets colder by the day, messing with your hair.

“I love both of you,” Ivar says, out of nowhere, making you stop on your tracks by the main hall's entrance.

“What's that now?” Squinting your eyes, you stare at him, a chuckle caught in your throat.

“You make me happy. Like I never thought I'd be.” He comes closer, a hand on your belly. “This child is the very image of what we feel. And I never thought I'd ever love someone this much. Or that someone would love me even though–”

“Well, I love you. Just the way you are.” Your heart warms up at his smile, genuine and kind. “Now, let's get inside. It's getting cold.” Taking his hand, you pull him inside.

Many things are on the way now. The child, the raids, on which you do want to go every once in a while. The road is long and full of surprises, but you're willing to enjoy every step of the way. You never thought this would be how your life turned out, but as crazy as it is, it's good. It's the proof that love and happiness can be found in the most unexpected places, and you found both those things in a town across the world, with people who live in a completely different culture, in very different ways. But you would do it all over again, and now that you're here, you'll never take things for granted. You'll never trade this for anything else, not even for the throne of Wessex. This is far more valuable than all the crowns of the world.

×

@multific @revolution-starter @crackhead1-800 @youbloodymadgenius @clown-boyyy @kitten0394 @castielsangelx-blog @goldlion07 @midnightmystic @readsalot73 @xvxcarolinexvx @momowhoo @fangfoxy @msrawog @walkingonshunshine @alytavzla @anotherfan07 @heavenly1927 @msrawog @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom

[lilyclawthorne]

Keeping Up A-fear-ance's Thoughts

I finished writing this shortly after 3 am after watching the new episode like three times because I simply had too much energy about it and I have so many thoughts because I simply live for clawthornes and also I tried to break it up with more photos this time sorry not sorry if it's a lot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

YOUNG EDA!! let me just say I am quite a fan of opening with a flashback like we've done here and the last episode

"we have never seen a curse like this before" Lilith you had shit luck picking out curses huh

"cut it out if we have to" goddamn Gwen let'a calm the fuck down a bit.

anyways we've only really seen young Eda as a wild and confident and happy little child so I appreciate seeing this side of her with the anxiety and fear she's feeling here. I love seeing what the curse stuff was like for her as a kid

Gwen: I raised a perfectly fine kid

Me: no you didn't look at her she's got anxiety

I'm guessing this is their backyard or just some woods behind their house?? wonder if the portal was placed there by another elder family member.

lmao I can't even begin to imagine what small Eda experiencing the human realm was like for the first time

Gwens giving me "I can't accept that my child is disabled/chronically ill/etc." here. y’know the kinda parent that'll put their kid through hell over something they probably will find a way to learn to live with (which Eda did do)

ok that's it I humbly request to know the story behind the fang now (also the noise she made when she put it in was freaking cute)

new dress! new boots! new dress! new boots!

..yikes that fridge is empty

"calm down the curse acts stronger when you're stressed" Eda do you know who you're talking to here

confirmation losing limbs is in fact a side effect of the curse!! (y'know since Eda originally said it just happens when you get older)

please I love these sisters they're so sweet and make me wanna go 🥺

"suddenly curious about my past" "always. always curious" Luz says exactly what we all think

witchlet?? sweet flea?? she's got pet names for them 🥺 (although idk how much I'd like to be referred to as any kind of flea sorry Lilith)

ok Gwen is very much not close to what I expected and I'm kinda grateful for that

she's more like super caring but still managed to royally fuck up which was my original head canon for clawthorne parents so uh that's cool. but literally, look at their body language, Eda's pissed, Lilith's sad and making herself small. she's clearly messed up with her parenting on both of them along the way.

"who knows what they put in those nasty concoctions?" mama clawthorne would be a fucking anti-vaxxer wouldn't she

ok I side with Eda here more than Luz and Lilith. just because Luz misses her mother, or Lilith hasn’t seen their mom in so long doesn’t mean Eda has to feel all grateful for the presence of Gwen, especially if the woman has caused her a lot of trouble over the years

I feel like the fact that its actually both Lilith and Gwendolyn have spent their whole lives dedicated to trying to find a cure could probably have held some kind of weight on Eda at some point. Even though she shouldn't feel guilty or responsible for that, I still feel like it's gotta suck knowing these people have spent so much time on something you know is likely never gonna happen, all for you.

Lilith 😞 her mother really just didn't pay attention to her all these years

hey if this guy does some next level healing magic then why isn't he more well-known, huh? why’d it take so long to come across him?? Gwen do you know what the fuck you're doing cause I think you don't

Lilith just because you're depressed about your mom doesn't mean you have to bring king down too 😠

SUPER irrelevant but is anyone else just bothered by the way Lilith is holding her spoon?? that doesn't seem like a comfortable way to hold a spoon. also is she left handed??

"knife season came early" EDA WHAT DOES THAT MEAN. is this a boiling isles things or is this a it’s common for people to throw knives at you thing

also I want to be surprised Eda fell for the apple blood signs but I am not 😔 

Luz please trust you're gut on this one and not mama clawthorne

ok now I need to know why the fridge was empty but they had 18 cartons of ice cream this is why you guys don't have food you're wasting it all on ice cream.

wow never thought I'd see the day hooty became the voice of reason

also, night market ice cream?? are they implying this ice cream is like, edibles of some sort?? Lilith does seem kinda high here ngl. idk man but at least she wants to stand up for herself so good for her.

PLEASE kings just offering her ice cream while she transforms

"first in a series" Gwen honey oh no. you've been duped. I think we can see where Lilith got her naïveté from huh.

Also, nice snatch Luz 😊

anyways love how this show is basically making fun of moms who refuse to give their kids proper medical treatment or listen to medical professionals here

EXCUSE ME why do we know Gwen's palisman's name before we know Lilith's?????

"I am a mother who'll do anything for her daughter" you're mom who's suffocating obsession with one daughter has left the other neglected and is currently causing her to turn into a full on beast ya dummy

Eda DOES have a right to be upset. it sucks that her own valid emotions that she should get to feel will cause her while body to betray her.

PLEASE I’M SO GLAD LILITH’S BEAST DESIGN LOOKS LIKE HER AND IS NOT THE THING FROM THE TRAILER THAT IS ACTUALLY IN EDA"S HEAD WHEN SHE’S TRANSFORMED

but also why is she SO massive?? also anyone concerned that this is her first transformation and the light glyph trick wouldn't even work??

Gwen look at what you've done, you've fostered feelings of inferiority in one daughter causing her to feel the need for sibling rivalry that the pure instincts of the raven beast cannot suppress no matter how much their sisterly relationship had improved.

HOW COULD YOUR OTHER DAUGHTER ALSO BEING CURSED BE A PART OF THE PROCESS GWEN??

"after Eda was cursed, I joined the beast keeping coven" woah woah WOAH. you're telling me you only joined because of trying to help Eda. that covens existed, before Eda got cursed, and you very much weren't a part of one. combine that with "some words for belos" she has and do I smell wild witch theory still plausible???

anyways at least mama clawthorne is getting some sense into her head here

Morton c'mon help a girl out, that's some dang good art too what the heck dude

ok fine mama clawthorne to the rescue

no pls not raven beast Lilith crying im crying now

Gwen: I raised a fine and self-sufficient child

Me: no you didn't look at her. she's got, SO MUCH.

GODDAMN THATS SOME POWER. ngl this only adds fuel to the fire in my head that there was some kinda reasoning these sisters were torn apart, that someone felt they'd be too powerful together (and they were probably right)

"I heard you but I couldn't stop myself, I couldn't do anything" may be just because she's not used to the curse but again part of me is concerned that because she couldn't pull herself out of it even a little bit like Eda did that there's something wrong there. but she also could've been stressed beyond reasonably calming herself down too.

ok but this is sweet

NOOO im so sad Lilith's leaving :( I literally cried ok

"you lived here?" fine OKAY king that was hilarious even if im sad about this

"reconnect with dad" excuse me where the fuck has this man been in the middle of all of this. curse shit is going DOWN and he's just chilling at home.

I am curious about people's thoughts regarding the whole Lilith regression thing and the fact that she's literally going to be living with her parents again. I feel like it could help nurture that inner child she's been reverting back to and help her out a LOT. but I could also be concerned about it feeding into the regression and making it worse?? idk and this show probably ain't getting that actually deep into psych anyways

"some day my hair is gonna be big enough to do that too" Luz I cannot wait for the day. also mood, I wish I could do that too.

alright who's holding the fucking pen for hooty we need a volunteer RIGHT NOW so we can remain in contact with Lulu

NOT THE ONLY HUMAN? my bets on the real azura rip never mind she said he

Titan’s Blood?? interesting. If the blood of the titan is around I wonder what that means regarding the titans existence, and how long its been since the titan fell.

AHH BABY LUZ PHOTO

ALSO WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?? They're really gonna spring that on us like this??? Camila's gotta notice somethings wrong right??? Unless any differences she just chalks up to the camp?? oh god :(

well, anyways lumity shippers come get yo juice next weekend

anyways im gonna need to add a NOT canon compliant tag on that one Gwendolyn fic I wrote because it definitely do not comply anymore

[rocorambles]

Hi roco! This is my first time appearing in your inbox, and I come with a delicious idea: yandere!hinata's step sister always cheers him on his games. But, somehow every setter that's ever gotten particularly close with hinata, is also close with her. He'd finally be satisfied that they're alone in rio, but then oikawa showed up. He isn't very happy seeing him, but it won't matter when he finally goes home with his loving sis.

Hello!! Welcome and thank you for sending this ask~ 

Warnings: Yandere, Implied NSFW, Non-Con, Pseudo-cest (step siblings)

You’ve always been popular, understandably so. But that doesn’t make it any easier for Hinata to handle the numerous love confessions you get and the way even his own friends look at you with interest. He doesn’t miss the way Kageyama gets even more flustered than usual when you’re around, always quick to hand over one of his coveted milk cartons without any prompting. He doesn’t miss the way Atsumu’s eyes trail after you when he meets you for the first time, the way the blonde setter is over eager to chat with you, offering to teach you how to set and touching you far much more than a simple lesson should entail. 

But he calms himself with the knowledge that despite all the attention, it’s only him you turn to, sweetly offering him a sip of your milk, excitedly asking him if he saw the set you just did, ignoring the two tall setters who are desperately trying to woo you. And now it’s only the two of you in sunny beautiful Rio, only him who gets to shamelessly enjoy the way your bikini barely covers anything as you laugh and race after volleyballs across the sandy court. 

However, it seems like the universe has other plans for him and he stares in disbelief when he hears a familiar cheery voice, one he hasn’t heard in years, and he just gapes as he sees Oikawa draw near. He looks...different, definitely more muscular, maybe taller? Clearly playing on a professional team in Argentina has done him well and something uncomfortably churns in Hinata’s stomach when he realizes he’s not the only one who’s noticed Oikawa’s new appearance. 

You’re practically drooling as you take in the brunette setter and although Hinata hadn’t minded Oikawa’s pretty boy charm as much as his teammates had when he was younger, now he does mind, extremely so, now that it’s you who’s gawking at him like a lovesick puppy. And his scowl deepens, rage and jealousy beginning to curl together inside of him when he sees how Oikawa’s eyes linger and trail over your own scantily covered body. 

He’s suddenly the third wheel in your little impromptu hangout and he clenches his fist at the coy flirtatious smiles and words you both exchange, almost bites his lip hard enough to bleed when both of you offer to help each other out with applying sunscreen, both your hands lingering far too long on each other. But he waits, not wanting to cause such a public scene, not wanting to make the perceptive older athlete suspicious about his intentions. He waits until the sun’s setting to drag you up alongside him and force a smile on his face as he bids Oikawa a farewell, telling him how important it is for you to get your beauty sleep. And despite your whining and your begging and pleading for him to let you go bar hopping with Oikawa, you behave with a pout when the brunette sweetly smiles at you and tells you to be a good girl and listen to your older brother. 

“There’s no rush, cutie! I’ll see you again soon before I leave, okay?” 

Hinata scoffs. Fat chance he’d let that happen. 

You’re all giggles and excited rambles as the two of you stroll back to your apartment and Hinata grits his teeth as you rave about Oikawa. Oikawa this. Oikawa that. Oikawa. Oikawa. Oikawa. 

You’re still going on and on about the setter even after you’ve washed up and gotten ready for bed, not even noticing or paying attention to how Hinata closes your bedroom door as he draws near you, thinking he’s just going to give you your daily forehead kiss and good night. But he smirks when you finally shut up, attention solely focused on him when he slips under the blankets with you, pressing his firm body against yours. 

“I don’t like it when you talk about other men. I’m the only man you need in your life, the only man you’ll ever love. Right?”

You whimper as his fingers dig into you harshly at his question, but confusion keeps you from answering, uncertainty about what’s happening muddling your mind. 

“Shouyou? What- what are you doing?”

You squeal when a calloused hand grabs you by the jaw, squeezing your cheeks and turning you to face your orange-haired step-brother. 

“Say that you love me.” 

“Of course I love you. Shouyou? I don’t understand-”

You’re cut off by lips crashing into yours and panic has you shoving at the hard chest, trying desperately to create some space between the two of you. 

This is wrong. This isn’t...This can’t be Shouyou. This can’t be your sweet step-brother, the man who had so quickly embraced you as part of the family when your parents married, the man who was always ready to drop anything and everything to comfort you, the man who was always able to bring a smile to your face no matter how down you were feeling. 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until rough finger pads are gently wiping off the salty droplets. 

“Don’t cry. I’m going to make you feel really good, okay?”

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

Two Gods, One Braincell Ch.2 Banquet of the Gods

Summary:

You have acquired heavenly pastries.

---------------

What is that godly smell!? Kagami was already salivating as she flew towards a veritable buffet of fragrances. Wait, no, it was a literal buffet!

In the middle of a meadow, the feast of heaven's food laid surrounded by wildflowers. Pastries of all kinds made with grain from the Field of Reeds (they carried the distinctive sweet scent of the afterlife). Flesh of divine fruits and monstrous animals steamed the air.

Adrien's stomach growled and Kagami's joined it.

Shifting into a form with hands Kagami sat properly before the table loaded with different plates. She reached for a golden, crispy, mouthwatering-

"I thought that would get your attention!"

Snatching her hand back Kagami turned to see a goddess with dark, shoulder length hair, clear blue eyes and red, spotted armor. Her arms were crossed as she narrowed her eyes at both of them. Adrien, having already stuffed his mouth with one of her honey cakes, coughed in surprise.

"Well?" Marinette asked, tapping her foot. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Swallowing thickly, Adrien asked. "How'd you catch up to us?"

"I asked Max," Marinette replied with a roll of her eyes. Implying that anyone with common sense should've asked Max too.

Deliberately keeping eye contact Kagami reached for Marinette's food again. Ignoring her raised eyebrow Kagami took a bite and chewed savoringly. Taking advantage of Marinette's attention being off him Adrien shoveled food into his mouth and swallowed.

Eyebrow twitching, Marinette kept glaring for a moment more before she sighed and sat across from them. "Did neither of you bring proper food when you decided to run away?"

"That is an exaggeration." Kagami took another bite.

"Yeah, yeah. Did you?"

"We brought some golden apples!" Adrien supplied. It came out more defensively than he meant it to.

"Oh, really! Then I guess you don't need any of this then do you?" Marinette threateningly pretended to reach for their plates.

Kagami swallowed quickly. "Uh, I wouldn't-"

Shifting, Adrien snapped his jaws onto an entire meat pie of erymanthian boar. Swallowing it whole, Adrien shifted back in the middle of licking his lips. At least having the decency to look sheepish. "Sorry. Hungry."

Marinette sagged in resignation. "I can't believe I have to clean up your mess." She grabbed a piece of ambrosia and popped it into her mouth.

"... Well, you don't have to," Kagami pointed out.

"No, I'm gonna."

Adrien nodded, embarrassment already forgotten. "Besides. You know how boring everything would be without us!"

"Ah," Marinette sighed wistfully, "Sweet peace."

A marble of shadow flicked another piece of ambrosia out of Marinette's fingers. Turning into a mushroom were it landed among the grass.

"Hey!"

Sticking his tongue out, Adrien grabbed a pitcher of nectar and began downing it by himself.

Kagami almost choked on her peach dumpling as laughter bubbled up. "We- ahem, We're grateful for the chance to eat your cooking again, Marinette."

"Uh-huh, I'm sure." She side eyed Adrien who merely smirked past a full mouth. "He was supposed to bring you back, not go running off with you."

"I'm guessing the council didn't take it well?" It would be lying to herself if Kagami didn't admit that the council's floundering filled her with pleased satisfaction.

Marinette shrugged. She didn't have warm, fuzzy feelings for them either. "They're upset you keep messing with their holy hit list."

"Pfft!" Nope, Kagami needed to focus. No giggling!

Adrien beamed. "You used my joke!"

"It was a joke?" Marinette looked genuinely surprised.

"Did they explain the circumstances?" Kagami asked.

"You know they're not big on explaining." Marinette wrinkled her nose in annoyance.

"Right. Adrien cursed a city-"

"Thrown into the hell pit just like that. Harsh."

"-and it was a bit too effective. I'm going to end their drought."

Marinette raised her eyebrows skeptically, gaze going from one to the other. "Adrien. You cursed a mortal city? What'd they do, kick kittens?"

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Ah, you know..."

"That's not important," Kagami said too quickly. Suddenly realizing that Marinette was probably the one who'd take the most offense to... certain transgressions.

"Alright keep your secrets." Marinette's brow furrowed, as though suddenly realizing. "Did you both seriously start eating without checking whose food this was? What if it was cursed!"

"I'm immune to curses." Adrien reminded her, nonchalantly reaching for Kagami's peach dumplings.

Kagami lightly smacked Adrien's hand away. Get your own. "And I'm a dragon."

"Oh, that's right! Because that decade you spent in your creature forms totally didn't happen," Marinette deadpanned.

"Th- That's different!" Adrien spluttered.

Pink dusted Kagami's cheeks but she wasn't going to let that stop her. "Fascinating. And how would you describe what happened after?"

Marinette turned beet red.

"How did it go Adrien?" Kagami asked, not quite able to mask her predatory glee. "It appears I've forgotten."

Making no such effort himself, Adrien cleared his throat. " 'Don't be silly, Adrien! I'm a goddess of creation! There's no way I could fall under a curse like that!' "

"I don't sound like that!" Marinette's indignation making her pitch practically identical to Adrien's imitation.

Dragon and cat burst into laughter.

"I could've convinced the other creator deities to let chaos continue," Marinette mumbled to herself. "Nice, empty, swirling clouds of proto-matter. No cheeky dragons making me suffer this humiliation."

Adrien smirked. "The destroyers would never have let you. We're easily bored, you know."

Kagami nodded sagely. "Yes, and how much poorer the world would be if my kind wasn't around to promote humility by saying: Ah, but are you a dragon?"

Raising her fist in the manner she'd seen mortals doing, Kagami met Adrien's knuckles with her own.

Marinette pouted. "I hate both of you."

"We love you too, Marinette," Kagami grinned.

"And we love your cooking!" Adrien raised another pitcher of nectar to wash down his seventh helping.

"Speaking of food," Kagami said, eyeing the self refilling plates. "You could come with us?"

"Tempting, but someone has to report back because someone else didn't." Marinette narrowed her eyes at Adrien in an unmistakable accusation.

Adrien straightened, eyes going wide he pointed at himself and mouthed Moi? If Kagami didn't know better she wouldn't bought his innocent act.

"Yes, you!" Muttering under her breath about chaotic cats Marinette pulled out a large tablecloth. Red with black spots she threw it over the table, covering it entirely. With a swish she revealed nothing but flattened grass.

"Here," Marinette offered Kagami a spotted, red cloth. Small enough to fit in a pocket. "I don't want to resurrect you two this century. The paperwork is killer."

"Thank you, Marinette." Kagami took the gift and placed it in her robes before she- Er, Adrien could start drooling over it.

Glancing between the two goddesses Adrien rose. "Well, it was fun catching up!" Bowing with a flourish, he grinned. "Hate to eat and run but we have a rainy season to jump start." Stepping forward, Adrien kissed Marinette on both cheeks.

Color tinted Kagami's cheeks a shade darker. Stupid platonic kisses. 

Shifting, Adrien leapt into the sky.

Kagami wrapped Marinette in a hug. "Don't strain yourself too much on our account."

Marinette returned the embrace. "Stop charging in fangs first then."

Chuckling, Kagami looked her in the eyes. "Too late for that. Maybe next time."

Stepping back, Marinette wagged her finger. "I'll hold you to that."

With a grin Kagami blasted skyward. Wind blowing across the meadow. She slithered on the air. Quickly catching up to Adrien who strolled leisurely across the clouds, waiting for her to catch up.

With full bellies and high spirits they sailed closer to completing Kagami's quest.

-------------

@kagamiappreciationweek2020

[sweetlittlemessenger]

So I made a story based on MBTI's INFP cognitive functions.

---

This story takes place in a girl's human mind, which is more known in this universe as the Psyche Realm. It tells about the Infsman(inferior function), Terratora of the INFP Squad and her encounter of the four additional CFs who mysteriously appeared in their Realm.

---

♡ Sirene's POV

◇ Terratora's POV

The legends displayed above will tell you who's currently telling the story. If a "♡" is displayed, the story is told in Sirene's perspective and if it's a "◇", then it's in Terratora's perspective

Now with that said let's get on with the story!

♡♡♡

Ever since I saw that door I've been wondering what lies behind it, what shadows hide inside...

I was just doing my daily rounds in the Archives of Snow, finishing overviews of my Host's past memories that I hope she would find relief in. I was carrying a stack load of them when my foot bumped into something that would seem to have felt to be some kind of glass object. I looked down to confirm that it was indeed glass, a glass bottle; full of stars.

"Uuuuuugh, Netaaa!!" I groaned in frustration, I swear our Auxman has no sense of organizing whatsoever, not to mention scatter-brained. She has a habit of taking her so-called projects with her while she works and leaves them behind almost everywhere. I attempted to pick it up when I forgot that I was carrying a stack of memories, making me lost my balance and the pages and books of memories flew and scattered everywhere. One of the memory books glided towards the bottle, making it roll away.

"Hey, come back!" I shouted, not bothering to clean up the scattered memories and proceeded to chase the runaway joke-of-a-craft down the long ass aisle. The bottle's straight-line escape came to a close when it reached the very back of the entire Archives. Finally, I picked up the bottle and looked up. After a quick observation I realized that I have found a door. It was a purplish black color with jet black elegant iron frames. Strange... I have walked the Archives' floors several times and never have I seen a door like this. Filled with curiosity, my hand reached for the door's handle only to be halted by a shout.

"My Tertsman!" a voice called, I turned around to see my Infsman, Terratora running towards me.

"Terra?" I asked, "what are you doing here?"

"I was suppose to inform you about the recently finished tasks, but it seems you have found... their door. You musn't go in there my Tertsman. "

Terratora caught my attention on her emphasis on the word 'their'

"What do you mean 'their?'" I asked

"Behind this door..." she paused for a long second, as if she hesitated to answer, "lies four unannounced Neuronites, if they are even considered one"

This left me pondering and confused, "Four more Neuronites... how? There are already four members in our squad, how could there be four more?"

Terratora didn't answer, but rather, she looked down stayed silent

I continued to ask here more questions "And more importantly, when and how was there a door here?"

She sighed, "I think it's time... that I told to you about the Shadow Squad."

◇◇◇

It was just like any other day. The Domsman guiding the host, the Auxman constantly inventing new inventions (honestly at this point I wonder if her brain ever goes empty), my Tertsman collecting memories, and me, the Infsman, organizing, checking and crossing out finished tasks, that is...if there were. I was currently in the Mental Notes section of the Archives of Snow, doing my daily task when I heard something, or rather... someone.

"Um, excuse me miss." it called, the voice awfully sounding just like the Domsman

'Lady Fi?' I thought, turning around to see if my assumption was correct, it was not. Instead of the pink brown-haired lady in a golden crown-like headband standing before me, was a strawberry blonde woman with bright green eyes wearing a sleeveless dark magenta top with a grecian neckline, dark forest green capri pants embroidered with a pink roses design towards the pant's cuffs, dark purple ankle strap pumps and a translucent pink blazer. What caught my attention were her bright purple Neuro Transmitters.

"Hello there," she waved, " I couldn't help but notice that you're in a little pickle right there, do you need any help?" she said with a smile, though it didn't seem to meet her eyes.

I decided to play along

"Oh, uh... thank you." I answered

The lady then went beside me and spread her arms out, to which I responded by giving her some of the papers I was currently carrying. "Oh how rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself!" she said, "I'm Fenessa, and you are?"

"Terratora." I responded, but didn't bother to make eye contact and continued with my current work, "Infsman of the INFP Squad, I am responsible for organizing the Host's concepts and tasks and as well as checking and marking tasks that are finished."

"Wow, sounds like a tough job!" Fenessa said in amazement, "and you're doing this all by yourself? Where are your other members of your squad, surely there's like a lot you."

"They're..." I hesitated to give her an answer,"in their respective places, doing their respective jobs. There are only four of us, myself included, most of the time we are too preoccupied with our current tasks to help another member."

Why did I hesitate?

"Seriously? Wow that sucks." she commented.

A long moment of silence passed as the two of us continued organizing. I began to ponder on what just happened...

Firryn said that the squad was already at a maximum capacity of four members, and therefore no additional Neuronite was expected to appear.

But why was there another Neuronite?

Where did Fenessa come from?

And why are her Neuro Transmitters purple?

"Soooooo..." Fenessa spoke up, breaking my train of thought, "mind telling me about your Squad, you know, the members, what they do here, what they're like?"

"The squad?" I looked at her for a second then back to the shelves, "Well, there's Firryn the Domsman, she is the leader of the squad and guides our Host in judgement and decision making based on their inner values. Then there's the Auxman, Netalia, she assists the Domsman in her job by helping her stay open minded on certain view points when making judgement. Third is my Tertsman, Sirene, she is in charge of the memory department, mainly to provide relief to the Host, using the memories that the Host hold dear, and lastly is me, the Infsman."

"I see," Fenessa said, as she placed one of the papers to their respective shelves "Judging by how she lets you work all alone here, does she ever acknowledges the efforts you've put into organizing all of these tasks?"

I looked down and thought deeply on what Fenessa said. Lady Fi actually never did once give a glance on how I managed the tasks I was asked to organize.

"No?" Fenessa questioned, "Well that's a shame...Hey! How about I help you by joining your squad?"

My head perked up from the offer, "What?"

"Think of it, us working together in organizing these tasks. It will double the work speed and cut down half the time, oh, and I can also help in contributing on how you guys as a team can work more efficiently and in harmony. So, whaddaya say?" Fenessa reached out her hand with a smile, waiting for me to accept her deal.

The way she looked at me... the way she smiled sent a chill down my axon. Something didn't felt right, it was as if she was trying to manipulate me.

"Thank you, but I have to decline. You see, the squad only allows four members and we have already reached the maximum capacity." I said with a firm tone.

"Aww that's too bad," She said sadly, still smiling

it looked forced

"Oh well, I' ll still be here whenever you need me," she said, putting the last stack of papers on to the shelves, "it was nice meeting you, Terratora. See you around!" she waved and turned around, walking away.

See you around? Wait... is she implying on staying here in the Archives?!

"Wait, you can't just--" and before I knew it, she was out of sight. This was bad, a new Neuronite appeared and was now roaming inside the Archives. It was at that moment, I knew had to report of this event.

The following day, I planned to report this to Sirene, but she was currently preoccupied in digging up "lost" memories that was was found deep in the Archives, so I had no choice but to report to the Auxman. I approached the door of the Auxman's room and knocked a few times.

"Who is it?" a tired voice called from inside the room.

"Terratora, ma'am" I answered.

The door opened to reveal a tired-looking Netalia, and sweet saya she looked like shit, her hair was a mess and she had bags under her eyes. "Ey, Terra! What can I do for you?" she asked

Looking at her current state I asked her with concern "Ma'am, if i may ask, how long have you been wake?"

"Uuuuuuuuh..." the Auxman scratched her head, "36 hours?"

...what do the humans call this significant short period of event again? Ah yes, a "bruh moment." This was definitely a "bruh moment."

"Uh I see..." I muttered as I fixed my posture and went back to the matter at hand, "Well I have something that I must report to you, privately." I firmly informed.

"Oh, sure come in." Netalia said, stepping aside and letting me in her room. Her room was steam-punk themed, giving off a nice afterthought of the 1800's European Industrial Revolution. The walls had real functioning turning copper and gold gears and for the floor was a glossy gold iron-parquet flooring, but there was just one problem. Like her messy appearance, Netalia's room was an absolute mess. Different inventions and papers stacked carelessly in every corner, some papers were scattered across the floor, crumpled. Her work desk was no different. "So," Netalia said, yawning as she sat on her wooden antique chair, leaning forward "what did you want to talk about?"

"There is a new Neuronite that is roaming around the Archives of Snow."

Netalia's expression turned serious, "What?" she asked, her eyes widened a little.

I explained to her of my encounter with Fenessa, explained her appearance and behavior. Netalia began to be in deep thought, trying to process the information she had received. That's when I heard her mutter, "I can't be... Shadow Functions...here?"

"Shadow Functions?" I asked

"Nah, I'm sure you just saw it through a memory book" she said waving her hand, denying my claim of seeing a new Neuronite.

"Ma'am, you are aware of what the Shadow Functions are, right?"

"Yeah, the rumored Neuronites who linger inside a host's pysche realm and cause chaos, but you don't have to worry, it's just a rumor."

"Ma'am, I saw that Neuronite yesterday and interacted with me. If what I saw yesterday was a Shadow Function, there is no doubt that there could be other Shadow Functions roaming around the Psyche Realm as well--"

"First of all, you don't know that," Netalia interrupted, "second, there is no evidence to confirm the existance of the Shadow Functions."

"Ma'am, does my eyewitness testimony not count as an evidence?"

The Auxman thought hard for a moment, "Hm, good point, it does have some credibility, however, because you were the only witness, it does not have enough reliability."

"But ma'am--"

"That's enough Terra," Netalia said in a serious and authoritative voice and stood up from her chair, "this conversation is over."

"Netalia--"

"Terratora, I am warning you--"

"Could you, for once, please listen--"

"ENOUGH WITH THE BULLSHIT TERRA, SHADOW FUNCTIONS DON'T. FUCKING. EXIST!"

I stepped back, staying silent. Netalia gasped, realizing what she had done, she rubbed her temples with her fingers and let out a heavy, tired sigh "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have lashed out on you like that."

"It's ok...I understand" I truly did, Netalia was sleep deprived so it wasn't a surprise she would snap

"Just...don't bring up that topic again ok?"

"Yes ma'am..."

"Good, now if you have nothing else to report, you are dismissed." Netalia said as I walked out of the room.

Great, looks like I'll have to take care of this roaming Neuronite myself.

Not long after that incident, a new Neuronite appeared while I was in the Archives. A redheaded lady with bright green eyes wearing a sun hat, dark bluegreen off shoulder dress decorated with glitter at the hem, and some sandals. She called herself Niema, her choice of words are beyond my understanding, not to mention her unsettling insights of the future. What was most disturbing was how her presence is still felt in Archives from time to time despite not being present in sight.

Fast forward to several days later and another Neuronite appeared. this time by the same of Selly, and just like Niema, she was a redhead with bright green eyes. Her hair was styled into a ponytail, she wore a hazel wood yellow shirt that was tied into a knot, a black wristband on her right wrist, dark mute teal ripped denim shorts, and maroon high-top sneakers with bluish white accents. My encounter with this Neuronite can be summarized into one word: Impulsive. Chasing her across the entire archives, Selly was so fast and hyper that could barely keep up with her. Her curiosity in trying to open certain books of memories without permission gave me a headache.

...

Nothing could have prepared me for the fourth Neuronite. Unlike the previous three, she did nothing but stare at the distance, she was a strawberry blonde with green eyes like Fenessa. Her hair styled into a braid resting on her left shoulder, she wore round glasses with upper half rims framed with icy blue frames, a dark purple hooded shawl with a navy blue short-sleeve sweater underneath, mute blue ripped jeans and maroon sneakers. I did not see her make any movement other than her adjusting her glasses every once in a while. I could sense strong negative energy radiating off of her, the essence very similar to Ti essence.

I had to find out their place of origin, there was no way they just appeared out of thin air. I decided to start with the Archives of Snow, since that's where I found the first Neuronite. I searched every section and corner and found nothing, until I went to the very back of the entire archives. There I saw a door of purplish black color with jet black elegant iron frames. I didn't hesitate to think twice that this was the door they came from, I know this because me and Sirene frequently come to the Archives and never was there a door here.

Following day I requested Netalia to make me a lock. I had to lie to her saying Sirene requested me to get a lock from her, to which Netalia shrugged and gave me the item with two set of keys to go along with it. I rushed back to the Archives to install the lock, but when it came in contact with the handle, it disintegrated...

♡♡♡

"And ever since that day, I've been guarding this door in secret." Terra concluded

"Shadow Functions..." I said shivering at the thought, "I never I'd see the day these Neuronites merging into our Host's Psyche Realm." I looked up at the door and back to Terra, "do you know what lies behind this door?"

Terra shook her head "No, my Tertsman, I have not set foot in whatever is behind the door, not even once."

"I see...why didn't you tell me about this?" I asked her

"I feared that you would give me the same conclusion, since the existance of Shadow Functions is just a rumor." Terra explained, making me remember that Neta snapped at her.

"Terra," I looked at her in the eye, "you know very well that I would never raise my voice at you, so don't ever hesitate to come to me if something is not right, clear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good." I nodded

"My Tertsman, if I may ask," Terra spoke up

"Yes?" I replied, giving her permission to speak

"Will you promise me to keep this door a secret?"

This put me in my train of thought, should I really keep this a secret? Not sharing this information with the Domsman or Auxman could get me in trouble, but then again, Firryn is too closeminded to confirm this info and Neta is too preoccupied already with her millions of garbage ideas and concepts, and with that, I nodded my head, "You have my word."

"Thank you," Terra said, relieved "Now, I saw several memories scattered across the floor of aisle 8-20."

"Oh, that. I was carrying a stack of memories, when I ran into this thing." I said showing her the bottle of stars.

"Ah" was all she had to say, understanding what happened while showing a hint of annoyance on her face.

"Since you're here now, mind helping clean up?" I asked

"Of course." Terra complied as we both turned around to walk to the messy aisle

As we walked I turned my head around to look at the door one last time, the door's mysterious appearance led me to so many questions yet to be answered.

Ever since I saw that door I've been wondering what lies behind it, what shadows hide inside...

[sunnyie-eve]

Somebody To Love (Part 20- Falling Of Queen)

(Ben!RogerTaylor)

Words: 2102

Warnings: Language

A/N: Sorry I haven’t been very active with the story. I’ve been busy and everyone.

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

London 1982

Felix just had his second birthday and Louisa had her first. Jim asked me to tag along today to an interview the bands was going to for the new album. Which meant I had to get a someone else to watch Felix because my parents were out of the country for a holiday. Lucky my brother Harry and his girlfriend said they would look after him for me today and whenever I need someone in the future.

"Why are you here?" Paul asks as I hope out of the car with Jim. "I told her to come. It's her job to be here too remember. Plus I made Alice my assistant to help co-manage the band." Jim says smiling at me and I follow him inside. "Jim, were you just being serious out there?" I ask as we get closer to the back room with the band. "Yes darling. I feel like you need a better position then just sewing the bands clothes. Now you'll help me keep the band on schedule, help with concert dates and more." He pats my back opening the door for me. "Thank you!" I hug him and Roger rushes over to me.

"Do I look alright? For the press?" He shows off his outfit making me laugh at him. "Umm Where's the tie you had leaving the house... add that then maybe you'll look better." I pat his chest going to sit by Brian and Deaky. "Fred looks like a mess." I sing quietly looking at him talking to Paul. "Probably high once again." Deaky shakes his head as I lean mine on him and throw my legs over Brian's lap. "Look Deaky, Alice is actually giving us attention." Brian says slapping my thighs. "She loves us again." Deaky shouts holding me in his arms. "I've always loved you guys. It's just I've been busy." I sit up and kiss their cheeks. "YOUR MY WIFE! BACK OFF ALICE!" Roger yells sitting on my lap.

"It's time." Jim tells the band and we all leave the room. "Please tell me you're going to take off those sunglasses." I look at Roger as I fix his outfit one more time. "Love you." He kisses me before following the guys out. "Alice dear, you can stand next to me." Jim motions for me to follow him. When the questions started it was all Freddie, Freddie, Freddie... with unnecessary questions that had nothing to do with the album. Brian looked at me and Jim and we just had the same look as him.

"I don't know, I haven't figured out love yet." Fred says to one of the reporter. "But it implies something else, Freddie." The same reporter says. "That might be a better question for Rog." Fred says looking at Roger. "Watch it." Roger says taking a drag of his cigarette then turns his head towards me. I cross my arms then pop my neck looking back at the press. They still go on and only ask Freddie questions about himself and not the band. Brian tries to get them to ask about the album but no one listens. It jus gets more louder and Fred snaps right back. I could tell he was going to crack at any second and then bam! He stands up starting to yell. "Okay, Thank you. Time is up." Jim says and the guys start to walk back. Roger walks over to me and takes my hand into his. "Fuck Freddie." He says as we try to walk throw the crowd.

"Roger, Alice is your marriage working? What was Fred saying about asking you?!" A reporter asks us making more follow us now. "No questions." Rog says pulling me closer to him. "Is that a no then? Are you cheating on your wife?" Another asks and Jim, Brian, and Deaky rush over to us. "We're perfectly fine." He says trying not to break like Fred did. "No more, questions. The press conference is over now." Brian says holding me close to him since Roger passed me to Brian to get in the car.

When we get in the car Roger starts to cruse up a store and I try to calm him down. "Rog, baby breath." I hold his hands and he glares at Freddie in front of him, "You started it." He points his finger at him and he just laughs at Roger. "Darling, I don't know what you're talking about." Roger's face starts to turn red. "Roger, Quit it please." I make him look at me and he just looks at me the whole ride trying to ignore Freddie and Paul.

~

"Oh my god, look at you!" I clap my hands at Freddie and he poses for me. I just arrived to the set for I Want To Break Free music video. "Where's Roger?" I ask and I see Brian walk towards me and I start to crack up. "How the hell did they get all those rollers in your hair?" I look at his hair and Deaky then joins us making me die more. "Just wait till you see your husband." He says and points towards the door he came out of and I quickly walk towards the door.

I open it to see Roger in his drag outfit of a school girl and I crack up making him get embarrassed. "Look at you!" I clap my hands and he stops me, "Stop, I'm embarrassed like this." He says making me giggle, "Why? You're bloody hot!" I give him a small kiss and he whines, "Stop!" He lets go of my hands and goes to join the boys. "Babe, you don't need to be embarrassed." I say wrapping my arms around his waist and he slaps my hands. "You know, I'd rather see you in this." He whispers turning around kissing me. "Nah, I prefer you in it." I wink going to go sit and watch them record.

Once they were done filming the music video one of the dancers took pictures of Roger, Brian, and Deaky on the couch. "Brilliant. Can I get up now?" Roger asks laying on his back across Deaky and I smile at them. "What is happening?" Roger asks as Deaky keeps him in place. "No, you can't." Deaky says and Brian joins in, "I wanna be in it." I shake my head walking up to them. "Get off me!" Deaky yells as Brian gets in him. "You are grown men acting like this." I laugh and Roger reaches for my hand pulling into the beg mess.

"Come on, guys! You gotta get out of this and back into normal clothes." I laugh trying to get up as they hold me down. "Ugh Fine." The all getting up going to their chairs and I follow Roger. "You know, I'm happy that you went with my idea I gave you because you pulled it off." I say taking off his makeup and wig. "You fine me attractive in this still?" He laughs and I nod my head. "I told you earlier didn't I." I kiss him and he holds me by my waist. "Now, have fun getting out of those tights baby." I wink at him while he leaves to go change.

~

"So why exactly is Fred calling everyone to meet up and again why do I have to come too?" I ask Roger as we go to see Freddie. "I don't know, he said he had something to tell us. And I drag you along because you're not only my wife but also part of the band too." He holds my hands as we park the car and the other two show up too.

"He'll be right out." Paul says walking into the room and we all take a seat and I sit on the same sofa as Deaky. Freddie walks into the room and is quite for a few minutes before speaking. "MTV banned our video. The youth of America. We helped give birth to MTV." He says turning to face us. "It's America. They're Puritans in public, perverts in private." Brian tells him and he shakes his head. "I'm never tour in the U.S again. And I'm the one being blamed for it. Not you, dear... whose idea, I believe, it was to dress up in drag. Not you... Not even you, who wrote the bloody song." Fred points at each member.

Freddie continue to say what everyone was calling him and that's he's tired of touring, which made all of us look at him. "Well I need a break." He says before going on, "I'm sick of it." He says not looking at us. "What are you saying, Freddie?" Deaky asks him and he stays quiet for some quite of time. "I've signed a deal with CBS Records." He says with his back still facing us and we all react differently. "You've done what?" Roger sits up all the way. "Without telling us?" Brian asks turning around. "What kind of deal?" Deaky asks.

"Look, I'm not saying we won't record or ever tour again. Queen will go on. But I need to do something different." He goes on and I was screaming on the inside not listening to him anymore. "A solo album?" Brian asks and Paul speaks up, "Two, actually. Back to back." I see Roger getting mad, "Another word out of you and I'll throw you out the bloody window. " Paul just looks away. "But that's years, Freddie. I mean... that will take years." Deaky sits up. "I don't believe this... how much?" Roger asks him and he does answer him. "What did they pay you?" He asks again and no answer. "I want to know how much they paid..." Fred cuts Roger off. "4 million!" He yells at him. "That's more than any Queen deal." I say shaking my head.

"Fred, we're a family." Brian says making Fred snap. "No, we're not! We're not a family! You've got families, children, wives. What do I got?" Fred shouts. "You've got 4 million dollars. Perhaps you can buy yourself a family." Deaky says. "I won't compromise my vision any longer." He says and Roger gets pissed again, "Compromise? Are you joking? You were working at Heathrow before we gave you a chance." Fred spins around very quickly, "And without me... you'd be a dentist... drumming 12/8 time blues at the weekend at the Crown and Anchor. You wouldn't even have your wife if it wasn't for me." He says then turns to Brian and I start to get mad.

"And you. Well you would be Dr. Brian May... author of a fascinating dissertation on the cosmos... that no one ever reads. And Deaky... for the life of me... nothing comes to mind." He tells the other two. "I studied electrical engineering. Does that meet your standards?" He lets him know. "Perfect." He laughs. "Dear Alice, you would probably have such a better life then being stuck with this band and your messed up husband. You just turned into one of his little fuck toys to play with your dumb heart. You stupid little slutty girl. " He smiles at me and Paul chuckles.Roger was about to grab him but I put a finger up to stop him, "Fred, Why didn't you just take the offer when Reid told you years ago? You basically fired him for no reason because he was just doing what someone else told him to do. Also Darling, I'm not the toy here anymore... You are one now. " I spit at him clearly pissed off with him and he stays quiet and begins to leave the room.

"You just killed Queen." Roger tells him. "Oh, give it a kiss one day. She might wake up." He says. "You need us, Freddie. More then you know." Brian tells him. "I don't need anyone." He says leave us and Paul gets up to follow him. "Told you." He whispers to me and I flip him off, "Fuck you."

"You said something about an offer in the past?" Roger asks me as I run my hand through my hair. "Yes, that's why Fred fired Reid. Paul talked Reid into telling Fred about a solo deal back then." I say looking at the floor. "And you didn't tell us?" He raises his voice at me. "Don't raise your fucking voice at me! I told you I didn't trust Paul and that he was up to something! BUT NO, you told me that I was stressed out with the baby!" I yell at him standing up to face him.

[glorywebscreative]

7 Strategies for High-Converting Landing Pages

If you want to archive the conversion rate,

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1. Improve Your Landing Page Speed

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Converting landing pages are designed to be as simple and clear as possible in order to guide visitors through the process of converting on your website.

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