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ozzgin · 8 months ago

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Its been 6 months😭😭 pleaasseeee make a part 2 of the android x human story im beggingggg😭

-H❤️

Yandere! Android x Reader (II)

Featuring your assigned android partner who is not as devoid of humanity as you originally thought.

Content: female reader, AI yandere, mildly NSFW, based on Caves of Steel

[Part 1] | [More original works]

The case had been solved.

Not only that, but you'd managed to prove that human officers were just as efficient as their robot counterparts. The Commissioner was beyond ecstatic, pacing back and forth in his office and finding new ways to praise your detective skills.

"That'll show those Spacers. They think some glorified tin box can match our skill?"

You frowned at his words and glanced to your side, where the android was sitting. He observed the Commissioner with the same polite smile, no hint of disagreement on his features. Was he not insulted? You questioned him once the formal meeting had finished.

"I have no reason to be offended, (Y/N). It is a personal opinion, and thus I have no control over it."

"So you don't mind people disliking robots to such an extent?"

He pondered your statement.

"I would certainly be upset if it was you who harbored the disdain. The beliefs of other humans hold no meaning to me otherwise."

You couldn't tell if he said it out of politeness, or if he actually meant it. Most likely the former, in order to part on good terms. After all, your partnership has reached its completion. He'd return to the Spacer Colony with his report on human customs, and you'd go back to your regular job.

Except he never left. Days later, he was still sipping on his morning coffee, lounging at your table. You fiddled with your cup in contemplation. Was there anything else left to do?

"When are you leaving, actually?"

The pale man raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"Is my presence here of such significant disturbance?"

"What? No!" you swiftly exclaimed, stumbling on your words. His lips widened in yet another cheeky grin. He was teasing you again.

"My assignment on Earth is done, thus I should have returned to the Colony already. That's what you're wondering about, yes? I am awaiting a response from my superiors."

"Whether you can go back?"

"No, whether my transfer has been accepted. I have applied to be your permanent partner."

You could feel your cheeks burning with heat. Was it that obvious to the synthetic that you enjoyed his company? Then again, he wouldn't have gone through such motions just for your sake.

"Why did you..." you probed sheepishly. There was no logical reason for him to keep working in a poorer, less advanced environment.

"Because I want to continue spending time with you."

Nonsense. An artificial being wouldn't make its decision based on such mundane, emotional reasons.

"I don't believe you."

"I understand. It is a faulty answer to come out of a machine. Though unlike common AI assistants, we have been invested with the capacity to develop likes and dislikes. Interests. Wants. It helps with variety and individualization."

"And you want to stay here? If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you have a crush on me or something", you attempted to joke.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence. Had you gone too far with your humor? Was it too cliché of a sentence? You turned away, tucking some strands of hair behind your ear. You just had to be witty, huh?

"I'm afraid I do not know what to tell you, (Y/N)."

"You don't need to say anything, it was a poor choice of-"

"Many social aspects have been implemented into my behavioral network. Workplace rapport, friendships, intimate relationships. What seems to be lacking is the transition from one to another. I know how to act as a romantic partner, but how does one achieve such a title in the first place?"

You gazed at him, incredulous. What was he trying to say?

"I am trying to convey that I am indeed infatuated with you. Which, then, makes my initial explanation dishonest: while I do appreciate our fruitful work cooperation, it is not a main reason for my decision. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings."

You'd never been a romantic. You sometimes flipped through sample pages of contemporary romance books at stores and community centers, but they always felt forcefully cheesy. Predictable. Consequently, you never had any grand dreams of passionate confessions under the rain.

On the other hand, you also didn't expect to be asked out in such a mechanical, calculated manner. Or that a machine would be the suitor. Yet there was something charming about his approach. For the first time since meeting him at the border, you saw him struggle. There was something human-like in his uncertainty.

You stood up from the table, and walked towards the android. Then, you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, expressing the mutual feeling and understanding.

His eyes bore an eerie glint to them. It was most kind of you to offer a common ground, but he knew better. The affections you held for him were, with utmost certainty, a mere fraction of whatever overwhelmed him from the moment he encountered you. Limerence, obsession, compulsion, there were many definitions that aptly described his otherwise unexplainable desires towards you. Even more unexplainable was the fact they'd evolved from a blank slate, a programmed agent with no previous knowledge on feelings or humans.

You noticed his hesitation.

"Is there anything else troubling you presently?" you nudged.

Nothing of immediate urgency. Well, not for you, at least. The android remained thoughtful. What were the variables which needed to be met in order to initiate a sexual encounter? Would it have been inappropriate for him to suggest intercourse straight after this conversation? To him, it was a natural escalation he'd considered many times in the past. To you, it could've come as a sudden, crass, and hurried proposal.

He reached for your wrist and discreetly pressed a thumb against your skin. Judging from your resting heart rate, facial expression, and localized temperature, there was a fair chance you wouldn't reject his advances. Once the statistical risk had been assessed, he pulled you in for a kiss.

"Would it be possible to continue this in your bedroom?" he inquired, standing up.

"Alright, just don't...ask for approval for every single step" you retorted. You'd rather not become a narrator of your own pounding.

You open your eyes with a squint, greeted by unexpected natural light flooding your bedroom. Someone must’ve lifted the hologram blinds.

“My apologies, I hadn’t considered the discomfort it would cause you. My Spacer colony uses artificial lightning, though I am becoming rather fond of the natural sun rays here.”

Your android partner is meticulously preparing his outfit for the day. Judging by the stark nakedness and the glistening skin, you suppose he’s had a shower while you were still sleeping. You involuntarily furrow your brows and blush at the sight. He notices your embarrassment.

“A most surprising reaction. You have seen the very same genital organ…”, he says as he quickly checks his wristwatch, “...precisely eight hours and forty-five minutes ago.”

“It’s just…most people get dressed once they start doing other things. I also wear a towel for coverage when I come out of the shower.”

He processes your words.

“Hmmm. Illogical, but it explains your reaction.”

You stand up and stretch with a prolonged yawn. Suddenly, a revelation hits you: your mind flashes with images of the android fondling your body, your ears ring with the shameless moans you’ve let out throughout the night. Your face turns pale.

“Listen, when is your next functional inspection?” you ask, without waiting for the synthetic to answer. “Will they, uh…will they have access to all of your memories?”

You know that the android permanently records all data and saves it into a memory unit. It’s a pointless fear, of course. The Spacers couldn’t care less about irrelevant details. If the intended tasks are fulfilled, what happens on the side is out of their concern. Yet you don’t exactly appreciate the possibility of your personal deeds airing like this, before the eyes of multiple engineers.

“You may rest assured, whatever involves your privacy will not be included in the examination.”

“Do you get to decide what is checked and what isn’t?”

“No, most data is sampled randomly.”

You stare at him, confused.

“Then how-”

“It is not common practice, nor encouraged by our code of ethics. I can, however, choose which information is available to begin with.”

“What? I thought you’re fully controlled by whoever created you. If they so desired, couldn’t they open you up and take whatever they require?”

The robot smiles at your assumption and takes a few steps towards you.

“Once an android model is finished, one can no longer modify the processor. Not without compromising everything else with it. It is not a device to be deconstructed, (Y/N).” He taps his temple, then continues: “I am a biocomputer. While most of my parts are mechanical, my processor is a cortical organoid developed in a laboratory. A human brain, if you will.”

Somehow, the discovery fills you with dread. A living organ, encapsulated within a machine. What does that say about consciousness? About self-awareness? The Spacers didn't just tinker with metal scraps and smart computers. They artificially birthed life.

You were always under the impression that your robot companion is closer to the computer you have on your desk. Billions of lines of code within a black box, which then lead to spontaneous, novel interactions with the outside world. To think that at the very core of his functions lies a clump of living cells...

Perhaps you weren't so different, after all. The line between machines and humans is suddenly blurred.

#yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere robot #yandere android #robot x human #android x reader #robot x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere original character #yandere imagine #yandere fic

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invenblocker · 8 months ago

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Not necessarily true. The longer a statistic has been measuring, the slower an average changes (assuming you include everything from since the beginning), so if you fudge the numbers to include all the way back in their founding days where maybe they spent a couple years getting only half, one fourth or one tenth of the calls they do today, that alone drives the average down to where moderately consistent amounts of calls can remain above average for quite long.

Remember, in the list [2, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10], all but one entry are above average.

There are lies, damn lies, and statistics.

#the “honest” way to measure the average amount of calls would be to only measure the last period of a year at most #honestly 3 months is probably the top #but it is entirely possible for a company to make this dishonest statement while still being mathematically correct #if they're frequently having issues because they're “experiencing an above average amount of calls” that likely indicates understaffing #and if this excuse is used frequently with no action taken that means they're unwilling to hire the requisite staff

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ooooo-mcyt · 4 months ago

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"Scar and Grian make each other worse-" actually they help each other be happier and stronger.

Grian helps Scar realize he doesn't always have to be alone.

Scar tends to end up isolated. Sure, he's friendly and charismatic, but oftentimes he ends up alone. Sometimes because of pure fate, but also, even though he desires company, often he ends up establishing himself as an independent isolated entity on the server, and he can really get it into his head (whether its true or not) that nobody else can be relied on long term (which can also lead to him being flighty and dishonest at times).

Grian has a way of shaking that up. In Thirdlife when he was the only ally Scar couldn't betray, in Doublelife when he went and got Scar and insisted on basing together, in Secretlife when Scar spent a day alone and stressed and Grian showed up to understand exactly what was wrong and offer him company ("why don't you come with me?")

(grian was there at the end of secretlife too. scar standing confused and alone. "she's dead, scar, you won". it's not much, but no other winner can say they had the luxury of hearing any voice other than their own after dealing that final blow. even in the isolation of being the only man left alive, scar doesn't have to be alone.)

It goes the other way too. Scar helps Grian realize he doesn't always have to overthink so much.

Grian has always had a massive guilt complex. He's usually no more mischievous, selfish, or ruthless than some of the other players on the server, and yet Grian is disproportionately likely to overthink and beat himself up over things. Swearing himself into servitude after accidentally killing Scar, apologizing again and again for many of the fights he does take and scolding himself for his weakness when he doesn't take a fight, (incorrectly) convincing himself he's personally responsible for the server hating them in Double Life.

Scar is good at putting a stop to the overthinking. He'll give Grian excuses, absolution if that's what Grian needs. You can say Scar egging Grian on to commit chaos is a bad thing, but I think it's undoubtedly a positive when Scar gets Grian to stop lingering over things so much. This is a death game, sometimes you kill someone, sometimes you burn something, sometimes you make a mistake. Grian can't control everything, nor is it always his fault when something goes wrong, and Scar is very good at encouraging Grian when he's uncertain and distracting Grian when he feels bad.

You can say they "make each other worse", but I think they make each other happier and help each other stop lingering on their doubts and self destructive tendencies so much when they're together.

#trafficblr #traffic smp #grian #goodtimeswithscar #desert duo

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luveline · 1 year ago

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Ahh I’m so obsessed with stripper!reader and Spencer!! Do you have any more thoughts about them you’d be willing to share, maybe just a snippet of their life together? So so in love with them and your writing in general

i got a different request for them that I lost about reader struggling to afford essentials and so I thought I’d combine them, I hope that’s ok!! <;3 fem, 1.1k

cw food insecurity/ poverty

You attempt to save money, but the ten dollars you don't spend on shampoo and conditioner gets used on painkillers. You hide fifty dollars in a book and try to forget about it, but your shoes split open on the walk to work, and it takes all afternoon to find it again. You try so hard to stretch your paycheck and something new makes it impossible.

So it's a cold night in late December and you spent all your money for food on the gas bill. Your stomach hurts, but at least your nose isn't that horrible stiff cold that distracts.

It's not just that your stomach hurts, though. You feel miserable about everything, and you know you need to ask someone for help. You've thought about selling something, but you already pawned your watch, and everything else is inconsequential.

I could sell my phone… but how would I talk to Spencer?

It's the stupidest thought you could've had. More importantly, how would you communicate with work? How would you call your electric and gas company, or talk to your landlord?

Spencer would be so sad if he knew you’d sold your phone to pay for food. He’d probably be upset knowing you considered it. And you won’t get paid for another three days, so unless you can somehow live off of olives and cherries from the club bar, you have to ask Spencer for money or get a loan. With your credit score, one situation is more likely than the other.

You bring your phone across the pillow and sigh before clicking on his contact. He’s practically the only number you call.

“Hello?” you ask.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hello, handsome,” you murmur, staging an affect of someone who couldn’t be more unbothered by the world.

“Yeah, hi. You okay?”

You don’t want to butter him up. It feels dishonest. You should be straight forward. “Spencer. You know I hate asking you for things.”

“Yes, it’s the only bad thing about you.” He sounds like he’s smiling. You can imagine him on his couch reading something obscure, or watching one of his sci-fi shows, curls in his eyes, grey pyjamas too short for him riding up his calves as they tend to do.

“But I need– um. I don’t have any money?” You don’t mean to phrase it like a question. “Like. Okay, so, I promise you I am not an irresponsible person, just, my gas bill went up and I didn’t know, but it’s so cold I paid it anyways, and now I have three dollars. Um. Total. And I haven’t eaten all day and I’m sorry I’m asking, but I just need like twenty dollars until I get paid on Tuesday. Could you let me borrow twenty dollars, please?”

“Do you want to get takeout?”

You cringe. “No, like, twenty dollars for groceries, Spence.”

“No, I understood. That’s fine, I’ll happily give you twenty dollars. But you said you haven’t eaten today? And I miss you, so it’s an excuse?” Now he’s the one making questions out of statements. “I can get us Thai food.”

Your stomach pangs at the thought. No matter how much you hate this, you know he loves you enough to want to bring you dinner, and you really will pay him back, so he might as well. “Yeah, please. I’d love to see you, Dr. Reid.”

“I’ll be quick,” he promises.

He isn’t. You wonder if he’s forgotten you and your rumbling stomach, curled into a c-shape under the sheets. It’s warm, at least, nearly too warm, the blade of your hunger threatening to drive you mad. It’s not a nice feeling, depending on the kindness of a friend to see you through, nor is it very pleasant to be this hungry. You’ve gone hungry a hundred times, and this is the only time you’ve ever had someone you trusted enough to turn to during that time to ask for help. What if Spencer’s decided he isn’t comfortable with your lending after all and he doesn’t come over tonight?

You’d been looking forward to seeing him again. It’s almost worse than the hunger.

Just as you’re thinking he’s decided he doesn’t want to be your friend anymore, he lets himself in.

Your apartment is small, consisting of three rooms. The bedroom, the bathroom, and the living room kitchen combination. He lets himself into the living room with a cacophony of rustling and a called, “Hello!” followed soon by a muttered swear.

You laugh under your breath.

“Are you coming out here, or do you want to eat dinner in bed?” he asks.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

It’s quiet enough besides his arrival that you’ve no need to shout.

“Well, stay there if you want. Have you been drinking anything? I brought iced tea and some stuff for you to have breakfast tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” You force yourself to sit up. One moment you’re looking at the closed door and the next you’re squinting against the light of the kitchen, Spencer in the doorway like a silhouette against it. “Hey, Spence. You’re taller than last time.”

“I’m the same size as always.”

“You’re still wearing your shoes. That must be it.”

Spencer takes off his shoes and crosses the short distance to you. “Hi,” he says, taking your hand as he sits down. His fingers are freezing. “Sorry I took a while.”

“Sorry for asking you for money.”

“It’s okay. It’s not something to worry about. Everyone has to ask a favour sometime.”

His hair is wind blown, his eyes watery. The cold weather has nipped his pert nose a rosy pink and he’s smiling at you with chapped lips, unaware of or uncaring about his own circumstances in the face of yours. “You okay?” he asks, his pretty brown eyes narrowing, eyebrows pinching together at the starts. “You can’t just not eat all day and not tell me.”

You nod tightly. It’s humiliating to be in this position.

He softens. “Did they tell you the rate was rising? It’s illegal in Virginia–”

You take your hand from his. “They sent me a letter I didn’t open. I knew it would be bad news.”

Spencer looks down at your knees. “I know that you’re used to doing things by yourself, but you don’t have to anymore.”

“‘Cos you look after me,” you say quietly.

“I’m trying to.”

You laugh and jog your joined hands to make him look up. “Okay. Look after me some more then and give me a hug. I’m too warm, and you’re freezing.”

He hugs you tightly, quick to rub your shoulder blade with his thumb. “Stay here, okay? I’ll bring you a plate.”

You cling to him for a few seconds, until hunger wins, and you send him off into the kitchen again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer and stripper!reader

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saltyfinalboss · 9 months ago

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no, it's not a joke. if you were to open the game now and count the names listed in the credits (both motion twin and evil empire) it's around 50 people, because evil empire has done a lot of work on dead cells since they got handed the reins in 2019

i highlight this because i think it is misleading of motion twin to call themselves "the creators of dead cells" when they have 1. not worked on the game for the past 4 or so years 2. only have a very small number of people who have touched the game remaining in their studio

not outright false or anything, just scummy considering motion twin cancelled dead cells

hope this clears things up! @cyberkn1fe

i really hope dead cells fans do not buy the 'windblown' game by motion twin just because it's "by the creators of dead cells", since motion twin actually cancelled evil empire's* plans for future dead cells content which was planned for at least until 2025 including at least one dlc.

(*evil empire have been developing dead cells since 2019/patch 1.3 of dead cells, for those unaware)

in this announcement post MT claims that they decided the game is finished as it is or whatever and don't want any more updates as to not make the game 'bloated', which sounds pretty reasonable until you remember that all the updates from evil empire are unique and distinct & that motion twin doesn't even make the game anymore as of 2019. so personally i think this 'reasoning' is just random shit they made up to not sound as evil as they are.

not to mention that the whole "by the creators of dead cells" thing they put in their marketing is VERY misleading. obviously motion twin initially created dead cells, yes, but by now there are only about ~3 ppl at motion twin who worked on dead cells. there are ~50 names in the credits of dead cells.

of course i can't stop anyone from buying whatever they want, but i urge people to at least read this blog post by a former dead cells dev. i feel like it's important context a fan might want to know before potentially buying motion twin's new game.

#sorry im bad at explaining but badically #evil empire did a lot of work on this game #and though motion twin made it initially i think its a bit dishonest to call themselves the creators #when literally only 3 ppl who ever touched the game are still in the company #out of the total 50 of motion twin or evil empire employees who have ever helped with the game

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sanjisleggy · 1 month ago

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the warlord and his bodyguard (sir crocodile x reader)

req: Could you do a Mihawk or Crocodile x Marine reader. Like it's her job to watch them on missions or be in contact with the Warlords. And whoever you pick fell hard for the Marine but knows he shouldn't. Maybe he flirts with her and she tries to remain professional because she could get fired or way worse. But the man is determined

a/n: aaaa!! this was one of my earliest requests but i held off on writing it since i wasn’t sure if i wanted to write for Mihawk or Crocodile :’) luckily since then i’ve got to meet Crocodile again in the impel down arc so i feel a bit more comfortable trying to write for him :D i tweaked the plot a little to fit the ideas i had so i hope the requester doesn’t mind!

contents: reader is a not a good marine (lol), Crocodile is kinda down bad, pining, reader has devil fruit powers, a somewhat graphic depiction of violence, near-death experience (not violent), some fluff, very little angst

wc. 2.3k

wanna be on my taglist?

“tell me,” the imposing figure says, his voice so deep you swear the ground beneath your feet trembles ever so slightly. “did the World Government send you to mock me?”

Crocodile taps his hook against the surface of his mahogany desk, his heavy-lidded eyes peering sharply at you as he awaits your response. though he may be one of the Seven Warlords, you find it difficult to feel threatened by him, having faced and escaped more dire situations in your past as a cadet. besides, it’s rather rare for your potential cause of death to be so visually appealing.

“i should say no but both of us know that isn’t truly the case.” your response seems to have caught him off guard, his eyes widening ever so slightly. to your surprise, Crocodile follows it up with a smirk, all the while keeping his lit cigar held firmly in between his teeth.

“so what is the reason you’re supposed to tell me?”

as though reciting a script, you share how out of the goodness of the World Government’s hearts, they’ve decided to begin a new initiative to improve relations between the Warlords and the Marines. “thus, every Warlord will be provided with a bodyguard.” you’re unable to hold back the contempt in your tone and Crocodile picks up on it instantly.

“think you’re too good for the job, officer?” he replies in a disinterested manner.

“no, the job’s fine,” you admit, seeing no reason to be dishonest, “i just think they could’ve at least tried to come up with a better lie. i am glad i was assigned to you, though, and not Gecko Moria or Donquixote.” you can’t help but scoff.

the Warlord’s laugh catches you off guard. the fact that the sound alone causes a stirring in your chest alarms you even more.

what an interesting woman you are.

“so what will it take to keep your mouth shut?” Crocodile gets straight to the point, already fully aware of how your daily duties include a report back to headquarters on his activity. in all honesty, he’d meant it partially as a joke or, perhaps, a final attempt at sending you a message: you’re no threat to me.

“i don’t know,” you reply, taking a few steps to get closer to his desk before you lean forward slightly to level your eyes with his, “what’re you willing to offer?”

the Warlord can’t tell if you’re joking–and he’s not sure how he feels about that.

ii.

two months go by and business at Rain Dinners has been the same as always.

contrary to Crocodile’s expectations, your sudden arrival hasn’t impeded his progress on the casino and Baroque Works. his initial concerns over an influx in Marine officers storming Rain Dinners or a Vice Admiral showing up to tear down his secret organisation quickly go unfounded when it dawns on him that you’re truly not interested in taking him down.

if anything, he’s been enjoying your company. you’re an intelligent person whom he’s surprisingly able to have pleasant conversations with. you seem to have a keen sense of perception, knowing when to simply watch events unfold and when to interfere–though the latter instances have been rare considering his status in Alabasta deters trouble-making in his place of business.

after the first few weeks of having you trail behind him everywhere he goes, Crocodile finds himself getting used to being in your company. today, however, marks the first time the Warlord feels a need for something more.

though the Warlord is surrounded by beautiful women all vying for a crumb of his attention–a common occurrence when he makes his occasional appearance at his own casino’s bar–he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like if you’re the one sitting beside him instead. not the kind of man to let his imagination run wild, however, he quickly reminds himself that you’re standing a distance away behind him as you always do.

before Crocodile can fully return to enjoying his evening in the presence of the women around him, though, he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as a familiar sense of danger snaps his attention to the lady on his right side. within the span of a second, he readies himself to activate his devil fruit powers but before he can even fully register what she’s trying to pull, you make your move.

recognising the stained needle held in between the woman’s fingers as being composed of sea prism stone, your body reacts on its own volition.

“shave.”

to nearby onlookers, a blurry figure shoots its way across the room before you reemerge right behind the wannabe-assassin. without any warning, you place your right palm against the back of her head.

“twist.”

with a sickening crunch that reverberates throughout the once bustling casino, the woman’s body from her neck downward begins to turn a full 360 degrees whilst her head remains completely still in the palm of your hand. as her corpse flops to the ground, you hear the combined sounds of onlookers retching and gasping–but no running. the only one seemingly completely unbothered by the cold blooded murder is the assassination target himself.

“i could’ve handled it myself,” Crocodile sighs, puffing a cloud of smoke from his cigar, “though admittedly i am impressed by your efficiency.”

“were you aware the needle was made of sea prism stone?” your question catches him off guard; and he’s only further surprised when you bend down to pick it up from the floor with your bare hand.

“poisoned? i figured,” he admits, “but made of the stone? truth be told i was not aware.” the Warlord’s eyes travel slowly from the tiny needle held in between your fingers up to your face. as expected, you’re affected by the sea prism stone–he can tell from the droopiness of your eyelids and the way you furrow your eyebrows. “i could kill you right now,” Crocodile adds, unable to help his curiosity in what your response might be to such a suggestion.

“feel free,” you reply, a tired smile appearing on your tired face.

“don’t be ridiculous.” he shoots a glance at a random employee and gestures to the corpse. once it’s been taken away, he nods at the now-available seat. “take a seat, drink with me… and throw the needle away.”

iii.

three weeks later, you come storming into Crocodile’s office unannounced. normally he doesn’t tolerate such behaviour–the guest he’d been hosting even flinches outwardly, as though steeling himself to witness your impending death–but once the Warlord’s eyes lay on you, all anger flies out the window.

“why’d you do it?” you ask, clutching a crumpled letter in your hand as you make your way to his desk. with a wave of his hand, he dismisses his guest and remains silent and still until the two of you are left alone in the large room.

now that he’d had some time to take a closer look at you, the expression on your face screams less anger and more confusion–contrary to the way you’d nearly kicked down his door to get in. eyes flickering to the letter in your hand, the familiar material of the paper reminds him of a particular event that happened just a week ago.

“something troubling you, Miss Bodyguard?” the Warlord asked while in the midst of handling a mountain of paperwork.

“my village is in danger,” you’d replied without hesitation, not seeing any need to hide the truth from him–it was a trait he very much appreciated in you. “we used to always get harassed by pirates but lately it’s gotten worse and the berry i send home isn’t enough to keep them away anymore.”

a part of him expected you to drop a subtle plea for help but you never did. once you’d answered his question, you went back to being silent, eyes trained on the crumpled piece of paper held in your trembling hands.

“what’s the name of your village? and on what island?”

“remind me what you’re accusing me of?” Crocodile replies in his usual monotonous tone.

“you sent people to my village,” you say almost breathlessly, unable to help the tears welling up in your eyes as your heart pounds within the confines of your chest. “you’ve been protecting them, haven’t you?”

“yes.”

“why?”

i hated seeing you worry.

“you wouldn’t be a very efficient bodyguard if you’re constantly thinking about your home, would you?”

for a long while, you simply stare at him in silence, your widened eyes glued to his deep-set ones. your gaze is so intense it’s almost as though you’re trying to peer straight into his soul; for a split second, the Warlord wonders if you’ve perhaps passed out while standing up with your eyes open.

“thank you,” you say softly with a smile on your face–the mere sight of which sends what the Warlord thought had been dead and cold in his chest into overdrive. for the first time in years, his heart races not from anger or adrenaline but from something else he’d long forgotten the feeling of.

iv.

four days pass by and Crocodile once again feels a strange sensation in his chest but this time it’s from worry.

within the course of an evening, you’d gone from perfectly healthy to deathly ill. first you’d collapsed after dinner–nearly hitting your head on the cold tiled floor had he not been fast enough to catch you–before a dangerously high fever started to set in. without hesitation, as he carried you to your quarters, the Warlord demanded for the best of Alabasta’s doctors and nurses to make their way over immediately.

now as the moon hangs high in the desert sky, its light shining through your windows just enough to illuminate your room barely, you find yourself accompanied by the Warlord himself. sitting quietly in a chair set beside your bed, you watch him as he reads a folder full of documents, using only the moonlight casting in as his source of light.

you feel terribly hot and extremely cold at the same time as you lay under the weight of your comforter, a wet towel resting on your forehead. your throat feels dry no matter how much water you drink so you’ve long since stopped asking for more–now only drinking when he periodically offers a glass to you.

in your fevered haze, you faintly recall some instances after you’d collapsed: the feeling of strong arms carrying you away, holding you close to a warm chest; the anger in a familiar voice it barked orders at others; the feeling of a large hand caressing your cheek as you laid barely awake.

“she will be okay, thankfully we made it in time to pump all the poison out of her system,” the leading doctor shared with Crocodile outside your bedroom door after a grueling few hours of medical care.

“poison?” the Warlord furrowed his eyebrows.

“yes, Sir Crocodile, we found a large trace of various poisonous substances in her stomach. frankly, she’s lucky to be alive.”

“is my face really that amusing to stare at?” he asks in a tone that lacks any bite as he directs his attention to you.

“you are quite handsome,” you admit with a weak smile. he feels his face warm up and hopes it at least doesn’t show on his skin. “you frown too much, though.”

“oh, really?”

“yeah. especially tonight.” you slowly take in a deep breath only to start coughing uncontrollably when the air gets lodged in your throat. Crocodile responds quickly but without haste, handing you a fresh glass of water as you sit yourself up. you drink it all before continuing to speak. “you’ve been frowning in a sort of angry way ever since the doctors left… what’s wrong?”

the Warlord takes a moment to look at you. there’s a thin sheen of sweat covering your skin and the bags under your eyes look the darkest they’ve ever been since he met you, frankly you look terrible but at least you’re alive. as much as he wants to pretend he doesn’t know why your survival makes him feel so relieved, he’s too smart to be fooled even by himself.

“you nearly died from an assassination attempt.” Crocodile hands you the folder he’d been pouring over while you rested. “i sent my best agents to investigate after the doctors told me you’d been poisoned.”

although your eyes burn with exhaustion, you managed to scan through all the documents with ease. you feel your already-weakened heart twist in a bizarre mixture of sadness, indignation and resignation as you learned the truth of your near-death experience.

“the World Government must’ve thought i was quite the threat to send Cipher Pol 8 after me, huh?” you say, laughing half-heartedly as you hand the folder back to Crocodile. “i guess i must’ve defected without realising.” you speak with an air of nonchalance that piques the man’s interest.

“knowing the World Government, you’ll probably have a bounty on your head once they realise you lived.”

“i know,” you sigh, “the smart thing to do would be to leave Alabasta once i’m all better, don’t you think? i will miss keeping an eye on you, though.” the way you’re looking at him as you wait for his response is strangely playful and he feels the initial pang of disappointment morph instead into a tiny bit of hope.

“join me,” Crocodile says exactly what he knows you want to hear. “i happen to have grown quite fond of being watched by you.” you smile widely and it sends his heart into a fit.

“join Baroque Works?”

“no.” he reaches out to grab your clammy hand, engulfing it with his much larger one; with an uncharacteristic gentleness, the Warlord brings it up to his lips before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. “not Baroque Works, join me. stay by my side.”

“i’d like nothing more.”

—

taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x yn #one piece x you #op x reader #op #fanfic #imagine #sir crocodile #crocodile x reader

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punkshort · 1 year ago

Text

somewhere to run | 5. first date

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You are left picking up the pieces from the events of the carnival night, in more ways than you expected.

Chapter Warnings: language, angst, PTSD type symptoms, mutual pining, jealousy, domestic violence and implied SA (nothing descriptive), mental and physical abuse, bar-fight type violence

WC: 6.8K

A/N: This is a tough chapter, please heed the warnings and if anyone thinks I need to add anything, please let me know

Series Masterlist

You stared listlessly at the blades of the ceiling fan swirling above your head as you listened to the town waking up outside your window. It was getting harder and harder to force yourself out of bed, the all too familiar feeling of emptiness weighing you down with each passing day.

It's been almost a week since that night at the carnival. Almost a week since you've seen him. You wished you could remember what his lips felt like, but whenever you thought about that night, all you could see was the look on his face when you finally told him the truth. His hands dropped from your waist like you had burned him. His eyes hardened like you had slapped him. And before you even had a chance to explain, he was gone.

It was a miracle you were able to make it home, tears clouding your vision as you drove down the quiet streets back to your little apartment, all alone. At first, you had tried to convince yourself that it was for the best, but after an hour, you weren't so sure anymore. So, you picked up your phone and called him. You weren't even sure what you would say, but you needed to try to make things right. It didn't end up mattering, anyway. He never answered, which should have been telling for what was to come, but you still persisted.

You called him two more times - once more that night, and again the following morning, but still he ignored your calls. Now, you stared at your phone, looking at the unanswered texts you sent, hoping he would be tempted to respond that way, but there was no such luck.

Please call me back, I want to explain.

I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.

Where are you?

The last text was sent Monday afternoon when he didn't show up at the diner for the first time since you started. Even Betty looked shocked, but you wouldn't tell her what happened. How could you?

The rest of the week was the same. Every day you glanced up at the door, hoping to see his familiar frame walk through, hoping that maybe enough time would have passed for him to give you another chance, but all week he was missing.

You overheard Tommy talking with Maria in the kitchen, asking if she had seen his brother. Was he doing this to make things worse for you? Inevitably, the truth would come out if he kept this up, and you would be left to deal with the onslaught of questions. Was he purposely trying to hurt you?

Little did you know, later that evening you would receive your answer.

It was Friday, and you were on the schedule for the dinner shift. At least you had the luxury of laying in bed, sulking with only your overpowering guilt and the enormous stuffed penguin he won for you to keep you company. You stared at it now, wondering why you didn't shove it in your closet so you wouldn't have to look at it every time you walked into your room. But you knew the answer. You were punishing yourself for being selfish, for being dishonest, for being a horrible person who deserved what she got.

Eventually around noon, you pulled yourself out of bed, hunger getting the best of you and the smells from the pizza place downstairs didn't help matters.

You got a reminder on your calendar that you were supposed to go to book club tomorrow night. Aside from work, you hadn't left your apartment all week. You had to cancel. There was no way you would be able to go through with it. You could barely muster the energy to shower, and the only reason you managed to drag yourself to work was for the money. No longer did you have anything to look forward to now that Joel made his feelings crystal clear with his absence. What little enjoyment you had in this new life was long gone.

Deciding that you should take a short walk to try to clear your head and grab a treat from the coffee shop, you tugged on jeans and a T-shirt before pulling your hair back and grabbing a pair of sunglasses before heading down the stairs. At least with the sunglasses you could avoid eye contact.

Right as you were locking up after yourself, you heard your name. You grimaced but turned around and forced a smile when you saw Hailey approaching with a friendly wave.

"Hey," you said, giving her a small hug when she got closer.

"I haven't seen you all week! Have you been sick or something?"

"Something like that," you mumbled, adjusting your sunglasses.

"I've been trying to catch you, I wanted to show you some pics from last weekend. You were there, right? I thought I saw you tagged in something," Hailey said as she scrolled on her phone, presumably looking for pictures she took from the carnival.

"Tagged?" you repeated, confused. She nodded and held up her phone, showing you the Facebook app. You shook your head and frowned.

"I'm not on Facebook," you said to her. She pursed her lips and swiped through a few images before finally stopping on a video. It was terrible lighting and the sound was awful but you could clearly see the yellow dress you were wearing as you watched Joel play the target game. Even from the shitty video you could see the obvious attraction in your eyes as you gazed at him. A chorus of cheers followed after each pull of the trigger, but your eyes remained glued to Joel's back, frozen in place.

"Isn't this your page?" she asked, clicking on your name and showing you the profile. You took the phone from her with shaky hands, scrolling through the information and pictures listed. It was you. Everything listed was correct, but you never created this page. You wouldn't have been that stupid. Then the realization hit you and your blood ran cold.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and went back to the video, noticing at the top the location was tagged along with you, Joel, and a few other people from town you barely recognized.

"Oh my god," you whispered to yourself.

"What's wrong?"

You handed her the phone back, tears burning the back of your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go," you said, turning back around to fumble with your keys. You raced up the stairs, making sure both doors were double locked before hiding in your bedroom, your phone clutched in your hand as you looked up your fake profile, trying to learn more but you already knew.

Patrick was coming for you.

You were downright terrified to work that night. If he found you, and it was just a matter of time at this point, he most likely would wait until you were alone. He would wait until he could follow you, find out where you lived, and only then would he make his move. The idea of walking home at night seemed like a really bad idea, so even though it was a ten minute walk, you chose instead to drape yourself in an oversized hoodie with sunglasses and jog to your car, glancing nervously around the parking lot for any suspicious vehicles before sliding into the driver's seat.

Anxiously, you checked your mirrors the whole short drive to the diner, but it didn't appear that you were being followed. You knew once you got to work, you would be safe. Being around other people was your only defense. Then you had the weekend off, so you could hide and figure out what to do. All you had to do was get through your shift.

The diner was busy. It was Friday, and the carnival was no longer in town, so people were going back to their regular routines. Many people in town tended to stop by for dinner before the only movie theater in town ran the 7pm showing, so that typically meant a 5:30 rush.

Fortunately, you were busy. It helped keep your mind off everything: Patrick. Joel. The mess you created everywhere you went. It was all pushed to the back of your mind as you ran around the dining room, dropping off food and wiping down tables. You hadn't even noticed the familiar voice talking to Maria at the hostess stand, even though you had been yearning to hear it all week.

You were filling the ice when you heard him somewhere behind you, and you were so relieved you almost cried. Finally, he came back and you could explain to him what happened. He was the sheriff, after all. And you trusted him. If anybody might be able to do something to help you, it was him.

You turned around with a deep breath, then froze at what you saw. Joel was seated at one of the booths, not at the counter like he typically would be, and gazing adoringly across the table at Nikki.

He was on a date.

You thought you were going to be sick. You clutched your stomach and turned away, blinking back the tears but before you could go hide in the back, Maria spotted you.

"Do you mind taking care of Joel? Gina's got too many tables," she asked. You thought you would faint the way all the blood drained from your face. All you could manage to do was nod, and she hurried back to the hostess stand, completely oblivious.

You forced your feet to move, keeping your gaze down as you pulled out your pad of paper and pen with shaky fingers and forcing a weak smile when you approached their table. You weren't sure if his intention was to have you wait on him, or if he just wanted you to see him with another woman, or maybe he didn't care about you at all. But his reaction gave you nothing to work with since he barely spared you a glance when you greeted them. However, Nikki recognized you and gave you a warm smile.

"I don't think I knew you worked here!" she said, and when Joel realized you knew each other, he finally seemed to react. A muscle in his jaw twitched when he dragged his gaze up to look between the two of you, no playfulness or warmth to be found in his eyes. You swallowed and tried to focus on your job, ignoring Joel as best you could, but Nikki spoke before you could even get the specials out.

"We know each other from book club," she explained to him before turning back to you. "Will I be seeing you tomorrow?"

"Oh, um, no I don't think so," you said nervously, feeling Joel's eyes burning a hole in the side of your head.

"Oh, that's a shame! We had such a fun time last month," she said with a giggle. You had to admit, they made a good match. She was beautiful and seemed very nice. You should be happy for them both, but you knew the moment you got home, you would collapse into tears.

"You should go," Joel said gruffly, and it took all the strength you had to make yourself look at him. He no longer gave you the same look he used to, and it broke your heart. He looked at you like a stranger, like he barely even knew you. It felt more painful than anything Patrick ever did.

"Maybe I will," you said, tearing your eyes away from him. Before Nikki could say anything else, you rambled off the specials, your mind on autopilot. You ripped a hole in your paper with your pen when you saw out of the corner of your eye Nikki link her fingers with his across the table. You mumbled something about being right back and hurried off, tears welling up in your eyes.

This was too cruel. You endured a lot in your time, but this? This was too much.

As you filled up their drinks and flicked away a stray tear from the corner of your eye, you heard Joel's voice clear his throat behind you at the counter. You turned around, drinks in hand. He was leaning over the counter, trying to stay hidden from sight.

"I didn't mean for -"

"It's fine," you said coldly, staring him down. He blinked at you, and for the first time you saw a shred of guilt pass over his features. When he didn't say anything else, you shifted your weight and glanced over his shoulder at Nikki.

"You better go. Your date's looking for you."

His gaze fell and he pinched the bridge of his nose, about to say something else but you didn't let him. You could only take so much. By the time he looked back up, you were halfway across the dining room, setting down their drinks and giving your attention to your other tables.

You drove home that night with hot tears finally trailing down your cheeks, your mind completely fixated now on Joel and Nikki. It hurt how he moved on so quickly. Maybe you misread him. Maybe he was just looking for a conquest and nothing more. What else would possibly explain it? For the first time, you wondered if you were the one better off after all.

Would he kiss her goodnight? Would they have sex?

Did they already have sex?

You parked your car and hunched over the steering wheel, letting the tears flow freely now that you were home and no one was around.

A sharp rap on your window pulled you out of your misery, making you jump. You wiped your cheeks before turning to look, your eyes widening and your heart immediately getting stuck in your throat.

Patrick just shook his head in disappointment, then beckoned you out of the car with his index finger. With a shaky hand, you reached for the door handle and swung it open, sliding out of the seat and taking a deep breath. Just when you thought the day couldn't get any worse.

"When are you gonna learn I'm never gonna give up on us, babe?"

After he left, you laid there in your bed, staring up at the fan swirling above you once again and the smell of that fucking cologne permeating your sheets. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. You couldn't help but think you brought this on yourself. Maybe if you didn't go to that fucking carnival in the first place, none of this would have happened. Joel wouldn't be icing you out, Patrick wouldn't have found you, and you wouldn't be cleaning up the mess he left between your legs while you sobbed over the bathroom sink. Every time this happened you were eternally grateful for your oldest cousin back home who took you to get birth control at the local clinic behind your husband's back. If not for her, who knows how much worse things would be.

But here you were, finding yourself slipping right back into the same situation you were trying to escape. This time, he promised to go to AA and NA. He promised he would try to get better. Part of you wanted to believe him, because what other choice did you have? He would always find you. And it was encouraging he didn't insist on staying with you at your apartment, nor did he hit you. This time.

Just as you were contemplating whether or not to flee again, your phone buzzed on your nightstand. You sighed and made your way over, your body and mind exhausted, the events of the day catching up with you. You lifted your phone up and froze. Blinking a few times, you sunk down into your mattress and opened up the message.

Joel: I'm sorry about earlier

You sniffled and stared at your phone, having no idea what to say. Had he just texted you the day before, or even that morning, maybe things would have been different. You decided to ignore it for now, turning your phone on silent before crawling under the covers and trying to block out the smell.

After a fitful night's sleep, the next morning you eagerly checked your phone, hoping for another text from Joel, but you only had one from Hailey. Disappointed, you opened it up, reading her message about book club that night and who was hosting. You reluctantly agreed to go at the last minute, figuring you would at least be around people for a little while, meaning you would be safe. Besides, you wouldn't be able to avoid Nikki forever. The town was too small and you were sure everyone was already buzzing about their date last night.

You swiped back to your message with Joel, staring at the words again, wondering if you should respond. What if he wasn't alone? What if Nikki spent the night with him? You put your phone down, choosing once and for all not to reply before burying yourself under the covers again.

Going to the book club meeting was a mistake. You politely declined a glass of wine, and you regretted it about twenty minutes in when Nikki began telling the whole group about her date with Joel.

You sat there, listening to every word, each one like a stab to the heart while she told all the ladies about how chivalrous he was when he picked her up, what they talked about, what movie they saw. Every minute bringing you closer and closer to tears.

That could have been you if you had just been honest with him, or maybe just stood up for yourself once in a while instead of letting Patrick steamroll you every chance he got for the past five years.

A couple women glanced your way as Nikki spoke. You had to imagine some people saw you together at the carnival. Towards the end of the night, the heat between you was palpable, but you were pretty certain nobody saw you kiss. You did your best to look indifferent, to act like Joel was just a friend and there were no feelings there, but it was hard. At one point, Hailey asked if you were okay and you had to lie about having a headache, hoping it would explain your quiet behavior.

"It was a little strange at the end of the night, though," Nikki said, finally wrapping up her story.

"How so?" one of the older ladies asked, and you could see the flush creeping up her neck before she even spoke.

"Well, he didn't seem to take my hint about coming inside for coffee when he dropped me off. Or maybe he just didn't want to..." she said, trailing off.

"Oh please, who wouldn't want to," Hailey chimed in, making Nikki giggle. "He's probably just so rusty he wouldn't know it unless you made him a big neon sign that said 'Joel, sleep with me'."

That caused a ripple of laughter amongst the women and you took a steadying breath, already planning on announcing you needed to leave early due to your fake headache when Nikki added one more piece of interesting information.

"Yeah, maybe. But even saying good night, it felt like he didn't really want to kiss me."

"But you did kiss?" another woman asked, and she nodded.

"It was... not what I expected," she admitted, pink dusting her cheeks as she took another sip of wine for courage.

"What do you mean?" Hailey asked, and you silently thanked her for being so nosy so you didn't have to ask the same questions that kept popping up in your head.

"I don't know, I thought he would be a better kisser. It was very... boring. Like, there was no passion or excitement."

All the other women murmured to themselves in shock while you remained perfectly silent. That was most definitely not the experience you had kissing Joel.

Fortunately, they moved on from the topic of Joel shortly thereafter, and you decided to force yourself to stay until the end. Given how horrible the whole week had been, you allowed yourself to feel a little bit of hope after Nikki's comment.

He didn't want to kiss her. Maybe you could still figure out a way to fix this.

Joel groaned as he rolled over in bed and snatched his phone off the charger, glaring at the device and mentally cursing whoever texted him so fucking early on a Sunday. Then his sleep addled brain jolted awake and his heart skipped a beat, wondering if your name was going to pop up on his phone again, but he was met with instant disappointment when he saw Nikki's name instead.

That couldn't be a good sign.

He should be happy to see that Nikki texted him. Deciding to blame it on the early hour and nothing more, he moved past it and set his phone back down to read the message later. He closed his eyes and sighed. Now that he was awake, all of the turmoil from the past week came rushing back to him, always plaguing his every waking moment.

He hadn't realized how much you were hurting until he finally saw you at the diner that night. It was one of his biggest regrets, taking Nikki there. He knew what he was doing, but he did it anyway, and it hurt you. But you didn't deserve that. Even though you nearly shattered his world with your secret, you still didn't deserve it.

His intention was to try to prove he wasn't as hung up on you as he really was. That it was fine that you were married. That he could move on.

It was a little cruel to go right to Nikki. He knew she had feelings for him, and he took advantage of it, all to prove he was over you. And it wasn't even true. He couldn't stop thinking about you. And now he was going to end up hurting two women, just to protect his ego.

So he decided he would try to make it work with Nikki. She was a pretty girl, she was nice and kind. Maybe, in time, he could develop real feelings for her. But when she kissed him the other night, he felt absolutely nothing. Not like what he felt when he kissed you. And that worried him.

If he knew now what he would be missing out on, could he really be happy with someone who didn't give him a fraction of what he felt with you?

He wished more than ever that he didn't let his emotions get the best of him that night. Maybe you had a reasonable explanation. He couldn't fathom what that could be, but he should have at least heard you out. You wouldn't have intentionally hurt him. In fact, you tried to tell him, in your own way. You constantly pushed him away, kept him at arms length, but he just kept coming back for more. Was it even your fault? Did he pressure you so much that you were forced to share something you weren't ready to share?

Letting his desperation win, he picked up his phone again and checked to see if you maybe texted him back in the last five minutes. When he quickly determined you didn't, he opened up Facebook. Maybe you replied to his private message on there.

Joel didn't get nervous often. He had a steady hand, a level head, and had a knack for seeing two steps ahead. He typically had a calming presence, which fit well for his job when he was able to de-escalate situations naturally and with ease.

But today, he was nervous.

For whatever reason, you didn't respond to his text message the other night, but you did decide to respond to the Facebook message he sent at an ungodly hour in the hopes he could get through to you some other way. And by some miracle, it worked.

You had agreed to meet him for coffee and talk. It was unexpected, he thought he would have to try harder, but you were very agreeable to seeing him.

He wasn't sure what he would say exactly, but he knew he wanted to apologize sincerely and give you the opportunity to explain your situation. If not to get some closure, then to at least make going back to the diner less uncomfortable.

He took a deep breath as he raked his fingers through his hair and swung open the door of the coffee shop. He glanced around the room before his eyes fell on you: hunched over and staring down at a small cup of coffee on the table in front of you.

He took a step forward, then stopped when he saw a man with a buzz cut and a beard sit down across from you. Joel didn't recognize him and he was fairly certain he could recognize just about anybody in town at this point. Something about the way you glanced up at the man across from you set his teeth on edge. You didn't smile. You didn't laugh. You looked pale and your eyes looked tired. He watched as the two of you exchanged a few words, and based on the man's body language, the mood was tense. Then suddenly, he reached his arm out across the table to grab your wrist and you jumped, fear flickering across your face. Even from this distance, Joel could see the whites of the man's knuckles as he squeezed your delicate skin under his firm grip.

Joel's nostrils flared and his jaw clenched and before he knew it, he was marching over to your table. Your eyes flicked up when you noticed him, looking like you had seen a ghost. Your eyes widened and your lips parted as you sat back in your chair. The man you were with noticed your reaction and finally loosened his grip, and you immediately tucked your hands on your lap underneath the table. He turned around and looked up with a scowl just as Joel approached.

"Everythin' alright here?" Joel asked, staring at you. You opened your mouth to reply, but the man across from you stood up, cutting you off.

"Everything's just great, Joel," he said with a sneer. Joel tore his eyes away from you to regard the man you were with. He looked him up and down, sizing him up, before answering.

"Sorry, have we met?"

"In a way," he said, crossing his muscular arms across his chest. Joel glanced at you again, but you were just staring down at your coffee cup, refusing to look at either of them.

"Don't look at her, look at me," he said, and Joel's head snapped back around with a glare.

"Excuse me?"

That was when Joel smelled the man's cologne. The same one Sarah bought for him. The same one you told him you were sensitive to. The wheels began turning in his head as he tried to put the pieces together.

"Patrick," you said quietly, trying to calm them both down when you felt other customers giving you curious looks.

"Shut up," he growled at you, still staring at Joel. Joel stiffened, the anger building low in his stomach, but he fought to keep a clear head.

"Hey, take it easy," Joel tried to interject, but Patrick scoffed. As his anger began to rise, Joel could see his neck splotching with red and veins popping out under his reddened skin.

"Don't stand there and act like you haven't been fucking my wife!" Patrick all but shouted, pulling the attention of everyone in the coffee shop now. Joel balked and took a step back.

"You've got it all wrong, we've never-"

"Patrick, I'm not sleeping with him, get a grip!" you snapped, finally standing up from the table.

"The hell you aren't. Why's he sending you messages in the middle of the night on Facebook saying he misses you and he's sorry and he needs to see you?" Patrick asked, turning on you now.

Your jaw dropped and your cheeks flushed pink, your surprised gaze bouncing between the two men and that was when Joel figured it out. Patrick lured him there to cause a fight, and you looked to be completely in the dark.

Joel glanced around nervously at all the onlookers now, murmuring amongst themselves, gossip he was sure would spread to the ends of town before noon.

"Listen, why don't we go outside and calm down. I can explain, it's not what it looks like," Joel said, lowering his voice.

"I'm staying right here," Patrick said, sitting back down in his chair and jutting his chin out with a glare. He seemed hellbent on doing this his way, and Joel was not in the mood.

"You're disturbin' the peace. These people are tryin' to enjoy their mornin' here. Either come outside with me, or we can do this a different way," Joel replied, pulling the hem of his shirt up to flash the gold star on his belt. Patrick laughed, then leaned over to grab his wallet out of his back pocket, showing Joel his own badge.

"Philly PD. 9th precinct. Wanna try that again, sheriff?"

That bit of information stunned Joel, momentarily at a loss for words.

"Hell, honey, at least you got a type," Patrick muttered to you, putting his wallet away. You grimaced and dropped your head between your shoulders, looking defeated.

"Either way, I gotta ask you to leave," Joel said, standing his ground. He could see the flush rising up Patrick's neck again, his fingers curling into a fist on the table before you stepped to stand between the two men.

"C'mon, Patrick. Let's go," you urged, holding your hand out shakily. Patrick slowly turned his head to look up at you. There was no love in his eyes. No affection or care. All Joel could see was raw anger.

"Why don't you come down to the station with me. We can talk this out, hm?" Joel asked him calmly, not feeling comfortable letting you leave with this man. You turned your head to the side, your eyes unable or unwilling to meet his.

"I got it, Joel. I'm sorry," you said softly over your shoulder.

Joel watched Patrick stand up and mock you under his breath before snatching your hand and pulling you roughly to his side, leading you out the front door. He was scrambling to find another reason to keep you from walking out of there, but he was too late. The pair of you were already halfway down the block by the time Joel was able to gather himself and walk out the door.

He stood on the sidewalk with his hands on his hips, watching as Patrick nearly dragged you up the street. You managed to turn your head once to look at him, your eyes wide and filled with worry before you turned the corner, disappearing from sight.

Nikki was talking his ear off, all bubbly and excited as she led Joel into one of the few bars in town. A blind man could see she was trying too hard. She was the one who came up with the idea of drinks, turning down dinner beforehand, and wearing one of the shorter dresses he's seen on a woman in a long time.

He realized about half an hour into the night it must have been a real blow to her self esteem when he turned her down after their first date because she was hanging all over him, pushing her chest against him every chance she could and even encouraged him to do a shot with her. He entertained the idea once but stopped her after that. He wasn't lying when he told you he wasn't much of a drinker, and he certainly wasn't interested in having meaningless, sloppy sex with Nikki, so he tried to slow her down and distract her.

"C'mon, why don't we order you somethin' to eat?" Joel said, flagging down the bartender for a menu, but Nikki shook her head and pouted.

"I'm hungry, but not for food, Joel," she whispered in his ear, then brazenly slid her hand over his thigh to try to cup him over his jeans. His hand shot down and grabbed her wrist.

"What are you doin'?" he asked with a nervous chuckle, and she groaned, pulling her hand back to wrap her arms around his shoulders instead.

"Isn't it obvious?" she replied, leaning forward to nibble on his ear. He made a face and untangled her arms from around him, pulling her back to her own stool.

"Listen, Nikki-"

A roar of laughter and some broken glass from the other side of the crowded bar caught Joel's attention. It was a Sunday night, but it was busy. There was a big football game on above the bar and it seemed to pull in all the men in town that evening. It was no wonder Joel didn't notice Patrick until that point.

He watched him through the throngs of bodies as he stumbled around the pool table with a couple other younger men from town. He looked like he was wasted: his eyes were bloodshot, his pupils blown wide, and his face was bright pink. Nikki followed Joel's gaze and turned back to him, confused.

"Who's that?" she asked, but Joel ignored her and instead waved down the bartender again.

"What's up, Joel?" he asked, wiping his hands with a worn out rag.

"What's goin' on over there, Hank?" Joel asked, nodding in Patrick's direction, watching as he grabbed the ass of a blonde girl heading to the bathroom.

"He's been here for hours," Hank said, leaning across the bar to keep his voice as low as possible. "I started waterin' down his drinks around 5, but he keeps gettin' worse and worse. Told one of his friends there to take him outside, I think he's too far gone and won't take kindly to me askin' him to leave."

Joel nodded and continued to watch. His skin looked red and his hair looked damp with sweat.

"What's wrong?" Nikki purred in his ear, trying to get his attention back on her, but he shook his head.

"Somethin' ain't right," he mumbled.

"I think he's married to that new waitress at the diner," Hank continued. Nikki sat back in her seat and said your name, her eyes beginning to clear. Hank snapped his fingers and pointed at her.

"Yep, that's the one. Was sayin' some real god awful stuff earlier 'bout her to those guys. Now you know I hear my fair share of bawdy talk 'round here, but this was enough to even make me blush."

Joel cursed under his breath and stood up from his stool. Nikki grabbed his arm and frowned.

"Where are you going?"

"Just gonna have a talk with him," Joel said, shrugging her hand off as he pushed his way through the crowd. As Joel approached the pool table, Patrick's drunken gaze fell on him and he smirked.

"Well, look who it is boys," Patrick said, his voice too loud as he stumbled to lean against the wall. "If it ain't the sheriff of this here wild west." Patrick laughed at his own joke, but the other three men he was with quieted down when they saw Joel.

"I think you oughta head home. Seems like you've had enough this evenin'," Joel said, his voice steady.

"I don't think I like you telling me what to do," Patrick said, his smile slipping as he pushed off the wall and took a few steps forward. One of the younger men that was playing pool with Patrick set his cue down on the table and spoke up.

"Hey man, let's just head out - "

"Shut the fuck up, I'll handle this asshole," Patrick turned and yelled, causing the whole bar to go quiet. Joel took a deep breath and reached behind him for his handcuffs.

"I don't fucking think so," Patrick said, his eyes locked on Joel's hand, but Joel just shook his head.

"You ain't givin' me much of a choice," he replied, but before he could blink, Patrick reared back and swung, his meaty fist coming in direct contact with Joel's chest, momentarily knocking the air out of his lungs. Luckily, Patrick was too drunk and missed Joel's face. But Joel was still relatively sober, and therefore much quicker. He lunged forward and clocked Patrick right in the nose, making him stumble backwards clutching his face with a pained howl.

People scattered out of the way, some men calling out to Patrick, telling him to stop, but most were just encouraging the fight with drunken excitement.

Once Patrick got his bearings, he ran forward at full speed, aiming to knock Joel down to the ground but he dodged him with ease and instead sent him flying head first into an empty table. He rolled over with a groan, blood trickling from his nose, a bright purple bruise already forming under his eye.

Joel leaned over him with a grin.

"You done?"

Patrick just groaned again, his hands coming up to rub his head. Joel took the opportunity to snatch his wrist and twist him around on the floor. Pressing his knee into Patrick's back, he pulled his other arm around and handcuffed him before pulling out his cell and dialing the number for the station.

Once Joel loaded Patrick into the back of Bobby's cruiser, telling his deputy to book him and he would deal with it in the morning, the rest of the bar went back to watching the football game, the excitement now over and done with. Joel scanned around and found Nikki seated exactly where he left her, but she looked less than pleased. He sighed and pushed his way through the crowd, back to his date.

"Hey, sorry 'bout -"

"I think I'm ready to leave, Joel," she said curtly, standing up and snatching her purse from the bar.

"Alright," he said. He led her outside and was heading to his truck when she stopped in front of a waiting car. He turned to look at her, confused.

"I asked a friend to come get me," she explained, and Joel slowly nodded.

"Hey, I'm sorry 'bout tonight, but sometimes the job just gets in the way."

"Was it the job, Joel? Or was it her?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He paused, unsure what to say as he averted his gaze. She looked down at her feet and took a breath before bringing her eyes back up to him.

"This isn't going to work out, is it?" she asked softly. Joel forced himself to look at her again and after a moment, shook his head. He could see the tears welling up in her eyes and he immediately felt guilty. He took a step forward but she sniffled and stepped further away.

"I don't know why I couldn't see it. The whole fucking town sees it. Even after what happened at the coffee shop this morning... I just hoped..." she trailed off and wiped a stray tear from her eye.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, and he truly meant it. He didn't want to hurt her and he felt like shit that it had to come down to this.

"It's fine. I'll get over it," she said, trying to sound strong before turning to her friend's car and sliding into the front seat. He almost reached out, almost asked her to stay, but he stopped because it would have been cruel and selfish. He was only looking to assuage his own guilt. Instead, he watched the car back up and leave the parking lot, a pit growing in his stomach now that he was alone.

He knew it was the right thing to do, that he had to be honest with Nikki. At least he didn't lead her on, and he hoped he didn't hurt her feelings too badly, but he still felt like an asshole.

Then his thoughts drifted to you. What happened today after the coffee shop? Even though the guy was an asshole, it didn't change the fact you were married and he couldn't have you. What was he supposed to do? Pine away for you his whole life? Would he really ever be content with just being your friend?

And what the hell was he going to do with Patrick? He could charge him with assaulting an officer, that should keep him in jail for a few days until he posts bail, but would he ever see any charges actually stick? Or would he make a few phone calls and have them disappear?

He didn't anticipate this ever being a problem. He's never had to deal with another lawman on the receiving side of his job.

He was entering uncharted territory.

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mariacallous · 3 months ago

Text

As president of the United States, Donald Trump threatened the federally issued licenses of television broadcast outlets that displeased him. In 2017, after NBC News reported a dispute between the president and his military advisors about the size of the nuclear arsenal, the president launched a series of tweets:

These 2017 tweets did not specifically suggest that he would have the Federal Communications Commission (FCC), which issues the airwave licenses, revoke them on his order. Instead, they appear to echo the 1972 tactics of Richard Nixon, who, displeased by coverage from the Washington Post, encouraged a third party to file a challenge at the FCC (which ultimately went nowhere).

In response to the 2017 tweets, the Trump-appointed chairman of the FCC, Ajit Pai, took a firm stand. “I believe in the First Amendment,” he said. “Under the law, the FCC does not have the authority to revoke a license of a broadcast station based on a particular newscast.”

Now, in 2024, as a presidential candidate, Donald Trump has reasserted that broadcasters who displease him should lose their federal airwave licenses. A September 2023 post on Truth Social accused NBC of “Country Threatening Treason.” He added, “Why should NBC, or any of the other corrupt & dishonest media companies, be entitled to use the very valuable Airwaves of the USA, FREE?”

The current Chair of the FCC, Jessica Rosenworcel, responded, “the First Amendment is a cornerstone of our democracy. The FCC does not and will not revoke licenses for broadcast stations simply because a political candidate disagrees with or dislikes content or coverage.”

However, the ability of future FCCs to stand up to such instructions could be at risk. Candidate Trump has promised, “I will bring the independent regulatory agencies, such as the FCC and the FTC, back under Presidential authority, as the Constitution demands.” While the Constitution never mentions regulatory agencies, bringing the FCC under direct presidential control would surely undercut its independent decision-making.

But a president of the United States already has powers beyond coercing the FCC. These powers could be exercised not only against broadcasters, but also against those who operate the internet.

The “Doomsday Book”

During his presidency, Donald Trump asserted, “When somebody’s president of the United States, the authority is total.” Whether or not presidential authority is “total,” there does already exist a compendium of presidential powers that have been enacted by Congress for use in extreme circumstances.

Reportedly locked in a White House safe are the secret “Presidential Emergency Action Documents” (PEADs). Colloquially known as the “Doomsday Book,” they are a collection of powers authorized by Congress for the president to use in emergencies. Included in this compendium is Section 706 (codified as 47 USC 606), titled, “War Emergency – Powers of the President,” that is tucked away at the end of the Communications Act of 1934, the statute that created the FCC.

TIME Magazine reports, “When Donald Trump was in the Oval Office, members of the national security staff actively worked to keep him from learning the full extent of these interpretations of presidential authority, concerned he would abuse them.”

Here is what Section 706 authorizes:

(c) Upon proclamation by the President that there exists war or a threat of war, or a state of public peril or disaster or other national emergency… the President, if he deems it necessary in the interest of national security or defense, may suspend or amend, for such time as he may see fit, the rules and regulations applicable to any or all stations or devices capable of emitting electromagnetic radiations within the jurisdiction of the United States as prescribed by the Commission, and may cause the closing of any station for radio communication…

The next subsection, using similar “national security” criteria, gives the president authority over the wired networks, such as those that carry telephone and internet service. Section 706(d), in pertinent part, authorizes the president to “suspend or amend the rules and regulations applicable to any or all facilities or stations for wire communication… cause the closing of any facility or station for wire communication… [or] authorize the use or control of any such facility or station… by any department of the Government under such regulations as he may prescribe…”

The terms “war or a threat of war, or a state of public peril or disaster or other national emergency” are not defined by the Communications Act. Such declarations of national emergency were, however, a go-to solution when Donald Trump was in office. The effort to restrict travel from majority-Muslim countries was justified on national security grounds. Tariffs were levied on foreign steel and aluminum as a national security threat based on their impact on domestic production. When Congress would not give him the funding he wanted for the Mexican border wall, the president simply used a national emergency declaration to reallocate Defense Department funds to build the wall. Reportedly, he even considered declaring that the use of natural gas for electricity production was a national security risk because the gas pipelines could become terrorist targets.

The power of the Chief

Candidate Trump, in September 2023, posted that NBC and other “corrupt & dishonest media companies” are “a true threat to democracy and are, in fact, THE ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE!” He declared, “The Fake News Media should pay a big price for what they have done to our once great Country.”

A 2021 report by the nonpartisan Congressional Research Service (CRS) concluded, “in the American governmental experience, the exercise of emergency powers has been somewhat dependent on the Chief Executive’s view of the presidential office.” When he was Chief Executive, Donald Trump explained how he viewed the office: “I have Article II [of the Constitution], where I have the right to do whatever I want as president.”

The tools to do whatever the president wants—whether at the FCC or in the Doomsday Book—are at hand. As the CRS report concluded, such decisions are dependent “on the Chief Executive’s view of the presidential office.”

The institution that created these broad powers, the Congress, has an important role as overseer of the authority they have delegated to the executive. Congress constantly holds oversight hearings on the agencies of the executive branch; hearings on the unilateral powers granted to the president are warranted. The threshold question for such hearings should be whether there are sufficient guardrails in place to protect against their abuse, and what such protections should look like. Regardless of who wins the election—Congress should review whether the unilateral powers granted to the president in the 20th century need updating for the 21st century.

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quin-ns · 9 months ago

Text

The blue VI (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Series summary: JJ has a secret, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold onto it. He discovers his breaking point when his best friend starts to show interest in you, his step sister, who he’s already fallen hard for

Series tags: step brother!jj, dual pov, jealousy, one sided john b x reader, drinking, inappropriate relationship, public sex, oral sex (f receiving)

A/N: the moment we’ve all been waiting for

Series masterlist + OBX masterlist

You felt bad for Kiara, knowing you probably hadn’t been the most pleasant company for the past few days.

Usually when the two of you had sleepovers it was all night gossip and games and sneaking out, but you weren’t up for any of that. Best you could offer was laying in her bed with her and watching videos on her laptop with some minor conversation.

You didn’t really have the capacity to think about anything else but your royal screw up with JJ.

She tried to get you to talk about what happened, but how could you? It didn’t take a genius to figure that something went down, but you’d rather have her think it was just an argument.

You still couldn’t believe what you’d done. You kissed JJ. You actually kissed him.

At the time it was you wanted, but then you let doubt get the best of you.

And now JJ probably hated you. Ironic how he thought it would be the other way around.

It wasn’t like you wanted to hurt him, but you had a hard time grappling with the very confusing feelings you now held for him.

It all started with that first kiss. You never would’ve known what you were missing if he hadn’t gone and done that.

“I love you, but it’s a perfectly good Saturday night and I am not spending it in my bedroom,” Kiara complained, forcing you out of your own head.

She pulled the fluffy blanket you had claimed as yours off of your body.

“What? Hey!”

You didn’t even remember her getting out of the bed. The two of you had practically been rotting beneath the covers all day.

“Up!” she demanded. You looked up and found the stubborn face of your friend looking back. “Come on.”

“Ugh, fine.” You forced yourself to sit up, swinging your legs over the edge of your bed. Kiara stood with her arms crossed while you frowned up at her. “Happy?”

“I’d be happier if you told me what happened with JJ that was bad enough to make you act like this,” she countered, raising her brows expectantly.

“I told you it was just a disagreement.”

“And I told you not to lie to me.”

You averted your gaze from hers. It wasn’t like you wanted to be dishonest with her, but it was better than the truth.

“You said you don’t wanna spend the night in your room,” you said, rising to your feet. “So… what do you want to do? You get to pick.”

“There’s a party tonight at the Boneyard,” Kiara declared. Evidently she’d already had a plan prepared. “And we’re going.”

Getting dressed with Kie actually helped to uplift your mood. You were both determined to pick out nice outfits for the other, and thankfully you’d left enough clothes at her house to have options.

You ended up in a cute crop top and some jean shorts. Dressing in the summer was always easy.

“Pope just texted me and said he, JJ, and John B are all going,” Kiara informed, reading off her phone as you made your way to her jeep. “You good with that?”

You wanted to see JJ. Even if he was pissed at you, you still missed him. You wanted a chance to talk to him, to explain what happened and admit a few things you had yet to fully accept.

“Yeah,” you replied, climbing into the passenger side. “Good with me.”

You and Kiara arrived with a wave of newcomers spilling onto the beach. The party was really getting started now.

Wandering around the beach, you kept an eye out for JJ. The sound of his voice traveling, blonde hair—something. Him being out of your sight was something of a new occurrence. After about ten minutes of trailing behind Kie as she talked to people and got a drink, you began to doubt he was even coming.

He was definitely avoiding you, and you decided you weren’t very much in a party mood after that.

You were about to ask Kie to leave until a familiar face approached.

“Long time no see,” John B teased, a smile on his face at the sight of you and Kie. “I missed you guys.”

Kie put a hand on her hip. “And here I thought you went to the dark side.”

She was referring to his boss—Kiara didn’t talk about it much, but you knew she wasn’t a fan of Ward Cameron’s daughter, Sarah. John B working for the family wasn’t her favorite thing.

“Very funny,” John B dismissed sarcastically. Thankfully Kie didn’t seem to mean it as much as she had in the beginning. John B fixed his gaze on you, and he took on a more thoughtful expression. “You got a second?”

You glanced to Kie, and she gave you a nod to say it was fine to leave her alone. You offered John B a smile. This conversation was coming too, it was just a matter of when.

“Yeah, sure.”

John B tried to find somewhere less crowded, but that wasn’t really an option unless you wanted to totally ditch and go into the woodsy area of the beach, but that seemed inconvenient. You ended up sitting next to one another on a big tree trunk that had fallen horizontally. People were milling around, but they were more distracted by the keg a few yards away. No one would be paying attention to either of you, much less eavesdropping.

“So, what’s up?” you asked when you sat down.

“We haven’t really had a chance to talk since a few nights ago,” John B started, a shyness to him that you usually didn’t hear directed at you.

You watched as he ran his hands over his knees, searching for what to add.

“I wasn’t avoiding you or anything,” you told him, trying to ease his nerves. “I’ve just been busy with Kie.”

“I know, I didn’t think you were.” John B gave you a small smile before he continued. “I don’t know how to say it right but I’m gonna try anyway,” he decided, meeting your eyes. “Your friendship means a lot to me… and so does JJ’s. And as big of a crush as I have on you, I don’t wanna risk losing either of you over it.”

“That’s mature of you,” you said, trying to not react at the mention of JJ.

“Recently I’ve been forced to think about what’s important to me, y’know?”

At the vague reference to his father, you tried to not retreat into your own mind about all the “what-if’s” in life. With everything going on you hadn’t thought about your mom’s situation in a while. In a strange way it was somewhat a relief, but you’d prefer to not have anything going wrong the way it had been.

“I think it’s for the best,” you agreed, honestly more relieved than you imagined yourself feeling. “You’re a great guy, and any girl would be lucky to have you.”

John B chuckled at the flattery before saying, “You just make sure to tell her that, alright?”

It was your turn to laugh at his teasing tone.

“You got it.” You meant what you said about him. “I’m glad we talked.” You found yourself in a better mood than you had been all day.

“We should find Kie before she thinks we’re getting into trouble,” John B commented. “And, for the record, I am too. Happy we talked.”

You gave him a smile at that. “She’ll survive,” you replied to the former statement, but looked out in front of you nonetheless, trying to spot the other girl.

You caught a glimpse of blonde hair instead.

JJ.

It was definitely him. You’d recognize him anywhere from his walk to his clothes, and you just had a feeling in your gut. It was him, but he disappeared into the crowd as soon as you saw him.

Your heart skipped in your chest. You got to your feet, everything else forgotten in that brief moment.

“You good?” John B questioned, clearly sensing your urgency.

You turned and plastered on a smile.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied. “We can split up and look for Kie—divide and conquer and all that.”

“It shouldn’t be too hard… okay, then,” John B trailed off, half chuckling behind you as you took off in the direction you swore JJ went.

If it wasn’t him, you must’ve been delusional.

Your heart continued to race as you found JJ at a keg, filling up a cup. So it had been him. Nice to know you weren’t losing your mind with longing that you imagined it. You never quite pictured this for yourself when it came to JJ, but as badly as you wanted to run to him, your feet were heavy.

Now or never, right?

You managed to walk up to him before he could lift the cup to his lips (and before you could freeze back in place) and he spotted you. You couldn’t quite place the look on his face, but it was more hurt than angry.

He stayed in place when you stopped across from him, but the way he glanced away from you told you that you had to talk fast.

“I’m glad you’re here, I’ve been looking for you.”

JJ scoffed, shaking his head, drink forgotten.

“You must have me mixed up with John B,” he mocked. “Although good job, ‘cause you found him.”

“We were just talking,” you defended.

“Right, sure.”

“I’m serious, okay?” you implored while he gulped down his drink. “We’re just friends.”

“Well, good for you.” JJ dropped his cup to the ground as he began to walk away, not even giving you a chance to answer his question that followed. “Is that all?”

You watched him for a second, a frown working its way onto your lips. You saw his shoulders slouch as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

You snapped into action and followed after him.

“No, it’s not,” you rushed out, trying to fall in line with his steps through the sand but remaining a few behind him. Finally, you reached out and grabbed his arm when you realized he wasn’t going to stop. “Can you just hear me out?”

JJ turned, looking at your hand on his arm before meeting your eyes. You missed that shade of blue. You let out a sigh when your pleading worked. You saw it on his face before he said anything.

“Fine,” he agreed, keeping his guard up. “Talk.”

You glanced around, noticing the people in the surrounding area. You swallowed.

“Can we go somewhere alone?” you asked, knowing you couldn’t say everything you wanted to with all these ears nearby.

JJ led the way into the woodsy area of the beach. Calling it the woods wasn’t really fitting because it wasn’t thick like a forest. It was clusters of palm trees and shrubbery that lined where the beach met dirt, with grass sticking out of the sand. But none of that really mattered, what was important was that it was away from all your peers crowding the shore. It took a minute of walking until you felt like you could talk freely, the only sense of the party nearby being the music faintly filling the air.

JJ stopped and you did too, standing across from him. It felt like there was so much distance between the two of you, even if it was really only a yard or two. You never realized how rarely he left your close proximity until now.

You weren’t sure where to start, so you just… started speaking and prayed the words would come.

“I don’t know what you think you saw, but John B and I really were talking about being just friends. He said my friendship—and yours—mattered too much to mess up, and I don’t even see him like that. I promise, JJ.”

JJ stayed quiet for a moment, but he looked like he believed you.

“Okay,” he said, eyes low as he nodded. “Cool.”

Irritation crept in quickly. “You can give me more than one word answers, you know. I’m trying to be serious with you.”

His eyes flicked up at the sass in your tone.

“What do you want me to say? Thank you for not dating him?” he snarked. “Because thank you, I really do appreciate it, y’know?” His voice was raising and you understood why he’d been so careful with his answers before. “You can’t be with me but hey, at least you won’t be with him!”

You clicked your tongue at his words. You really wanted to have a genuine conversation with him but JJ didn’t seem too keen on that.

“I forgot, you can’t take anything seriously,” you muttered out of annoyance, but he heard you loud and clear.

“Right, yeah, everything is a joke to me. Like when you kissed me the other night—that was so funny,” he shot back, taking a step closer. “What’s also funny is I came here ready to pour my fucking heart out like an idiot to you, and you’re already over it all.”

“What makes you think I’m over any of it?” you accused, throwing his tone right back at him. “You can’t just assume shit and then act like it’s the truth! I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, if it makes you feel any better. But hey—probably not! Because apparently you don’t believe anything I say now, even though I’m telling you that there’s nothing going on with John B and there won’t be! I kissed you, not him, remember?”

You saw JJ’s throat bob as he swallowed, and it made you realize that you had moved forward to close the gap.

“Yeah, I remember,” he finally said, voice much lower than before. “I also remember you changing your mind.”

“I didn’t change my mind,” you confessed, hugging yourself. Now was your chance to try and put words to everything. You had JJ’s attention and even if he looked like he was going to storm off any second, you knew he wouldn’t. You took a breath. “When you kissed me I—I had no idea what to do or think. I didn’t know you felt that way about me and it kinda… I don’t know. But then I couldn’t stop thinking about it and it made me realize that everything we are to each other has never been what it was supposed to be. I didn’t know how to accept that, I guess, and so I did push you away, and I’m sorry. But then at the movie when it was just us I let myself slip up for a minute and I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry for that too.” You took a shaky breath. “And now here we are and I don’t really know where to go from here—I know that’s not fair but I’ve never felt like this before and I don’t know what to do.”

JJ’s eyes had stayed on your face through the entire admission, even when you couldn’t meet his gaze. When you finished, you swallowed back tears. You couldn’t quite read the look on his face. You weren’t sure what he was going to say, or what you wanted him to say.

“If I kiss you again are you going to push me away?” he finally asked, a sense of desperation in his voice.

Words almost failed you, but you managed to get out a small, “No.”

That was all it took, and then JJ’s lips were crashing against yours.

Your head spun as you kissed back, not denying yourself what you knew you wanted. Ever since the first kiss, you’d wanted more. You could admit that now.

Your hands fisted in the fabric of JJ’s shirt and pulled him impossibly close. He fell into you eagerly, hands gripping your waist.

His kiss was feverish, hungry to taste you after being denied for so long. You tried not to let your mind drift and instead focused on the now. Everything else could wait, but right now you and JJ had the world to yourselves.

That thought really won when your fingers drifted to the hem of his shirt.

“Is this okay?” you asked softly.

If the heat between the two of you wasn’t so intense, you might’ve laughed at the look on JJ’s face. You might as well have told him he won a million dollars.

“Yeah,” he rushed out. A smile tugged at the corner of his lip. “Definitely okay.”

With that he leaned back in, lips on yours once more. You let him control the kiss while you focused on removing his shirt. As you pulled it from his body, JJ had to part again. In that instant, you admired him in a way you hadn’t before. Heat rushed through you as he returned to devouring your lips.

JJ’s hands wandered to your shirt, and with a hum against his lips and a nod, you let him pull it from you. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. Neither could you.

In a mess of hands and fabric, you ended up on the ground, naked in JJ’s lap, his knees digging into the sand as he stared up at you. Your body was a temple and he was here to worship.

Curious hands ran across your exposed form and ocean eyes drank you in. You’d never seen such a look of awe on JJ’s face before and you were thrilled by the idea.

“You’re perfect, you know that?” he said, sounding about a second away from losing it. “I mean it.”

Your heart fluttered. Words failed you. You managed a light nod, which caused a smile to spread across his face.

“I love that you think that,” you managed, taking a deep breath. You found his smile, his eyes, his hands on your body—all of it felt right. “I love you, JJ.”

A look crossed JJ’s face. You’d never seen it before. It was more than awe, it was more than disbelief. Adoration. He adored you.

“I love you too,” he said. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry with relief. “You—you’re everything to me.” He swallowed. “I never thought I’d get to say that.”

“You can,” you said, voice softer than you’d planned. You lifted your hips. “As much as you want…”

One of JJ’s hands held your hips tight while the other lined himself up. Hungry eyes couldn’t decide between watching your face or watching where your bodies were about to meet as you lowered yourself down into his lap.

The head of his cock pushed through your entrance, drawing a small gasp from you and a groan from JJ. Impatience almost won, but you had to move yourself slowly to be able to take him. Finally, your ass met his thighs and you dropped your head to his shoulder. Your breaths were shaky as you adjusted to the stretch of him fully inside you.

JJ’s hard cock twitched, his hands grabbing at your waist, your hips, your thighs—anything he could get his hands on to try and hold on and pull you close. You wrapped your arms around his neck to hold yourself in place. You took a moment to adjust, but the moment you did, you let him know.

“You can move,” you said softly into his ear.

You felt JJ’s entire body shiver at your words. You nearly smirked. His fingers pressed into your skin and he tried to control himself.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you to want me,” JJ said, a thickness to his voice that you found incredibly hot.

You leaned back to meet his lustful gaze. You couldn’t resist teasing him given your position.

“I have a feeling I do.”

You raised yourself up a little and dropped back down, drawing a desperate sound from the blonde as you taunted him.

His tongue ran across his bottom lip, it was damn near mesmerizing. You ran out of time to look because his lips were surging toward yours, but you weren’t complaining.

JJ chuckled at the gasp you let out against his mouth when he forced you onto your back. You welcomed his weight on top of you, your hands running down his muscular chest, taking in every inch of skin you somehow resisted the urge to touch—truly touch—before.

He drew back his hips, leaving only the head inside, then slammed back forward. A moan escaped your lips, and that only spurred JJ on. He repeated the movements again and again. Slow at first, really letting you feel the drag of his thick cock inside of you. The pleasure was so agonizing, but you let him get his fill of teasing you back.

Sooner than later did his desire get the best of him, and you weren’t complaining when JJ picked up the pace. Your hands found his back, nails digging in just enough to make him stifle a moan. His lips found your neck, pressing open mouthed kisses to your damp skin. You felt his teeth begin to press in more than once, but he resisted the urge to leave behind evidence.

A curious hand wandered up to JJ’s hair, your finger carding through the soft locks. At a sharp thrust, you gripped, and his hips stuttered.

JJ’s hips snapped repeatedly against yours, flooding your entire being with a pleasure you’d never experienced before. The feel of his cock moving inside of you stirred a need inside of you that you didn’t even know you had.

You were meant for each other, it was clear to you now.

JJ kept thrusting his hips, his lips returning back to yours, devouring you in a hungry kiss. He swallowed down your moans, never letting his lips part from yours for longer than a second as his hips curved into yours.

You were being pushed towards your edge fast. It was as if JJ already knew your body.

“I’m close,” you managed between kisses.

JJ groaned out something you didn’t understand, but you knew he heard you. A skilled hand snaked its way between your bodies to find your clit. Your thighs clenched around his waist as a gasp leapt from you.

Your whole body felt overheated, like you’d melt from the inside out. JJ’s cock moving inside of you paired with the weight of his body on top of yours and the needy way his lips sought after yours between breathless sounds worked together to draw you closer and closer to release. All of your senses were flooded by him and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

JJ wasn’t any better off than you, you could tell with the way his hips slammed into yours and his ragged breathing that he was close.

“JJ…” you moaned out his name as the knot in your belly finally snapped. “Fuck!” you cursed in a whimper as your body tightened around him, not wanting to let him go as you rode out your orgasm.

His lips parted from yours so he could watch your face. Your eyes squeezed shut and your jaw dropped as you shook. You could feel his eyes never leaving your expression even as you were blinded to it.

Thrusts became rougher, more desperate as he chased his edge. The sound of skin against skin synced up with your heart pounding in your own ears. JJ was saying something but you couldn’t hear. Your nails dug into his back as he finally shoved his hips against yours and let go.

A shiver of pleasure ran down your spine as warmth flooded your insides. You held onto him tight as he jerked inside you, giving you everything he had.

You opened your eyes and the sight of pure ecstasy on his face made your body quiver. A moan tore from deep in his throat as he reacted. You licked your lips before pulling him down into a kiss. It was sloppy and tired and the best kiss you’d ever had.

After a long moment, JJ forced himself to part from you. He smiled to himself as he made some joke about not wanting to smother you, but you wouldn’t have minded. He grinned even wider when you said that.

In the aftermath, you forgot where you were. As you sat up, evidence of what had just transpired dripping between your thighs, you looked to JJ. Beside you he mirrored your position, sitting up, facing you. He looked just as wrecked as you were sure you looked, but it was beautiful.

All you could do was smile. So this is what being in love with JJ felt like. You could get used to it.

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