#like as someone who did have a very similar experience. losing a parent between coming out and transitioning and

[kirkwallguy]

okay final post. i think part of the reason why i hated taash's story so much is i DID find it relatable, they remind me a lot of myself at sixteen: coming out as a teenager and being extra sensitive to anyone who doesn't immediately understand you and lashing out at your well-meaning but uninformed parents is pretty common. shathann dying before this is resolved and taash realising they were needlessly cruel out of fear of rejection COULD have been heartbreaking and an actual good way of pushing the regret theme, but this isn't what happens lol. taash acting the way they do could be fine, i like it when a character has flaws and an exploration of how messy coming out as trans is would be an interesting subversion of how fucking boring coming out stories become when you reach a certain age, but the fact that rook can't really tell them to cut it out and the fact that they have literally no reflection or regret beyond "i wish my mum and i had had more time together but at least she didn't misgender me as she died 👍🏻" makes it feel as though the writers actually think them treating their mum the way they do is somehow satisfying or good, because the game's narratives feel like they were spat out of an ai trained solely on reddit aita posts. and that isn't even getting into the multicultural angle which needs a whole essay by itself and i've already annoyed myself too much for one morning.

[wackybuddiemewbs]

In the light of the most delicious promo shenanigan we have received... and the wonderful takes I have since read around here...

I will just say this about Buck's fit of jealousy and seeming outburst in a basketball court that will lead to Eddie losing a shoe like Cinderella...

I would so love to see this become so much more than Buck not being able to stomach Eddie hanging out with another guy.

Sure, as a Buddie truther, I wanna see that drama first and foremost. But I'm gonna stay clear of that for most this post. Because I don't want to focus on the potential outcomes between those two, but just take a moment to look at Buck as an individual character and where he currently stands in his life.

I feel like we've got a lot of "greatest hits" and scenes similar to what we've seen in previous seasons that remind the audience of how things have started, and how they have changed.

Zoom in on Buck...

Here is Evan Buckley, who came back from the dead... and he's in many ways where he was very early on, right? He is still looking for his place in the world, seemingly not that much wiser.

And now he's surrounded by people who are seemingly moving forward faster than him (which is not to say that he's jealous of their achievements or that he genuinely begrudges them for their happiness, don't get me wrong).

But I would love to see it being explored that Buck feels like he is yet again stuck in one place, whereas everyone else moves forward (and away from him). So it's less an issue of jealousy but of feeling of inadequacy. Cue for abandonment issues rearing their ugly heads yet again...

I mean, let's look at where his friends and family are at right now:

Love life: Chimney and Maddie have a child, have made it through some very rough patches, and are now getting married. Bobby and Athena nearly died, but yet again, came out of this stronger together than ever. Eddie is in a (dead) relationship, but a relationship no less.

Career: Hen is coming more and more into her own as a captain. Eddie seems to be exploring other job opportunities as well. And from the looks of it, he will be "chosen" by someone else, seeing his potential in another field of their job.

"Sense of adventure" (also Buck's coping mechanism, way to feel "alive"): Eddie may have an opportunity to get that, if he joins up with Tommy et al.

Parenthood: Chimney and Maddie are a happy family with Jee. Eddie and Christopher hit some bumps in the road. And while Eddie did turn to him for help, Buck was the catalyst for Christopher's abandonment issues to come to light in the face of his player attitude. But it's possible he felt less like he was being part of the solution than he actually was. And of course, there is still Connor and Kameron and the baby, which may be an issue yet to come back at him full-swing.

Contrast that with where Buck is standing right now: Even though he is supposed to finally be back in the world of the living, as Eddie said...

Love life: He is in no romantic, committed relationship. Even though we all know he wants to be.

Career: He is not advancing in his career the way others are. He is not considered as interim captain. He doesn't seem to have any other job opportunities outside being part of the team he loves. He is not seen for potentials in other fields.

"Sense of adventure" (also Buck's coping mechanism, way to feel "alive"): He is not "picked out" as a potential candidate to go on adventurous side quests, so to speak. He doesn't get something to feed his compulsion, which would be those daredevil moves or new shiny helicopters that Eddie may get to operate, if he chooses to go ahead with this.

Parenthood: He does not perceive himself as a parental figure for Christopher, as far as I'm concerned (even though he is...). The child he helped two people have is not his to have, donor, not dad. Even though I am convinced that Evan "I love kids" Buckley definitely wants to be a father, and that the experiences of last season cemented that (see how his face lit up in his coma dream at the mention of "his" kids, only for them to turn out the kids he taught at school).

Which is not to say that he hasn't progressed (double negations!). I think he has an understanding that he is a part of this family, more than ever. But. Buck struggled last season with finding peace and finding ways to move forward. His entire arc has been focused on "software updates" and evolving into someone "worthy", someone who'd be loved anyway, someone who could have true peace (with himself).

And I still think this hasn't been fully resolved. He is not at peace with his life, even though he may look the part (or tries to look the part). Last season, it became apparent that he wasn't himself ever since the lighting strike. And, as Eddie pointed out to him, how could he be? This fundamentally changed him. And yet... nothing much's changed in his life. Or rather, it feels like someone hit the reset button for him, every time he thought he was moving forward.

Sure, he made some important steps in that direction. He tries to embrace life again, after he fell into the arms of a death doula who seemingly only wanted to talk about death, death, death. Buck wants to move on from that. He is not (or no longer as) fascinated by it. But. He isn't there. Not yet anyway.

But what he can see is that life is moving on at a fast pace, and to me, it almost feels like he is in a rush to catch up again. Only to see that people are finding ways to move on, rightfully use opportunities to grow and advance in their lives. Whereas he feels like all he can do is be good old Buck again, someone you don't want your kid to be a role model for.

"So (they don't) end up like me."

I mean, for me, the imagery of the couch still comes to mind whenever I think about this. This is still not the couch he picked out by himself. He seems to be in this strange sort of limbo where he knows that he has a family to rely on, wants what's best for him, but deep-down still fears that he won't get there any time soon. That he is not enough, still. That he needs another software update to kick-start his life back into action and movement and improvement, but it's just not happening, no matter what he does.

Which is a long-ass, rambled way of saying... Buck may finally reach the point where he has to question the way he's coped in the past with his abandonment issues, his fear of rejection, and the war he's been raging against himself for so long. In an effort to be "someone", as he once promised his sister. And how that may finally give him that much-needed kick-start. And I do hope the narrative makes more out of this than "good old Buck being jealous of other people teehee".

How that may be resolved? I don't know. I obviously hope for the Buddie in it all, and I see all the potential (while ogling at the image of Eddie and Buck in the kitchen with those misty eyes... and hands in places they haven't been in seasons!). Because Buck's relationship with Eddie is what ticks almost all of those boxes, honestly (except for the career issue, I guess).

But yeah, can't wait to see that guy all bewildered and bothered (and potentially getting someone else very much hot and bothered, *ahem*).

That being said... I shall now crawl back under a rock and see how it all plays out. Cheers!

[rahuratna]

Hi! I woke up this morning unmotivated and wanting to stay in bed for longer (because I finished JJK season 2). But then you replied, and I literally jumped out of bed this morning with renewed energy to make breakfast and go for a run 🫶

The part where you mentioned about a sense of belonging was so good. Like, for me, it brings up the question of to what extent did his cult make Geto feel like he belonged? Was he able to find some sort of twisted fulfillment out of it? This is where sometimes I wish it wouldn’t be up to the audience’s interpretation. Like a concrete answer would be very nice.

I think it would be very interesting to compare the dynamics between Gojo and Geto versus Geto and his followers. Geto was like a moral compass to Gojo since Geto was the one who convinced him why he shouldn’t kill the cult members applauding for Riko’s death. But afterwards, it seemed like Gojo didn’t need Geto by his side more. Not just in terms of having someone strong to fight alongside with, but also for moral guidance. While Geto was losing himself, Gojo continued to fight with a clear purpose: to get stronger so he can be able to redeem himself with what happened to Riko and allow others to have the opportunity to truly live. To elaborate off of your idea of Geto wanting a sense of belonging, perhaps a fraction of it was also a desire to be needed. Gojo no longer relied on Geto for moral direction, or that’s what it seemed liked on the outside as they grew apart. Contrast this with Geto’s followers relying on him for protection and purpose, and it has me thinking about the subtle nuances between belonging and being needed (excluding the monkeys). Of course it’s also important to consider the difference of relationship between best friend and best friend versus cult leader/parent figure/guardian and follower. It makes me wonder…

Was Geto able to find a similar meaning with his um… cult… like with his former friendship? Even though Gojo and Geto’s differences grew wider, was possible to still salvage their rifted friendship? And if so, would Geto have been happier or worse off staying… could he still find connection with Gojo and the others if he had opened up, or would he still have lost his original sense of purpose no matter what…

So many what-ifs. I haven’t read the manga (yet) but I’m planning too. Though I’m not sure if I can emotionally handle it LOL. Tears will be shed 😭 I think there are so many characters to explore more in depth, like Megumi and Maki. Thank you again for these lovely conversations! 💞💞💞

Hello! Finally got a chance to sit down and answer this little gem of an ask. Your thoughts on how Gojo didn't need Geto as his moral compass after a while really hit me somewhere. That rings so true, when I really stop to think about it.

Their relationship was one of mutual respect, but also a type of co-dependency, without either of them really knowing it. Growing out of the shackles of that need for support, of a friendship that provided an anchor in normality, must have been such a common, but heartbreaking thing to happen in the world they inhabited. We see a similar theme with Nanami and Haibara, except in that case, Haibara was removed from the equation with a shocking permanence and Nanami never recovered fully from the effects.

When I think about the experience of growing up and into the world you inhabit, of losing the innocence you only recognize when you're older, I find that there are a few other prominent moments in my memory that define this. One of them is coming to an understanding, for the first time, that there are certain things that you will always have to face alone, and you will have to learn how to face them with dignity, if not bravery.

My experience certainly isn't universal, but in some way, it helps me understand Gojo's process of growing into and integrating into the world of sorcerers, becoming the 'strongest', willingly donning the mantle of a weapon of mass destruction to be fired in directions he assumed partial control of. It was sad, but small wonder to me that he missed his friend's growing isolation and depression when he was so focused on this form of self-development.

I personally don't think Geto ever found the same level of trust or companionship. He certainly had the complete trust and faith of the members of his group, and seemed to cultivate that air of found family, but he seemed to have an air of loneliness about him, a veil between himself and the world, thinly disguised as scorn and hateful prejudice.

While I'm still reading the manga myself and learning more about his character, I feel like Geto's path was a tragic, but inevitable one. Even if his friends did identify his growing depression and attempted to help him, they would not have had the answers to the issues that plagued him, in a way that was totally unique to his personality and view of the world. I think the rift between him and Gojo would have shown itself sooner or later, even if he didn't become a curse user. They would still have been exceptionally important to one another, but probably inhabiting different spheres and ideologies within the same world.

At the end, I think Geto was alone, just like Gojo, and that Gojo knew this when he found him. Even though it sounds pretty bleak, I don't think Geto found that place even within his cult, but I do think they soothed his torment in some small way. They may not have allowed him to realise his dreams (unattainable as he probably knew they were) but he did face his death, with readiness, a form of dignity. And he probably did it for Gojo, who was the one he wanted to see most at the end.

[emepe]

Hey hun!! It’s been a while! I hope life has been treating you kindly and with love ❤️

I’ve been thinking about TV lately and have been re-reading because you know how much I love that fic! So while coming across the latest chapter…a question stemmed that I wanted to ask.

Can you please shed more light on how was Eren’s relationship with Grisha? There were of course mentions here and there during the story about Grisha’s passing but in chapter 12 it was mentioned that Eren took it pretty hard. So I was just wondering if you can let on about how close was Eren to his father and is his personality influenced by him seeing as he loves the reader very much…was that the kind of love he saw between his parents?

Also I miss TV terribly and will always be here waiting eagerly for whenever it is continued further. Lots of love 💕 stay safe!!

omg hi Lucy!!

You, Rose, and uwu13 are always on my mind btw! I'll randomly think of TV and of course, my thoughts drift to you guys and I'll say a little wish for you three to be healthy and happy. I'm doing okay!! Not to reveal too much on what's going on but I am doing so well these days, I'm truly proud of it <3

I did not expect a Grisha question omg but let's see...

Yes, to everything. Eren grew up very well-loved (and privileged ahem, which definitely implies less struggles or grievances at home) by his parents. We've seen time and again that he's known to be a gentleman: kind, caring, a bit shy but very honest — all values he was raised with.

Grisha is probably what Reader's father could've been had the circumstances been as favorable as the Jaeger’s. With that, I mean he was very considerate of other's feelings, was a major source of comfort for his child, and protected Eren without being overbearing. Both he and Carla made sure Eren not only had a quality formal education but that he enjoyed learning and had a balance with other aspects of his life. Carla for sure took it upon herself to nurture his appreciation for art and getting messy and being spontaneous, to balance out any of Grisha's more stern agendas. I'd say Carla was the one who taught Eren more about stuff involving emotional intelligence and ran things the same way with Grisha (allowed him to cool off before an argument got out of hand, would open spaces for honest conversations, etc.). Also, if anything, I'd say Eren is more influenced by Carla in terms of personality but still admires his father for the following.

I think Grisha — described by Eren as more of a "science man" at one point — who married a relatively whimsical character like Carla is in TV, would've helped him become more relaxed and understand that any child he raises should experience as much as they can about life and enjoy it without losing sight of what's practical (aka school, work). He adored Carla and even opened up to religion for her (mentioned in chapter 5). He took care of her and Eren, made sure they were always safe and healthy, and knew to let loose and enjoy his family, and that loving image is likely what inspired Eren to only pursue relationships he can visualize a similar future with — someone who balances him out, someone he can protect and care for but also discover the carefree side of life. When Grisha passed, of course he took it really hard because the man was truly an inspiration to him because he not only was a successful man, but he was so good to him and Carla.

Also, it's not so much that Grisha was a well-rounded father, but rather he did his best with the help of his wife and was open to any philosophies that could be of benefit to him and his family (and the latter is probably what made him such a good dad — in a more 'science man' version of his parenting style, he tried out the methods available, tested them out, stored the data on what worked to protect his family's happiness, and discarded the rest).

So yes, the way he loves Reader is definitely a reflection of the love he saw at home. You can see when Reader ever breaks down in front of him, he does his best to understand what's going on and come up with solutions that can reassure her and make her feel safe rather than disregarding her feelings as something she should work through on her own, which is a combination of Grisha's method/open mind, and Carla's warmth and sensibility.

... and now I'm emotional lol.

There's nothing particularly special about the love Eren has for Grisha and Grisha's impact on Eren, but rather it's what one can hope the standard father and son affection should be. Grisha's presence was welcome and appreciated and that's really all there is to it.

... and yeah haha.

Sorry if I rambled a bit too much. I enjoyed your questions a lot!! I didn't really think about it in depth back when I was writing Grisha's mentions in the story. I only had the gist of what the father/son dynamic would've been like and knew I wanted him to have been a good dad. Otherwise, how would we have ever gotten such a perfect gentleman, understanding, protective boyfriend? 😞🫶🏻

Thank you for being here, Lucy!! ily and hope you're doing well <3

Feel free (and anyone else of course) to send in any other questions because I will never not love talking about my own stories lol

[ivyial]

I'm shocked that Leshley/Eagleone is classified as a "rare pair".... like... the potential these two have. It's one of the rare (ironically) ships where both parties could end up genuinely happy together, despite horrific circumstances lmao. Why in the world isn't it more popular? Simple answer? People have no taste and can't read between lines. 😤

(omg my first ask thank u ily)

no cause exactly. i tweeted something similar a few months ago about how people go wild for disney fairytales but not this. especially since at the time, the new little mermaid movie had just come out and everyone on twitter was losing their minds over it. people love a good fairytale, so it's surprising that leshley/eagleone gets this much hate. like the reply to the tweet said, it's probably a matter of other shippers not wanting to change their mind because unfortunately, people are very intense when it comes to ships!! you either have to be all in or fuck off, which to me sounds like a ridiculous way to approach shipping in media. so that's the first reason why, and arguably a dumb one too, because when it comes to franchises that are not going to give you romance outright, like RE, there is no need to invest this much energy into a ship. it's not like there is a ship war to be won, at least not in my eyes.

the second reason is the whole age gap thing. since the loudest part of fandoms is populated by literal teenagers who apply high school logic to both fiction and real life adult situations and a teenager thinks it is wrong for a 14 year old to date an 18 year old (and they'd be right, because age gaps matter greatly as a teenager, due to puberty and the various experiences you either get or do not get at a certain age), they automatically think that any and all age gaps between adults are wrong. UNLESS it's people who are their parents' age. i've seen it happen a lot on tiktok, where kids would be like "you can't ship them, they have a 7 year age gap" and someone would inevitably reply "but my mom is 35 and my dad is 42". so they'd be forced to acknowledge that "yeah, but it's different in your case, they're old enough" (???) because you're not gonna tell a stranger online that their parents' relationship is "morally wrong" (though, honestly, i wouldn't be surprised if someone did).

teenagers, as well as teenagers fresh out of high school, are convinced that your early twenties are the direct follow-up to your high school experience. that is straight-up not true. as soon as you get to 20, everyone you know will be in radically different places in life. i mean, i have friends who are already engaged, some who have never been in a relationship, and i know someone from high school who had a child at 19 and got married right after. to them, maturity can only be gained much later in life, like in your thirties, because their parents are around that age, or because that's when people start to have kids these days. maybe i'm wrong. but that's how i see it.

and that's when they start to resort to the sibling coded thing lmao. and if you look at tweets or tiktoks about leon and ashley's dynamic (not framed in a romantic manner), everyone will go out of their way in the comments to make sure that it's known that THEY VIEW THEM AS SIBLINGS GUYS. like the average reply will be "THEY'RE SO SIBLINGS" or "MY FAVOURITE SIBLINGS" which makes me throw up in my mouth a little. like okay, we get it. you don't ship them and you think no one should either. no need to be flamboyant about it.

and then as you mentioned, there's also the fact that people can't read between the lines, or maybe they don't want to. when i played RE4R, i didn't pay attention to leon and ashley that much because i was too focused on the game itself hahahaha. my primary takeaway was that they had a great, supportive dynamic, and then i'd noticed a few moments like ashley flirting with leon about the armour, or leon's fingers trailing down ashley's arm for no reason on the bed in chapter 13, or leon's weirdly boyish and bashful tone when he says "can you make it down? i can catch you" (seriously. he tried to make this into an incentive and i'm not sure who it benefitted more, him or ashley). after seeing some eagleone content and analyses, i was like hang on a sec... there is something there. i will admit that i personally suck at flirting, or at recognising it for that matter, unless i try really hard. i mean, a guy once tried to get my number with a magic trick, and my only response was that he didn't logically need my number to tell me what my card was, and he could tell me right there and the trick would be the same. like no shit girl. you're fucking dense LMAO. but that's just a me thing. when you really start paying attention, leon and ashley's flirting gets pretty obvious.

i've also seen people argue that ashley's crush on leon is "innocent" and she just views him as a hero so that's why she thinks she likes him. you know, because a 20-year-old woman can't make decisions for herself. she doesn't know any better. obvious sarcasm. in wanting to protect (young) women, people are starting to shelter them to the point where we're going backwards towards (male) guardianship.

so so sorry this ended up being longer than i thought help

[hubbydaddies]

Misaki’s Intentions

I think it’s really important to establish Misaki wanting Miri back isn’t out of concern for Miri’s safety because of Kazuki and Rei’s job; it’s for herself to feel unconditional love of her child before she dies.

Sigh long post ahead…

Misaki is once again being selfish. It took her losing everything to try and get back what she had before. This means Miri was her last priority in life, and she wants the crumbs of love she had from her child. Her intentions aren’t for Miri’s best interests.

Kazuki’s initial reaction was the correct one. I do believe in second chances, but this is Misaki’s third. The second chance she had was when Kazuki and Rei went to return Miri, and she told Kazuki “that kid” and her meaning nothing to each other anymore. She then followed it up with her fantasies of physically abusing her daughter for the audacity of laughing. And yes, I know actions are different from thoughts, but her actions include sending her daughter off alone to find her human trafficker father- which she did know about given the letter asking for money- that had no problem putting a gun to her head.

Furthermore, Misaki looked surprised when they showed up to pick up Miri which meant she was planning on picking Miri up and leaving without facing the people who had taken care of her for the better part of a year. She doesn’t care about Miri’s happiness until she’s forced to face the reality that Kazuki and Rei have given her a better life than she ever did. It’s only then that she asks Miri what she wants. Miri says she loves both her mama and papa’s meaning she wants both sides of her family to be in her life (something she conveniently leaves out when she talks to Rei and Kazuki after Miri is asleep.)

I’ve known people like Misaki before who said they’ve changed after something traumatic in their life happened. It usually doesn’t last. When faced with her actions by Kazuki and Rei, she goes for the only thing she has against them, their jobs. It’s her only trump card (for now). (Where was that energy when you send Miri to find her criminal father?)

The irony and dichotomy of Misaki and Kazuki and Rei is that it took Misaki to lose everything to realize what she had. Meanwhile, it took Kazuki and Rei to gain Miri to understand what they needed. Now that Kazuki and Rei have lost Miri- which they did to protect her- it will force them to choose between their dangerous lifestyle and their family.

One can argue they made that choice when they gave her to Misaki at the end of the episode. I disagree because their choice isn’t a real one. It’s basically choosing between life and death. Rei got that message on his birthday. In reality, it was a choice between being selfish or protecting their daughter.

There is also a big difference between changing your life from a dangerous job to unexpected parenthood and bad parenting to “trust me, bro. I’m clean. Could you give me the kid? I pinky promise I won’t put my child’s life in danger… again. I know I put her in an unsafe environment for the first four years of her life… And then sent her away as a bargaining chip for money from her dangerous father… but it’s different now. I’m dying. Let me have the happiness of unconditional love for a while before I traumatize my daughter again by dying.” Great, love that for you.

Am I being harsh on Misaki? Maybe. Why? She doesn’t really have Miri’s best interest at heart. She’s not trying to get Miri back because her papas are assassins; that’s just the only thing she has against them. She wants Miri back for herself and herself alone.

Look, I’m sorry she has cancer. But that doesn’t give someone the automatic right to take back a child- a human being to be responsible for- she so easily abandoned to strangers.

My disdain for Misaki comes from the perspective of what this will do to Miri in the long run. I have mentioned in a previous post how I have experience with a child who came from a very similar situation as Miri (their my godchild).

Now, I do believe Miri should have the chance to say goodbye to her mother before she dies. She deserves closure. But how she achieves that closure shouldn’t be given by taking away the security she had with Kazuki and Rei completely. I understand being away from them for now is ultimately safest. But it shouldn’t be permanent (and I don’t think it will be).

In conclusion, Misaki is still doing things for selfish reasons. Kazuki was absolutely correct in calling her out during their talk. He saw through that immediately after she told him her situation. But Kazuki and Rei, from beginning to end, have done everything for Miri for selfless reasons.

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi, is Arawn is like Asmadeus or is he a nice parent?

İ hope it is the later because i know him for two seconds but i love him already 💙

hey! Arawn is super possessive of his kids like Asmodeus in this fic but he's not as shitty. he doesn't want them leaving his realm and he's more protective over Alec because Alec doesn't have any actual blood ties to him, just a magical one and Arawn is pretty pissed because Magnus did some stuff and got warlocks involved and now he has a stronger claim to Alec.

Arawn isn't a bad parent but he's not a good person and he'll do fucked up things to keep his kids safe, and the safest place for them is obviously with him.

in the 'ritual & souls' verse, the alec Magnus summons is actually the bio son of Arawn (and a trueblood) and he's quite literally running from his dad (not for himself though) because in that verse, Magnus challenged Arawn for Alec (he didn't have the same way to manipulate things as he did in this verse) and it cost him heavily. which is how alec gets summoned to another universe and uh, arawn is not happy about finding his son gone in that verse. AT. ALL.

in this verse things are more compliated.

alec isn't a warlock but he has magic. he's not a seelie but he has angel blood. his mundane blood no longer exists, instead wild magic clings to him and that's where his powers come from. because he was experimented on as a child, crossed time and space into the unseelie realm and then was raised there. he's immortal and powerful. he doesn't have runes thugh he does have unseelie tattoos.

magnus interfered and got the labyrinth involved because 'he has magic, he needs to be trained by warlocks' and there was a very big argument that involved the Council of Elder's petitioning Arawn to have Alec come study with them.

he didn't want to but 2. the unseelies have no idea how to help alec who shouldn't have magic, use it because it's so different from their own innate magic and as much as they all hate it, his magic is closer to warlock magic

yeah it doesn't go as planned and the council basically go 'oh right your son... so he's bonded to one of our elders now (aka magnus) and we're not giving him back' but in a less 'starting a war with a sentence way' and things get very complicated before they get better.

alec is very much unaware of most of this, he's deep in the labrinths hidden realms learning about his magick and honeymooning with magnus who still hasn't told him they're bonded yet and is working his way up to easing alexander into it.

magnus knew he had one chance to make sure Arawn couldn't keep alexander from him (he recognizes the similarities between arawn and his own father) and he wasn't going to risk losing alec. the council are just all thrilled to have someone who can wield wild magic and help them with research without severe repercussions since wild magic (not dominion magic) doesn't work well with personal magic.

except alec's personal magick isn't his own magick but the magick steeped in him etc

i hope this makes sense?

lumine

[capcollector]

9, 12, 13, 23, 25, 31, 44, 60

For Bunny or Leon or both! I loves them equally 💕

FALLOUT OC ASKS

thank you! i’m always ready to talk about either of them. under a cut again bc this got long…….i love them dearly

9. Where did they grow up? Where do they currently reside?

bunny was born and raised near palm springs, california. she ended up moving to los angeles when her modeling career began taking off, and eventually she also got an apartment in new york as well, often traveling between the two cities for work. she was particularly fond of her new york penthouse. however after she and nate got married he was very adamant about them living in suburban massachusetts even tho she offered to buy them a nice place in boston as a compromise, so obviously she ended up in sanctuary hills.

leon’s from the capital wasteland, raised in vault 101. he stays in the capital wasteland for a lil longer after the events of fo3 but he eventually leaves to go wander the wasteland and offer his medical services. so he doesn’t have a permanent home, but he’ll stay in certain areas/his destinations for extended lengths of time, averaging from several months for up to a year depending on how badly he’s needed. he’s been all over the US, and i think the longest place he’s stayed that wasn’t the capital wasteland was along the southeast coast. stayed there for a bit over a year before moving on, truthfully bc he just ended up making some good friends there. he travels back to the capital wasteland from time to time tho! it’s where he was when maccready comes back for duncan to take him to the commonwealth; leon was the doctor treating duncan/who administered the medicine and the three of them travel to the commonwealth together (thus starting leon’s arc in that area).

12. Can they read, write, and/or do math?

yes. i think they both enjoy reading, but i think leon’s probably better at math than her. not that she can’t do it, bc she’s fine at math, it’s just not exactly a huge part of her life. whereas leon has to do math every day dealing w dosages of meds and things like that. truthfully his fave subject is science. anatomy. bunny always loved english tho.

on a similar train of thought, bunny started modeling right out of high school so she never went to college (much to the disappointment of her parents), nor does she know what she would’ve majored in had she gone. she was so determined to become a model, like there was no other career choice in her mind. leon was always nerdy and set on going into medicine so he similarly had a bit of tunnel vision when it came to his dreams.

13. What is the most frightening experience they have endured?

i mean i’d say their respective plots. bunny waking up 200+ years in the future after watching her husband get shot right in front of her and her baby taken away. i think she still has nightmares related to it; similarly leading up to and after the birth of her second child i just know that anxiety was in full force again. she was not letting the baby out of her sight or arms for those first few months bc she was just so afraid of losing her child again.

likewise i’d say for leon losing his dad, finding him after such a harrowing journey only to have to watch him die was just as frightening for him. ten years later he’s still running from his grief. in a more classically frightening sense tho i think the first time he ever saw a centaur. saw one crawling around the ruined city, the fleshy sounds scouring over rubble, the way his blood went cold at the sight of it. it’s why they’re something he still thinks about to this day. it’s a feeling he’ll never forget.

23. How do they feel about physical touch / affection?

bunny is a very physically affectionate person. gives hugs and chaste kisses very easily and openly. if she cares about you you’re getting a kiss on the cheek don’t complain don’t make a face. also the type to wipe dirt off someone’s face, fix their hair, etc.

leon’s fine w things like hugs and while he doesn’t mind taking the initiative when it comes to things like flirting, he’s nowhere near as casually physically affectionate as bunny is. he wants to make sure someone’s comfortable first before doing anything like that.

25. Are they quick to trust others?

bunny is not and never really was but she’s great at pretending like she does. her whole life ppl have always had other intentions or wanted something more so she similarly adapted and learned how to manipulate and read ppl. learned how to gain trust. BUT when she’s in a decidedly vulnerable stage in her life she does become more open to trusting others especially if they show her kindness. she latched onto nick like immediately. but other than those specific instances, no not at all.

leon is inherently more trusting. he’s extremely intelligent and perceptive, however he’s someone who believes in seeing the good in others and will be much more open to trusting ppl than bunny. he’s also someone tho that has learned how to gain others’ trust bc it’s kinda part of his job; he literally has to take strangers’ lives in his hands.

31. What is their goal in life? What impact would they like to leave when they’re gone?

bunny just wants a decent life for her family and friends. she wants those she loves to be safe, even after she’s gone. she wants to be sure they have a tomorrow.

leon just wants to leave the wasteland a little nicer than he found it. he’s not looking for any sorta recognition or fame or money or anything, he just believes in the power of people coming together and working together and caring for each other.

i think leon and bunny are similar in the regard that neither see themselves as leaders. while bunny’s goals are decidedly smaller and more focused on her own community rather than the larger wasteland as a whole like leon, both of them have never really considered themselves “leaders” in the traditional sense. bunny IS technically the general of the minutemen, but she actually rejected preston’s offer the first time. and even now she still actively involves him and others in decision-making. ultimately leon and bunny both just care about making sure that (hopefully) this next world will be a little softer.

44. What is their favorite smell?

bunny loves musky, woody scents. stuff that’s probably considered more “masculine” but god she loves it. when she still had perfumes and stuff she’d opt for more flowery things for her own image but all her scents at home like candles or incense were those more earthy smells. always bought nate those kinds of scents so she could always smell it on him instead.

leon isn’t picky about scents; in his line of work anything that doesn’t smell like gore is alright in his book. tho honestly he’s 100% used to the smell of like. infection, rotten flesh, etc. at this point. typical wasteland smells. doesn’t even register in his nose anymore. that said i think he would like citrusy scents.

60. Are they religious? Spiritual?

bunny’s never really been the religious type. i think it’s been like. a vague background presence in her life to some degree, but never something she’s ever really believed herself. never had an impact on her and never will.

leon on the other hand was raised by a religious father and that’s always been part of his life, so he’s grown to have a very. strained relationship w faith. he’s such a science-minded person so he does often try to rationalize things scientifically, but he’s also someone who really believes in the supernatural (after debunking it in his mind through scientific means, ofc). he’s open-minded to a lot, but more so to the paranormal. and as he’s grown older i think his faith in any sort of god has kinda waned. he wants to believe in people and community rather than some higher power.

that said when he did the GOAT test he did initially get placed as the vault chaplain and i genuinely think that’s just something that’s stuck in his mind even all these years later in like a Are You Fucking Kidding Me type way. yes he can still quote some scripture no don’t ask him to.

[aingeal98]

hey its the evil dentist anon (now off anon!) and you got me thinking about cass and children. bc like, imagine her holding a kid, maybe even a baby. maybe she saved them from a fire, a car accident, maybe she is just holding somebodys kid for a second. and she thinks huh. i was this small once. and cain did all of that to me. and like, what she thinks next is very dependant on where she is in her journey of self perception. at certain points of it (like in your excellent fic 'shame, fear and how you play the game'!) she might not consider herself as human as the child shes holding. like obviously cain was a monster, but shes at least glad that it happened to her and not another "real" child like mad dog or his other attempts. second option is i think after a lot of healing, when cass is able to come to terms a bit more with everything, that horrible realization that cain hurt his children over and over again trying to create a weapon with no will of their own, that he did not see any of them as she sees children (nobody better than cass, i think, to admire the beauty and fragility of life in them) and like. feel all of these horrible realizations wash over her as she holds this child that will never experience anything similar if she can help it, bc she desperately wants to use her abilities to protect others, specially the powerless.

sorry for the essay, ive got cass cain on the brain, as you know.

Evil dentist formerly anon! Welcome :D

Cass and kids is so important to me I rotate it in my mind every day. I wonder what it looks like when she saw a baby for the first time. Did Cain bring one in so that she wouldn't get surprised, or did she only see them when she ran away? How different was their body language compared to everyone else? She says herself that her playmates were assassins. If she ever met anyone her own age or younger they would likely also be a trained fighter brought by their parents/handler to test their abilities.

All this to say the first time Cass held a baby would have probably been both weird and terrifying in a way. And yeah she definitely wouldn't be able to perceive herself as ever being one of them. Like technically of course she knows she was once like them but the chasm between her own perception of herself and how she'd view something so tiny and innocent is so vast she'd struggle to reconcile them.

But then later on, once she developed enough to view herself as a person who, if not deserving of love is at least someone who is human enough that she doesn't need to reject it when offered... Hoo boy yeah. If she thought about everything she went through while looking at a baby and realizing that no she really was like that once and her father really did put someone tiny and innocent and helpless through all the hell she suffered... Pain. So much pain. It would take her so much healing to be able to acknowledge that though, Cass's instinctive response before gaining any sense of self love is "Well obviously you should never put a baby what I went through. But I'm ME so it's not a problem." and everyone around hers response is babygirl you did not deserve to be abused. Which is true of course but Cass wouldn't see it that way. It's not about what she did or didn't deserve, it's about how she loved the fighting, loved the training, loved her dad. So clearly she was never a regular baby, but the fact that she was capable of throwing a shuriken at the target and hitting it dead center before she could even walk does not actually make how Cain treated her any more justified. And it takes Cass a while to really understand that and understand her own anger.

And if she ever catches someone abusing kids... Remember that time a mobster tried to kill someone with a gun and she made sure their hand hurt too much to pull the trigger a full year later? Yeah if she ever sees you slapping a child you are losing your hand privileges. No one can stop her from doing it too like she doesn't care if they think she's going too far. They hurt their kid she makes sure they can never do it again. Simple.

Also I really love the headcanon that as well as taking on her adopted father's mantle as the Batman, she also has his habit of adopting kids. Only the projection is different so the first two kids Cass adopts are a child who's parents were murdered so that he could be trained as a killer (which Bruce is a tiny bit judgemental over because he knows full well she's projecting like he was with Dick. But it's fine the child never actually killed someone, Cass took down the ring before they could force him to. He's just traumatized from everything else.) and a baby assassin who was raised in essentially a survival of the fittest situation and killed both all the other kids and his handlers by the time Cass found him. (This one Bruce is a little more judgemental over, but Cass does not care. This is his grandson now. The murders are a part of him and she loves him despite that.)

30 year old Cass, showing up at her and Steph's apartment in the middle of the night covered in blood: Hey guess what :D

Steph: Cass I swear to god if that's another fucking kid you're hiding behind you-

Cass, picking up her new child (also covered in blood) and showing them to Steph like a kitten: Their name is Max they have no family no one can understand them better than me and it would be nice for Roman to have a baby sibling.

Steph, sighing and grumbling but too tired to deal with this shit: I'll get Babs to send over adoption papers in the morning.

[void-star]

also while i'm thinking about it. like idk if this is me being overly sensitive or if it made anyone else uncomfortable but like. idk a lot of the instances of Damien being chastised in AND were like. idk growing up as an autistic kid a lot of my interactions ended up having a certain pattern where i would do something that whoever i was talking to (often my abusive mother or an older peer who had power and leverage in whatever group we were in) considered Unacceptable and then without really even explaining what had happened they would like. in a way that looking back feels like it was extremely disproportionate proceed to Retaliate by doing something like scream at me for hours at a time or start outright insulting me, with the obvious pretense that it was Deserved for whatever it was that i had done and also that i needed to Apologize Right Now whether i understood what had happened or not (not that apologizing would stop them from whatever they were doing though, because i deserved to be Punished). and just something about the framing and the way things are framed in most of those scenes brought that to mind immediately? like the way they spoke was exactly how someone like that who was about to Let Me Have It would talk. but they're also framed as being Rightfully Upset and it makes me feel like i'm losing my mind

First of all, I'm very sorry to hear that you went through that because no kid should be treated that way. If I could remember any of my childhood, I might have similar stories or be able to weigh in on your associations with that to scenes in AND better. What I do want to say is that it makes sense to see the similarities between your experiences and the content in the book.

I do believe Damien is autistic. And I do think Damien has a history of neglectful and abusive parents, and otherwise unsafe adults in his life.

I do think a lot of the tone taken with Damien in general is chastizing, and that comes from the author, who is seeking to admonish and chastize through the vehicle of one of her characters.

I don't happen to enjoy it, specifically because I have my own history with being cluster b, autistic, unpleasant, and hated.

And I personally believe it's more meaningful and compelling to allow a reader to assign significance to the meaning they pull from your work into themselves so that your story is essentially a very indirect dialogue between you and your reader.

So I do see where you are coming from.

I think, for me, the biggest thing that was upsetting about AND was the whole concept of Damien forcing himself onto other people... largely because it lacked any more depth, nuance, or exploration. Why did Damien do that? Simply because he was entitled and lonely and a teenage boy? That's lazy and disingenuous.

Which is part of why I read a history of csa in his character.

[edennill-archived]

so I've probably spent way more time on this project of dubious quality than would have been reasonable (instead of, you know, sleeping), but I've drawn up a lot of lists and tables, eliminated distinctions thst didn't seem too meaningful and I may have come up with 10 to 12 ...I suppose cultural cohorts would be a better name for it than generations.

(Also this applies strictly to the noldor (and part-noldor), from an amanyar-exilic pov because it would have been too big to handle if I had tried to consider everyone else)

CC A: people who remember cuivenen from before orome appeared; this means everyone who ended up in valinor, including those who first got killed. they knew hardship and terror and some of them still look upon the valar as something relatively new. famous names: finwë, miriel, indis... at this point you can also group all the vanyar & teleri to whom this applies here and lose very little nuance.

CC B: people born after orome found the elves or on the great journey; also including those who died on the way. while they knew some hardship, they did not experience that same helplessness as their parents did; they also haven't known a time before the elves met the valar (which, if you think about it, must have greatly impacted their general worldview making it something we can't really comprehend -- what is it like when you don't have to take metaphysics on faith, or if you do, it's specifically faith that someone you know well is saying the truth?) famous names: none that we know of, although I headcanon ingwion and elulindo might have been born at the turn of this period and the next. [edit: apparently elmo in some versions]

CC C: those born during the years of the trees who did not reach middle-earth during the flight of the noldor (this encompasses those who turned back with finarfin). after years of bliss, the most earth shattering event in their experience was probably the darkening and subsequent crises. likely to be very close with the valar, but while it might seem like they all share similar ideas, this group includes the fallen at alqualondë, the common denominator being whether they had taken part in the war of jewels proper. those who came to beleriand during the war of wrath probably still count, although they might merit their own subsection, having seen the aftermath of the first age with their own eyes. famous names: findis, finarfin, nerdanel, anairë. ironically, fëanor probably has more in common with them than with any other cohort, same with argon.

CC D: those born in aman who became exiles, the common denominator being the shared experience of the long defeat, also: exile, longing and the huge contrast between paradise and a war zone. those who died before the bragollach are commonly accepted to have not seen the worst of it (unless captured) but they are included. the cut-off line is whether they were dead/had sailed by the early second age. famous people: half the characters you can name tbh.

CC A.2, B.2: did not know where to put them, having laid it upon myself to do this in roughly chronological order. the rare-ish bunch who knew what middle earth was like and decided to do it again, includimg a few who actually died on their first try and still weren't put off. famous names: none.

CC E: the poor wretches who were born in beleriand and died in beleriand (or at the very least sailed as soon as the first age ended), sharing the long defeat with the cohorts above, just without the preceding experience of aman. as often as not they had sindarin heritage, here cultural differences begin to blur in places. known people: maeglin and (according to my hc) finduilas

CC F: aman-born exiles who survived to see the next age or two in middle-earth. have the experience of a hopeless fight mixed with unbridled optimism for a new age, see: sometimes disastrous results. famous names: celebrimbor (according to hc at least)

CC G: beleriand-born exiles who survived to see the second age in middle earth. see above, they just haven't seen the light of the trees. famous names: elrond and gil-galad, although I'm hesitant whether there shouldn't be another category for those born at the tail end of the first age. they seem to have had slightly different experiences and a better chance of survival, still I suppose you could always say they're just in-between one cohort and another.

CC H: people born in second age middle earth. unbridled optimism mixed with the awareness that so much you have never seen is gone. again, they often pay little heed to the differences between noldor and sindar. famous names: celebrian.

CC I: those born in third age middle earth, having only known the waning of the elves. see: arwen, elladan and elrohir.

CC J: those born in aman after the flight of the noldor. the first few age groups knew a lot of empty streets, but since then tirion has filled up somewhat. their most difficult experience is likely to be the downward descent and sudden fall of the númenoreans, if they were present for it. famous names: any children the finwëan cousins™ might have had post reembodiement.

thinking how there has to be an elvish equivalent of generations (sociologically speaking) like 'the lost generation' or 'gen x' and such, only it's so much more complicated because they're immortal. like there still are specific events that impact people who lived through them and they share this impact with everyone else who did, there is a world of difference between having fought in beleriand and being born after the war of wrath, but at the same time there's also a world of difference between dying in beleriand and living to found eregion.

and a huge part of the differences that matter is in whether you were in valinor or middle earth but they're not the only ones, and just within the house of finwë... like, the cousins™ are very visibly all one generation, sociologically and literally speaking, born in the bliss of valinor and then taking on the burnt of the catastrophes of the first age, but culturally there isn't much that separates their experiences from their parents, far less than separates both from their grandparents who had known the terrors that stalked cuivenen and made the choice to leave. but here already we encounter a hitch because the generation of finwe's children was split between those who became exiles and those who stayed in aman, and even fëanor himself was probably more amanyar then beleriandim due to his very quick death, never having really known the long defeat.

but then we come to the great-grandchildren and here it becomes a huge mess because celebrimbor and idril were probably childhood friends but one of them spent like five times more in middle earth than the other, and no one could argue that orodreth¹ and celebrian (first cousins) were in the same generation except in the most literal family tree sense. it seems easiest to divide them between those who had an impact on the first age (idril, maeglin, orodreth) and those who mostly hadn't but made their mark on the second (celebrimbor, gil-galad², celebrian), but even here, celebrian was born into a far different world than the rest, and even this breakdown is made more complex if we take into account that some of them had known at least a little bit of aman before the darkening and not the others. and then if finrod had a child in aman, he or she would have a completely different set of experiences still.

(I go by ¹the Orodreth son of Angrod version and ²the Gil Galad son of Fingon version)

and then of course the usefulness of family trees breaks down completely because elrond (grandchild of a grandchild) is visibly of the same sociological generation as celebrimbor&co (not elros though), finduilas should be categorised along with maeglin and eärendil is unclassifiable (actually in some ways one might try to put him along with elros, despite their opposite choices, as people who were active at the turn of the ages and remained as symbols later on, but ultimately their situations are very different in many ways.)

and arwen, of course, is born three millennia after all her first cousins are dead, but here we've got morality entering the picture.

[libbee]

What is Fate?

When we hear of 8th house in astrology, we often hear of "fate", but the question comes what is fate? What exactly is fate? Here trying to think about it:

Fate is something that the native did not intend to happen but it happens anyway = this is why it is called inevitable. Intention leads to thought which leads to action (even if you are not self aware, this is how we work).

Native was preoccupied with some other goal but something else happens that changes the track of life. This is why it feels predetermined.

Any event that drastically changes the life path or/and character of the native. Like a toxic relationship that changes you forever

Free will feels like = I intended it to happen so it happened. But fate feels like = I did not intend this but we are dealing anyway.

Like I was intending X to happen but instead Y happened.

Extremes of good luck (fortune) and/or bad luck (doom) is definitely fate. For eg, suddenly losing loved one/a job. Suddenly gaining a lot of inheritance/a lot of money in lottery/marrying to a rich spouse.

Fate is things which are beyond human control = A deadly cancer tha does not cure. Marrying into royal family. Being born in a rich parents house.

As for the question whether destiny applies to everyone or some people have free will, I don't know really. Some people do seem to have their life under control so their perception is that they have free will. Some people do seem to have bouts of twists and turns so their perception is that life is fated. Not everyone faces extreme events or feelings (8th house placements) so they cannot empathize with others. While some like 8th housers or mature scorpio people feel their feelings too intensely so they can empathize with the dark themes in life. In these subjective perceptions, the objective truth gets lost. Or like Nietzsche said "there are no facts, only interpretations".

As for question if life is predetermined or random or future is not certain yet or future is already happening, again questions are too many. We can hypothesize, believe, hope, experience, debate but the answer is as uncertain as "what happens after death?" "why I was born?" "what makes me, me?" Some intuitive and psychic abilities people tell that we are born to pay off our karmic debts and settle past life accounts. Some say that we keep taking birth in similar family like your brother was your father in past life, your mother was wife etc. Some say that life is complicated than that, the stranger is the bus was your mother in past life, the past life husband is someone you do not even know in this life etc. Some say that we choose our own parents, hardships, life plan, life events before birth. Some try to explain with science that everything that happens in nature is in chain reaction caused by previous triggers. Some explain with psychology that feelings, thoughts, beliefs cause our actions. Some explain with philosophy that determinism is the causal link between action and the outcome of events.

As for question, should 8th housers be depressed and sad because of fated events? No. You could choose to stay depressed and victimized but it is not very good for mental health. It is the law of nature to construct after destruction. It sounds rude to say this to someone who is clearly going through a tough time but look deep within yourself and you will see that little feeling of "influence". This is I think why 8th house is also concerned with psychology. When you study psychology and self introspection yourself, you realize that even in the face of the most painful misfortune, there is some influence that we have. Yes my dear, you read it right. It sounds pretentious to say this because depression is really tough to handle. When you are going through a tough time, things don't make sense, mind stops working, no ideas make sense. If you stick it out and come alive on the other side, you would feel something within you. That inner strength. That inner power. That peace. That ability to handle the next misfortune. That numbness of emotions. Ability to rationalize intense feelings. This little thing is perhaps what we call the essence of life.

[thewriterowl]

Owl got any CodyWan meet the parent's AU DinLuke style? Of course mama Obi holding back gruff protective Daddy Cody because how dare Din have his hand on Luke's waist. Lol.

Oh man, I do seem to love writing about Luke being raised by Obi-Wan and either Cody or Jango--it seems to be a guilty pleasure of mine now...oh god, what will I become after the series airs...

Anywho! Obi-Wan and Cody have raised Luke well and are happy with him and he's just still their darling baby who they love more than life itself. Obi-Wan, still with his Jedi-ways is far more prepped for Luke growing up. Obi-Wan has, in a way, raised a few children in the Temple. He helped with the creches and looked after Anakin from age nine to twenty-one. The man is also an ex-(Mandalorian)whore (no one will every convince me otherwise; this flirt got around and was happy about it and we all support him for it). Even though Luke his is son, his baby, he was well prepared for this day to come.

Cody? Even as practical, careful, scarily adept he is to anything had his limits. The man may have been one of the more feared and respected Clones of the army, he did not age or experience life like most. He also did not raise the "tubies" as much. He looked after all his brothers and helped with many of the younger clones, yes, but it was very different between that role and what he did for Luke. This is his little general, his baby sun, and he will take a page for Wolffe's book and probably be ready to lose his composed demeanor to snap at a throat for him.

Obi-Wan just smiling at Din who is wrapped up around Luke in a very smilier manner Cody does, gripping on to Cody's tunic with his hand and the Force as the former commander is trying to go grab his son and spin-kick the Mandalorian like he did the droids. Obi-Wan will tease everyone mercilessly, ("I see you got your impeccable taste from me, Luke. Your choice in a lover is perfect." with Luke yelping out, "DA!" in embarrassment and Cody fuming, "HE'S TOO YOUNG TO HAVE SEX!" Din is just 'ah, this is the family of the man I choose to love. Makes sense.')

Din is a man of respect. He would not do much to insult the family of Luke...but he is also a bit petty and can have a dry, mean sense of humor. And if there is another Mandalorian around who wants something he wants, he'll apparently be ready to throw down for the challenge (i.e. his "i don't want this saber...no, Paz, fuck you, I want it now"). So, sassy Din is unleashed and he will be holding on to his beloved, thanks.

Obi-Wan is thrilled that Luke found someone who has a bit of a brat layer to him. Din would need to it to keep up with Luke (and Obi-Wan). Cody is still just ready for a throw-down.

Of course, it being Cody and Din and how they adore Luke...after they spar, they do get along brilliantly. They forever will have a massive rivalry over Luke and his attention but are clearly friends and welcome each other into their respective family/clans.

You will find them doing some sort of arm wrestle or joust or take-down match (maybe in their armor, maybe not...neither Obi-Wan nor Luke complain) over who gets to do something ridiculous and silly like kiss Luke on the forehead first, or get Luke some fruit, or just whatever these men who can be very petty decide to battle over.

"I married my father." Luke would mutter into his hands, seeing the similarities between Cody and Din.

"Could've been worse." Obi-Wan would note as he drinks his tea. "Could've married your sister."

Luke would give a little kick at him, "Ha. Ha."

[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.

[journalofkate]

11/04/2024

TW: toxic relationships, drug abuse, financial abuse, alcoholism, homelessness, dysphoria, suicide and suicidal thoughts, mental illness

It's been a... very long time since I posted on this blog, and even longer since I've made a long form post. To be honest I had forgotten this blog existed. So much has happened in my life these past few years, so much has changed. For the sake of my mind I felt I should make a new entry, and hopefully it can reach someone who's been through similar things.

In my first post on this blog I took substantial time talking about my identity as a trans woman and my experience of living with parents who were extremely bigoted and feeling like I could never be out and proud of who I am. Much has changed regarding that, some for worse and some for better.

In the summer of 2022, a few short months after my original post, my sister was attacked and kicked out of the house by our mom. This caused a massive rift between me and my parents, a rift that would only grow wider with time. I have always been extremely protective of my sisters because of the abuse I and some of my sisters faced with my biological mother, but more than that I was sad to lose the only person in my home whom I could be honest with. She supported me and at that time she was one of a small group of people who knew my identity. Over the next year I became aware of my parents stealing a lot of money from me, little by little, adding up to thousands of dollars. It became evident that I could no longer stay in this house with the family I had known for years. I do not know why my parents stole that much money from me, they were drug addicts when I was a young kid and it's possible they relapsed but they were also generally bad with money and had gotten themselves into a lot of debt.

In January of 2023 I made the decision that I would leave, and it was only a decision of where I would go. My close friend at the time, whom I will call Gwen, suggested I come to stay with her in Oklahoma. I did not like this idea as I had gone through much effort to leave Oklahoma just two years earlier. Against my better judgement I accepted her offer so in summer of 2023 I began my long road trip from beautiful Olympia, WA to the Midwestern wasteland known as Oklahoma City. There was, however, a problem with my plan. Shortly before I was to set out my friend Gwen got evicted and had to move into her sister's house, which has no room for me. By this point there was no option to stay with my parents any longer. Bridges had been burned, and even if they hadn't it would have killed me to stay in that house any longer with people who had lied and stolen from me and attacked my sister. I had to leave. I. Had. To. Leave. And so I left. I had a decent paying job lined up and I was content to live in my car until I found an apartment of my own. And so... I... Left...

In the time between my sister getting kicked out and me leaving I had started seeing a psychiatrist in an attempt to avoid a full psychological breakdown. In this time I learned that I have bipolar disorder, in retrospect many of the events that follow seem to be a result of my mood swings and are situations that are far too common for those of us with bipolar disorder.

For 3 long, hot months I living in a Walmart parking lot in my car waking up at 6am every day to work a job that was much harder in my body and mind than I had anticipated. One day Gwen approached me about a woman she had met, whom I will call Michelle, who wanted to meet me. I met with Michelle and learned that she had been told all about my situation and wanted to help me and Gwen get into an apartment. During this time I was experiencing a depression worse than any I had experienced before and Gwen, perhaps believing my job was the cause of this convinced me to quit, saying that she would financially support me until the apartment we had found was ready for us to move in. When Michelle discovered this she insisted that I stay with her in the meantime. I was grateful that she took me into her home, if even for a few weeks. So grateful that I cooked her dinner every night I stayed there. For some reason that I cannot fully recall, or perhaps never fully knew, Gwen ended up staying there as well, she also quit her job around this same time so we were both fully financially relying on Michelle. During our stay there was a strange tension in the air at all times between Gwen and Michelle. I do not know if this was because we were unemployed, or because I was invited there and she was not. During my time in Oklahoma up to this point I had been in such a deep depression that I began to lose touch with reality. I was simply following the path I was already on and hoping I would not end up homeless again or crawling back to my parents whom I never wanted to see again.

In September of 2023 Gwen and I moved into our apartment. Michelle came by a few days after we moved in and delivered each of us a check for $4000 each. I do not remember the details exactly, but I remember her making it very clear that she wanted us to live off this money while we looked for jobs so that we would be financially independent of her. I had to deposit my check into Gwen's bank account because my bank would not allow me to deposit the check, so Gwen had full control of all $8000. A few days later Gwen came home with a car full of groceries and a crate of various bottles of alcohol. Gwen was a bartender, it was a job she was very passionate about and she wanted to continue practicing her skills while she was looking for a job. Over the next few months Gwen spent increasing amounts of money on expensive groceries from the highest end grocery stores, something I was fully against. By this point I knew the money had run low, I knew I had made a mistake by giving her control of the money, but I was not in my normal state of mind and I had fully lost touch with reality. I began drinking, heavily, something I had never done before. I quit taking my medication because I could no longer afford to have it refilled, so I drank more. All of my bills fell behind, most crucially our rent, my car payments, and my payments for my storage unit in Washington that had almost every single thing I owned. I could not find a job no matter how hard I tried, the economy had gotten worse and it was getting harder to find jobs. No matter how many jobs I interviewed for none of them called me back. I began delivering food for doordash just to keep food in the apartment. I did not want to ask Michelle for more money because it had been very clear that we had taken a financial toll on her and it was clear that she wouldn't be able to give us any more money after the checks. Gwen found a job, and things were finally starting to look up. Unfortunately I had fallen into a very heavy drinking binge as had Gwen, and we began arguing constantly.

A week after Gwen found a job Michelle knocked on our apartment door. Unknown to me Gwen had been in contact with her, the things they discussed I do not know, but she found me in a drunken state, depressed and out of touch with reality. We had a conversation about how we would get our finances back in track and it seemed that everything went well. The next day when I woke up Gwen and all of her belongings were gone. I felt betrayed, I felt abandoned, and I felt alone. At this point I could no longer contact either Gwen nor Michelle. I did not fully understand what happened. I still don't fully understand what happened. I used the last of my funds to get some food from the cheapest grocery store I could find. The next day my car was repossessed. I stopped drinking. I found out some time later that Gwen had lied to Michelle and said that I had full control of the finances and spent all the money, on what she did not know. I found out 6 months later that Gwen was still, seemingly fully, financially relying on Michelle.

In the months that followed I faced mental distress like I had not felt since my childhood. I got into contact with my older sister and she gave me some money when she could so that I could keep the lights on and keep some food around. She offered to let me come stay with her in Texas but she ended up extremely reluctant to actually let me go there. In the following months I spent my days endlessly searching for jobs within walking distance. I felt hunger like I had never felt before. Some days all I would eat was a small bowl of rice. Some days I ate nothing at all. I was convinced I would die there, starved to death in an apartment i couldn't afford in a city I hated. This did not happen.

In January of this year, 2024, I found a job in a sandwich shop a mile from my apartment, an acceptable walking distance. I began paying back my debts. During the first few weeks at this job I remained haunted by everything I had experienced the past year, I fell into another terrible depression. I became completely detached from reality, all I knew was that I was in pain and I wanted it to end.

TW: suicide

In February of this year I began to see clearly through the fog of my mind a way to end the pain I was feeling. I had decided to kill myself. I knew how I would do it, I knew what my final words would be, and I knew what my final meal would be. I couldn't focus on work, I couldn't focus on fun, I couldn't even sleep. All I could think about was ending my life. I sat down one night in silence with my final meal, a meal which thankfully I do not remember, and began to eat while thinking exactly how I would word my note. Suddenly my phone buzzed with a notification. I was not expecting any messages that night. The message was from a close friend of mine from high school who I had been talking to almost daily for years. In the message he asked me if I was okay, a question I had never heard him ask. He said I seemed withdrawn and said he knew I wasn't doing well and he wanted to check in. For some reason this message snapped me out of my fog completely. I told him I was fine and just really tired from work. I finished my meal and went to sleep. He did not know it at the time but he saved my life that night.

I no longer saw suicide as an option out of my situation, despite the pain I couldn't let it all end. In a strange sort of way it felt like if I killed myself I would be giving gwen, and my parents, as much control over my death as they had over my life. I began making friends at work. I grew very close to a woman who I will call Allison and a woman who I will call Heather. I was awkward, I had just gotten out of a series of severe mental health crises and aside from that I was never very good at interacting with people. I came out to Heather and Allison a month or two later, and accepted me with zero hesitation.

Heather and I grew closer, after a few months of being friends I started to think I had a crush on her and I began to wonder if she felt the same way. Eventually I confessed to her and learned she felt the same way. We've now been dating for almost 6 months.

Unfortunately despite finding a job, the pay wasn't enough to cover the debts I had accrued and in June of this year I was evicted from my apartment. Since then I have been living in an extended stay motel paycheck to paycheck barely making ends meet. I almost fell into another suicidal episode but the thought of the people close to me having to grieve me has kept me from even considering that as an option. Though I did not accept my drinking problem last year, I now understand I truly have a problem with alcohol. It's easy for me to not drink at all, but it's hard to stop once I start... So I simply do not drink at all. Though I am not out to my coworkers, in my every day life I live openly as a woman, something I never thought would happen. I have been looking at apartments lately and I believe I will be in one soon and once I am it will be easier to live a normal life.

Two years ago I couldn't imagine myself without my family, I couldn't imagine myself living a genuine life. I was stuck. I don't know what my parents have been up to since I left, and honestly I do not want to know, but sometimes it feels like it would've been easier if we were estranged because of my identity.

I still have mood episodes, I'll probably always have mood episodes. I am not currently medicated because I still cannot afford to have a psychiatrist but once I have an apartment and a little bit of money to be able to spend on that sort of thing it's my first priority. I haven't had a serious episode since February. I don't always know when I'm having episodes but my partner is getting good at recognizing when I'm having one. When she says she thinks I'm having an episode it lets me know that I should be very careful about any actions or decisions I make. She has helped me considerably through all of this, I don't know if I can ever truly show her how grateful I am for how much she helps me, but I can still try.

That's all I have for today

-Kathryn F.

03/03/2022

Content Warning: detailed descriptions of gender dysphoria, transphobia, internalized transphobia, homophobia, internalized homophobia, biphobia, internalized biphobia, sex (not abusive), and brief mentions of abuse.

Today was a particularly bad day for my dysphoria, but in a strange way it brought me some clarity. I realized that the bulk of my dysphoria comes from knowing that the people around me won't accept me as a woman if I came out.

I always see people on social media, blogs, and articles talking about how to come out or why you should come out but I haven't really come across anything about what to do when you really don't think you CAN come out. On this topic, I'd like to share my history of how I figured out I was trans, why I feel I can't come out, and what solutions I have come up with. Strap in because this may be a long story.

Though my memory can be foggy at times, I do distinctly remember having this feeling that I wasn't really a boy when I was about 5 or 6 years old. I never expressed these emotions to my family members except for on one occasion after I learned what a 'tomboy' was I told my parents that I wanted to be a "tomgirl", to which my father replied "you can't be a tomgirl, that's not a thing".

When I was about 10 or 11 puberty was fast approaching, and I began to become vaguely aware of the existence of trans and intersex people. By this point I had started having this intense feeling that I really, really was supposed to be a girl. I began having this consistent fantasy that despite having been born with male genitalia, I would develop female secondary sex characteristics. Soon after my voice dropped, and I began to grow hair on my face and body. It was starting to appear that my fantasy would not become reality. At age 12 my mother* told her husband to teach me how to shave my face. Though for most people this would have been a bonding experience with their stepfather, it left me deeply uncomfortable. I couldn't stand to look in the mirror and see hair on my face, and then have to interact with that hair just to get rid of it. I stayed clean shaven for most of jr high and high school.

*the woman I refer to as 'mother' and the woman I will in the future refer to as 'mom' are two different people. My mother is the woman who birthed me, and then went on to abuse me and my sisters. My mom is my biological father's wife who has cared for me as her own since I moved in with her.

At age 13 I thought I was gay. I started a romantic relationship with one of my friends who I had known for years, his name was Joseph. Around this same time I had gained a better understanding of what transgender meant, and had even made some trans friends. I had begun to wonder if maybe I was transgender, before this time my only window into these communities was movies and television, in which trans people are often seen as freaks of nature or the punchline to a joke, but now I knew actual trans people and being trans didn't seem like such a shameful thing. A few months into our relationship I asked Joseph "would you still date me if I was a girl?" To which he replied "it doesn't really matter, because you aren't a girl." I never brought up this possibility to him again. About 4 months into this relationship I decided to come out to my mother, she was surprisingly accepting however in the months that followed there was a tension that wasn't there before and an unspoken idea that I would grow out of it.

When I was 14 I broke up with Joseph because he had become abusive. To be in an abusive relationship this young is a devastating thing, but it is a story for another entry. I began to distance myself from my gay and trans friends because most of them were mutual friends. At some point I, very consciously, decided to prove my mother right as I receded back into the closet. It was unspoken, but as far as anybody else was concerned I was actually straight. Progress is not a straight line. I began to reject my attraction to men, as well as any feeling of being the wrong gender. The next 2 years are the darkest years of my life. I got a girlfriend, we broke up and made up every few months. I was horrible to her, and she was horrible to me, it may have been the most toxic relationship I've been in. I lost my virginity. I told myself that all cis men wanted to be women. I started to adopt extremely conservative views. My depression spiraled out of control. I began to think horrible things about trans people, things I will not repeat. These 2 years are the years I remember the least.

When I was 16 I left my mother's house to live with my father. Around this same time I slept with a man for the first time, but all my internalized bigotry made me push him away when he wanted a relationship. The next year of my life was the beginning of a major shift in my life. I finally was able to be free, and go and explore my place in the world. I joined theatre, made friends, and eventually started a romantic relationship with a trans man. I was beginning to actually live my life. I began to move from town to town every few months or every year. Each time I moved the amount I was open about my sexuality changed. I never came out to my parents.

At 19 I gained enough financial independence to live on my own. I started a relationship with a woman who ended up using me for her own financial stability. After she left, I felt extremely lost. After a few months I was in the store and found myself just standing in the makeup section. I bought some makeup and went home and tried to learn how to do makeup. It looked horrible, but it felt good. I came to the realization that I could buy whatever I wanted, so I began buying women's clothes, and I loved them. At that time I thought it was just crossdressing, I thought maybe it was a sexual thing. After a few months I began to seriously question if I was trans. I confided in an old friend and she told me I should explore the possibility, I still wonder if she remembers that conversation. Eventually life got hectic, and my exploration of my gender fell low on my list of priorities for some time.

In 2020 the COVID-19 pandemic started, and my life kind of grinded to a halt. A few months after lockdown began I decided to move back in with my parents. Because I never felt comfortable coming out to them I had to throw away my clothes and makeup, I didn't realize what effect this would have on me. A few more months into the pandemic I began to experience severe gender dysphoria, and with no outlet it just got worse. On a phone call with a very close friend I suddenly blurted out "I'm trans" - and that shocked me. I did not expect those words to come out of my mouth, and definitely not in that moment. My friend told me that she's also trans and she was waiting for the right time to tell me. Over the next year I began to use social media to cope with my dysphoria, people didn't see me as a woman in real life but they respected my gender online. I developed a social media addiction.

In 2021 I made the decision to move to a different state with my parents. They believed I just wanted to live somewhere more beautiful and near the sea, but in truth I wanted to live somewhere that was more accepting.

Now it is 2022, I still live with my parents and I don't make enough money to live alone. I moved to one of the most progressive states in the US, but I still feel like I can't be myself. Thought my mom and dad have cared for me more than my birth mother, they are still extremely bigoted. They are racist in a very disgusting, casual way. My father is homophobic openly. My mom tries to respect the pronouns of trans people she meets, but she has said they aren't really their gender. I financially depend on them, I can't risk losing my apartment. I simply can't come out to my family, which means I'm forced to wear this disguise of a man. I go to work and I use a gender neutral name instead of Kathryn because I don't want to be ostracized from my workplace. Everything I did over the past few years has been to improve my life, but it doesn't feel like it has improved at all. I'm scared to lose my family. I'm scared to lose my job. I'm scared to lose my apartment. I have to live in the closet. I sleep in the closet, eat in the closet, I carry the closet on my back through my daily life. It's gotten to the point where I feel I'm living a double life, and I have a dysphoria induced panic attack every couple days.

This is the story of my life, the story of discovering myself. I must solve these problems I'm faced with because who could live like this forever? I've been saving money, I plan to move to another country in the next few years. If I put enough distance between me and my family it may become easier to come out. I'm going to get my own apartment soon so that I can begin to live free again. Despite the fear I feel, I will begin to leave the house presenting as the woman I am. I've also been working on my social media addiction, I no longer scroll I only post, and I only post once a day. I'm at the point in my life where I've realized the only way for me to live free is for me to live as though I am alone.

This is my first online journal entry. I'll be back with another tomorrow, hopefully not a long sad story.

- Kathryn F.

[bandsanitizer]

Okay but that scene in the hospital as letting Buck know what he means to Eddie and Christopher, not just as Eddie’s coworker or firefighting partner. Not just as someone who cares about Christopher. Not just another person there to help make being a single parent easier for Eddie. No, that scene was Eddie informing Buck that he is family—for real. That he’s Eddie’s best friend and the person he trusts the most. That he’s both a good friend to Christopher, but a remarkable guardian in his life, too. And this is so important in timing. (Explained after the “Keep Reading” because it’s a long post.)

Disclaimer: I recognize that everyone has different experiences, views, and definitions, regarding family, parenting, and the interpretation of canon. This is mine and yours are yours. This isn’t heavily romantic-Buddie inclined, nor is it intended to be, but it can be read as such. Also, spoilers for up to the s4 finale.

At the beginning of season 3, we learn what Christopher means to Buck. In his fight to save and find Christopher—risking his life—Buck showcases that he loves Christopher, that Christopher is important to him, and, in how he doesn’t have the “Oh, shit! How do I tell Eddie?” moment until he sees Eddie, it solidifies that Buck’s care for Christopher is not lenient on Christopher being Eddie’s son.

Later in s3, in the market, we see how Eddie views Buck regarding Christopher. By bringing up Christopher in the argument (“Christopher misses you.”), Eddie acknowledges a level of responsibility Buck has regarding Christopher. Granted, Buck loves kids and he’s a softie so that comment would hurt either way, BUT Eddie is not the kind of person to just use Christopher for the sake of a guilt trip. Eddie knows Buck cares about Christopher, Eddie knows Buck probably didn’t think things through, and Eddie wishes that Buck did. As much as that stands, however, it’s made clear that Eddie expected Buck to consider how it might affect them and Christopher. A big responsibility to place on a typical friend.

Yet, since this is coming right off the tsunami incident, Eddie’s expectations aren’t unexpected, but an extension. He said that there was “nobody else in the world,” that he would trust with Christopher more than Buck. And then for Buck to cut everyone off? Like it wouldn’t even matter? That doesn’t fit the way Eddie views how Buck cares—particularly, how he cares about Christopher.

Then jump to Eddie Begins. This is where we clearly see how Buck views Eddie and further confirmation that Christopher is in fact Eddie’s everything.

Buck’s reaction to the well collapsing on Eddie is very similar to his reaction to losing Christopher in the s3 tsunami arc. Distinctly different levels of reaction than he had towards Bobby being in danger and Maddie being held hostage with the rest of the dispatchers. Something Buck mentions to Sue about the latter, is that Maddie has Chimney. Bobby also has Athena. Hen has Karen. Eddie has... Well, Eddie has Buck and Buck has Eddie. The show has been pairing off characters and naturally, Buck and Eddie are one.

So his reaction to losing Eddie being similar to his reaction to losing Christopher, is a way of non-verbally conveying that Buck cares about Eddie a lot. To the same degree or within the same intensity as he cares for and loves Christopher. That it’s not just what they mean to other people in Buck’s life, but what they mean to Buck, himself. And with the contrast for worrying about Maddie or Bobby, it’s a recognition by Buck that in the same way Eddie and Christopher have a place in his life very different from the rest of the firefam, so does Buck in their lives. That he knew Maddie needed Chimney in that moment, and in losing Christopher and Eddie that he was that person in their lives. The one that’s supposed to fight with everything they got to make sure they’re okay.

We already knew how much Eddie loves his son prior to Eddie Begins, but we see his love and care for Shannon, as well. Plus, we get some sort of recognition that Eddie has much regrets over not being there for Christopher when he was younger. This is significant, particularly if you ship Buddie, but even without a romantic lense, it emphasizes the relationship between Buck and Eddie & Christopher.

The show pushes the idea that Shannon fell short at being a good mother to Christopher. Granted her running away wasn’t great parenting, but so did Eddie, and it’s not like Shannon didn’t try later. (Also that’s a completely different post.) What matters here is that Eddie trusts Shannon with Christopher. While it isn’t easy and he certainly has hesitations about Shannon leaving again and how that instability affects Christopher, it’s not that Eddie doesn’t trust Shannon with caring for Christopher. Eddie expects her to also be his wife and to have his back, and it’s in the emphasis on their marriage and getting a divorce, that focuses in on how much Eddie&Shannon weren’t working, not how much EddieShannon&Christopher were not. They both ran, under different circumstances, and they both stepped up to the plate when it came to caring for Christopher. (Again, it’s a different post for me to go into my thoughts on how them running wasn’t ever out of a lack of love or care for Christopher, and how much it was likely their marriage not working and worries about how that would affect Christopher.)

So, anyways, the point is that Shannon was there to care and love Christopher when Eddie was not. Eddie was there to care and love Christopher when Shannon was/is not. And in the s4 finale, Eddie points out the fact that Buck was there for Christopher when he was not. This, also tied to the having each other’s backs being used with Eddie and Buck in the beginning of s2 and later with Eddie and Shannon, points out that Buck role in Christopher’s life is heavily parental.

In the living room scene about Hildy and video games, the tactic of Christopher switching from reasoning with Eddie to asking Buck is very much the “ask the other parent” strategy. The look Buck gives to Eddie then (similar to the one he gives in the playdate scene in the s3 Christmas episode) is very easily read as “Eddie is the parent,” but Eddie giving Buck a look back becomes permission for Buck to handle it and that’s not just Buck being Eddie’s best friend, but Buck as someone with a parental/guardian role to Christopher. (Also consider Buck’s dynamic with the other kids of the 118–he’s very much and very strictly young fun (uncle) Buck, no?)

And with Christopher running to Buck when he was upset with Eddie and didn’t know how to express everything he was feeling—a moment when Buck was there for Christopher when Eddie couldn’t be, as well as something along the lines of knowing parents talk but still going to the other parent for something you don’t know how to talk to the other about.

The brief phone call was very parental—there’s no discussion regarding why Christopher would go to Buck or if Buck was okay with it or Eddie apologizing for it or any realm of discussion outside of Christopher is okay and Eddie is on his way. Granted, as a parent, priority just being Christopher being okay since he was missing makes a lot of sense. But there’s this underlying sense of “Of course he’s at Buck’s” as well as the innate trust Eddie is displaying with Buck.

This trust in Buck is also seen with Christopher as Christopher opens up to Buck. And the tone Buck takes & the conversation they have, is also fairly parental. Buck’s empathetic to Christopher and he listens and he gets it—he knows how scary it is to feel like you’re losing people—but he’s also pretty clear that Christopher running off wasn’t okay and that he needs to talk to somebody. And then, Buck says Christopher has him and promises that Christopher isn’t going to lose him.

This is an promise of permanence. Buck can’t technically promise he’ll always be there for Christopher—that’s something that cannot be truly certain. And interestingly, Shannon and Eddie have also promised something vaguely forever towards Christopher as well. Notably, in Shannon’s letter about loving Christopher “even if it’s from a distance” and like everything that went on in the flashbacks of Eddie Begins. So, the scene becomes Christopher and Buck recognizing the importance they have to each other.

Which means: Buck knows he cares for Christopher and Eddie. Eddie knows he cares for Christopher. Eddie and Buck knows Christopher cares for both of them. Buck and Christopher are aware of each other caring for each other. Buck’s always been aware how much Christopher means to Eddie. So what’s left?

Eddie recognizing he cares for Buck and the two of them being aware that they both care for each other. The first of which the s4 finale tackles and the second that becomes alluded to by the end of the hospital scene.

There’s a lot of reasons for why that over the year Eddie never told Buck about changing his will. It’s scary, it’s a lot of responsibility, etc. It means that while Eddie is aware of how much Buck loves and cares about Christopher, the responsibility of being a parent is a whole other thing. And yet, Eddie doesn’t really have many doubts about it. Yes, there’s the small thought that just maybe, just maybe, it’s asking Buck for too much—but as it’s said in the finale, Eddie knew Buck wouldn’t refuse.

So why not tell Buck and why tell Buck then? Because Buck needs to know that Eddie cares about him. That in telling Buck earlier or even going to Buck earlier, could come across to Buck as Eddie measuring something—whether that be how much he cares about Christopher or how much he can trust Buck or something else—it leans heavily on Buck means something to Eddie because he cares about Christopher. And while that’s true, that’s not it.

Eddie says he’s telling Buck now because Buck said he thought it would’ve been better if he was the one that got shot. Because Eddie is well aware of Evan risk-taker, doesn’t think before he does, “it would’ve been better if I was shot” Buckley does majority of what he does and thinks majority of what he thinks because he believes he’s expendable—but he’s wrong. And Eddie is trying to show Buck he’s wrong.

That Buck matters to Eddie. That Eddie trusts no one with Christopher the way he trusts Buck. That if he can’t be there, then there’s no one Eddie wants more than Buck to be there for Christopher. It’s a huge responsibility to say, “If I die, you’ll have to take care of my son,” but it’s also privlege. It’s a trust. It’s saying that I’d trust you with my world if I wasn’t around to care for it. If Buck didn’t matter to Eddie, Eddie couldn’t have possibly changed his will like that. If Buck didn’t matter to Eddie, then Eddie wouldn’t have set forth the very possible risks of upsetting the family he has—that Christopher has. That while it comes from caring about his son and wanting the best for him, considering not just what is best for Christopher but what Eddie believes is best for Christopher is very fueled towards caring for Buck.

Because, note that logically there’s a lot of ways that Eddie and Christopher moving back to Texas would’ve been better for Christopher. There’s a lot of ways that Christopher being taken care of by Eddie’s parents that would’ve been better for Christopher. Because it would mean being surrounded by family. It would mean foregoing many of the real financial struggle single-parenting can have. It would mean 100% security that Christopher would have people to care for him—given Eddie’s risky career. And yet, that’s not what Eddie believed was best for Christopher—or at least it wasn’t what he wanted for Christopher. That Eddie would fight tooth and nail to secure a stable and fulfilling life for Christopher on his own, if it may be, if it meant Christopher being with his father. Because Eddie wasn’t there for a few years, and he regretted that, and wanted to be a father for Christopher now that he had a chance to.

So, where logically, leaving Buck to have custody of Christopher if Eddie dies doesn’t make the most sense because Christopher has extended family in both Texas and LA, it was what Eddie thought was best. It was what Eddie thought was right. Almost like how it’s pretty clear Eddie’s parents didn’t like Shannon, and yes their relationship was rocky, but Eddie stands by the similarities in their running from the family and Eddie doesn’t put up with insults on Shannon’s parenting. That while between the two of them, yeah there were issues and they both can agree they weren’t great parents to Christopher in the times they weren’t there, Eddie also doesn’t let it only fall on Shannon, doesn’t stand for implications that Shannon did anything less than love her son and do better when she came back. Like literally the worst part of both of their parenting comes down to the one instance they left. Yes, not great, but, especially as a tv drama, it’s never to say that they don’t know how to be good parents. Outside of leaving, they’re capable of caring for Christopher and loving him fully. (Again that’s a whole other post)

But the point! Is that Buck loves Christopher. Christopher loves Buck. Buck loves Eddie. Eddie loves Buck. And there is no one in the world Eddie trusts more than Buck to be there for Christopher when he can’t be and to fight for Christopher. Both are also notably traits that both Shannon and Eddie display to each other (taking over parenting when the other isn’t present & overall fighting to be part of their son’s life).

All in all, this is to say that the finale points out how much Buck means to Eddie—something that hasn’t be made completely clear before. And by Buck’s face after Eddie says Buck isnt expendable, it’s a bit of a new thing for Buck to realize, too. That while they’re both well aware how much they care for the each other and how much they care for Christopher—there’s been a lack of realizing how reciprocal that care is between the two of them. (Which like romantic shipper goggles on, that’s part of where Shannon&Eddie fell apart. That while they both saw they loved Christopher and loved each other for that, sometimes there was a lack of loving each other outside of that.)

This coming within the same time of them individually starting (sort of for Eddie) romantic relationships, emphasizes a permanence in each other’s lives (that is explained nicely by @/mistmarauder (link will be in reblog/notes).) It considers the many ways that them being best friends and family is a for-life sort of thing, that isn’t bound or restricted by romance or blood or anything of the sort. They chose each other. They choose each other. And whether or not Buddie becomes canon, Buck-Eddie-Christopher are 100% an established family unit within the 118/firefam and the s4 finale was meant to establish that clearly. That where Buck & Eddie naturally pair off as the 118 does, Buck-Eddie-Christopher form one of the smaller family units that are focused on within the 118/firefam.

And if, you want to take it more romantically, Buck and Eddie realizing how much they mean to each other as something reciprocal (so far on Buck’s end, we still need a clearer moment where Eddie goes “oh! Buck cares” but the “are you hurt?” moment came close) is a great continuation for growing feelings and extended slowburn, friends to lovers Buddie-endgame. Like they’ve established Christopher loves Buck, Eddie loves Buck, Buck loves them, and Buck fulfills the sort of parental role well. Not much more checkboxes to fulfill for canon Buddie excepting navigating feelings, epiphanies, and the romance of it all. It’s not set up to only allow for Buddie, so there’s, as usual and expressed, room for other paths of canon, but it’s good set up should they choose that to be the direction they decide they want to go in.