#does looking at my face remind her of the abuse she endured?

[nest-being]

yesterday the emotional pain was just too much. overpowered my every thought and action. consumed me whole. but today i'm okay!! i cried trying to sleep wishing so badly that i wouldn't feel like this in the morning and my wishes came true!!! i woke up feeling a lot better compared to yesterday. i think i'll always have painful memories and emotions and idk if i'll ever be able to look at my face in the mirror without feeling some kind of way about it but i have to keep reminding myself that it'll be okay no matter what happens it'll be okay

[vixensbrainrotts]

The Kokonoi couple (trademark) — Kokonoi Hajime

Content: headcanons

Tropes: Cool!Rich! Auntie and Uncle Kokonoi and Reader

Content warnings: Reader and Koko dont want their own kids, and commonly belittle them

Summary: The Kokonoi couple will do anything to avoid children, but that doesn’t stop the little beasts from staring in awe whenever they’re around. How unfortunate that their friends have children of their own…

Vixen‘s two cents: Hello! This is an idea I’ve had for a while, I’ve finally done it! I’m probably going to expand on this later but it had to get rid if the brainrott. Yes. Don’t be afraid to share, note, comment or reboot of you like my content, and remember that requests are open! So if you have any ideas you’d like to see, feel free to send me an ask! Now enjoy!

Cool, rich auntie and uncle Kokonoi and reader, who both can’t stand kids. The kids love them, literally ask their parents if they’re gonna be at events and gathering, but they really don’t like kids. ‘They’re messy’, ‘they’re loud’ and ‘they’re disgusting’ are what they would say when asked about having one of their own.

Cool Auntie y/n who frowns down at Ken and Emma’s kid with a wicked smile on her face, “oh you disgusting little thing, hm? Slimy little rat you, how peculiar you are.” She hisses down at the toddler (who’s just exited to see her), curling her fingers in disgust, long nails making her hands look like talons. The kid, once ecastic to see you makes a mad dash for it (as fast as the little legs will go), retrieving to the safety of his parents.

Cool Uncle Kokonoi who really doesn’t know what to do with the older Haitani’s twins when they won’t leave him alone. In a desperate attempt to get rid of them, he hands them each a few bills and advises them to “Go to your maker tell him that I’m done with you. Show him that you’re good for at least something.” As he shoos them away.

Cool Auntie and Uncle who always pull up in those fast, loud cars that all the litte boys admire, all squealing when they hear them pull up into the driveway. Running to catch a glimpse at the sleek vehicle as is it parks.

Cool Auntie y/n who always steps out of the cars with red-bottoms elevating her dangerously off the floor, but she wears them like they‘re slippers, molded to her feet like cushions.

Cool Uncle Kokonoi who always has those shiny, sleek, expensive Watches, the metals glinting and reflecting in the headlights of the car. The kids ask for the time wayyy more than they care for when he’s around.

Cool Auntie y/n who always has her hair done, and is always coming or going to appointments. She never has time to stay, and when she does she isn’t there for long because she has „Places to be! People to meet!“

Cool Uncle and Auntie who always come bearing the best of gifts. Big, exotic baskets of foreign sweets from their latest travel, the most expensive and high quality liquors the country has to offer, and most importantly, all the wishes the parents had denied their kids. Now dont misunderstand. They still aren’t very fond of children, but they sure do love to stir things up. So when Kakucho begs for them not to buy another lego set, for his feet had endured enough abuse, they know what the next Christmas will bring. Or when Takemichi and Hinata were struggling with a plushy obsession their daughter had, they conveniently placed an order for „Super kawaii Sanrio XXL cuddle plushies“.

Cool Auntie y/n who lets the kids taste a sip from her wineglass (which she is somehow always holding, and is somehow always full). The parents strongly discourage this behavior, but she heartily reminds them that it’s just a sip, nothing will happen.

Cool Uncle Kokonoi who is always carrying something sweet. The kids know this, and they know that if they ask nicely, their kindness has a great chance of being rewarded. It’s always those really good treats with the golden wrappers too!

Cool Auntie y/n who is an icon to the oldest daughters, because she commonly sorts out her closet, revamping her entire repetier, and handing down all the sorted goods. You know there’s some real treasures in the batches, ranging from shoes to purses to sweaters to evening gowns- all designer of course.

Also Cool Auntie y/n who gives the oldest Ryuguji daughter her first pair of heels. The moment she turned 15 (she couldn’t believe her age even when she was told three, four times) she took her out shoe-shopping. They emerged from the date with many-a-pairs and lots of excitement. Auntie y/n has learned that the older they get, the more bearable they are. She appreciates that.

The parents who dont really get or support the kids’s obsession with the Kokonoi-couple because it seems that they cause nothing but trouble and unhealthy spending habits.

[lucienarcheron]

Spirit Meets the Bones XXIII

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Please note: There will be heavy subjects discussed that may be triggering.

*This chapter was previously part of chapter 21 (which again, was 30 pages?? insane) and as I have been editing and reuploading the chapters, I have since decided to split chapter 21 into two. //

shoutout to @abruisedmuse for always letting me rant about my babies ♥️

Tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @vanserrass / @zenkindoflove / @animezinglife / @readthelastpaage / @teddyhoneybear / @positivewitch / @krem-does-stuff / @clockwork-ashes / @carolynmezzosoprano / @carnythian / @runningwiththeoceans / @secret-third-thing / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @thedarkinmansfield / @mali22 / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @eastofatlanta / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @devilsfoodcake22 / @moonfawnx / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @eachies / @feysandfeels / @thelovelymadone / @corcracrow / @dawneternal / @sinnerrsworld / @gracie-rosee / @stormycleric / @queenoftheworld1998 / @wolvesnravens / @theeternalstruggle / @the-midnightwriter / @illyrianvalkyrie / @that-golden-lyre / @ladystarrynight

Find it all here.

Eris didn’t let himself overthink it as he finally released her hand from his and only hesitated for a moment before he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground. He knew Iris hadn’t meant to make a noise but the sharp intake of breath that had slipped from her mouth had him digging his hands into his thighs, tensing even further. He would not overthink it. His shirt was already off and she’d seen his scars before…even if his back had never looked this bad.

“Quite a masterpiece my father made, didn't he?” he mused quietly then dared to glance over his shoulder to find Iris’s face flushed in anger, her eyes locked on his back.

The High Lord had avoided his face, of course. He only left marks where others couldn’t see and had certainly not held back tonight. Eris knew the scars would line his back, his upper arms, and his neck. He didn’t want to think about his hair and how his father had deliberately kept it down so it would stick in his wounds and make the sting worse.

“Do you think, if I didn’t want your wife here, she wouldn’t be?” his father had whispered to him after the first crack of the whip. “Do you think I couldn’t have her in your position right now if I didn’t want to?”

Eris’s blood had boiled at the mere thought of Iris being subjected to any of this but he kept his mouth shut. He had endured. 

“You’ve gotten too bold, son. You’ve forgotten yourself.”

He had indeed. Eris had forgotten how his father liked to play. But Beron had reminded him over and over again exactly what happens to those who cross the High Lord. Eris had forced his body to shut down and closed off his mind until his father was finished. The only thoughts he allowed himself were of Iris waiting for him.

“I look forward to the day his blood fills these halls.” she muttered. “He deserves nothing but a brutal and painful death.”

The corner of Eris’s mouth curled up. “Bloodthirsty, are you?”

“I am your wife.” she said with a pointed look and a small chuckle escaped him despite how wretched he felt. 

Yes, she was. His lovely little wife.

“Tell me, how pretty do you think your lovely little Iris would look bleeding all over the throne room floor?” his father had whispered. 

His magic had recoiled violently at his father’s threats. Eris had nearly choked on the taste of ash in his mouth.

“I could make you watch. Or…have you be the one to make her bleed. What do you think, son?”

“Eris?”

He blinked himself back into reality to find that his fists had burst into flame again and Iris was watching him patiently. Eris hadn’t even seen or heard her bring a small bowl with a towel and salves, resting them on the nightstand beside them. He cleared his throat and flexed his hands to calm down. “Hm?”

“I need to start cleaning the wounds and wanted to make sure it’s still alright for me to touch you.” she asked and Eris felt himself nearly break at the question.

He forced himself to take a steadying breath and hoped she didn’t see the slight tremble in his hands when he rubbed his forehead. “Yes.” he said. “It’s always alright for you to touch me.” 

She gently squeezed his arm at the words and he tried to hold back the shudder. He wasn’t used to anyone taking care of him. He could heal himself just fine but his wife wanted to help him. His mate wanting to touch him made a world of a difference and Eris knew the thread that he was holding on to was on its last legs. He had to get everything off his chest, all the burdens he carried.

Iris guided him to sit at the corner of the bed and turn his back to her. She worked in silence at first and Eris forced himself to relax as she gently dipped his head forward and began cleaning with a soft cloth. He forced himself to take silent breaths as she touched him. To remind himself that this was not his father putting his hands on him, it was his Iris. Her lovely, lovely hands soothing the broken pieces of him. She touched him with featherlike movements and the way his body was reacting to the softness of her hands alarmed him.

This was pathetic. He was pathetic. 

“Does this…has this happened often?” Iris asked into the silence of their room. “I know you have older scars.”

The cloth slid against the nape of his neck and Eris breathed in deeply through his nose, digging his fingers into his thighs, trying desperately not to throw up. He knew without looking at his wife, that Iris had picked up on it and her touch had gotten even gentler. “You remember when I told you earlier about the High Lord and his ways?” He began tightly and Iris hummed in response. “He leads with fear and a very heavy hand. And I use the term ‘leads’ very loosely.” 

Eris forced himself to swallow as Iris began to pat his back dry and continued.

“He changed Under the Mountain. He was always rough around the edges but…that time awakened a side of my father that he has not returned from. We all did what we had to do to survive those fifty years but he…he became more vicious.” he said quietly. “Before that, he lashed out often and his fists spoke before his mouth ever did but it wasn’t consistent. You weren’t sure what would trigger him. The flogging was saved for special occasions — when we really pissed him off.” Eris couldn’t look at her as he added, “The first time he used it was on my mother. He made my brothers and I all watch.”

Iris froze behind him, hand in midair as revulsion coursed through her.

“It was after Lucien was born,” Eris said, his voice carefully void of emotion. “We were all locked in place by his magic and had to watch her bleed. We had to listen to her scream and could do nothing. None of us were really the same after that, especially my mother.”

“Why?” Iris managed to choke out and Eris looked over his shoulder at his wife.

“Monsters don’t need reasons but…” he turned away again and with his voice barely above a whisper said, “My mother had an affair and my father found out. Lucien…is not my father’s son.”

Iris blinked rapidly. “W-what?”

“My mother met a male that she fell in love with before she met my father. Her family decided power was more important than their daughter’s happiness and married her off to my father anyway,” he said, his voice dull as he glanced at his wife again before his gaze dropped to his hands. “Their relationship was…a checkbox that was fulfilled. And things were fine. Until they weren’t.”

Iris forced herself to move, to place the cloth down on the nightstand and pick up the salves instead. “What happened?” she asked as she sat behind him once more. 

Eris tensed as she began to apply the ointment, forcing himself to breathe through his nose again and calm his thoughts. “The male she loved saved her during the first war and they reconnected.” he continued. “Then the affair began on and off for years. Until my father found out after Lucien was born and nothing about her was the same afterward.”

Iris bit her lip, trying to hold back the nausea she was feeling as tension lined Eris’s back again, his shoulders stiff. “My mother was so full of light and love. A firecracker with magic that almost rivaled my father’s. She was…happy. Until that day.” Eris said and dread filled Iris’s chest when Eris pulled away to meet her gaze. “After he was done spilling her blood in the throne room that day, he took her away and they were gone for days. We did not know where they went or what he did to her then but when they came back, no fire was left in the Lady of Autumn. Nothing of who my mother had been was left.”

Iris’s heart was nearly beating out of her chest as the room heated once more. She watched Eris’s knuckles turn white from how hard he was clenching them. “Later on, after my mother remembered how to speak and to look at me without flinching,” he growled softly and Iris’s heart shattered further. “She told me everything. About her affair. About what happened. That he had used her fire against her. That he had beat her, hurt her, and burned her so badly, that he made her fear the fire that made her who she was. She is terrified of it because of how badly he made it hurt.” He let out a breath full of rage. “Since then he has never stopped belittling her and breaking her down. Hasn’t stopped doing everything he can to make her small and weak and prey.”

“And I hate him.” he snarled darkly and Iris felt the bed heat below her as she looked over at Eris, his eyes ablaze. “I hate him with every atom in my body. I loathe him and loathe the life he has forced us to live. I cannot stand the sight of him or the sound of his voice or feeling his eyes on me. I hate that he even breathes the same air as my mother. I hate that he uses my mother against my brothers and me.” Iris watched his shoulders rise and fall as he took shallow breaths. “But most of all, I hate that he’s still alive when his final breaths are a symphony I have been waiting to hear for years.”

Iris blinked and in the next moment, their whole chamber was in flames.

She gasped, her hands dropping to her lap as fire covered every inch of their room. She looked to Eris who had his eyes closed, his head tilted as frustration dripped from every inch of him. Her eyes turned to scan the room, feeling the heat and smelling the smoke. Though none of the flames touched her body, Eris was completely aflame.

“We survived fifty years of darkness beneath that fucken mountain for the nightmare to continue within this forest. He is a plague and the dream of his death is the only thing that keeps me going.”

Silence fell between them as Iris watched his fire burn throughout the room. She wondered what would happen if he did let it melt everything away. What would happen when he eventually unleashed?

“Does he know?” Iris finally asked. “That you have all this inside you?”

“He knows. Everyone knows. I will be the next High Lord.” Eris said quietly. “My power has been brewing for years and everyone can sense it. I have all this rage and all this fire but I’ve had to hold back.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “His death has always been marked for my mother and until she is ready to get out, we cannot make a move. We endure and play my father’s games…but every now and then, I need to let it out.”

And with those words, the flames flickered out in the room. Iris’s eyes surveyed everything and found...nothing was damaged. Nothing was ruined — only a lingering smell of smoke.

Turning back to him, Iris found him staring at her, smoke coming off him in waves at what remained of his rage. He blinked at her, his expression blank as his exhaustion stared back at her. 

“Did I frighten you?” he asked quietly as she watched him. “I’ve shown you quite a bit of my dark side lately.” 

But Iris was not frightened. Not in the least. She felt — she felt seen.

She shook her head and stood carefully, returning the healing ointments to the small table beside them. How did she explain to him that there was nothing frightening about what he said? That all she felt was understood? 

Finding her way back next to him, Iris sat with little space between them and color bloomed on her face when Eris’s eyes dipped to the inch between their bodies. She let her hand slide up and gently, with a tenderness she knew they both needed, let her finger delicately trace his face.

“I’m not afraid,” she said and then let her hand continue to slide up, gently musing the hair she knew he would later mourn. “I am only enraged for you.”

A heartbeat passed then Eris shuddered beneath her touch, a sigh of relief fluttering through the whole room and Iris couldn’t help the urge to lean in and kiss him. She did so tenderly, a caress of a kiss that Eris sighed into.

He couldn’t bring himself to touch her yet, to wrap his arms around her when he was still so furious. He allowed himself to trace the material of her robe beneath his fingers instead. 

“I told you there was so much to tell you.” Eris said quietly and Iris pulled her hand away to rest in his empty one, the corner of her mouth curling up.

“And I told you I want to know.” she replied. “So tell me. Get it off your chest.”

Though exhaustion had melted his bones, Eris knew he needed to keep talking. He needed to get this all off his chest. And then he hoped he’d get to spend the rest of the night kissing her. 

Eris forced himself to breathe deeply and slowly rolled his shoulders back, the tightness of his skin as it healed fueling his anger. “My brothers and I excel in pretending to hate and want to kill each other.” He glanced at Iris. “We each control a territory and let my father believe what he sees about where our loyalty lies but do what we can to keep our lives moving. The two brothers who tried to kill Lucien after Jesminda were the two who were most like my father. The rest of us were not sorry to see them go.” 

Iris watched him curiously. “Your brothers…they are not as terrible as I’m supposed to believe, are they?”

“I personally think they’re all piles of shit but no, they’re not,” Eris said and the corner of his mouth ticked up at Iris’s amused expression. “We’re not technically close but we have an understanding. They’re…trying to survive.”

Iris nodded slowly, her eyes falling to her hands in his and the way his thumb was still caressing her palms. “Do your brothers know about Lucien?”

Eris pursed his lips before answering. “My mother…preferred for everyone’s sake, that they stay in the dark about it for as long as possible but they needed to know. We had to be on the same page for her sake. So with her permission, I told them. But the only people in this court who know Lucien is not a Vanserra aside from my parents are my three brothers.” he said and met her gaze. “And now you.”

Iris nodded slowly, a strange sense of pride filling her chest that Eris was sharing this with her. That he trusted her when he trusted very few. She felt that strange tug in her ribcage once more.

“Things are never truly what they seem with you Vanserras, are they?” she said with a small huff of laughter and Eris couldn’t help but scoff.

“Nothing is ever what it seems,” he said. “Except my father. He’s always been a piece of shit.”

Iris chuckled and she couldn’t quite place the emotions she felt as she watched him. She saw the exhaustion, the heavy weight suffocating him. She hadn’t forgotten how he’d told her how often he mediated between his parents. How many times had he done it for others as well? How often had he been the one to catch the brunt of his father’s wrath? 

Eris shifted next to her and it made her focus on him once more, his expression tight and she braced herself for whatever he would say next. 

“Lucien’s father is also why he and Elain live in the Day Court.” Eris said slowly. “Courtesy of the High Lord.”

Iris blinked rapidly. “Oh.”

Eris nodded and waited for a heartbeat as it clicked for Iris. 

“Helion?” Iris’s shocked whisper had the corner of Eris’s mouth curl up before it fell once more.

“The High Lord of the Day Court is my brother’s father, yes.” Eris began then swallowed hard before continuing, “He is also…my mother’s mate.”

Iris’s shocked silence filled the room. “Oh gods.”

Everything suddenly made so much sense to Iris. The High Lord’s contempt towards Lady Enya. His reaction whenever Lucien was brought up. 

“Oh gods.” she said again and Eris’s mouth went into a thin line. “How did your father find out?”

“When Lucien was born…no one thought anything of it. He looked like any other baby.” Eris said quietly. “Until one day…he started to glow whenever he laughed. Or whenever he was fussy. It didn’t take my father long to figure it out after that. Everything went downhill from there.” He looked down at their hands. “My mother…she has only ever stayed for her sons. So we wouldn’t be left completely at his mercy growing up. And my father knew this. He spared no chance in breaking us all down for her choice.”

“That’s why your father did what he did to Lucien.” Iris said and Eris nodded solemnly.

“Once he knew Lucien wasn’t his, it wasn’t hard for him to differentiate his treatment. He hated looking at him. Hated speaking to him. My father couldn’t outright disown him because it would bring questions and it wasn't like the High Lord would ever admit his wife had an affair. And birthed a son from another High Lord? He would never.” Eris said, scowling. “He knew he could treat my mother the way he does because she broke it off with Helion. For us. For Helion. So there wouldn’t be some kind of crisis between the two courts. She’s been suffering so others won’t.”

Eris swallowed and then looked at Iris. “They’re mates.” he whispered. “And he let her go because she chose us. She chose her children. But she has always wanted him and he has always wanted her.” Eris’s eyes fell down to their joined hands, his shoulders dropping. “He has never stopped loving her. Helion may pretend he hasn’t been waiting for her all these years with his dalliances and carefree attitude but he will always wait for her. Even when he doesn't want to.”

Iris’s heart broke for Lady Enya and for the High Lord she didn’t know. It broke for the son who knew everything and had to watch his mother fade away and his father become a monster.

“That must’ve been so hard for your mother.” she said quietly. “After all these years…” Iris shook her head. “When did Lucien find out? And Helion?”

“A few years ago.” Eris continued with a sigh. “After the war, something…something in my mother changed. Maybe it was the war or maybe her capacity to deal with my father had finally reached its limits or maybe she realized her sons had only suffered watching her suffer and she was done waiting but…” He shook his head. “I saw a small spark of who she was return and she decided she wanted Lucien to know.”

Iris scrunched up her nose and then shook her head.“I’m sure that went well.” 

“Considering I had to be the one to tell him because he wouldn’t set foot here? It went great.” Eris said with a snort so like his usual self that Iris couldn't help the small smile. “My mother wrote him a letter. And I had to watch Lucien have a fucken meltdown once he read it.”

Iris shook her head again. “You can’t blame him, Eris. He endured all that he did with a piece of shit that wasn’t even his father,” she said and squeezed Eris’s hand. “Who knows what kind of life he would’ve had if he had known about Helion sooner? I’m sure it was hard for you both.”

“It wasn’t as hard as the time I had to be the one to tell Helion.” 

Iris’s brows went up but she held off on saying a word as Eris’s shoulder tensed again. He had been sharing with her so easily, so openly, she didn’t want to say anything to have him shut down. 

“What happened?” she asked quietly and Eris sighed.

“I told you how my mother started to…come back to us,” Eris said and Iris nodded. “Well. Lucien wasn’t the only one she wrote a letter to.”

Eris shifted, running a hand through his hair while his other hand stayed wrapped in hers. “I didn’t read it, of course, but I know she told him. And I know she told Lucien that she’d let Helion know but it was up to the two of them to connect if they wanted to,” he said quietly. “She hoped they would but didn’t want to push it. She felt awful enough to have hidden it all these years and then to not be able to tell them herself…” Eris fell silent with a grimace. His mother’s face had rarely been dry from how often she cried those days.  

“How did Helion take it?” Iris asked softly.

“I have never seen someone break down the way the High Lord of Day did that day.” Eris shook his head again with a frown. “I think he was already at a breaking point and had suspected something but having that confirmation was the final straw. It was messy. For Lucien. For Helion. For my mother.” he said. “There was a lot of resentment. A lot of anger. A lot of hurt. Especially because my mother can’t speak to either of them in person…she dropped this tragic surprise on them and essentially put them in a position to deal with it without her.” Eris waved a hand. “Even if it’s not by choice, it…was hard for everyone.”

“Including you, I’m sure,” she said and squeezed his hand again. “Being the in-between.”

“I was more worried my father would find out again. What would he do to her this time if he found out she’d reached out to the one male she never stopped loving?” he said quietly then shrugged with a deep sigh. “But they have a code. She writes him letters and he replies.” 

Iris felt emotion swell in her at the Lady of Autumn and the love she never stopped holding on to. “The letters she writes to Lucien include a letter for Helion, don’t they?”

Eris let out a harsh laugh. “It’s reckless after all these years but...I see her face every time she hands me a letter and whenever he sends one back. I’ve watched her wait and suffer for all these years so she could find her way back to herself. And Helion…” His expression was tight as he continued. “He would worship the ground she walks on. He would give her everything that she’s ever wanted and a life that she deserves but we have had to watch her stay here because of us. We had to watch her die little by little each year and could do nothing.” His voice broke at the final word and Eris forced himself to swallow before continuing. “He is a better male than I could ever be. Because if my mate was suffering the way my mother has, I wouldn’t have left a person alive. I would’ve razed the whole fucken continent. I don’t know how he did it. How he still does it after they’ve reconnected.”

It took a moment for Eris to be able to continue. He sighed. “Helion has always been respectful of her choice. Even when he resented it. Even when he hated it.” he said. “Their bond…I don’t think it was ever really rejected because deep down, neither of them wanted that. I think it’s only been strained all these years.”

“And now here they are…” Iris mused quietly, her mind drifting to the conversation about mates she had with Elain earlier. “A mating bond so strong even years apart couldn’t diminish how right it is. It’s a beautiful thing for those lucky enough to find it.”

Eris tensed at her words, his heart skipping a beat. Would she still feel this way about him when he told her? Would she consider herself lucky knowing the kind of shit he had to deal with? He rubbed a trembling hand over his face and continued. 

“My mother is ready to leave. I’m just waiting on when,” he murmured. “I’ve been helping her reconnect with her magic and it’s making her stronger, but it’s been hard when she’s so fucken terrified of it.” Iris squeezed his hand and he offered her a thin smile. “She’s always been scared to leave us but my brothers and I can handle the fallout now. We couldn’t before but we will now. We want her to get the fuck out of here. We’ve had enough and she’s most definitely had enough.”

“And you’re all…fine with her going to the Day Court?” Iris asked quietly.

“Yes. A part of me will always resent Helion the way I sometimes resent my mother for all these years of having to deal with this. Even if the fault ultimately always lies with my father.” Eris said tightly. “This could end very badly but once Helion claims her publicly as his mate, my father will have to let her go.”

“Will he, though?” Iris asked, unease creeping into her chest. “What if he invokes the Blood Duel?”

Iris felt the shift in his mood at her question and watched him carefully as he slid his hand from hers and stood. His shoulders tensed even further and Iris felt the room heat up once more. Her stomach dropped as he ran both hands through his hair, his breathing turning shallow again.

“He won’t have a fucken choice. A mating bond trumps everything else.” he growled softly. “But if Beron invokes the blood duel, I can promise that it will only end in agony for him. I will do everything I can to ensure it, even if it means handing Helion the spear to plant in his chest myself. I will do anything. Anything to have him gone and be rid of this misery. I just need him gone without trying to take my mother with him.”

“You said your mother wants the killing blow.” Iris said carefully and she saw his fists clench. “Will that…be possible?”

“She will be ready for it regardless, but we will have to see how the events unfold.” he said in a strained voice. “Helion has enough pent-up rage in him towards my father that I wouldn’t be surprised if he killed him with one well-aimed blow.”

Iris opened her mouth but Eris resumed pacing with another shake of his head and continued.

“Elain’s visions keep telling me that pieces are moving and all we can do is be prepared for whatever is coming next,” he said. “The problem is there are too many things out of my control. There are too many pieces on the fucken chess board and I am — I am going to lose my fucken mind if things keep piling up.” 

Iris watched as he took another breath and fisted then flexed his hands. “You don’t have to handle all this alone.” she said and stood, watching the grimace he made at her words. “You can’t stay like this when you have people willing to help you.”

“The more people that help me, the more people get hurt.” Eris snapped and Iris frowned at his tone as he kept pacing. “I can’t — I can’t keep letting that happen.”

“Eris,” she chided gently. “You can’t stop —”

But Eris let out a snarl and Iris blinked to find him aflame once more.

“Don’t.” he said. “I can’t stop because the next person that he’ll hurt if I let one thing slip is you and that will bring hell upon us all.” His snarl shook the room and Iris felt herself tense. “Because if my father touches you. If he so much as looks at you wrong, I will kill him and probably get killed in the process, and then everything we’ve been enduring for years will go up in flames from my stupidity.”

Iris’s face flushed. The anger and shame she had felt earlier had found its way again and the feeling seeped down her body as he stood across from her. “I’m not asking you to kill your father for me, Eris. I’m asking you to ease some of the things you’re carrying so you don’t keep doing this to yourself.” she snapped. “You’re lashing out at me right now while all I’m trying to do is understand what happened with you and find a way to help.” 

Eris was breathing hard once more and she braced herself as he walked over to her, his body burning. His hand curled around the nape of her neck and he pulled her flush against him. “I know you’re trying to understand and I’m trying to help you understand how fucked up this all is and how much I have hated every single thing about myself and my life for the longest time. That I have always been a thing my father uses to punish everyone for everything because I can’t stomach him doing it to anyone else.” He took a breath as Iris placed a hand gently on his chest, blinking rapidly. “The only reason my father isn’t dead yet is because I need to make sure it’s a fight I can win. Because if I die, then everyone else is left dealing with him. My mother. My brothers. You.”

His grip tightened on her as he continued, his tone almost frantic. “I’m telling you all these things so you understand that I am fucken terrified of what comes next because things have changed for me and the stakes are even higher and now I am a thing that has someone to leave behind. Someone who will be brutally hurt just because you’re linked to me in a way no one else will ever be.” he said as his wild eyes locked on her wide ones. “I have laid down everything at your feet. All of my armor. Everything that I am and you want to know why? You asked me what had changed earlier. What happened to me.”

“Eris, you need to breathe,” she said even as her heart rate went wild, a hand clenching his arm. “I am listening but I need you to breathe.”

But Eris shook his head and before Iris could open her mouth to say anything else, his expression fell and the grip on the back of her neck tightened once more. “You.” his whisper broken and his eyes watched her wildly, wrapping her in his arm as his flame licked every inch of her. He held her to him tightly, as if afraid she would disappear and slip through his trembling fingers. “You. You. Tell me you see it. Tell me you fucken feel it.”

Iris stared at him. She stared and stared and stared and that feeling, that tug she had felt in her ribcage earlier, seemed to intensify. What he was saying — what he was insinuating. It had crossed her mind only briefly, for one hopeful moment earlier, and yet — here he was, saying — he was saying —

Something had been different since that kiss. Something had been different about him since the moment she met him. 

“I — I felt you.” Iris found herself saying then swallowed. “When you were gone and took long. I don’t know how else to describe it but…I felt you.”

“You did?” he asked, nodding. “And what did it feel like?”

“A tug.” she said slowly. “Right in my ribcage. I feel it right now.”

Eris laughed a hollow laugh as he watched her beautiful face, her expression shifting as her mind processed what he was saying. 

And Iris blinked. “I kissed you.”

“You did.”

“And everything — it felt so right.”

“You said things were always intense between us.” he said quickly. “That we couldn’t fight the pull we felt towards each other despite the way our relationship started.”

“Yes.”

“You kissed me.” he said almost desperately. “And every single thing in my life suddenly made sense. Every part of me made of stone suddenly became covered in you. Like ivy, wrapping its way around me whether I liked it or not. It was something I had never thought would be mine or something I deserved and yet somehow, this is happening. This is real.” 

Iris felt her body start to tremble at his words, the feeling inside her chest unfurling as every moment they had shared together flashed through her mind. Nothing about their relationship had made sense and yet, the two of them seemed to have been destined to find each other. Everything about them, Eris and Iris, fit together like puzzle pieces they hadn’t known were missing. She hadn’t been able to stop him from planting roots within every part of her mind and body, long before she realized what was happening — even when she had wanted nothing to do with him. 

He had always been hers and she, his.

Iris stared into his eyes, watching the hope mingle with the desperation he felt, and her hands slacked at her sides. She had spent her life adrift. Alone. She had spent her life barely mattering to anyone at all. Forgotten. And now, in a twist of fate, Iris had found something she hadn’t realized she was even worthy of.

Eris Vanserra had appeared in her life and what she had assumed would be a walk to the gallows, a nightmare like the one he had just returned from, was anything but. He was anything but.

He was her beginning, her middle, and would be her forever. 

They had both been lost only to be found within one another, the red string of fate guiding their path. 

“This is real.” she finally said and Eris nodded, his gaze never leaving hers.

“This is fucken real.” he said hoarsely. “This is very fucken real.”

Every glance. Every touch. Every moment that had angered her and made her laugh. Every moment that had made her feel. It had all been leading her here. 

It had been leading her home. 

Iris took a sharp breath and finally whispered the words, “You’re — you’re my mate.”

[justmeinadaze]

Take It Out On Me Part 19 (Steddie X Plus Sized Reader)

A/N: Angst has once again entered the chat! Muahaha! No but for real this is angsty with emotions so proceed with caution. After talking with a few people I did forgo Steddie being intimate. Someone I talked to voiced my own concerns perfectly and I think it reflects in this chapter. Their goal is to protect the reader and make her feel good in every possible way. They don't see each other intimately in that way so it would feel out of place here. Thank you for all the people that participated in that poll and felt comfortable telling me their opinions!

This IS more an Eddie than a Steddie in this chapter.

Warnings: Daddy Steve and Sir/Master Eddie X Fem Sub Plus size reader, SMUT, Eddie wakes up the reader for sexy time, FLUFF, they love her, ANGST, lots of talk about Eddie and his trauma (child abuse), there not a lot of in-depth detail but he does talk about his feelings regarding his mother abandoning him and Wayne talks about the domestic violence she endured briefly and his feelings towards protecting his nephew. The boys do get into a fight with each other (verbally), Steve feels like he needs to protect the reader, Eddie gets a little rough with the reader in a sexual manner but Steve intervenes (very brief).

Word Count: 3853

The smell of cigarettes told you which one of them was on top of you, thrusting into you slow and deep as they jostled you from your sleep. 

“Mmm…Sir?”, you groaned as you tilted your head towards the slight panting in your ear.

“Fuck, baby. G-go back to sleep. I can take care of you.”

The grip he had on your wrists tightened as he pulled his cock back till just his tip was inside of you before roughly thrusting back in.

“Goddamn. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I—mmm—I couldn’t help myself. You looked so beautiful as you slept. I was just going to kiss and suck on your neck but…” You moaned eagerly as his pace quickened. “…your pussy was so wet, Y/N. It was like your subconscious…knew it needed me.”

“I-I always need you.” Eddie mewled louder at your confession. “I love you.”

“I love you to, princess. Cum with me, baby, please.”

Anytime either of them said please or begged you in anyway it always turned you on more. To be reminded that they need you just as much as you them is a comfort that just sends you over the moon. Releasing his hold on you, you wrap your arms around his neck as you both climax at the same time, suffocating your moans in his shoulder as he grunts into your neck.

Leaning back on the pillow, you snuck a cursory glance at Steve who was still sleeping soundly. Eddie followed your eye line chuckling as he kissed your lips. 

“Kid has always been a heavy sleeper, I swear. Do you need anything, sweetheart? Water?”

“No, Sir. I’m ok.” He grins as he rolls onto his back and you scoot closer to his side. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah.”, he exhales as his eyes start to close. “Like I said…I just…you looked so…gorgeous…”

Your own smile grew as you watched him try to form words as he slowly fell into a peaceful sleep.

***

“Daddy, you are going to burn it.”, you giggle as you sit on the counter watching Steve read the instructions on the back of the pasta box he had bought from the store. 

“How can I burn it? You just put it in the pan and let it simmer. Uh, what does simmer mean?” He turns towards the living room when he hears his friend snort out a laugh. “Shut up! Do YOU know what simmering is?”

Beaming at him, you tap his shoulder and turn down the heat on the stove. Eddie hurls his body over the back end of the couch when you guys hear a knock on your door that causes Steve to roll his eyes as you laugh. 

“Hey Wayne.”

“Hey. Um, can I come in for a bit?”

“Yeah of course.” The metalhead waves his uncle inside the apartment and as soon as his eyes meet yours you know something’s wrong. “Everything alright?”

Steve feels your body tense and promptly goes into protective mode moving closer to your side as he turns to face Wayne. He doesn’t understand why you’re on edge but he knows you are and that’s all he needs to put him in that particular headspace to keep you safe. 

“Um, sit down, son.”

Eddie’s demeanor finally caught up with yours as he straightened up his posture. “What’s going on, Wayne?”

“Did you guys know the fire made world news? Apparently, every paper wrote about it as a cautionary tale I guess. Since the world picked up on it, they’ve been following that suit those families filed against the mayor and his office. Uh…your names are in that deposition and they got a hold of it releasing the names of the people that were killed or hurt in the mall.”

“Ok? So, what’s the big deal?”

“Wayne…” All heads turned to you as Eddie’s uncle sighed. Jumping down from the counter, you made your way towards the metalhead with Steve cautiously trailing behind. 

“Edward, your mom called me to ask how you were.”

His eyes scanned over his uncle as the man slowly backed up towards the window he usually smoked at and lit up a cigarette. 

“What did you tell her?”

“I told her that you were hurt but Steven here got you out. I told her you both were doing better and you were happy.” You both exchanged another look before he continued. “She asked if she could talk to you…I told her that was up to you. She’s, um, coming down here in a couple of days. She wants to have dinner with you.”

You swore even though it was metaphorical you could still feel the wind of Eddie’s wall as it came up to enclose around him. 

“Yeah, welp, you can tell her I’ll pass on that.”

“Eddie…” His angry eyes swiveled in your direction silently commanding you to be quiet. 

“Son, I’m not going to tell you what you should do—”

“Good. Thank you for understanding.”

“BUT I think you should at least think about it. Maybe talk it over with Y/N and Steven here.”

“Wayne, I’ve thought about it. I thought about it since the day she fucking left. I’m not a little kid anymore and this choice doesn’t involve either of them. So, again, thank you but my answer is NO!”

The three of you exchange one final look before Wayne nods his head and Steve walks him out the door. 

“Eddie—”

“Y/N, I would advise you to rethink that before you fully commit to opening your mouth.”

“Don’t talk to her like that, Ed. She’s worried.”

The metalhead chuckles sarcastically as he takes a long drag before tossing his cigarette out the window. 

“This coming from the guy that talked down to her till senior year.”

“I grew up, Munson, and…I trust her.” Steve flashed you a soft smile before continuing. “Plus, I never did it to hurt her.”

“And I am?”

“You’re trying to shut her down so you can ignore talking about your mom.” Eddie shakes his head as he crosses the living room to leave but Steve quickly cut him off. “No. You forced me to talk about my dad when he flipped out and destroyed my stuff. I’m doing the same with you.”

“Oh. Alright.” The other boy threw off the hoodie he had been wearing and leaned against the back side of the couch as he crossed his arms. You turned off the stove and shuffled towards them but still out of the way. You honestly weren’t sure what exactly you should be doing or what to prepare for. You knew they would never physically hurt you like that but you weren’t sure if they would ever take swings at each other. 

“Go ahead, Steven. Play Daddy with me and tell me what I need to do.”

“That’s different, Edward, and I know you know that. As your best friend, I also feel like you’re making a snap decision.”

“Oh, you feel. I see. I didn’t realize she was your mother to. Tell me, how did you feel when she abandoned you with your dickhead dad? Did you keep hoping like I did? Did it crush you even after dad went in that she still didn’t come back for you? How did you deal with that garbage feeling of feeling like trash nobody wanted?”

“I know you’re trying to make a point, Eddie—”

“Y/N— “, he growls in warning.

“But you keep forgetting Steve does know what that feels like. That’s what he’s trying to tell you. He understands.”

Eddie gets that; he really does but you both can see how much he’s struggling with his feelings at the moment. 

“Move. Now.”

“I would give anything for my mom to stand up for me when it comes to my father. Growing up I just thought it is what it is but after the fire…Eddie, she didn’t even stay. He wanted to leave because Y/N stood up to him and she followed after him. So, yeah, I’ve felt that garbage feeling but SHE wants me.”, he gestures towards you. “Anytime I feel stupid or I feel like trash I remember we have her.”

Eddie’s glassy eyes met his for a moment. “Steve…move.”

“Let him go, Daddy.” He glances your way as you subtly nod and he does what you say, flinching as his friend slams the door behind him. Wrapping your arms around him, he holds you tightly to him. “You tried, baby. He’s calmer now then he was a few minutes ago. Let him think.”

############

That night you crawled into bed wearing the metalhead’s hoodie as Steve laid beside you gently caressing your face and hair. 

“Are you ok, Daddy? Do you need anything?”

“No, baby, I’m alright. I’m just worried about him.”

“Yeah…me to.”

You both fell asleep in each other’s arms until the loud stomping of boots woke you up a little after two in the morning. 

“Eddie?”, you called his name as you headed out into the living room, finding him in the kitchen chugging back a glass of water. His eyes widened when he saw you and he playfully threw his hands in the air causing the cup in his hand to shatter to the floor.

“Sweetheart! Na ah, it’s Master, baby. Goddamn, you always look sexy in my clothes.”

Steve skidded into the area assessing the situation and breathing a sigh of relief when it was just his friend. You, however, were extremely concerned as he drunkenly wobbled closer to you.

“Eddie, we were really worried about you.”

His palm reached out to gently touch your face before abruptly pinching your cheeks between his fingers. 

“Don’t make me say it again.”

The other boy started to move forward but your eyes never left Eddie’s as you held up your hand to stop him. He needed this. Eddie needed to be in control of something and you were always so willing.

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

His lips crash down on to yours and you winced at the strong taste of alcohol that clung to him. Forcefully, he turned you around and held your back as he yanked down your panties, tossing them aside. 

“Eddie, you’re not even going to lubricate her or anything?”

“Jesus Christ, Steve, I don’t hear the safe word coming out of her mouth and I assure you she’s probably wet enough. Now either shut the fuck up or go back to bed. She’s mine to. Right, baby?”

“Y-Yes, Sir.”, you whisper.

His ring lace fingers came down hard on your behind making you gasp. 

“Louder!”

“Yes, Sir!” 

As Eddie began unbuckling belt, Steve stepped in and shoved him away from you. “No! I don’t care what she says. You’re wasted and you have zero control right now, Eddie! I’m not going to let you hurt her. You want to take out your frustrations on someone do it to me!”

“Steve…”

“Y/N. No.”

“Yeah, Y/N. Daddy’s in charge, right, Stevie?”

“I’m one of the people in charge of keeping her safe even if that includes from you.”

“Oh, really, Daddy? She’s not safe from me right now?”, Eddie mocks. “Get off your high horse, Harrington. I’d never hurt her like that.”

“You also said you’d never leave her, Master, yet here we are.”

The metalhead growled as he glared at his friend. “I didn’t leave her. I went for a walk.”

“To a bar?”

“Am I not allowed to drink? I didn’t realize that was a rule we set up.”

“We agreed that we would be more open and talk to each other especially after the incident with Christian. She’s been worried about you all night! We both have.”

“Just because you saved my life, Steve, doesn’t mean you own me. I don’t fucking report to you. I’m not your fucking sub.”

The boy can’t help but laugh as he folds his arms over his chest. “Start acting dominate again and I’ll stop treating you like one.”

“You’re BOTH not acting dominate.” They turn your way to find you glaring at them. “Eddie, I understand that you are in pain and you’re afraid of talking to your mom—”

“I’m not afraid…”

“Don’t interrupt me!” He tilts his head as you sigh. “I’m sorry. Steve’s right. I’ve been worried about you and I know you’re hurting. You were right when you said this was your choice but we love you. Our opinion about this does matter. Just like with what happened when Christian came to town… And you.” You turn to address Steve. “Eddie and I can handle ourselves. He wants to go out and fucking drink he can but then he has to deal with the consequences like us being angry with him.”

“And while I AM both of yours, I know when to use my fucking safe word! You’re supposed to trust me, Steve. Those are Sir and Daddy qualities! Now, I am fucking exhausted so if you two want to keep fighting and picking each other apart then get the fuck out and do it somewhere else!”

With that, you stomp towards the bedroom and slam the door. 

“Jesus Christ, I love that woman.”, Eddie sighs as his gaze shifts towards his friend. “Look, I’m, uh, I’m sorry, Steve. You’re right. I should have stayed to talk to you two but I fucking panicked, man. I reverted back to junior year Eddie Munson.”

“No. Junior year Munson was an asshole but the way you were before you left and just then…that was different…angrier.”

“Yeah. Maybe more of a 10-year-old, Eddie. I know you didn’t really know me yet around that time but…I waspretty fucking angry.”, he chuckles as he takes a seat at the table. 

Steve heads for the fridge and the metalhead mutters a small thank you as he hands him a water bottle and sits across from him. The bedroom door flies open as you stomp back out, now wearing a pair of Steve’s shorts, and throw your body into the chair next to Eddie’s. 

“I can’t sleep without you guys and I don’t like going to bed upset.”, you grumble making them smile. Glancing between them, you realize the energy has shifted to a much calmer one. 

“That first night she didn’t come home, my dad was furious. He always accused her of cheating on him so he thought he finally had proof and kept talking about how when she got home she was ‘gonna get it’. After the second day, he went looking for her and came up with nothing. The third day, he went to the police station and they did what they could at the time but they assumed like the rest of the town did… that she ran.”

Your arm looped through his as you tangled your fingers with his own to hold his hand. 

“A week after she vanished, Wayne got a letter from her saying that she was safe and that she would come for me when she had things in order. I was so excited that she was okay and packed a bag, trying to be prepared for when she was ready. Six months passed and we still hadn’t heard anything. My dad drank and came at me more since she wasn’t there.” 

You clung to him tighter and in response he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“One night, the fucker decided he was going to steal a car and go find her. An officer appeared at our door a few hours later with Wayne. When he went to trial, he didn’t even look my way…but I didn’t care because I thought ‘Hey! Now my mom can come home.’” Eddie chuckled under his breath before he continued. “It’s funny. I think even though I knew she was gone there was still a part of me that waited for her.”

“Did you ever stop?”, Steve asked in a gentle tone.

“Um, yeah…about two years ago when you came back from New York, Y/N. It’s going to sound fucking weird but…you left for two months. I kept thinking ‘Shit. She’s either not coming back or if she does she’s not going to want us anymore.’”

“Eddie…”

“But you did come back AND you wearing my jacket.”

“I wore your jacket the entire time I was there and fell asleep in Steve’s shirt. I wanted you two close to me.”

“Why didn’t she do that for me? We weren’t even technically dating yet, Y/N, but you still called and you came back. You thought about us enough to wear our clothes and bring us gifts. Two assholes, you barely even knew!” You softly smiled when he laughed until his shoulders shook and his laughter shifted to tears. “I was her fucking son.”

You climbed into his lap and hugged his head to your chest as he cried. Eddie’s arms hugged you tightly and Steve came around to do the same with you both as he leaned his head on his friend’s shoulder.

#############

“Hey, Y/N. Come in, come in.”, Wayne ushered with his hand after you knocked on the trailer door. “You know you don’t have to knock, sweetheart. You’re welcome here anytime.”

You grin at his kindness as you sit down on his sofa and wait for him to do the same.

“After some frustrated words and Eddie being Eddie…”, you chuckled and his uncle smiled. “…he asked me to make the choice for him to see his mother or not. He, uh, said he trusted my judgement and if I didn’t think he should go then he wouldn’t.”

“What did you decide?”

“I wanted to talk to you first.” His eyes widen in amusement as he tips his head towards you and smiles. “He’s only told me so much and I never push him. Last night, he told us about when she left and vaguely told us what happened with his dad between that point and when he ended up in jail.” You sigh as you look his way. “What was she like before she left?”

“Hm. She was a good woman or at least I thought so. She adored that kid especially when he was a baby. Lynn would always have him in her arms anywhere she went in the house. Sometimes she would sing to him and he would look up at her with those wide eyes like…” You laughed as Wayne mimicked his infant nephew. “As he got older, it became harder for her to hide my brother’s behavior. She tried her best, always taking Eddie out to the movies if she knew he would come home drunk or bringing him here to stay with me so she could go home and handle him. Honestly, Y/N, when I look back I feel like I should have known. The day before she left she asked me if anything ever happened to her would I look after Eddie instead of Allen. I told her of course, you know. I’d protect that kid with my life.”

“Wayne, why do you think she didn’t come back for him?”

He sighs heavily as he stands and opens his front door, lighting a cigarette as you wait for him to answer. 

“I don’t know. I really don’t and quite frankly…and selfishly… I was glad she didn’t after my brother went in. Boy’s life was hell for those six months and Allen never let me in. Every time I tried to check on Eddie, he said he was fine. That they were both fine and for me to butt out.” His sad eyes look you over as you come to stand beside him. “He doesn’t tell me about that time either and like you I don’t push him. Eddie gives me tidbits here and there for me to piece together some narrative but… I tried to give him a better life…do whatever I could to make up for what he went through.”

“You definitely did.” You softly smile in his direction. “I see a lot of you in him. He’s so sweet and the perfect gentleman.”

“Pfft, he better be.”

“More than anything I love how he sees me. Just like Steve, Eddie doesn’t see a weak, pathetic, nerdy fat girl. He sees a strong, confident, beautiful woman with extra curves.” Your grin grows when Wayne laughs. “You never saw a broken, bad little boy did you?”

“No. God no. I saw a good kid who, while he can’t still, has an active imagination and a good heart. I think that’s why him and Steven got along so well. The first time I met him, I half expected, well, Bill.”, he chuckles. “But he was extremely polite and wore his heart on his sleeve. All be it, a little to…”

“Aggressively?”

“You could say that.”, he smiles as he blows out a puff of smoke. “You, young lady, surprised me. The first time he told me about you, I didn’t think you were real.”

You couldn’t help but cackle at his assessment as you looked at him with confusion.

“Sweetheart, I swear to God, he described you like a one of his characters in his game. Like you were a princess locked in a tower or something! But over the last three years, I’ve watched him with you and vise versa. You’ve helped him in more ways than one and…I appreciate that.

You opened your arms wide as you leaned forward to give him a hug. 

“Thank you, Wayne. Not just for everything you’ve done for me but them to.”

***

When you came home, you found Eddie in bed with his headphones on as heavy metal blared into his ear while he drummed his fingers absently on his stomach. As you crawled onto the bed, his eyes shot open as he quickly removed the device from his head. 

“Hey. Hey. You’re home.”

As he started to sit up, you gently pushed him back down and laid your own head under his chin. His arms promptly wrapped around you as he moved some of your hair to kiss your forehead. You didn’t say a word as your eyes met his, staring at each other in comfortable silence. 

“I talked to Wayne today about your mom.” Your palm rose and fell against his chest as he sighed through his nose. “You trust my judgement and I trust his. Besides your dad, he knew her better than anyone. He’s…going to call her and set up a dinner at the trailer.” Placing your hand on his cheek, you caress his skin with your thumb.

“The three of us will be there to; Wayne, Steve, and me. After what he told me, I think you should talk to her but I’ll be damned if I’m leaving you alone with her.”

Eddie’s beautiful lips stretched into a wide smile as he leaned forward to kiss you. 

“I wasn’t going to hurt you last night. I promise I would never—”

“I know. I know, baby.”

“I’m glad Steve stopped me though. It’s very rare I push back into that particular headspace.”

“I’m here for you, Sir. No matter what.”

###########

@manda-panda-monium @sherrylyn628 @eddiesguitarskills

@needylilgal022 @local-stoner-bitch @katethetank @strangerfreak

@sidthedollface2 @justanotheryn @pedropascalslilbaby

@marsupiooo @mandyjo8719 @bexreadstoomuch

@chelebelletx @perdopascalslilbaby @shayeddie @anaibis

@wroteclassicaly @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes

@siriuslysmoking @raptorbait529 @miarosso @micheledawn1975

@paleidiot @mrsjellymunson

[starrprincesss]

May 20th 2024

Tonight, on my drive back to my parent's house, I cried out that, 'I would like to return home, I want to go home'. But even in my desperation, I questioned myself, 'What is home? Where is this home you talk about?'. I can't go back to anything, I can't go back to the house I grew up in, I can't go back. But I do know that I can't be here, no matter what, I can't stay here. For so long, I dreamt for my parents, I wished for the fantasy life for them, now that it's here, I get to dream for me now. Now it's my turn, my story, what do I want? Where do I want to go, where does my soul desire to live, what shall I do? Everything has become intention now, or rather, I have realised the importance of it, the importance of having all intention come from the heart. From purity and love, and only that. I have reached a very odd point in my awakening, what I once used to deny and proclaim proudly that I didn't want it or need it ever in my life, is now the little voice that doesn't want to leave me. It lingers, day and night, a constant reminder. Connection, that is what I yearn for, but not just any connection, it is a specific one. In my solitude and escape from society, I have met someone. I know it is not the best of circumstances, and even saying it out loud makes me sound crazy, but I cannot deny my feelings, I know what I felt, I know what I experienced. I recognise that I am love, I am a child of Mother Gaia, I am an earth angel, I was sent here to experience humanity, to grow in love. I have love all around me, I am lucky enough to have the most wonderful best friends, gifts I call them, my sisters. We love each other profoundly, we check up on one another, we listen in, we hold each other fondly in our hearts, we love each other unconditionally, this I know is true. Without words, I feel their love, even countries apart, I feel their presence, their memories, their laughter. I am not looking for love to complete me, I wasn't even looking for love, or any connections for that matter. This just found me, he found me.

In my aching despair and agony, my other self had ripped itself away from any form of light and hope, and in that progression, it was forcibly urging me to take my life. That part of me, the very angry (and rightfully so) girl had taken over, overrun by grief and pain, all the betrayal, the back stabbing, the fake friends full of animosity and envy, the hurt, the injustice, the physical pain brought on by the hands of another, the deep deep frustration that ate away at my heart, the injustice of it all, but most of all, the deep sadness that plagued me. That was her, she was full of it, anger was what she could express, because to sit down and pour out her true feelings, it would be too much, she was too full of pain. In my minds eye, I saw her, but it felt that I was looking at a shadow, because she was completely black, no face, no details, just human form, covered in darkness. That part of my self was the girl who stopped eating for 7 months, the girl who forced herself to go to the gym even when she could see fuzzy stars ahead of her and the pounding in her head wouldn't stop, that was the girl that couldn't even stand to look at herself in the mirror. Which is why I never recognised how much weight I was losing, how much weight I had lost. She was the girl that was so angry at herself and all the past decisions, but most of all, she was the girl that blamed herself for the abuse she endured from all of those individuals in Paris. She was tough girl Elizabeth, where nothing would slide, no excuses, you must do better, you must be better, feel the hunger, feel the pain, let it be your driving force, let anger be at the forefront of your life, let that be the reason why, fantasise about being better than all of them, fantasise, fantasise always. But anger doesn't last forever, thankfully. That was my motivation, them? Those low life losers, they mean nothing, how can I have them as my motivation, they do not deserve that, they don't exist anymore, they don't matter in my reality, they never did and they never will. But more than anything, I was starting to recognise that I was never at fault for what I experienced, how could I? How could I, the girl that endured the abuse, be the abuser? Be the one to blame? Instead of holding compassion for myself, I turned into those vile creatures, I attacked myself, I criticised myself, I looked down at myself for allowing it all to happen, for choosing to hang out with those people, choosing to befriend them, especially those two awful ones, and every awful person that came before.

Yes, I understand we must accept and take accountability, but we must be smart enough in deciphering when and what was really our fault. You are telling me that a girl, that was 20 years old and alone, flew to another country for the first time, where she did not speak the language, had never been to that city, had no prior friends or connections or knew anyone there for that matter, that she, she was at fault? That she knew what the intentions were of a 26 year old creep, and every other terrible insecure fake friend, no way. Absolutely no way, and I will never ever blame her, I will never blame or attack the 20 year old girl I was, I was barely even an adult, I knew nothing. With a heart of gold, and only good intentions and awareness, I never thought others could be so cruel, I never thought it to be true, that's how I was unable to see what was being done, what was being orchestrated, because I would never do those things, because I couldn't even imagine how people could do those things. And that is exactly how they got me, that is exactly how I fell into his trap. I was young, and I believed in the goodness of everyone, I was too pure for the people I was surrounding myself with, and I was in a pool of insecurity and vulnerability, not of my doing, but on what M had put onto me, he stripped himself clean of all his insecurities and ugly scars, and forced me to wear it, believing it to be mine. In that storm, I was knocked off course, I was in uncharted territories, I was the prey, hurt and alone, surrounded by predators, feigning to be saviours. The worst of their kind, can you imagine opening up to these people, showing your wounds so openly, flesh still covered in blood, truth in all its vulnerability, eyes full of pain discarding tear drops with every breathe, only for them to use all of that against you? Well, how can I blame them really, they were doing and being exactly themselves, after all, they were pretending to be my friends, they were pretending to care, all for their sick twisted pleasure and amusement. Again, because they were wolves disguised as sheep. I have no idea how I survived them all, by the grace of the divine I suppose. But also, by my strength, and by the smallest amount of love I still had, in the depths of my heart, tucked away so well not even I could know it was there. That love, that is what kept me going, that is what helped me survive, that was my strength.

I no longer blame myself, and especially do not attack myself, I hold myself like the child I am, and I whisper, repeatedly, "I am sorry Elizabeth, I am so sorry, I am sorry that I was cruel to you for so long, when you never deserved it. I will never treat you with cruelty, I will never hurt you again. I am so sorry my sweet child, I'm sorry for it all."

I take back my love, and I give it to myself. All of it, completely all of it. I will never abandon you ever again, my entire being is love, I will never experience that again, that will never be me, that reality has ceased, it no longer exists, and the memory is slowly starting to fade. How sweet life is on the other side, thank you for climbing, and most of all, thank you for never giving up.

I love you,

Yours Forever, Elizabeth Sainz.

[angeliccstories]

Fatal Disaster

      I’m tired of all this. I’m not taken into consideration and the way he treats me is horrible. I don’t know how much I can take. I have given my life to this man and all he does is abuse me. My parents named me Stacy so my life may be fruitful but the life I am living right now seems to be taking a lot more away than giving. “Stace hello, are you okay? Can you hear me?” I can hear Leah talking but my lips can’t even move to answer her. I am way too distraught by everything that’s been going on. “Stacy, earth to Stacy hello.” I finally replay “Yes Leah what, how can I help?” She goes on with her questions, simple irritating me. “What’s going on with you, this is not like you. You’ve been so out of touch to the point where I’ve forgotten who you are. You don’t call or come by the house anymore what’s going..” I interrupt and say “Please I’m just tired and extremely pregnant that’s all.” Leah answers “Yeah I can understand that but this is not like you, pregnant or not. You did not act this weird when you were pregnant with Talia. TT is getting older I don’t think she should see you like this. Look at your place, it’s a mess. Please tell me what’s wrong?” At this point I have this despairing look on my face and I say “Leah I really don’t have the energy to talk about this right now, just leave it.” And she replies “Stace I’ve been your best friend for more than 10 years. I know you better than you know yourself. This is not like you. Where is Michael? Why isn’t he here taking care of you or at least hire someone to help? This is ridiculous.” I mean she’s right, Michael is never here and when he is we’re either fighting or he’s putting his hands on me. I don’t even know how I’ve carried this baby to full term without complications or a miscarriage. And I can only imagine how my daughter feels. I really wish I could just run but who will take care of us? I have nothing but this house, my dad is gone and I have no other family. I'm stuck. Sometimes I truly wish my mom wasn’t such a dead beat. I wish I knew why she left, maybe I can understand why my self esteem is so low because it definitely doesn’t come from my father. My dad was loved by the people around him. Confident, fearless, and resilient and now that I'm going through this difficult time I can’t even go to him for safety. He would of killed Michaels giant ego and disrespect before it could even get to this point. “Stacy your mind is wondering again, I'm worried about you.” I respond “I’ll be fine Leah, honestly you’re stressing me out so I think you should leave before Mike gets home.” She gets frustrated and yells “NO, I'm not leaving until I talk to him!!” At this point I had no choice but to push her out of my home to refrain her from talking anymore. I hate the fact that I'm treating my best friend like dirt but right now it’s not the time because he will be home soon.

     Now I'm trying to gather myself together because Michael is about to get home from work. I hate the anxiety I have to endure knowing that he comes home every night with a different attitude. As soon as I hear the keys jingle at the door I prepare for whatever is about to happen. Michael walks in and goes straight to the bathroom. He yells out “Bring me some toilet paper, why do I always have to remind you what to do? I bring him the toilet paper and after he’s finished he walks out and slaps me. I quickly fell to my knees and started sobbing. “Michael why do you do this to me when all I want to do is love you. I'm nothing but good to you and you treat me like trash. I don’t know how much longer I can take this.” And per usual he feels guilty and tries to apologize. “Baby I'm so sorry, I had a long day. But you should know better than to upset me.” I look at him with so much hate in my heart. How can he blame me for his abusive actions. How did I end up here? We used to me so in love, I didn’t have a care in the world when he would look at me and say “You’re my princess and I will never let you down.” The love he showed me at first was the love I felt from my father. I thought he was a good man but unfortunately I was wrong and ended up with a maniac. I mean, who hits a pregnant woman? Michael doesn’t take me out anymore, he doesn’t buy me nice things, or even give me words of love and encouragement. I guess it was all a trick to get me right where he wanted me. I swear if he puts his hands on me one more time I'm going to lose it, I am so close to the edge. He grabs my hand to help me up and says “Stacy if only you knew the day I had. Please fetch me some food I'm starving.” I just stood there with a sinister look. “I said NOW , hurry up!” he’s back to yelling at me. I wish there was a way we could fix all this but at this extent I have enabled him for way to long and I don’t think he will change. I love him with all my heart but at what cost.

     It’s the next morning and I wake up bright and early. I take a shower and clean myself up. I have decided to no longer live like this, I deserve better for me and my children. Talia walks in to the kitchen and sits down as I serve her breakfast. The sadness in her eyes brings a fire out in me. I know and she knows that her father is good for nothing. I just thank God that he hasn’t put his hands on her, so I think. She looks up at me and asks “Is dad up yet?” I replied “No baby why do you ask?” Now her look of sadness has turned into fear. “Mom I have to tell you something.” Okay at this point I'm worried and I don’t know what disaster this could be. Nothing good ever happens to us. With love and compassion I ask “What is it baby? Talk to me and tells me what’s wrong.” I can tell by the way her body is shaking that this is bad news. I fear what she’s about to say next. “TT I need you to talk and tell me, now come on speak. I didn’t teach you to be silent.” At that very moment I thought being married to Michael was the worst thing I could of ever done, but what I was about to hear next was ten times worse. “Mom, dad came in my room last night while you were asleep.” My eyes get wide. “Your room? What did he go in your room for? What happened ?” Before she could even tell me I already knew what was next. “Mom he came in my room and and..” in desperation I yell “And what Talia!?” She covers her ears and says “He forced himself on me mom, he touched me. And he made sure to cover my mouth so I wouldn’t scream. Mom he’s been doing this ever since I turned 15, I'm scared mom I can’t take it. Everything that he does to you, to this family. Mom we need to leave, we need to leave mom please I'm begging you.” I zone out, all I hear are the cries of my daughter and my heart thumping out of my chest. I no longer can shed a tear because right now all I feel is rage. And with a calm voice I tell my daughter to go to her room, lock the door, call her aunty Leah and put her headphones as loud as she can. I didn’t want my daughter to hear what was about to go down. I'm done, he has caused enough pain to this family and I won’t allow it anymore.

     While all this is going on Michael is still sound asleep as if his priorities are in order. Although we were still together we were no longer a family. I felt my blood boiling, rising up to the highest temperature. I took my pepper spray because the monster that I have created was going to pay the biggest price of them all. I storm into the room, “WAKE UP MICHAEL! WAKE THE HELL UP!” He jumps out his sleep “Woman have you lost your damn mind, do you want me to get out this bed?” I look at him as if he’s already dead to me “Please, please do so I can finally show you what it feels like.” He looked at me with confusion as if he was hearing things, “What did you just say?” I pull the blanket off him with aggression and slowly whispered “Get out of that bed because I'm about to kill you.” He jumps out and tries to hit me but I quickly pepper sprayed him. Michael starts screaming in agony but to be honest I don’t really care. “What happened to you Michael? Why have you done this to us?” he tries to get up to hit me again but I already had the bat in my hand and I whacked him in the leg. I start crying hopelessly, “Why Michael, what kind of man does this to their daughter? YOU’RE SICK. You need help. Talia told me what you did you sick asshole!” He doesn’t give up and tries to attack me again and this time he charged at me like a line backer and we both fell down the stairs, all the while I'm holding my stomach praying that my baby is okay. “She’s lying!” Michael says with a shaky voice. “Don’t lie to me, it will only make me more angry.” I grab the bat from the end of the stairs and start beating him with it. And this time I kept going, I didn’t stop. It’s like something came over me, all the anger I dealt with on my own for the last 8 years was finally spilling out. “AHH Stacy STOP PLEASE.” He cries out “Oh now you’re the one begging me to stop? What happened when I pleaded over and over again for you to stop? Where was the sympathy then?” I kept hitting him some more until I seen blood gushing out from his head. I finally felt relief when I just saw him laying there. I even smiled, I was free, at last I can breathe again. Next thing you know I hear the door opening, I turn around and its Leah. She walks in and closes the door faster than I swung that bat. “Stacy oh my God.” I walk over to the couch as Leah sees that I'm covered in blood and Michael is lying lifeless. She goes to check on Talia and tells her not to come out her room. While Leah walks around anxiously looking for the phone to call 911 I tell her “Sit down we need to talk.”

[bardic-tales]

Good afternoon, BINGO Buddy; since I answered your questions, I have questions about Vitalia:

Does your character prefer adventure or safety and security?


What parts of others do they envy?


Does your character have a pet? If so, describe.


would they want a daughter or a son?

Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why?


Good evening, Bingo Buddy. I hope you are having a wonderful day and thank you so much for the questions. And I still love your answers to this.

Vitalia -- or Carmen Rio Aurora -- is my original character from the marvel fandom. Most spefically, she is from the comics rather than the MCU. I had always been fascinated by the comics.

Let's get down to the questions.

Does your character prefer adventure or safety and security.

Vitalia has a strong preference to adventure over safety and security. Her tragic past and the experiences she had had endured in her life shaped her into a fearless and thrill-seeking person. She craves excitement and the adrenaline rush that comes with pushing past her limits.

The idea of venturing into the unknown, exploring new places, and facing challenges head-on ignites her spirit. She finds comfort in the unpredictable and believes that true growth can only be achieved through stepping outside of her comfort zone. This is what lead her to Switzerland to meet her true love, Nate Grey.

Safety and security may offer some type of security, but it also represents a form of confinement for Vitalia. It reminds her of the oppressing circumstances she escaped form.

What parts of others do they envy?

Vitalia is often cynical and guarded, and she does not easily admit to envying others, so this is a difficult question to answer.

The first thing that comes to mind is she envies people who are able to trust and be open with others. As her past was marked in tragedy and betrayals, she is longs to be able to open herself up to others and form a deep connection. She does find this in Nate Grey, but it took them both many years to get to the point they are. There is something about being able to be vulnerable and forge genuine bonds.

Another trait she envies is someone with emotional resilience. Despite her strong sense of justice and desire to protect the innocent, Viltalia struggles with emotional vulnerability. She often looks on in awe for those who possess emotional resilience and can bounce back from setbacks, traumas, and heartbreak easier. She wishes she could handle her own emotions with similar strengths.

Having faced mistreatment, abuse, and experimentation, she struggles with self-acceptance and embracing her own unique identity. She does envy people who has a strong sense of self, who are comfortable in their own skin, and can embrace their individuality without fear or shame. She years for that level of self-love.

Does your character have a pet? If so, describe.

While an emotional support animal might help her with some of her trauma, she does not have a pet.

Would they want a daughter or a son?

Vitalia has mixed feelings when it comes to the idea of having children. Her own experiences with being separated from her mother at a young age and the hardships she endured have left a lasting impact on her. She understands the importance of family and the love between a parent and a child, but she also carries the pain and trauma of her past.

Because of her own journey, Vitalia has chosen not to have children. She wants to break the cycle of captivity and mistreatment that she and her family have endured. She believes in the importance of giving all living the freedom to live their lives as they are meant to, without being subjected to exploitation or harm.

She also wants to raise awareness about the dangers of practices like cub-petting, where young animals are taken away from their mothers and forced into unnatural environment for human entertainment like she was. She hopes that by sharing her story — with the X-men and anyone who might listen to a bipedal, mutant tigress — she can help educate others about the importance of respecting the natural bonds between animals and their families.

For now, Vitalia channels her love and care towards protecting others and advocating for animal rights.

Finally; if your character was forced to eat one thing for the rest of their life, what would they choose and why?

If Vitalia was forced to eat one thing for the rest of her life, she would choose a good cut of steak without hesitation. As a carnivorous tiger mutant, her instincts and physiology are geared towards consuming meat. It serves as a reminder of her strength and resilience.

The rich, juicy texture and flavor of a well-prepared steak would satisfy her primal cravings and provide her with the essential nutrients her body needs. The act of savoring the steak would tap into her inner predator, allowing her to connect with her feline nature and embrace her instincts.

[thenightmareofyourdrems]

ycllowhaired·:

            it  is  a  tricky  subject.  there  are  things  johanna  does  not  talk  about.  how  lonely  she  was  as  a  child,  the  abuses  at  foggs,  the  feeling  of  her  former  guardian’s  hand  on  her  knee  as  he  asked  for  her  hand  in  marriage.  she  is  willing  to  endure  any  amount  of  small  talk  to  avoid  such  tender  topics.  how  is  the  weather?  how  has  your  morning  been?  johanna  has  gotten  good  at  it  if  only  to  avoid  things  that  she  does  not  talk  about.  the  stories  in  the  newspapers  about  the  bodies  discovered  in  the  basement  of  186  fleet  street  being  one  of  them.  

            ❝  i  did  not  know  you  heard  such  silly  stories  out  here,  sir,  ❞  johanna  says  quickly.  fingers  clasp  around  her  wedding  ring.  she  no  longer  has  exquisite  jewelry  to  busy  her  hands  with  when  she  gets  anxious.  ❝  you  work  with  anthony  and  i  assumed  penny  dreadful-like  tales  were  not  to  a  ship’s  employee’s  entertainment.  i  do  not  blame  you.  they’re  stupid  and  have  no  substance  to  them  other  than  the  fact  that  people  you  do  not  know  have  died  and  now  you’re  burdened  with  the  knowledge  that  they  are  dead  even  though  it  should  not  matter  to  you.  ❞

            she  sighs.  ❝  no,  i  did  not  know  them.  i  am  simply  taken  aback  at  the  way  that  people  are  so  interested  in  such  a  silly  case.  it  did  not  involve  them.  they  did  not  witness  those  deaths.  ❞  johanna  knows  because  she  did.  ❝  it’s  been  weeks  anyway.  what  interest  do  people  have  in  a  weeks-old  murder  on  some  old  london  street?  ❞

             ˜”*°•.       Stories .  Everyone  was a  story  in the  very  end .  Treasured  memories , bonds ,  dreams ,  hopes , all  nothing  but words  in  the air .  One could  hurt ,  die , forever  disappear  but a  million  others kept  going  on .  The  words shared ,  the  stories delivered ,  yet  eventually  forgotten , buried  away ,  fading . There  were  stories on  the  ship , too .  Yet ,  with trips  lasting  days , with  the  same faces  seen  every day ,  one  could only  long  to hear  more .  To  hear  about all  taking  place on  the  land ; the  beautiful ,  the  scary.  ❝ Do  you  think they  are  silly  ?❞   Question  echoed curious  -  yet far  from  unkind .  it was  not  his place  indeed ;  to  care  for stories  in  London , to  bother  the lady  with  what could  look  like  plotka.  But in  his  eyes , it  wasn’t  gossip , not  really ;  merely an  interest  in all  happening  so countless  miles  away .

And  yet ,  something in  her  voice , something  in  her  tone,  in her  responses , felt …  peculiar .  Not the  reaction   of  a  narrator repeating  the  story  of someone  else .  The story  that’d  pass from  mouth  to mouth  and  finally lean  on  her  lips.  It was  almost  abrupt .  As if  the  story was  more  than just  silly  . ❝ My apologies .  You  can ignore  my  question . ❞ Came  the  words almost  instantly .  To  bring  her to  an  uncomfortable position  had  never  been  the  intention ,  after  all .  ❝It  is just  that ,  such stories  are  a  reminder . ❞ A  reminder  of  their  limited time  on  this Earth .  A  reminder that  just  like that ,  the  thread of  life  could be  cut ,  torn apart  -  no warning ,  not  a second  to  react . A  reminder  that dreams  -  dreams constantly  postponed -  did  come with  an  expiration  date.  

[plus-size-reader]

Just a Kid

Daryl Dixon x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2453 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Taking Lydia in as your own with Daryl

Hi, I couldn’t get this concept out of my head. 

—————————————————————————————————

“She’s just a kid, D” you hummed, carefully working at the knot in his neck that he’d been complaining about for days.

You knew that this thing with the girl, and Jesus, and all these people wearing faces was really starting to wear on Daryl’s nerves.

You could tell, because every night when he came back to your house, he was even more tense than the last and at this point, you were really starting to get concerned that he would burst a blood vessel.

There was just too much going on right now.

...but you knew what you had to do.

Lydia was just a child, and even if her people were the purest evil you could ever imagine, that didn’t mean that she was. If nothing else, she was little more than a battered little girl who had never known any better.

That was how you saw her, and you knew Daryl did too.

He just wasn’t ready to take on so much yet, and honestly, he didn’t know if he could. It was hard for him to have to take over all this at Hilltop, and that girl they’d brought was only making it worse.

“You still on that?” he grumbled back, really hoping that you would have gotten over this pipe dream of yours already.

The two of you had talked this conversation to death, and while you knew there was a good chance that nothing was going to change, you would continue to do so until he changed his mind.

Ever since she had come to know this group, you had gotten it in your head that the two of you could give her the home that she had never had but Daryl wasn’t so easily convinced. 

It just seemed like more than you were ready for.

He saw that look in your eyes, when she was finally safe behind those gates, but then you’d gone and made it even worse.

You met her.

Maybe it hadn’t been the greatest idea, and maybe it wouldn’t help but you knew that at least you could try to understand better.

You could only imagine how a girl in her position would be feeling. You knew that if you were her, you would have been absolutely terrified.

After all, she was surrounded by strangers, in an unforgiving and new environment.

It was possible that one friendly face would make all the difference to her and as it happened, you had one of the friendliest faces around here.

If anyone was going to get through to her, it was you.

Course, Daryl was against the idea from the start but you knew that no one else was going to stick their neck out for her if you two didn’t. That made it more than worth it to you, even if no one else understood.

She didn’t say a word for the first few days.

Lydia had nothing to say to you and frankly, you couldn't blame her for that. You were a stranger, the enemy as far as she knew, and there was no reason she should have trusted you at all, but that wasn’t always going to be the case.

The more you came, the more she realized that you may have been the only person willing to stick their neck out for her. Once she decided that you weren’t going to kill her, or sell her out, it was pretty much settled.

You needed to help her.

It wasn’t up for debate, but for some reason, convincing Daryl was proving to be an even more difficult task.

“We aren’t her parents, it ain’t our place” he tried, desperately hoping that you would see how insane what you were proposing was. Still, you weren’t letting up, and he knew you well enough to know what that meant.

You were invested.

You were going to do whatever you could to get through to her.

Perhaps it was because you two found yourself comparing her to Daryl or perhaps it was your own soft spot for kids.

In any case, the damage was done.

“She doesn’t have parents D, that’s why she needs us” you sighed, leaning down to rest fully into his back, your head nestled in the space between his shoulder and his neck. It gave you just enough leverage to look at him.

It was hardly up for debate.

Lydia’s mother saw her as little more than an asset, something to abuse and control. After all the things you’d endured with Daryl, it made her well being that much more personal, for both of you.

It took months to get Daryl to tell you about his past.

He trusted you more than anyone else in the world, and his greatest pain was still too difficult to share until he knew you weren’t going anywhere.

You had no doubt that the hold this girl’s mother had on her was even stronger.

At least Daryl had Merle, he knew how much of an asshole his dad was.

Lydia was brainwashed.

You would be lucky if you were ever able to break whatever her mother had done to her, due to the extreme circumstances, but you knew that you had to try.

No one deserved the way she had been treated, and you wanted to make sure that she understood it wasn’t her fault.

Her mother was cruel, and there was nothing more to it than that.

The best way to prove that to her would be giving her a real home, proving to her that not everyone was going to treat her the way that she did. Maybe, if she felt safe, she would finally start to open up.

When the two of you first met, Daryl hardly spoke to you and when he did, it was always in a gruff, unfriendly tone. It took him some time to warm up to you and once he had, that tone warmed up to one of love.

It just took time.  

The same thing could apply to Lydia, if you just gave her some time.

If nothing else, it had to be worth a shot.

She was worth it.

“You really wanna do this?” he hummed, after what felt like an eternity of silence between the two of you.

Daryl heard you, he got the message, he just couldn't be sure that being with you, and him, would be enough.

He knew what it was like to be in her position, and he knew how hard it was to let people in. It was possible that she would never allow herself to be cared for in the way you wanted to, and he didn’t want you getting your hopes up.

You would be crushed if she rejected your offer, but it couldn’t hurt.

Even if she wanted nothing to do with either of you, at least you tried to give her something. That was much more than anyone else in the world had ever done for her.

“Yeah, I do. I really do” you smiled, not even bothering to hide the wide grin that spread across your face at the idea of what he was saying. It wasn’t exactly a yes, but it was as much of a yes as you were going to get from Daryl.

It was more than enough.

At the end of the day, even if it was a bad idea, Daryl knew better than to argue with you. What you were suggesting was crazy, but it was so very you that he couldn’t even worry about it.

He fell in love with you and that heart of gold of yours, so if this was what it was telling you to do, he owed it to you to let you do what you thought was right.

You had to, just as he had to.

...and of all the crazy ideas you’d ever had, this was hardly the most dangerous one.

All you wanted to do now was give a little girl a place to live and a family, it wasn’t like you were suggesting some kind of suicide mission. You and Daryl had faced far worse than a child, desperate for belonging and acceptance.

What you were doing was new for all of you.

~

Lydia wasn’t sure, at first.

After all, she had never really had parents and you and Daryl had certainly never been parents.

It just wasn’t something you had any experience with.

However, with all that you’d lost recently, it didn’t make sense to turn her away too. She was a product of her circumstances and nothing more. It wouldn’t be fair to make Lydia pay for the sins of her mother.

Instead, you chose to put all your effort into making sure she never felt like a burden again.

You knew that she blamed herself, in part, for what her mother had done. Henry was gone, Tara was gone, Enid was gone, it was just too much.

You’d lost too many people in the months it had been and you weren’t interested in losing any more.

You certainly weren’t interested in letting a little girl take the blame for what her people had done, not when she first arrived, and not now.

Lydia was good, she was trying, and that wasn’t something you were going to debate.

Thankfully, that was something you and Daryl could both agree on, without all the initial back and forth.

You were both winging it, of course, but you knew that you had to try and stick up for her. Even the smallest gesture would make a world of difference.

She deserved to feel safe for once.

When you and Daryl had decided to take her in, it wasn’t supposed to be perfect. You weren’t going to move into a little cottage surrounded by a white picket fence, with flowers and a dog.

It was making the best of whatever shit show situation you’d been dealt.

It was all you knew to do.

“You wanna help me with this?” you hummed, addressing your words to the young girl at your side.

What you were asking wasn’t really all that much of a question but considering that you were sewing up a huge hole in Daryl’s button up, she wasn’t interested.

“D does it himself, mostly, but he’s clumsy about it. The stitching always comes undone” you reminded, thinking about the last time he’d offered to stitch up a hole in your jeans, and it had unraveled by the end of the day.

He meant well, he really did, but he had never really had the patience for more delicate things like this. Sewing of any kind, even stitches in flesh, had never really been his foray.

...but that was okay.

You told him that you would take care of this, and he could pick up the slack somewhere else, making dinner or cleaning blood and dirt out of the laundry.

“I don’t know how” she tried, looking at you in the way she often would when she ran into something she had never done before. The two of you’d had this same conversation when you suggested she go to school with the other children.

She didn’t even know how to read when she came to you, and now, she is making great progress.

It was just a matter of learning what she had never had a chance to learn before.

“I’ll teach you, it's easy” you smiled, handing her the garment with one hand, and the needle with the other.

She looked unsure, lost even, but she took it nonetheless.

“Hold the fabric with this hand, and move the needle with the other, up and down in as straight a line as you can manage” you instructed, keeping it as simple as you possibly could until she got the hang of it.

You knew this was probably a tad bit overwhelming, and if she didn't go it right the first time, she would get discouraged but luckily, years by Daryl’s side had taught you a patience that nothing else ever could.

You could sit here all day if you had to, as long as she got the hang of it.

Lydia had been living with her pack of skin walkers all this time, only doing what she was told, but that wasn’t the life she was living now.

She was part of a community, and she had a family, but that also meant that she had to learn to protect and provide for herself when you weren’t there. If something ever happened to you or Daryl, she still had to live.

Her clothes couldn’t be ripped or ruined, her wounds couldn’t stay open to fester, and eventually, she would need to cook and clean for herself too, but for now, a helping hand was all you needed.

People were what kept your communities running, and your home was no different. You and Daryl were a team, communicating without words most of the time, and she was part of that now.

She was part of the team.

“Like that?” she tried, hoping that some part of what she was doing was right. There was no real way to tell but you didn’t seem upset so that had to be a good sign.

It was a strangely domestic task for her, one that brought back memories of her people, her old people, sewing up masks of tanned human skin. The motion was the same, the idea was the same, but there was something normal about this.

She was just fixing a shirt.

There was nothing volatile or aggressive about this, and it wasn’t for anything other than someone she cared for. That made it a little easier to stomach than any other chore may have been.

This was for Daryl after all, and if anyone had earned something like this, it was him.

Lydia wasn’t blind.

She knew what the two of you had done for her, always making sure she had something to eat and sticking up for her when the others got a little too comfortable with their distaste for her.

“Exactly, just a little closer together” you prompted, smiling when she did just as you asked. She was a quick learner, and you knew that she could do this.

This was normal, real, and the sooner she learned that she could live a completely normal life, the sooner she would really adapt to life in a community like this one.

“Once you’re done, you can help Daryl with dinner. I’m sure he’d love the help”

It was hardly where she expected to be, but it was more than where she’d been. At least, with you and Daryl, Lydia knew that she was safe.

[s-brant]

Angels Roll Their Eyes (2/2)

(gif: @toesure) (PART ONE)

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

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

Word Count: 24k

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

Hurricane Agatha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you smiling about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He isn't sure why she buys into it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

JJ misses her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Weird in what way?"

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

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

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

She sighs.

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

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

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

That part is the most fuzzy in her mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gotta catch me first!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They tried.

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

It was simple in the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fuck?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because what?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

There it is.

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

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

Her heart sinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then prove it."

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Internally, JJ is losing his shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll—"

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

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

"Promise?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's the one to break the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wasn't staring."

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

"Whatever you say."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's okay," he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could she be so stupid?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She is never skipping this song again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[beepboop358]

Anti-Byler Argument Refuttals

Although I discussed all of this in my Byler Proof master slides post, I wanted to do a separate post specifically just refutting the most common anti-byler arguments.

1. "Mike and El's relationship is too developed" and "They have been through too much together to break up now!"

This is probably the thing I hear the most when people argue that Byler will never happen. The weirdest part of this argument is that people assume that they will never drift apart, and that they will never ever break up, as if we didn't just see them drift apart, break up, and not officially get back together in S3? Yes, they have both been through a significant amount of trauma, but their relationship is not as developed as people think it is, they barely even know each other really. They spent a week together in S1, then El was gone for a year. Mike and El don't reunite until the very end of S2, probably a few days after halloween. If we work out the timeline between Halloween of 1984 and July 4th of 1985 in S3, that's 246 days, so it's actually less than a full year they have spent together, getting to know each other.

The “development” people argue that Mike and El have just doesn't stand up. Mike and El do not have intimate conversations, their conversations are incredibly awkward, and they just kiss frequently in the beginning of S3 before they break up. That's not development. Hopper even refers to their constant kissing as "not normal and not healthy." Mike couldn't tell El he loves her to her face, which is a parallel to the failed relationship of Stancy where Nancy couldn't tell Steve she loved him, and we later find out it's because she doesn't, which all happens during the blank makes you crazy scene that is extremely similar to Robin's coming out scene. And yes, Mike and El have endured a lot of trauma together, but so has the rest of the group and people don't seem to use this argument the same way with the other couples, or between the friendships. History doesn't determine the future if there's no feelings involved, things can always change. This is idea of staying in a relationship where there is no real love but there is history/benefits is hinted at in S3 when Mike dresses almost identically to both of his parents.

2. "Look at how much Mike cares for El! They're in love!"

No, they're not, and how they treat each other proves that they're not. I firmly believe neither Mike nor El is seriously, romantically in love with each other.

If Mike was really deeply, romantically in love with El, why did he treat her like he did in S3? If he really cares about her that much, why did he wait for Lucas to guide him at all times in matters regarding his relationship with El, instead of just taking initiative, but he does take initiative with Will? Why can't her apologize to her? Why wasn't Mike more upset about El dumping him? Why couldn't he tell El he loves her to her face? Why did he consistently lie to her throughout the whole show? Why did he stop calling her in S2? Why did he give up and say she was dead, but never gave up on Will? Why did he scream in her face in S1? And no - it isn't because he's just shy or awkward. Mike doesn't act like he is truly in love with El because he isn't. He is projecting his feelings for Will onto El, and he is deeply in denial about his sexuality due to his internalized homophobia and hasn't fully processed how he feels about Will throughout the series (up until the ending of S3). And why does Mike have such an odd reaction to El saying she loves him if he does love her? If he loves her that should be exactly what he wants to hear, so why does he look so confused and scared? And why doesn't he just say it back right then?

El isn't seriously, romantically in love with Mike. They meet in S1, and he immediately takes her in, saving her life. He looks out for her, and actually cares if she is okay, and no one has ever done that for her before. El was abused her whole childhood until Mike lets her live in his basement. He was the first person to treat her like a human being, and show her compassion, which she has never experienced before. It makes total sense that she would cling to their relationship like a security blanket. Mike is an emotional attachment for El. He makes her feel safe, because of how he saved her life previously. El has very limited knowledge of love, life, friendship, relationships, and social behaviors since she was locked in a lab for over a decade of her life, she was never truly exposed to these concepts like the other kids in the party were. Everything El thinks she knows about love she learns from watching soap opera's alone in Hopper's cabin. Of course her perception of what romantic love is, is warped. If El was seriously romantically in love with Mike, why was their break-up no big deal to her? Why was she smiling, laughing and looking at pictures of boys with Max right after she supposedly dumped the love of her life? Why did she not seem even the slightest bit upset about it the entire season?

If they're both seriously in love, then why are their interactions so awkward to watch and why does it feel so unnatural and forced? Why don’t Mileven’s interactions feel romantic? The official released scripts on 8flix describe several Mileven scenes as "awkward". It's no coincidence that detail was included in the script.

3. "But they already have Robin"

I mean this comment basically means that sense the show already has one confirmed lgbtq+ character, there can't possibly be any others. What?! There isn't a "one gay character limit per TV show". This comment really bothers me because it reeks of homophobia. If you don't ship Byler that's fine, but refusing to even explore the possibility there could be more than one lgtbq+ character in a TV show just because one already exists? Yeah no. Queer people existed in the 80's, definitely more than just one, so capping out the amount of queer characters in the show is just icky.

Also, Robin was not originally written to be a gay character. It was decided during the filming process that Robin should be a lesbian, because Maya Hawke and Joe Keery were not getting romantic vibes between their characters. Just because the show introduced a new gay character in S3, it does not mean the queercoding of Will and Mike is erased to make room for Robin, and keep Mileven together. Making Robin a lesbian, does not cancel out Mike and Will being gay/liking each other, and the show's future plans for byler.

4. "Mike's not gay."

Does this seem straight to you?

Giving your girlfriend a drawing of your male best friend, that was drawn by him, but telling her it's your drawing so she'll hang it up on the wall you coincidentally face while you make out with her, to remind you of him.

Taking your girlfriends hands off of you while you're making out with her, and keeping your hands folded in your lap away from her.

Only being able to apologize to said male best friend and being more emotionally invested in that relationship than your relationship with your girlfriend.

Mike is the only other person besides Will pictured in close up shots with rainbow and fruit imagery.

Even the die-hard Mileven fans have to admit that's more than a little coincidental, and if we know anything about the Duffer brothers, it's that they love incorporating intricate details in their show to reveal things about the characters/plot.

If you want more examples, some images, or just a more in-depth analysis of byler throughout the series, I suggest you check out my Byler Proof master slides :)

[malereader-inserts]

Let Your Soul Breathe

Fandom: Good Omens Pairing: Aziraphale x Male!Reader x Crowley Summary: Life is suffocating, sometimes you just have to stop and relax yourself. Word Count: 1,355 Warning: Undertones of Blood, Injury, Depression, Self Harm.

The supernatural isn’t really limited just to demons and angels.

You would know all too well about them, from a young age you were an unfortunate son of one of the greatest hunters in Europe. Meaning, that you were to be trained under them. You hated your childhood because you didn’t get much of one. 

The moment you were able to know what was wrong and right, you were taught how to handle a blade and how to handle a gun. You were still in school because your mother fought your father that you should have a basic education. She expected the best from you, after all, you came from a very strict household and as an only child - your parents looked to you as continuing the great name. 

You excelled in school as well as your parents teaching you each supernatural. You could argue that you had a boring childhood other than the exposure of blood and murder at a young age. As you got to high school, most weekends your dad would take you to hunts to learn about the supernatural physically.

By the age of sixteen, as you were ending high school, you had already made a name for yourself in the supernatural side of life. The kid that was merciless, the kid that had no emotion. 

You weren’t shy to kill, you never show any fear if you were caught out in a bad hunt. God wished to hate you but you were one of her dearest creation because after all, God is the only one who really truly see behind close doors.

How you often hate yourself, how you cry to yourself, how you would harm yourself if you did bad that day and your father wasn’t there to give punishment. 

Creatures often hide among the shadows and hear how your father abuses you, shouting and smacking you. Even the evillest creature would flinch at the sound of contact and they fear you because of how you respond.

“Thank you sir for correcting me,” You had a dull tone. 

When your father died alongside your mother, under mysterious condition, the supernatural had celebrated not for themselves but for you. Because tales had spread that you stood in the woods, unable to move, and actually appreciating the beauty of the woods.

For once, they heard you laugh.

They gave you a break, any monster would hate to admit that they cared a little too much about you. 

You continued your education in peace, well, as much peace you could give yourself. 

After all, you were still in that mindset that you were a hunter. So, even after excelling in your high school and sixth form, even earning your degree - you were still a hunter at heart.

As you grew up as a lonely man, you stumbled across a demon and an angel - the first to show empathy, well at least from the angel. And from years since you met, they were there pestering you.

Forming a friendship and a bond, eventually, a loving relationship. 

They taught you many things, and that you don’t have to shoulder the world. It was almost as if God was giving you a present, forgiveness for the pain you had to endure.

“(Y/n), darling?”

Aziraphale walks into your apartment with Crowley right behind him, next thing he saw was one of your boots barrelling towards him. Crowley caught it effortlessly as Azirpahale had dodged impact. 

“Leave me alone.”

They see that you have just returned from a hunt, you were tired and obviously angry. Most hunts, nowadays, were just you sleeping them off with minor injuries. It looks like you managed to cope with a bigger injury you had sustained, but you were in no mood for company.

“Yeah, no,” Crowley responded, throwing the boot to the ground as he grabs Aziraphale’s wrist to follow you to the bedroom. 

“Clingy,” You shouted at them, slamming your bedroom door at their faces.

As they open the door, they managed to catch on to your slight muffled moan, telling them that you had jumped on your head as you lie down. Aziraphale sighs, shaking his head as he struts towards you.

“I’m cleaning you up, you cannot be in bed in these filthy clothes.”

“It’s had worst on here.”

“Like what?” Crowley asked.

“Like cu-”

“I think that’ll be enough,” Aziraphale interrupts as he lugs you up into a sitting position, “Crowley, my dear, fetch some clean clothes.”

“Sure thing, angel.”

You rolled your eyes, for a demon Crowley is surprisingly obedient, though you allowed Aziraphale to strip you down. He cringes at your wounds as he held his hand over your body, allowing his miracle to close them up for easy healing. 

Aziraphale does not mention the cuts upon your arms, nor he mentions wounds looking like they were self-inflicted upon the thighs, he silently heals them knowing that he wouldn’t be able to miracle away the scars that will be left behind.

Aziraphale hands you to Crowley, who is less gentle than the angel as he dresses you up. Though, he doesn’t miss the chance to give you a boop on the nose and a sweet peck upon your lips. 

“Bad hunt?” Crowley asked, getting himself comfy at your side.

“Bad day, bad week, bad month, bad lifetime,” You exclaimed, though there was no anger behind your words anymore, there wasn’t the venom that they were greeted moments before, “I cannot wait for the day I die.”

“Now, don’t be saying that-” Aziraphale scowls at you, but you merely waved him off.

“You often forget that I am just human, I will die eventually. And if not by my own hands than so be it rather a creature of the unnatural.”

“Sweetheart, that’s the depression talking-”

“Then let it talk, let it infest my mind and rot the insides. I rather be dead than live this shit life.”

Crowley gives Aziraphale a pointed look, “Listen, babe, angel doesn’t have the best of words on this situation, he might come off as patronising but he means well.”

You grumbled as you turn your head to not look at your boyfriends, Crowley looks at Aziraphale who motions him to continue to talk.

“But, you shouldn’t be wishing your life away, after all, what is life if not lived at it’s fullest?”

“I never had the opportunity to do so,” You reminded them as Aziraphale placed excited hands upon your knees, making you look at him.

“Then, start now! It’s never to late too allow your soul to breathe. Tomorrow is a new day and I’m sure that the vampires, werewolves, and whatnot can find a new hunter to fight.”

“I can piss them off, entertain them, you know? You should really invite me to your hunts, babe, we’ll have a real good laugh.”

“Crowley, not now!” Aziraphale snaps as you chuckled, “Why don’t you sleep, we’ll be awake to watch over you.”

You were going to argue but there was a look in Aziraphale’s eyes that you did not want to tick off. You sighed as you shuffled down in the bed to lie down. Aziraphale lets out a joyful noise, you now understand why your demon boyfriend can be so obedient because your angel boyfriend can be terrifying. 

They sit in silence, waiting to make sure you have drifted off to sleep as Aziraphale and Crowley lie on either side of you. Crowley messing with your hair as Aziraphale had a book on his lap.

“Crowley, dear, do you think he’ll be okay?”

“He’ll be fine, (Y/n) is a strong lad,” Crowley replies, “Plus, he has us two, who better than us to take care of our dearest boyfriend.”

Aziraphale gives the demon a suspicious look as Crowley lazily smiles him off. Aziraphale knows that Crowley is up to something and yet he was somewhat terrified to know what it was.

So, you and Aziraphale pretend that you don’t know why the vampires, werewolves and whatnot are scared of a certain red hair snake demon, though it does fill you with entertainment to Aziraphale’s dismay.

[roscgcld]

INUMAKI TOGE || devotion

request: Hello love ! May I request a yandere inumaki toge x fem reader, that has the ability to hear people thoughts but like can't control it and he doesn't know about it, like imagine how creepy it would be, I'm sorry if this is hard for you

note: hi~ first of all, i will warn you this - i am very rusty with yandere posts! they aren’t always my strongest suit, since i usually need to get in the mood to write it. but it’s been awhile, and i want to stretch the two remaining brain cells that i have lol. but i hope you enjoy!

anime: jujutsu kaisen

character: inumaki toge

pronouns: she/her 

notes: somewhat dark with obsessive!toge, mentions of murder, but nothing serious, lowkey a little twisted-

Toge likes to think of himself as someone who is relatively reasonable and understanding. On the outside he shows himself to be a laid back and relatively nice person to be around, playing mother hen when it comes to his friends and fellow classmates of Jujutsu Tech.

All but you - you are the one exception in his eyes. 

Whilst he enjoys talking to the juniors of the school, he hates how chummy you are to them. To anyone else looking in, it just looks like you were getting along with your juniors and even taking on a more motherly role for them; since you give them advice for how to live away from home. Especially to Yuji and Nobara, who are so far away from their hometowns, having someone they can turn to must be so reassuring to them. Every time Toge would catch you talking to your juniors, he’d feel a twig of annoyance.

Just what was it that made those juniors so interesting to you?

It wasn’t only the juniors that get to him - your fellow classmates annoy him to no end as well. They are all good people, and are great friends to have by his side. But does Maki always need to look for you to spar with her? Does Yuta really need to go to you to help him bend the buttons of his uniform? Can’t he learn how to do it by himself? Even Panda can get him slightly annoyed - can’t he sleep on someone else’s lap during your break in between classes?

It annoys him beyond belief, and on many days he just wants to unzip the zipper of his uniform and say a simple word to kill all of them. He isn’t above killing on to ensure that your attention was on him and him only. On some days he can just push those thoughts aside and continue to put on a mask of indifference, laughing and joking with the others like everything was alright. Even if he was seething inside, he’d play it off with ease; reminding himself that you were not going to be pleased if he were to abuse his power this way.

Just the mere thought of you bring a sense of happiness and warmth through him; remembering the times when you would turn your warm eyes to him just as he felt his hands start to itch to pull his zipper down. Somehow you always seem to be able to calm his inner demons, giving him your undivided attention and somehow manages to make him forget all the irritation he felt from before. He just wants your undivided attention, wants to be the only one you seem to give all your attention to. 

He marvels how you seem to know when to step in to calm his mind; it just convinces him more and more than you were the one for him. That no one else will be able to take care of him the way you do, no one that will know him better than you. It just drives him deeper and deeper and deeper down the hole of obsession.

Oh, if only you knew...

If you were being honest, you were quite surprised with how long you’ve endured this. Your Cursed Technique allows you to hear the thoughts of the people around you, but you can’t control them - sort of like mind reading. In all honesty, it was useful during a battle, since you are always going to have the upper hand.

However, whenever Toge is around you? You’re surprised you haven’t gone insane just yet.

To be honest, before all of this, you thought Toge was quite adorable - the onigiri speaking cursed speaker is always so warm and kind. It wasn’t hard to develop feelings for him; and when you had accidentally uncovered his crush for you as well, it was quite a relief to your system. However, whilst the both of you continue to explore more of your relationship, you started to realise that his admiration for you definitely grew deeper and deeper; until it became more of an obsession. 

At first it worried you to no end; how he can casually smile and laugh with Yuta whilst wondering if he should kill Yuta for asking you to fix his uniform once more - even though you were the one to offer your help. Whenever you and Maki talk, you can hear Toge’s thoughts of how annoying she can be, trying to take your attention off of him; how he just wants to command for her to stab herself with her own weapon, how easy it is for her to follow through with his actions with how little Cursed Energy she has to really fight back.

Because of this you’ve learnt to be in tune with Toge; not being too far away from him to the point where you can no longer hear his thoughts, always making sure to turn to him to give him some attention when you feel like he was on the brink of giving into his desires. You know you shouldn’t be feeding this desire of his, how you shouldn’t be the one feeding into his fantasy that you were the only one made for him. 

But you fear just what might become of your friends if you ever try to let him go. Whilst saying this, when he is relatively normal, you two share quite the cute relationship; with him every so doting and attentive of you, making sure you know how much he loves you. Maybe you had really broke underneath the stress of having to sooth him all the time, but just seeing how adorable he looks trying to make sure all your attention on him, almost pouting when you turned away from him for a moment when you want to grab things like a cup of water for yourself, the love in his eyes whenever you would turn back to face him.

It was quite interesting, seeing how deep his devotion was for you. 

And if you were being honest, maybe you are just enjoying this a little too much.

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[zellerysworld]

『 Comfort 』

Sukuna x F!Reader

Word count: 2.1k

Tags: Fluff???, Established Relationship, Angst, Mentions of death, self hate, and abuse, slightly insane reader, slightly soft Sukuna

A/N: Readers abilities are touching people to make them sleep, transfer memories, and see past (for those with DID, talk to the souls within the persons mind). She serves as a informant by going inside victims heads to look in their pasts for curses that were around them; informing her teammates of location and grade level. She can also gain powers from whomever she touches for a short period of time.

Ex: Sukuna can give Malevolent Shrine to her for battle, but after one use/within five minutes, it vanishes. If she uses powers that are harsh on her body, (domain expansions or strong cursed manipulation) she faints/gets nose bleeds.

Your feet dragged against the brutally cold floors of the first-year dormitories at Jujutsu Tech. Everything around you was dark, dim light being provided by the full moons reflection through the windows. The corridor felt like a never-ending strip as you silently sobbed under your h/c locks.

Today was… hard. Usually, you can handle the painful endeavors of reaching into the depths of stranger’s minds, but today was different. Todays victim was a young boy, not even a teen, who was abused by his own parents. When you grazed his swollen cheeks as he lied motionless on the floor, the fear he felt as his mother raised a hand to him engulfed your body. Then and there on the scene, you began to cry uncontrollably.

Doing the same thing every day, seeing the same pain in people’s memories, reliving all of their fears within seconds- it was beginning to rip your soul apart piece by piece. At first, it was manageable. However, over the past year of being at this damned jujutsu school, all you seem to feel is excruciating aches in both body and soul.

Recalling the child’s memories, you fell against the wall of the corridor while burying your tearstained face into the same shaking, gloved hands that touched him. Gojo Satoru picked you to be a student because of your “Stability”, yet you were turning into the opposite. The way you viewed death and the nature of It was what impressed Gojo and everyone around you the most, though you have never seen yourself as impressive. All you do is touch people and relay information, nothing too complicated, right?

A door creaked open after your fall emitted a loud thud in the room behind you. When you lifted your head to apologize, you noticed it was none other than Yuji Itadori- Sukuna’s vessel in other words. The young sorcerers’ eyes widened at seeing you in such a distraught state, hastily running over to you. Yuji scanned your body for wounds but was only able to find a pair of empty eyes. “Y/n? Are you alright? C’mon, lets get you to your room.” He scooped you into his arms, carrying you as a mother does with her sleeping child.

Yuji opened the door, gently placing you onto the silk sheets of the rooms bed as you silently cursed yourself for being so weak. The expression you bared made him pained, so he attempted to make you comfortable by taking your shoes off. After doing so, he sat to side of the bed. He held your shielded hand into his bare ones before recommending, “How about talking to Sukuna?”

Your voided eyes closed as you slouched into the headboard. Sukuna would be disappointed to see you in such a state, him possibly refusing to secretly work with you anymore if he saw this mess. Or even worse, he’d stop loving you. From that thought, your mind continued to spiral.

While stuck in your self-pity, Yuji was removing a glove from your hand. “Gojo makes you talk to Sukuna for information, but I know you enjoy talking to each other. He thinks about you a lot.”

Hearing Yuji’s words made your eyelids flash open like lightning as he removed the glove completely. Gojo assigned you to become an informant for him by touching Yuji to go into Sukuna’s domain, however that plan backfired. Overtime, you began to tell Gojo you couldn’t get anything from him, while secretly falling for and scheming with Sukuna. There was a pact made between the two of you: In exchange for touching Yuji to temporarily gain sukuna’s abilities, you must kill with those powers.

You grew to hate violence over the years; having seen multiple forms of it through people’s memories. But you made an exception, being that violence should be used against those who use violence with malicious intent. Although it is a bit of a hypocritical way to think.

When going out with Yuji and others, you take advantage of the surroundings by stalking your next prey. You do this by “accidentally” bumping into people on the streets and reading their memories to search for any abusers, cheaters, or murderers. Although you were technically a killer too, you knew one day you’d have to pay for your sins. Lately, that day seems to be snaking its way closer to you.

“Y/n?” Yuji questioned with a slight tilt of his head; his voice snapping you from your train of thought. Raising the hand he ungloved, the fingertip of your index finger tapped against his forehead. With the tap, his body relaxed before falling into a deep state of sleep. His head fell onto your lap, giving a perfect opening to use your ability. You took the smooth palm of your bare hand, and cupped Yuji’s jawline. This was how you opened communication into someone’s memories, or in this case, into someone’s personalities.

Although you were nervous to see what sukuna would think of you in such a ruined state, Yuji’s words made you feel relaxed. Sukuna was your partner after all, he should be able to see you like this. But then again, he was the king of curses, not just some human guy you picked up on a dating website. In the end though, your want of Sukuna’s comfort overlaps your fear.

Your eyelids shut, then reopened in a different place. It was still nighttime at this location, but it was not the physical world that humans are used to- even if it felt like it was. A vast plateau of flowers swayed in the man-made dream you were in. Constellations of multiple forms helped the moon light up the colorful night sky. The cool air caused you to slightly shiver as it brushed through the grass.

“Why did you bring me here, brat? I was sleepin’ on my throne.”

Sukuna’s rugged voice didn’t seem to faze you as you gazed upwards to the moon. Instead, it oddly comforted you. Although most are terrified of his presence alone, it did not budge your already cracking mind in any shape or form. It slightly annoyed Sukuna that he couldn’t scare you, but it felt comfort in knowing that there is at least one person in this world who doesn’t flinch at the sound of his name.

When you didn’t respond to his question, he lifted a brow in confusion. The robed man slowly stepped through the tall grass, his hands staying in his pockets of course. “Hey,” he started as his warm palm gripped your right shoulder, “Answer me.” His tone became serious, but if you squint, you can see the worry in it. The sound of your silence was so damn loud.

Sukuna jerked your shoulder, revealing your heartbroken expression to his red pupils. You leaned your head downwards, feeling embarrassed that he had to see you like this, but who else could you have gone to? “Yu-Yuji told me y-ou,” you hickuped while trying to speek, trying to hold back your tears from him, “He t-told me you… think about me.” Your tears looked like melting diamonds as they fell from under your locks and into the moonlight.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=3qrKjywjo7Q

(For those that want to feel the moment.)

He didn’t know what to feel, nor what to do, until you muttered out, “I’m sorry…”

In that moment, you felt your knees go weak. Your legs gave out, making you fall into the grass. Sukuna quickly grabbed your waist, falling into the grass with you as your cushion. He nuzzled his tattooed face against your puffy cheeks while whispering, “Show me what happened.”

You lifted a hand, cupping his jawline to open communication into his nervous system. Through the line, you showed him the memories you saw and how they hurt you. Sukuna couldn’t have been less fazed, seeing as he is the king of curses and was a mass murderer. But when he saw the expression you made when ripping your hand away from the boy, his spirit felt like a nail went through the center of it.

He sighed, moving loose hairs from your forehead so he could have a full look at your bloodshot eyes. Your e/c orbs told him how drained you were beginning to feel from the mortal world. He cooed, “I wish I wasn’t trapped in this brat. I would destroy the entire world for you, Y/n… You wouldn’t have to deal with any shitty pains like this.”

Sukuna hated everyone, except you. As the saying goes, Heroes would sacrifice you for the world, while villains would sacrifice the world for you. He enjoys telling himself the lie of “Y/n got on my good side”, but Sukuna always knew the truth of why he couldn’t help but care for you so much: You changed him. Out of billions of people just on this planet alone, you were the one to take his heart, mind, and philosophy and then mold it.

Killing was killing to Sukuna, and that’s all there was to it. But he found his goals shifting when he meant you. The insanity that filled your eyes as you’d hold a fresh blade against the neck of your enemies. Human or curse, it didn’t matter to you. Bad was bad, good was good; things were black and white to you as they were to him, but in a different manner. Your bravery was another factor to his care for you. The fact that you went unarmed into Yuji’s mind after he ate the finger just to get a view of Sukuna’s throne without any care for consequences was such a curious thing to him.

You both saw things the same way, yet not. The complexity of your careless philosophy was something to applaud in his eyes. But as you lay in your despair, Sukuna is grimly reminded you are still a human that must endure the torture that is a fleeting life. He wanted you to be a curse like him, enjoying the comfort of eternity in a paradise he could build for just the two of you.

But in the end, you were just a human. And although it sounds like something he is absolutely disgusted by, it’s not. If anything, the fact you are just a human girl catches him off guard even more. A human girl managed to move a god’s heart. A human girl somehow has the power to see people’s pain and was never moved until many years later. Sukuna didn’t know if he should have been happy or terrified to find someone like you.

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of your silent sobs, making him close his eyes in uneasiness. It took him a few minutes, but he soon realized what he could do to relieve your pains. He saw what you saw and felt what you felt, therefore he knew just how helpless and weak you were feeling. To him, you werent weak at all, and he needs you to see that.

“Y/n.”

Your crystalized eyes looked to his blood-colored ones.

“Let me show you what I see.” His voice was soft, yet still had a rugged tone to it.

He pulled you upwards, making you sit up across from him while waving grass continued to surround the two of you. Leaning into you, his forehead leaned on yours as you snaked a hand across his palm, entangling your wrist with his fingers. The hand you were snaking tightly gripped at your forearm before you gripped onto his. Using this technique is a more intimate way of opening a line of communication. Both of your eyes closed to open it completely.

In Sukuna’s memories, you view things how he views them and see things through his mindset. It felt like a wave of ease flow throughout your body as you became comforted in the way he sees you. Most of the moments you saw were when you would smile, fight, or annoy Sukuna in general. Which, by the way, you were the only person who could ever taunt Sukuna and live to see the sun rise.

When your eyes fluttered open, he felt your lashes against his skin. This prompted him to open his eyes as well, and he found a pleasant surprise upon opening them. “What?” You questioned with a hint of sass, feeling your tears dry as your aching mind became soothed. Sukuna smirked, enjoying seeing a temporary tint of red over your normally e/c orbs.

Usually, your eyes don’t change colors after a connection, so it struck him as pleasant while it lasted, “Nothing, you are just a giant ass baby.”

“Oh shut the fuck up. You are the same person who got mad and came out when I ate a croissant that was meant for yuji!”

“I can taste whatever this brat eats, you realize that right? Those butter ones are tasty…”

Your eyes reverted back to their normal state as you bickered with your partner in the moonlight lit field. While back in the physical world, Yuji was snoring away on your bed in a very unflattering position. Although you don’t get to see Sukuna in the physical world, you still find comfort in feeling his soul In the spiritual world.

⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈⥈

My request are open. <3

Edit: on my god thank you guys to much. ❤️❤️ I’m getting so many requests! I’ll start working on them when I get home from work today. They will be posted within 2-3 days because these requests are actually pretty good ones that are really long 😂. But my requests are still open so don’t be afraid to submit something!

[love-toxin]

Hi! I’ve been reading a bunch about your new batch of oc’s (it’s really cool how they’re all super distinct from each other—that’s pretty hard to pull off, but you do it so well!) I was wondering (only if it’s ok!) to ask/req about how your new batch would react to a mouthy/sassy s/o who’s really not interested in a relationship? Thank you for your time and have a wonderful day!

merci!! ;w;

Leo

"I love you too much to let you push me around."

he may be domesticated, but there's no way he'll let your mouth run him away. he hates how much your laughter pisses him off in this moment, how it reminds him that you don't take him seriously enough to even consider his confession. nobody else makes him so crazy, so angry, so needy like the dog he's accepted that he is. you can barely collect yourself, and it's humiliating. it's all he can do to keep himself from baring his teeth and sink them into your neck to take you down and show you your place.

"are you serious, Leo?"

your voice cuts so deep into his chest, deeper than any knife of the most dire sharpness.

"this has to be a prank. you're not my type, puppy, and you know that."

you reach out to ruffle his ears, you think it's all just a joke at his own expense. you won't even look him in the eyes long enough to see how dark and cold they've become. if you don't see that he loves you now...

well, he'll just have to make it clear to everyone, so you'll never doubt him again.

Mel

"Mh? Is that an attitude I sense?"

it is. undoubtedly. but it's of little importance to him--he knows how to play this game, and he'll play it better than you ever will. you mouth off like you've never been shut up before, that much is very clear, and he didn't mind so much at first. thought it was just a little teasing back and forth, which isn't unnatural considering his personality.

but you don't wanna be his, and that's not allowed! haven't you realized by now that you're special? what the two of you have is rare, impossible even--he loves you so much he would give up his own life, and he knows you would do the same if you just admit it to yourself.

but you're so closed off. you serve back every flirtation with sass, get mouthy with him when he tries to be real and honest with you about anything, much less those times that you've been alone together and he tries to tell you how he feels.

this isn't how things are supposed to be. he won't let you shy away from the most passionate love he'll ever let you experience.

Noel

"Please, just listen to me....I love you."

how could you do this to him? just stop, pause, and stare right into his soul....and give him attitude? you're gonna make jokes like he didn't just pour his whole heart out to you?

what else can he do, now? he feels so lost, and for once your smile can't comfort him when you're holding back saying something rude to him. he doesn't want to cry, he wants to be strong, but the tears spill down his cheeks whether he wants them to or not.

"c'mon Noel, you know I don't want to be with you. is it really such a surprise?"

oh, now you've done it. his tears will abide soon, but only because he's realized what you're doing now.

you're just trying to string him along. test him to see if he's worthy enough to deserve being yours. and with that in the back of his head, he can find the strength to smile through the pain in his heart--because nobody has more patience than he does, and you'll understand just how much of your abuse he'll endure for the sake of your love.

Vivi

"So feisty, so cute! That's all I need to hear. You're mine."

it's adorable how you think a little brattiness will get you off the hook. don't you realize she's the master of this little game you've got going on? a few little scathing remarks aren't gonna make her run with her tail between her legs--in fact, quite the opposite. she loves the chase, after all.

"yeah right, Vivi. I don't think so, but thanks anyway."

aww, are you getting a little scared? she can see the twitch of your fingers against your arm, that look in your eye that befits an animal of prey. you couldn't get rid of her if you tried, and even if you did it would just end up pissing her off. so you keep hiding behind that wall of words you always put up to protect yourself, but she's gonna tear it down in seconds and take you for herself if you're not careful.

oh, dear. she didn't just say all that out loud, did she? your eyes are really struck with terror now...but it's such a cute look, isn't it? it really suits you more than all that attitude you like to give.

"just be still, darling." it'll hurt a lot more than your words ever could, otherwise.

Avi

"Settle down, little red. Don't make me bite you."

he's always liked playing with his food, but you bring a whole new meaning to that. you distract him with your little remarks and snarky comments, sometimes so much so that he forgets how perfect you would look with his teeth against your throat. he could choke you down and spit you up, churn you up from the inside out and leave you wanting more, absolutely ruin you so nobody else would even think of picking up such a filthy little pet.

and you still give him the best view of that pretty little mouth of yours. just that one comment alone has you giving him lip like your life depends on it, but all he can see is your energy wearing down bit by bit, your breaths getting slower with every passing word you spit back at him with more sass than you should be allowed. maybe he'll suit you up with a muzzle if you get this mouthy on your way back to his place.

just wear yourself out, he thinks to himself. you can't keep up the chase forever, little red.

Leigh

"I think you need to wash your mouth out."

does it not sound as serious when it comes from him? you laugh like you think he's joking, but he couldn't be more sincere. you like to tease him but this is different, this stings right in his heart and you know exactly how to twist the knife so it'll hurt the most. he can already imagine the expression you'll make when he grabs you by the jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks so you'll open up and he can squirt a bit of soapy foam on to your little pink tongue. just so you know he's really serious...but he can't stop thinking of sticking something else in there too, something that will really show you how serious he is.

he doesn't remember every little comment or ill-spirited jab, but the pang in his chest when you brush off his compliments and flirtations is enough for him to know it happens more often than it needs to. you're just being difficult for attention, and that's okay. you just need more of it, that's all, and who better to give it to you than him?

who better, darling? he'll wait for your answer, as long as it'll take to hear his name on the tip of your tongue.

Thorn

"Are you sure you wanna play this game with me?"

it's less of a question, more of a test. Thorn likes to drop these little riddles into your lap, and stand back to see how you'll react when he does. it's field research.

"you're gonna lose anyways, so what does it matter?"

oh, how cheeky. you always surprise him no matter what he throws at you, and this is no different--but this time he's just sick and tired of the answer. it's always the same no matter which way you phrase it, like unwrapping a candy and finding each one to be your least favourite flavour. there's always a part inside of him that thinks you're gonna change your mind one day, as if by a magical transformation--but no, you refuse, and to be honest it's really starting to irritate him.

you really don't know how good you could have it, do you? you don't understand how much he's been doing out of sight, and for you out of mind, just to ensure your happiness. you're royalty, and you don't even know it even when your prince is staring you right in the eyes, begging for the smallest scrap of your attention.

but you'll be the one begging soon. he knows it for sure.

Ilya

"That's enough out of you."

you may find it funny, but he doesn't think the same about you mocking him. sometimes he dreams about slapping that stupid little smirk off your face, but he's swiftly reminded that that may garner him the opposite reaction that he wants. people don't often take kindly to violence, that's right....but oh, you make it look so tempting. perhaps one day he'll get the chance to feel your throat bend beneath his palms, and listen to those sweet cries sputtering off your lips as you gasp for air....but you have to accept his love first, and you've promised him that it's never going to happen.

don't you realize how it breaks his heart? that your rejection time and time again is enough to make him feel like he may just die without you? why do you always do this to him?

he just has to collect himself. breathe. remember that your constitution is much weaker than his--you can't keep up this fight forever, and once you realize that he has no intention of letting you be loved by another soul on this earth, that's when he'll swoop in and claim you all for himself.

[arcadialedger]

Please note that I am most likely leaving this platform. I am done being abused. But first? We need to have a discussion. A discussion about hate and bullying in fandom.

All online-- I encourage you to read my story below. Reblog and spread awareness. The Dragon Prince fandom especially -- I implore you read my words, every single one of them. The short of it is that I am done. 

This all began with losing and being blocked by a friend because I shared something they disagreed with. I don’t care what you feel about my initial reaction to this (which I’ll explain below) -- I’ve apologized for not handling the situation correctly. But I will not be shamed for speaking my mind and standing up for myself.

Because no human being deserves to go through what I have endured since last summer.

Following the “callout” post made about me by one of, if not the largest blogs in this fandom, I received hundreds of threats, harassment messages, and death threats. Messages and posts telling me to kill myself were also prominent, on a multiple times a week basis for awhile.

Messages from people who were well aware I have struggled with being suicidal. Due to one of their favorite Dragon Prince blogs speaking out against me, they thought it was okay to suicide bait me.

And it worked. I already struggle with hating myself, am already insecure, and being flooded with these comments which, while I made mistakes, did nothing to deserve, drove me to try and take my own life after years of progress in my mental health.  

Mind you, this is like a 200 follower to 4k follower power dynamic. Which yes, plays a role-- because when you have a large following and influence, you have power. Yet the person behind this had the gall to claim Tumblr clout isn’t real.

People blocking and condemning others instantly at your word? Is power. If people read your words and are influenced, or have their minds changed, or buy or don’t buy something, etc.-- you are an influencer. You have power. And when you’re one of the largest blogs in a fandom, you have a LOT of power.

So take responsibility. 

I was hurt because I lost a friend who I had chatted with for months, did a podcast with, and was generally not only one of my favorite blogs but the center of my experience in the Dragon Prince. I may not have been perfect in my words, but when I was asked why I was quiet/ inactive, I explained how I was hurting, anonymously. I was understandably in pain and upset. I had been cut off for just having a different opinion on a matter, for thinking differently. Even though it was within their rights to block and do so, it felt wrong and it weighed on me.

Is that such a crime?

The callout post and previously described abuse followed, lasting for months until later in the year (this began in June, or around then). It also included screenshots of tweets, when this user does not have Tumblr, and they have stated to have screenshots stored up on their computer of my various posts and interactions. This is creepy behavior, and freaked me out. I felt like I was being stalked, “evidence” being filed away for the very purpose of being used against me. 

I eventually talked things out with the blog per recommendation of my therapist, and thought all would be fine. For a little while, it was. I largely stayed off of Tumblr to heal. Once in awhile I would have a rough, tearful night because something reminded me of what I lost, but I would make it through. Overall, I was making progress.

Then? My Twitter got hacked by one of the people sending me hate. For what had turned out to be much. And after they tweeted some purposefully incriminating and bigoted things to make me look bad, I came home from a weekend in the mountains to a shitstorm.

Twitter has a love hate relationship for me and I barely opened the app unless actively chatting with a friend. So when I saw 700+ notifications, I was surprised. It had never happened before.

I began to scroll through, and when I saw what had happened, I ran to the bathroom and threw up.

I had lost over half of my followers and a solid 60% of previous Twitter mutuals had blocked me. But worst of all, I had hundreds of hate tweets directed at me replying to the hackers tweets. Messages had been sent in DMs and accounts blocked, followed, and unfollowed as well.

If you have never felt that loss of agency-- that sickening feeling of words you never said next to your profile-- be glad. Because it is traumatic. I value my words. I value what I have to say. And having that taken from me was worse than anything I had been through here on Tumblr, outside of the suicide baiting (the most direct attack to me and my emotions/ insecurities throughout this entire ordeal). Further, this hacker had clearly stalked my tweets based on some of their comments. 

Hundreds of tweets bashing me, calling me aphobic slurs (knowing I am asexual mind you, as it was in my bio), making fun of my appearance and targeting all of the insecurities which lead to my first suicide attempt in high school, and taking/ editing images of my face and mocking them. This all culminated in a doxing threat-- a doxing threat which made me feel unsafe on a campus I had already been sexually assaulted on. I was once again, after starting the healing process, thrusted back into the darkest time of my life and spiraled into anxiety and depression. I cried a lot overwhelmed by it all, had difficulty sleeping, and felt sick. I started fall semester and couldn’t concentrate on school. I was a mess.

I had once again been condemned, this time for something I had no part in. I tried to example what happened but nobody listened. I had been hung without trial. People were understandably confused, and my entire reputation on the platform, and my page, became a mess of lies, misunderstandings, and more.

If you don’t know the feeling of already hating yourself and being insecure, and having these beliefs reinforced and spread by hundreds publicly across the internet? Of already feeling lonely and unwanted and having the one space you thought you had taken from you? Consider yourself lucky. 

I had a lot of voice actors and creators following me-- accounts I interacted and greatly cherished my mutual with. A handful of them unfollowed, understandably. This online hate mob was sending messages to people demanding they unfollow me, including some of these creators. They had no idea what to make of this mess or what was real and true and just didn’t want to deal with it. Most of the others just stopped interacting with me. @aaronwaltke (tagging so those who don’t follow already click and do so, because he is absolutely fantastic-- he’s a writer for ToA)  who had followed me on the platform, graciously wished me peace with the entire situation after I checked to make sure he had not been subjected to messages or hate, either from my hacker or other accounts. His was the greatest compassion I got on Twitter, before I ultimately ended up just having to delete.

I lost podcast deals because of this with Adrian Petriw, Aaron Ehasz, and Justin Richmond. I do not blame them one bit and would have done the same in the confusion not wanting to get dragged into anything. 

Only to have one of the friends I lost who helped start this interview these very people on their own podcasts. A slap in the face. A zine I had bought to support them came to my door, with the front page proclaiming to “spread a narrative of love.”

I was never granted that chance. That compassion. I had the vultures sent after me with no mercy. And anyone who has been through online abuse and systemic harassment knows just how much it feels like they’re slowly but surely picking at your flesh ( a metaphor I used in one of my old, since deleted posts discussing the situation, and still find accurate), wearing you down until you have no strength left.

Make no mistake, my story is not a one off situation. Many share the same tale of abuse and being driven off of platforms that once gave them great joy. These attacks are coordinated, systemic, and common hobby for these people-- who largely claim to be loving and accepting of all. They are a cyberbullying phenomenon which has risen with the presence of fandom on the internet. And I want to make clear, with current discussions of “cancel culture”, I mean nothing political in that statement. Some might call my experience cancel culture, but I don’t.

It’s just bullying. It’s just hate. These people get off on ruining people’s lives.

And my life was greatly set back and ruined. I had a stain on my past in fandom I could never be rid of. I had to shut down my podcast, took time off of all social media, and most of what I had built, most of my growth, was taken from me while those who incited and/ or spread hate thrived and continued to grow and find success. That was the greatest sting of all. 

I asked the one previous friend who hadn’t blocked me, but had just stopped interacting with me (which I understood and respected, and also greatly respected her perspective, help, and support though this situation in which she largely unfortunately ended up in the middle) for help after explaining everything, and got nothing. They didn’t seem to care, and just blocked me on all platforms. Once in awhile, I would find I was cut off from yet another old friend, or a blog that I had never interacted with before but clicked into, interested. It hurt being cut off, unable to fully interact with the fandom, but I could move on.

That pain would never go away, but I made clear I did not blame them for the actions of those who abused, harassed, and threatened me. I also made it clear they did not owe me anything, including unblocking. 

I just wanted to move on peacefully, but those with the power to enable that did not wish to help. I slowly, when I felt ready, began to be more active on Tumblr again, and once again the hate started up. 

Sometimes when I was hurting, I expressed my pain and loss to my followers just to reach out, because I was sad. I had no idea how to rebuild from all that had happened. This got me more hate an accusations of emotional manipulation and gaslighting. I had no idea what to do, and got trapped in a cycle of needing to talk about it, and getting hate and backlash, but not knowing where else I could turn. 

My doxer came back into my asks, ultimately making me switch schools, and refueled the drama. Speaking up about this got me more backlash-- mostly accounts reblogging (one with tags saying “fuck you”, despite not knowing the full story, and commenting and then blocking me so I could do nothing to respond or get it off of my page. I deleted all posts of the matter, as requested by these people (who validly pointed out they were in the main fandom tags, which I hadn’t thought of and understood), and hoped to move on.

But it hasn’t stopped. I have been beaten down and emotionally bruised for months. I have had my life and safety threatened, my education and by extension life path altered, and lost work (podcast) opportunities due to this-- alongside the irreversible emotional damage from trauma and abuse. My mental health issues and insecurities-- which I have been very open about to destigmatize the subjects and encourage conversation-- were actively targeted to inflict the most pain possible. 

And I can’t even talk about it, without enduring more hate and accusations of “playing the victim”.

Death threats, suicide baiting, doxing, months of bullying and harassment to the most vile degree, which a lot of these people don’t know about because they don’t even bother to read my words. Yet I’m playing the victim. 

And the accusations of bigotry and being hateful hurt, because it couldn’t be further from what is in my heart. I believing in love and acceptance of all. I don’t know how many are religious here, but I found God after my first suicide attempt and that is what his word has taught me. 

I’ve been through too much in life to tolerate this, for lack of a more eloquent term, bullshit. I know what abuse and victim blaming looks like when I see it. And in my 20 years of life, I have gone through too much: constant ridicule and bullying, suicide attempts, sexual assault, major spinal surgery, to just be stomped over and not stand up for my right to basis human decency. 

I refuse to put up with this, so unless I get an apology and some semblance of justice for everything I have been through, I am leaving. I will not participate in a space run by hate and toxicity. I will never claim to be perfect, and I have apologized for my mistakes and wrongdoings. Now, hold those who did this accountable. If you’re reading this you know very well who it was, and I am not naming them for those who don’t. Because at the end of the day I still send nothing but love and wish no ill will towards them.

But I’ll be damned if I don’t expect accountability of one of the greatest influencers in the fandom for their complacency in abuse, threats, suicide baiting, and and absolute ruining of my life and online experience. They enabled this and were well aware they had the power to stop it-- to ask their followers to stop-- and did nothing. They didn’t care-- about a human’s life and well being. 

@dragonprinceofficial, are you aware that this is what many of the fans of your show, which preaches love and an end to the cycle of vengeance, do to others? That this is happening in your space? If you stand at all by the values you preach, condemn it. @staffTumblr/ @supportTumblr-- shame on you for allowing this abuse to happen and ignoring my reports. Shame on you for permitting these people to operate in your platform and for being okay with hosting hate. People have been driven to suicide on your website-- I am one of the lucky ones. 

If you care at all about humanity and stand against this behavior, reblog and spread awareness. Share my story so I may not happen to anyone else. Tag @dragonprinceofficial until they notice and speak out. 

This is my story, and so many others. Make sure it doesn’t happen ever again. No human being deserves to be treated how I was. Everyone deserves compassion, decency, and respect. And everyone deserves a place in fandom. Do better. If you want to reach out to me DMs are open, as well as my email, which is attached to my account. Until this change happens and I am given the support/ help needed to safely function on this platform, this blog will not be active outside of that. 

Thank you all of the many accounts who have supported me, and I am working on getting back to all who have reached out! Your love means the world. You know who you are, and I don’t want to tag in case people come after you for showing me kindness. I am sorry if this is goodbye, to all that have enjoyed my blog. I enjoyed it for a long time  too. I loved sharing my passion for stories, culture, having a space where I could analyze and discuss my favorite things.  I loved getting to share what I had to offer with the world, having fun and posting jokes with my unique sense of humor. I loved interacting with intelligent people/ fellow fans and discussing my favorite stories, offering each other new insights and growing together. I loved the many, many kind and wonderful people who reached out to me in a variety of ways and provided support and friendship.

In the end, it just isn’t worth all of this pain and trauma, and I know when to put my foot down. I don’t want pity, I don’t want apologizes, and I’m not a martyr. I just want my story to make a difference-- to spur positive change in fandom culture/ spaces.  I will be tagging all fandoms in which I have seen this kind of abuse present as well, to reach as many as possible. 

Be safe, and be kind.

- The Arcadia Ledger/ Ryn/ Katie, signing off.