#still. gotta take pride in what progress i Have made. and i will do more... soon.
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Living room:
Still a little cluttered, but so much FLOOR SPACE without all the many many plastic bags :D
Kitchen:
Similarly still cluttered, but the floors are clear and there's no longer a mound of bowls molding in the sink! :D
Bedroom:
.......
We can't win everything.
#speculation nation#mini tour of my apartment i guess. im just proud of my progress.#imagine the level of clutter in my bedroom but for Everything.#bags and bags and bags and bags#u can see a bag full of bags next to my trash can. those were ALL on the floor of my living room. :|#im hoping to get my bedroom at least Partially less fucked. soon.#i didnt focus on it bc i just kept my bedroom door shut while my dad was here lol#i can only do so much. and focusing on the central areas was the way to go.#also lmfao at the state of the cubbies. my cats like to go into them. despite me repeatedly yelling at them for it.#ive kind of given up now 😔#still. gotta take pride in what progress i Have made. and i will do more... soon.#at least in my bedroom it's mostly just clutter. it's not Grody in the way my kitchen and living room were.#now that i have so much open space maybe i'll finally try out that new mop i bought...#later. i dont have much time b4 work lol
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imp n skizz + 27... the besties. did you know skizz irl sometimes kisses impulse n the cheek. to annoy him
Send me a pairing + a number! || Accepting
27. A platonic kiss, Impulse/Skizz, 873 words
This may have been the greatest day of Impulse's life.
The exhilaration of starting anew had hit him full force. The space between seasons had been spent dreaming up builds of grandeur, and he was finally able to see what he was working with. Better still, he had a partner in crime to share his vision with. Providing Bdubs his first clock was a point of pride, and Bdubs had accepted it with promises of a great future ahead of them.
He'd made momentous progress. Maybe not on the scale of Doc and his villager operation, but the humble underground iron farm he and Tango constructed would serve them well. The land that would become a sprawling cyberpunk city was sectioned off. His strip mine was fruitful, piles of diamonds to be fashioned into armor and equipment as needed. Everything was coming up Impulse.
When the day was over, the rest was well-earned. The Mountaineers, as Scar had named them, reconvened to share dinner around the fire. He took the chance to wash up in the river- a water well would be a tomorrow project, once he had a place to lay his head that was more permanent than the blocked off mouth of his cave- and laid down for a good night's sleep.
...Any minute then.
Impulse rolled onto his back and sighed. It didn't feel right, and Impulse knew what was missing.
This may have been the greatest day of Impulse's life, because Skizz was there.
Skizz was there, and so much as thinking his name made the thread connecting them hum. Before Skizz was a hermit, when Impulse had been summoned and made the decision to stay, it was easy to ignore. The proximity now, though, made it impossible. His very soul knew its other half was near, and Impulse longed.
Skizz hadn't wanted to be coddled. He was determined to stand on his own two feet in this server of building gods and redstone masters. It was with full support that Impulse had agreed to let Skizz forge his own way, neighbors instead of roommates.
...But surely Skizz wouldn't mind a late-night visit, right?
Impulse relit the torches by his bedside. He didn't change, just throwing on his shoes. On his way to the door, he wondered if it would be worth taking his wings out. It would make the trip incredibly short, at the cost of nearly guaranteeing he'd spend all night at Skizz's. He wouldn't mind, but if Skizz did...
"Aaah!" A yell made Impulse jump as he opened the door, snapping him out of his thoughts. An equally startled Skizz stood in the doorway, a hand on his chest as he settled down. "You scared the dookie right outta me, dude," He said, heaving a breath, "Don't you know it's like, dumb o'clock in the morning? Nice jammies though," Skizz snickered.
Impulse snorted. Skizz was wearing a matching set. "These old things? Aw, they're nothin'," Skizz barks a laugh, and Impulse chuckles with him, a line of tension leaving his shoulders, "I know it's dumb o'clock in the morning, what're you doing at my front door?"
"Well I- y'know, I was in the neighborhood," Skizz started, wings held around his shoulders like a mantle, "And I'm thinkin' to myself, I think, y'know... I'm really feelin' it! And if I'm feelin' it, my best buddy over here, Mr. Impy Dimpy Dippledop, well, he's gotta be feelin' it too, right? Am I right? I bet I'm right," Skizz poked at Impulse's cheek.
Impulse huffed fondly, lightly smacking Skizz's hand away. Nobody could manage to be longwinded and straightforward like Skizz could. "I might've been on my way to yours for the same reason," Impulse admitted.
"Good thing I beat you then," Skizz cackled, "I don't have a bed yet!"
"Skizz!" Impulse laughed, "That's the first thing you do!"
"I was excited, okay? Some stuff fell through the cracks!" It only made Skizz laugh harder, "Are you gonna invite me in or not!"
"Okay, okay," Impulse placated once their laughter calmed into the occasional giggle. He stepped away from the doorway and gestured Skizz to follow him inside, "Come on in, make yourself at home. Don't forget to shut the door behind you."
Impulse heard the door close. The place was basic, really, meant for function over form. A double-wide bed, some chests for storage, and the simple wall that separated the space from the outside. There was a joke on the tip of Impulse's tongue, something about excusing a mess that wasn't there, but it's forgotten the moment he feels arms around him.
Arms, and then wings, warm and white and all-encompassing like a blanket settled around his very soul. If Impulse looked behind himself, he was sure Skizz's halo would be showing. In turn, Impulse's horns grew. Dark scales climbed up his arms where he held Skizz's arms across his chest, and his tail found purchase around Skizz's leg.
Skizz squeezed him in a hug, lowering his head to leave a kiss in Impulse's hair before burying his face in it with a content sigh that made Impulse want to melt into bed and never get up again.
"Yeah," Skizz mumbled, soft and tired, "This is home."
#Skizzpulse#ImpSkizz#ImpulseSV#Skizzleman#Hermitshipping#Hermitcraft#Hermitfic#MCYT#Asks#Anonymous#Skizz#Impulse#Astral Library#My Writing#Reminder that the feelings described in this fic are not inherently romantic and neither is the concept of soulmates#This can be read either way but it was intended as more of a platonic life partners situation
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To be a Hero..... Or maybe PT3
To be a Hero PT1 PT2 PT4 PT5 Master List
This story is heavely based on one of my OC, it mentions kidnapping, suicide, bullying, sex, yander behavior and abuse. Please be warned this is little more graphic compared to my other storys. Also the time line for the story is a little different when compared to the actual MHA, the characters are all in college vs being in hight school. Please enjoy and note that i do not own any of the named character except for Paris, all credit for the characters goes to Horikoshi. (Izuku x Fem Reader)
(A mini training arc!! this will progress from the start of their senior year to the near end/entrance exam)(Mention of a minimize panic attack"
"IZUKU YOU GOTTA RUN FASTER" called to him as he stood at the other end of the beach panting. When she said she would help him train... he didn't think it would be every day. "YYY/nnn please I'm exhausted" He panted before collapsing into the wet sand, allowing the water to run over his legs and lower torso. He sat there for a while, panting and wincing from the tortures training she’s been putting him through. Y/n came rushing back, kicking up sand and splashing water in her way to meet her boyfriend. She gently moved his hair from his face, showing how red and sweaty he was. With her other hand, she placed it on his chest, feeling for any issues with his breathing or heart. "I'm so sorry Izuku... I shouldn't have pushed you so hard" She let out a soft sigh of relief as she found nothing wrong with him. With him being checked and good, she removed her hand from his face, allowing his hair to fall back into place, with a huff she took a seat next to him in the wet sand. With a squishing sound as she settled, she drug her knees up into her chest and started blankly out into the water. The sound of the waves brushing and crashing the shore did little to comfort her but they did help slightly. "Izuku... I'm sorry.... I forget that the levels between us are a little different" He lifted his head slightly, not quite understanding what she was saying, "What I mean is.... I've been training like this since I was little...” She stopped ���T-there a lot I have yet to tell you Izuku… And I owe you an explanation” She sighed. Gently taking her hand, he brought it to his lips and left a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “You can tell me anything, my love... I am here to support you, and I’ll love you no matter what” He was now sitting up, hand in hand… they stared out into the vast ocean. “Okay the truth about me, my past, and my reason for coming here to Japan”
(Mini Time skip)
She allowed the tears to flow, as Izuku brought her into his chest, “Y/n I-I have no words to express how… sorry I am for you love” He placed gentel kisses on her head, holding his position for a moment longer to inhale her scented shampoo, trying to ground himself. She nuzzled closer to him as his hands ran gentle circles across her back, trying to soother her after the small break down she had just had. He still allowed his own tears to flow, unable to contain his sadness from her tale. He felt his heart shred as she shared the experiences she’s gone through just to get away from her past… and now to tell him about it all made him feel a small sense of pride? Maybe relief? Because to Izuku, this was Y/n showing just how much she loved and trusted him, to open up and allow herself to be so vulnerable. “I trust you Izuku, I want to spend my life with you… so I know this was something I would have to share” She spoke, her voice slightly broken from the sobs, but non the less held nothing but pure lover for him. “And I want nothing more than to be here supporting and loving you Y/n” He squeezed her tighter, reassuring her that he meant every word he spoke, and had every intention to stay true to it. She let out a sigh of relief, relaxing into his chest, allowing herself to breath in his scent, feel the skin on his arms, and listen to the rhythmic breaths he was taking. She felt safe and content, as if from this position nothing could harm them, not Kacchan, Not her mother, not her past, not the future…. All that mattered was the present, the gift that the universe handed her in the form that was her lovely boyfriend. Izuku continued to rub soothing circles, allowing the world to fade into the background… he was here, training to be a hero, with the love of his life… what else could he ask for?
(larger time skip)
Months had passed since they began training, and now nearing the final stretch of their senior year, Y/n could truly see the changes that were occurring with Izuku. He was muscular, not too big but definitely toned, not to mention the amount he had grown. He was taller, pushing 6’1, and had grown in confidence. Kacchan also began to leave them alone, he was beginning to focus on his own future. Every day, they trained, and soon He was able to keep up with her on the beach runs and lift a fridge with no help... he was still the same Izuku but yet he still changed.
Panting, hunched over on the beach, Izuku stood. Y/n sat atop the fridge he had just moved with a bright smile. "Izu! you're doing so well!" She cheered, jumping down to hand him a bottle of water. Landing with a soft thump, she dusted her butt off before holding up a semi-cold water to Izuku. "Here love, you need it" With a soft thanks and gentle hands, he took the water bottle from her hold and gulped its liquids down. She could only admire how far he'd come, his hard work, his determination, his everything led him to this weekend "The entrance exam" She whispered under her breather, only shifting her stare to his arms, they were littered with small bruises and scratches from them training. "You ready for this Izuku?" with a sigh, he removed the bottle from his lips, wiping his mouth, he turned his attention to her. "as ready as my amazing girlfriend could get me" He giggled, running a hand through his crazed hair in an attempt to slick it back, even just slightly. She rolled her eyes, "I'm serious Izu.. do you feel ready? are you nervous? scared?" She was scared, she had no idea what the entrance exam was like without a recommendation. What if pure strength wasn't good enough? what if they asked for a demonstration of quirks? What if he could die? Yes of course she was worried, she knew Izuku was strong and resistant, she made sure of that... but to send him off like that, to an environment that neither she nor him was familiar with scared her... terrified her. She was spiraling without even realizing it, her anxiety, her fears, her everything was coming to the surface. "Y/n" muffled for sound... "Y/n" it kept calling her but she continued to ignore it... too lost in her own thoughts. That was until two large arms grabbed her shoulders, forcing her out of her panic mind "Y/N" With bright green eyes, Izuku stood in front of her. "Y/n babe, talk to me.... come on" He tried coaxing her out of her fiddled position. "Tell me something love, what... what color is my hair?" He was hopeful that distracting her would calm her enough.
"Green... your hair is green... and you eyes are the exact color" Her eyes still glossed but she was staring right at him. "A-and your face is red, with freckles... like a strawberry" She gently ran her hand over his cheek, feeling the heat radiating off of it and the continue in the brightening color. "My Zuku" She sighed, finally gaining some sort of grounding "I'm right here" he whispered kissing her palm and holding closer to his face. "I will be fine," He spoke as if he was in her mind, reading it but in reality he could just read her that good. "Trust me, trust yourself!" He spoke, moving slowly to take her other hand, that played with her knee "You are an amazing teacher... so please have confidence in us" He had their hands clasped together, holding her tightly... watching as her eyes became their normal Y/e/c. "There they are.. those gorgeous orbs" He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding... watching as she completely came back to this moment, away from her mind. "I trust you... and I am 100% sure you will pass this exam" She nodded, determined, ready, and confident in both his and her own ability's. "Tomorrow... You will shake the world" She said staring into his eyes... "And after this summer... WE will shake the world" With his bright smile and reassuring eyes, she knew that that statement was 1000% true. "TO BE HEARD NO MATTER WHAT" the screamed their words, ones that represent their silent promise to one and other. "Okay Zuku... lets go get you ready"...
(I AM SO SORRY!!! My classes just started nack up and let me tell you WOW they have taken a lot of my time,But I am getting in the grove again... Based on my routine I'm hoping at least one chapeter a week for this BUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU HAVE ANY REQUEST!!!) {ALso side note this story is gonna be tranfered over to its own book that way its not to much of the same here<3)
Thank you all for the support and love!!! HAVE A GREAT DAY AND REMEMBER TO EAT, DRINK, AND LOVE YOURSELF BYEEEEEE LOVE YOU ALL
#izuku mydoria#anime#bnha x reader#bnha#izuku midoriya x reader#mha deku#deku x reader#villian deku x reader#oc x deku#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#mha dabi#bnha kacchan
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🇹🇮🇹🇦🇳 🇦🇪 🇸🇪🇳🇹🇪🇳🇨🇪🇸 (2000)
change any pronouns or words to suit your use!
❛ My invention broke. ❜
❛ No today, kid. We gotta go. ❜
❛ We all have to go somewhere safe. ❜
❛ Maybe when you're older, kid. ❜
❛ I have to go away for awhile. ❜
❛ It's not safe where I'm going. ❜
❛ Take this. As long as you wear it, there's hope. I will see you again. ❜
❛ No! It's not okay! It's not okay! ❜
❛ Destroy the humans. Destroy them all. ❜
❛ You can wait in line, I'm taking the express. ❜
❛ I'm not asking for that much. I just want them to kill my food before serving it to me. ❜
❛ Every day I wake up, it's still the present. The same, grimy present. I don't think this future thing exists. ❜
❛ Ah ha! Just needed some love! ❜
❛ We don't like your attitude. ❜
❛ If you wanna hunt humans, remember we travel in packs. ❜
❛ What I'm doing is, commonly known as, 'helping'. ❜
❛ You've really changed me. Really, it's just beautiful. You've changed me. ❜
❛ I don't need you or anyone. I don't need your 'mission'. And I don't need your help with these overgrown morons. ❜
❛ Are we in good company? ❜
❛ I think we've fallen in with a very bad crowd. ❜
❛ I've spent the last 15 years looking for you. ❜
❛ How do you know they want me dead? ❜
❛ You should be bracing yourself. ❜
❛ Please, tell me this pod has an eject. ❜
❛ Is it dead? Can we eat it? ❜
❛ Why you positively glow with maternal warmth. It’s very fetching. I must have you. ❜
❛ I must have you. ❜
❛ For your information, I am humanity's last, one great hope. ❜
❛ I weep for the species. ❜
❛ Do you mind? Are we through pawing? ❜
❛ This is ___, not a singles' bar. ❜
❛ I never agreed to help you. What’s in this ‘great cause’ for me? ❜
❛ Where are my pants?! ❜
❛ You wanna watch who you're stepping on. ❜
❛ Fight the good fight, precious! ❜
❛ I will kill you, okay? I. Will. Kill. You. ❜
❛ I am educated and well-read! I am not a mechanic! I HAVE MY PRIDE! ❜
❛ I made it last night in my sleep. ❜
❛ I put a button on it. I wish to press it but I do not know what will happen if I do. ❜
❛ I’ll tell you a secret, this guy’s nuts! ❜
❛ This isn’t a joyride, kid. ❜
❛ It’s not about a good run. It’s about survival. ❜
❛ I’m not keen on being caught with my trousers down. ❜
❛ Yes, making progress. Yes! I’m making progress! ❜
❛ Yes, caveman. ____, bad. We, good. Now go look at something shiny for awhile! ❜
❛ What were you doing?! Taking a nap?! ❜
❛ Let’s quit running our collective mouths and go get him. ❜
❛ No matter how hard things got— no matter how hard— those memories kept me going. ❜
❛ It’s not what we did. They’re afraid of what we’d become. ❜
❛ Easy, big girl. This requires cunning and deception. ❜
❛ Stop fidgeting, worm! ❜
❛ Just out of curiosity, do we have a plan B? ❜
❛ Hm. An intelligent guard. Didn’t see that one coming. ❜
❛ The boy is not dead. That is cause for happiness. ❜
❛ Aw, we were just about to rescue you. ❜
❛ We got really lucky. But next time… ❜
❛ Thank you for trying to find me. It’s more than my father ever did. ❜
❛ You know, I— I miss him. ❜
❛ That junk is all that’s left of the place we came from. ❜
❛ You think this is some game? We had a deal! ❜
❛ Look what I found: two little birdies, itching to fly. ❜
❛ Everything was a lie? Everything you told me? ❜
❛ The only thing that matters is grabbing what you can before somebody else does. ❜
❛ Why they not say goodbye to ____? ❜
❛ Uh, I’d lean back if I were you. ❜
❛ What? Should I get out and push? ❜
❛ I’m picking up a veritable cornucopia of nothing. ❜
❛ I need one clear shot. Don’t lose ‘em. ❜
❛ Watch the ship. I always watch the ship. Something doesn’t feel right. ❜
❛ Is ____ right there with you? Tell him goodbye for me, would you? ❜
❛ I can’t change the past but I hope I can give you a future. ❜
❛ He always did talk too much. ❜
❛ It wasn’t just the money that they were offering. It was the health plan. I get to live if they kill all of you. ❜
❛ I’ll just take a little nap. Since I’m so… very sleepy. ❜
❛ Oh, stop! There’s nothing more tiresome than last minute heroics! ❜
❛ You’re not gonna shoot me, kid. ❜
❛ Go. It’s better this way. ❜
❛ Yeah. I’m going to call it… ‘Bob’. ❜
❛ What? You’re the King of ____ now? ❜
❛ I am never, ever….calling it that. ❜
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Off-Screen Post
Blue raced through the streets of Cascarrafa as fast as his little legs could run. Shiloh had no trouble keeping up, but being out in public made them nervous. There were glances and stares from what felt like every angle. Shiloh tried to keep to back alleys, but it was hard to do both that and see where Blue was racing too.
Blue stopped for a minute, clearly out of breath, "Hurry up, Cloud! What if I told you its the greatest surprise ever!"
"yeah, can we just-"
Blue was already racing off again before Shiloh could finish.
After a few more minutes, Blue stopped in front of an alleyway. He started jumping in the air.
"Back here back here back here!"
Shiloh walked up to the alley. There was a left turn at the end of the alley. Shiloh walked in, and Blue walked next to them.
"Okay so basically um, before I show you my big surprise I gotta tell you a story."
Blue stepped in front of Shiloh before they could turn the corner. Shiloh sat down, "alright, lets hear it."
Blue could hardly stand still, Shiloh was afraid they would literally start bouncing off the walls with excitement. "Alright alright alright. So basically. There's this big tall building here, and that's where the strongest Pokemon ever go to battle! I think! And I went to battle there too! Because, um, I had a trainer. Two trainers! My first trainer, they gave me to a new trainer. Because they had a different Wooper. So the other Wooper went to my old trainer. I think it was because I was different. And the other Wooper was not blue and not different."
For the first time since Shiloh had met Blue, his giant smile went away. "The new trainer, we went to the tall building to fight the strong Pokemon. And um all his other Pokemon got hurt and couldn't fight. So it was my turn. But then..."
Blue climbed on top of a trash can for dramatic effect, though most of the effect was lost due to how long it took them to get up there. "The strongest Pokemon ever came out! And it had this big giant crown! And it beat me!
"And my new trainer, he got really mad and sad. He was- he was not nice to me. I think because I lost.
"So guess what!" Blue's smile returned, "I ran away from him! And he searched and stuff but he never found me because I'm the sneakiest ever! So that's why I'm gonna prove him wrong and show him I'm the strongest ever, even if I am blue!"
Blue turned the corner. He poked his head out after a moment, "Psst, follow me!"
Shiloh followed him back. Behind the corner was a pile of glistening blue shards. Shiloh could recognize them, Tera shards. Water ones too, by the looks of it.
Blue walked over to the pile, "Tada! My crown! Um, its a work in a progress."
Shiloh walked over, the blue glow reflected in their eyes. It was astounding. "how many of these are there?"
Blue was beaming with pride, "65 glowy blue shards! I'm gonna evolve into a Clodsire, and then I'm gonna have two more feet, and then I'm gonna make a crown just like the strong Pokemon have! And then I'm gonna be so strong! And- and!"
Blue kicked one of the shards out of the pile, "Now I'm gonna have 64 because I'm gonna give my 32nd friend Cloud one!"
"blue, buddy, you dont have to-"
"I wanna! 32 is a special number because its half the number of shards I have now! So if you don't take one then its not a special number and I can't get you all excited for nothing!"
Shiloh picked up the shard and stared at it. It felt cool to the touch, and it reflected their face in its surface. "thank you." Shiloh smirked, "youre definitely gonna be the strongest clodsire ive ever met, i tell ya."
Shiloh was, of course, lying through their teeth. After all, they knew Clodsire of the Elite Four.
...Who they ran from.
"You bet I am! And! I'm gonna have the coolest crown ever!"
The glistening of the Tera shards faded. Shiloh looked up, expecting a cloud to have passed overhead. Instead, they found that the sun was already setting. Had they really spent the whole day in Cascarrafa?
"yknow, crown or not, youre still pretty cool."
"D'ah, thanks Cloud! You're cool too!" Blue yawned, "So what are we gonna do tomorrow?"
Tomorrow. Shiloh would be something else tomorrow. And they couldn't stay here. Shiloh didn't know why, but they felt the urge to keep moving. As if staying in one place too long was dangerous. As if getting comfortable was a bad thing.
As if they shouldn't let people get close to them.
Shiloh looked at Blue and sighed, "sorry bud, but i got somewhere to be. important stuff, yknow?"
Lies.
"What! But we were having so much fun. You'll come back, right? I gotta show you my crown when its done!"
"i-" Shiloh didn't want to make false promises. But Blue was silently pleading with them. Wasn't there a time when Shiloh was also the weird kid? Wasn't there a time where Shiloh needed a friend more than anything?
...Wasn't that time now?
"i'll come back, yeah. i just gotta. figure stuff out. but i promise."
Blue jumped, "Yes! Go do your important stuff, Cloud! And I'm gonna make the greatest crown ever! Its a deal!"
Shiloh nodded, "catch ya on the flip side, blue."
They ran into the streets, getting out of town before night fell. The Tera shard safely stowed in their satchel.
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What are the Holidays celebrated in Halacandra?
couple copy/pasted from discord- there's defiantly a few more though that I haven't fleshed out like the tech festival and "Orrah fo Magia"[day of magic]
Ephan Fo Celes!
because winter is when the planet is drenched in darkness for a month, everyones outfits actually glow, which makes the dancing part so much more fun Also I think people migrate to the blue lava volcano to celebrate, as that's the most holy location on the planet and the blue lava really stands out in the night- it's over all an incredibly pretty holiday to witness I'm thinking about the orbit dance and how pretty it'd look… It'd be especially fun to an outsider, getting to see this holiday for the first time, dancing in the orbit dance with a friend/sibling/partner,,, all the lights- the magic so strong in the air,, I think it was a tradition started by King Jorrolor, as a 'HEY WE MADE IT THROUGH OUR FIRST YEAR WITHOUT GOD, LET'S CELEBRATE" type thing and the meaning became more as the years went on Speaking of, while he is dead Jorrolor's ghost makes sure to over see each and every celebration of the holiday, it fills his no longer beating heart with pride, seeing how far his little group has come in this long time
Tyaper, the high priestess gets to be the sun, sitting in the sentre of the orbit dance and holding up the sun for the light it produces and so that the others may orbit around her, as she is a priest she repersents the light of the sun and the light of their god Magiajam! The dance is done in the dark so they get REALLY glowy outfits to illuminate the way And we get to see some natural halcandrian bioluminescence on the tail and face there,, Gonna be doing the rest of my halcandrians/hybrids so I can edit it all together to make them all look like they're dancing in the orbit Around the sun planet+moon pairs dance in orbit to them, a halcandrian with the planet will dance in a circle around the sun, while their moon dance partner will dance around the planet as they orbit, planet moon pairs can be anything from siblings to friends to lovers to parent and child- you just gotta take a buddy and dance around with them it's great
Each partner holds up a planet and a moon shaped object respectively, holding eachothers paw in one, holding their object in the other as they twirl around eachother
Children are the stars, they run around outside the ring of planet + moon pairs and orbit the opposite direction to the planet+moon pair, still around the sun but much less corriagraphed and more wild, and fun, children will dance and play, holding a star object in one paw to repersent what they are- children are stars because they hold unlimited potential and are bright, but far from reaching their full potential as the sun has and on the outside of that music is playing, bell dancers and drums beat, chanting cultural and religious songs while the dance progresses, encouraging the dancers to go on, and hype them up a bit- there's also magicians who make the area look like space, having magic project and make the dance all the more grand, and then there are the spectators that aren't par taking in the orbit dance, but just want to watch and listen to the show
Outside of the main event, there are shops opened up nearby, traders and artisans and cooks sell their hand made goods- from chimes to art pieces to new tech they've invented to some really good food
and afterwards, a grand feast is held, where everyone fathers around one large table, peasants sitting next to kings, all together to represent the closeness of the kingdom, and to imitate the beginning, when there was only a single king, and no real social classes.
They eat traditional food, made with much love and care, which I'll describe better one day when I get to food world building but there's a few dishes only served at this holiday that people wait year long to eat and also. Alcohol, this is a new-years celebration after all
Also remember, people treck all the way to the blue-lava volcano in order to celebrate this, so there's also quite a bit of prayer done before and after the orbit dance
and the Lanturn Festival!
probably a summer celebration, though it'd take place at night [of course] During the day, families make lanturns, one for each member of the family, and some for all the people they've lost in their lives. Lanturns are often decorated in things personal to the person making them- like a specific flower or symbol will be woven onto it. Groups will get together from early on in the day to work on the lanturns and eat, catch up with eachother- it's usually a very fun occasion
Lanturns are symbolic of the soul, your… You. Everything you- and anyone you loved that has dieds entire being- is what they're honoring
Just before dusk the people will give their lanturns to a volintear who will travel to a high peak, and release all the village/cities lanturns on the dusk, where they spill into the night sky beautifully like stars- doomers often fly up alongside them- though they never interfere with the floating lanturns. The releasing of the lanturns is symbolic of 'finding paradise'- for both you and the people you love and it is really beautiful to see, people usually gather and have picnics in an open area to watch the lanturns spill into the night sky together
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Encouraging people not to vote is just gonna help the man who wants people like me lobotomized and/or killed get into power.
You beta-read a fic where "voting is pointless" lead to fascist taking power, an apocalyptic war, and, surprise surprise, MORE GENOCIDE than what would've happened if people hadn't been single-issue voters.
I understand you have Moral OCD, but it's time to actually manage your mental illness instead of just blaming your dangerously black and white thinking on it and feeling bad about yourself whenever something goes wrong as a result.
Trump will NUKE GAZA if he wins, have people like us lobotomized, outlaw all things queer, and destroy Democracy forever.
The Republicans have LITERALLY drafted a plan to undo all of the progress we've made since Trump was voted out of office. This is the worst possible year to abstain from voting.
But no... You're prioritizing your short term comfort over the untold billions of people who'll die if Trump wins the election.
I'm unblocking you so you can answer this one question:
Are you willing to side with the lesser of two evils to prevent "more genocide"? Or are you going to act like doing NOTHING and letting a greater evil than the one you're condemning take power in order to make a statement is the morally superior option?
We went through this in 2016 and I'm not going through this again.
If Trump wins, I will die. Trans children will die. Trump's regime will kill us, and will take a FAR more active role in the genocide in Palestine than the current administration.
Sometimes, you gotta swallow your pride and pick the lesser of two evils. Because letting the greatest evil win is the worst thing you can do.
Seems I didn’t explain myself very well, then. Okay. This has nothing to do with my Moral OCD & everything to do with a simple question: do you believe that the problems will actually be addressed? That this is the most effective form of defeating them? Because I’m not so sure about that anymore. I understand harm reduction, but after a certain point you gotta ask if that’s sustainable as strategy.
I’m not saying DON’T vote, I’m saying that I understand those who won’t. To clarify. Because from everything I’ve seen…I have to question whether or not that’ll actually solve anything. Not even just long term, but short term. I’ve reached this conclusion through analysis of the situation, & I’ve gotta say:
The rot that exists will still exist afterwards. I understand your perspective, I do, but I don’t think it’s as effective as you think it’ll be. The majority of people who think like that don’t have Moral OCD, by the way, they just have no faith in a system that they’re convinced is going to fail them either way.
And I’m not convinced that it won’t, hence my understanding of that perspective. The system is fundamentally broken in a way that can’t be fixed from the inside, is the vibe I’m getting. So why bother? Why participate in a system that’s going to fail to stop it either way? Because that’s the crux of this: That people are convinced they’re fucked anyways.
And I can’t dispute that anymore. I used to be able to, but I just can’t now. Maybe I’m a pessimist, but I can’t see this working out well enough. I don’t see this actually stopping the problem and in that case, what’s even the point? THAT’S the crux of the argument, & after all I’ve seen? I can’t dismiss it as readily as I used to be able to. We don’t live in a democracy, & we never have, to be honest.
It’s not a matter of “short term comfort”, because everyone’s well aware things are going to get worse. This will cause more distress in the long term, but maybe that’s inevitable. Maybe we’re at the point where nothing can be done to fix the system from the inside. Maybe it’s just going to get worse regardless of whether or not we vote. Maybe we DID vote for the lesser evil once & things have still gotten worse. Maybe they’ve failed miserably at being a barrier. Maybe the system can’t be salvaged.
…ultimately, I am NOT the one who’s going to eloquently explain the leftist point of view. I don’t have it in me. Hit up James Roberts or someone else like that. All I have are opinions formed from observation. And from all that I’ve seen, this is my takeaway. I’m sorry, but I can’t change that. Now, in the interest of not having a long drawn out argument, let’s just leave it there, shall we? I wasn’t saying all that to shame you for wanting to vote for the lesser evil, just to also not shame those who don’t believe that’s good enough as an actual solution.
I understand where you’re coming from, I do, but I also understand where THEY’RE coming from & I can’t dismiss it as readily as you can. Not with all that I’ve seen. This is ultimately a matter of two differing worldviews on what will actually amount to an effective solution. It’s a matter of what you believe will actually reduce the most harm, & I’m not convinced anymore that this is the only way.
I AM sorry if that came across as insulting, I was just trying to explain why I can’t wholeheartedly condemn the “it’s pointless to vote” people. Not anymore. Not after what I’ve seen. But ultimately I feel like you fundamentally misunderstand the kinds of people making those arguments to begin with. It has nothing to do with “personal comfort”. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Now. This has gotten out of control, so to answer your question…I’m not “siding” with anyone, regardless. I’m open to being pragmatic, but I understand those who can’t be. That’s it, really. I think the system is far gone, & I can’t see it recovering. I’d like to be proven wrong. I haven’t. And that’s infuriating, & it’s reality
It’s the difference between “the system is broken & must be fixed” & “the system is working exactly as intended & must be dismantled”.
#Let’s leave it there please#I don’t have the energy for more#Anyways it’s not like it even matters anymore#We’re all fucked regardless because the Dems aren’t serious about winning
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"Yeah, let's try to get higher up, that might be the first step to getting some signal, if any." Lokni agreed with Miss Palmer's suggestion. They worked together to clear the kitchen out of any salvageable supplies. Looked like it was gonna be beans and corn for a good while, not the best combination. Well, beggars can't be choosers, and at this point, they weren't even beggars, they were scavengers. Two little coyotes running around trying to find anything edible.
After they had scrounged up what they could find, including a nice pot that Lokni shoved in his bag, they began to make their way upwards. Despite what people say about survival, containers and bottles in general, were game changers; that, and having something to cook with. Miss Palmer struck up more conversations, which Lokni was thankful for as he wasn't that great of a conversationalist. As they got to the top of one ladder, Lokni offered Miss Palmer a hand at the top and she asked, "I know this is going to be a stupid question, but is it similar to how the job is depicted in movies? Like, do you wear the hat and the boots and are riding horses for most of it?"
Lokni stared at her blankly before slowly saying, "yee-haw." A period of silence passed before he finally said, "that was a joke." He looked down at his dusty boots. He was partially outfitted for the part currently. "I guess it's pretty accurate to the movies- but I don't go chasing after stagecoaches and shooting up banks. I just herd cows and spend a lot of time with my horse. We do wear hats and boots, although modern attire is a little different from what you might see in the movies. What about you, do you wear a little apron and walk around offering coffee to everyone?" he asked earnestly.
"Do you like it? Your job, I mean?" Miss Palmer asked sincerely.
"I do. It pays, and I'm not suited for much else if I'm being honest. I much rather be in the saddle than desk jockeying. Don't think I'd be much use in a corporate setting." Lokni explained as he surveyed how many more ladders they still had to climb. They were making good progress for the most part, working together to navigate the wreckage of the ship's halls.
Then, Miss Palmer said the funniest thing Lokni had heard in years. "Did some snakes actually show up and cause trouble? Or is it more of a farm expression?" Miss Palmer asked and Lokni couldn't hold back the laughter that followed. The mental image of a bunch of snakes just showing up and raising hell was very amusing to him. After he managed to regain some control, he straightened, "it's an expression, means 'to cause trouble,' or something like that. To answer your other question, horses don't fancy snakes too much- their movements overall are the kind that startle horses. Not that they would startle my Chenoa." He said with a bit of pride at the last part. He had worked hard to bomb-proof Chenoa over the years, and now, she was as calm as they come.
Miss Palmer talked a lot, but it wasn't a bad thing, he appreciated having her there to fill the silence. The ship seemed a lot less eerie with her here. She spoke about wanting to learn to ride horses, to which Lokni replied, "it's not a bad hobby, but it's expensive if you go the hobby route and not the professional one. I know especially if you get into a lot of the English stuff, like dressage and showjumping, you gotta' have deep pockets to back it up." She listened to what Lokni had to say, taking it in before something else seemed to cross her mind, ""Wanna talk about what kind of things went wrong before you got here? Just if you'd like, of course."
Lokni nodded, might as well get it off of his chest, who was Miss Palmer gonna' tell? The seagulls? "I'm not opposed to it, as I mentioned, mother nature decided to wake snakes. There was a fire, and by the time I had woken up, it was already dangerously close to the herd I was managing with my boss' son. Shit hit the fan basically. We made it back alright but Andy's horse Ole' Red stepped in a hole, broke his leg, Andy got thrown and knocked out in the chaos of it all. I got Andy up on my horse, but I had to put Ole' Red down because he couldn't outrun the fire with a broken leg. Didn't want him to die a slow, burning death, so I did him one last favor. Still didn't sit well with me. Ole' Red was a damn good horse, a shame to see him go." Even talking about it made a bitter taste form at the back of his throat. It was part of the job, but that didn't make it easier. "I'm not trying to ramble, it's just a lot happened and I don't know how to break it down well." Lokni apologized, he did want to ask her about who she had been visiting in the hospital, but that might be too forward. Now wasn't a good time for that.
Hearing Miss Palmer talk about her days as a waitress was interesting. He knew some diners in the nearest town. He could picture the job being pretty hectic at times. "Did you always want to be a waitress? If you could choose any line of work what would it be?" Lokni asked, curious to hear what she had to say. Miss Palmer also explained in-depth about some of her work experiences, "It's not too detailed, it helps me get an idea of what it's like through your eyes. My customers are all cows and horses, I don't have the first clue about how hard it is to work with people every day." Lokni chuckled in reply "what made work a good day for you? Outside of work, what did you do in your freetime?" He wanted to get more information about her and if there was a correlation to them being 'chosen.' However, Lokni still had his doubts. At one point they arrived at two ladders, one was dimly illuminated while the other seemed to ascend into darkness. "Do you have any preferences? I know the one with the lights probably goes to a lower floor, but I am not sure heading into complete darkness would be the smartest. What do you think?" Miss Palmer asked, eyeing the darkness above the other ladder curiously. "Well, we're trying to get to the top right? I'd like to find out what's at the top of the darkness. Does that fancy phone of yours have a flashlight, Miss?" Lokni asked, pulling his knife from his belt, "I'll go first and take a look around." He said as he held the hilt of his hunting knife between his teeth and began to ascend the ladder into the maw of darkness.
Darcy waited eagerly for Lokni to see if his phone could get any message through. Maybe it was just her smartphone that was the problem. She read an article once that praised the older models before the smartphone came and claimed they still worked better than all of these new, flashier phones. Maybe that was the key?
But they didn't have any luck - Lokni showed his phone being unable to send his own message either. "We really do gotta get to higher ground, maybe it really is the key to making contact with anyone," Darcy said again, more trying to convince herself that it would be true than anything else.
Darcy looked down at her phone, tried to send the message one more time and then with a long sigh she slipped the device back into her back pocket and headed into the kitchen to help pack up what they could find. She also contemplated packing a knife for herself, but eventually decided against it - if it came down to fighting, a knife would not be too big of a help for her. She never had any training in how to use it, she'd be more prone to injuring herself.
The two of them then set out while Darcy listened to Lokni explain his job, what his day looked like. He called himself a cowboy, and she couldn't help but ask, "I know this is going to be a stupid question, but is it similar to how the job is depicted in movies? Like, do you wear the hat and the boots and are riding horses for most of it?" Clearly, the most important question to ask about one's job. "Do you like it? Your job, I mean?"
His good and bad days were described, and Darcy frowned at the last bit, tilting her head to the side. "Not quite sure what that really means, I'm sorry. Did some snakes actually show up and cause trouble? Or is it more of a farm expression?"
A moment's pause and then a thought popped into her head. "Horses don't like snakes, right? Is that an actual thing or my mind just failing on me due to-- well, everything? I always wanted to learn how to ride horses, but it never really happened." She was probably saying too much, jumping in between topics, but they were trying to find their way up and she didn't want to do it in silence. And she was curious about him, if she was being honest. "Wanna talk about what kind of things went wrong before you got here? Just if you'd like, of course."
He asked her what she did, too. "Oh, I was a waitress. Nothing fancy, in a small town. Half of the people were people who came in every day and half was just people passing through and stopping for a moment. The regulars were okay for the most part, some of them grumpy but you could find a voice with them - or at least I could I guess -, but some of the people who were passing through were just flat out rude.
"So I'd say those were the worst days for me - when a whole bus of people decided to stop and come into the diner I worked in and they were rushing and pushing each other and rude about everything cause they were just too tired from travel." She paused and let out a small chuckle. "Sorry, probably way too much detail."
Eventually they reached their first conondrum - in a short distance, there were two ladders heading up, one higher but into complete darkness, while the other one was a smaller one, but she could see lights and a hallway where they could continue further. "Do you have any preferences? I know the one with the lights probably goes to a lower floor, but I am not sure heading into complete darkness would be the smartest. What do you think?"
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freshly squeezed lemonade
summary: a new city, a new house, a new life, & a new hot neighbour who just so happens to be really good with his hands.
pairing: neighbour!bucky x f!reader
word count: 2,600 words
warnings: talk of cheating [readers ex-husband], talk of divorce, reader doesn’t want kids [kid-free by choice], character mention: sam wilson, sexual tension with bucky, pet-name [plum], mention of spanking, lots of teasing, bucky works out shirtless, sexual activities in the kitchen, bucky takes readers panties off with teeth, bucky keeps readers panties, oral, squirting, sex against window, exhibitionism, dog tag kink, choking [bicep], dumbification [dumb baby, stupid, big girl words], belly bulge kink, size kink, mocking + degradation, breeding kink, wife/housewife kink, unprotected sex — 18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI
Men.
It was always men that managed to ruin your life.
From your high school boyfriend abandoning you at prom or your that one college hookup that managed to say all the wrong things.
It was always men.
You thought your husband, ex, husband was different. That’s why you agreed to marry him in the first place.
He was sweet and charming, whisking you away on dates and telling you how pretty you looked.
The facade didn’t last. After the honeymoon is when things slowly started crumbling.
He began picking up longer working hours, claiming that it was exactly what you guys needed to start a family.
A family? He never listened to you.
You didn’t want kids. In fact, you were incredibly happy being the aunt to all you nieces and nephews making sure that you were their safe space.
It was never in your books to have kids.
So when you discovered that you wonderful, loving, caring husband had cheated on you—you didn’t hesitate to draft up divorce papers, find a new place, and then spend six months travelling the world.
You met amazing people and made amazing memories. But you were back again at a new city city, a new job, and a new house.
It felt so…empty.
Minimalism not by choice, but by necessity.
A few pictures hung on the walls, some of your family and friends, but were mostly cheap prints you found at your local home goods store.
A work in progress, is what you told yourself as you slowly settled in. It didn’t have to perfect.
The neighbourhood was nice; cute, quaint, and quiet. The people were nice and helpful, welcoming you as you caught the eyes of a particular neighbour.
Everyone called him James, but he introduced himself as Bucky as he extended an arm for you to shake.
It was warm, a beaming smile on his face as he pointed to the u-haul truck in your driveway.
“Need any help?”
You remember shaking your head, pride and ego too high before Bucky scoffed.
“You expect me to believe that a pretty little thing like you is gonna carry in an entire couch by herself?”
You felt embarrassed. You therapist did tell you that it was okay to ask for help, so you finally caved.
Bucky called over another neighbour; Sam.
He made you laugh within the first five minutes as his nephews came barrelling down the street yelling.
“We can help!”
And they did, the two boys probably did more than the three adults ever did—and the best part is that they still had energy by the end of it.
“I don’t have much, but how about I order us some pizza’s as a thank you?” You offered, shutting your fridge as you realized you had nothing but a few beers and some ketchup.
Sam laughed, “I’ll take you up on that offer next time, but I’ve gotta get back.”
You thanked him profusely, telling that the pizza offer didn’t expire before it was just you and Bucky.
The old you would have never asked for help, let alone offering a stranger dinner, but here you were.
You both are swapping stories before the night grew young and you’d swapped numbers.
Yeah, this neighbourhood was alright.
Bucky had a habit of doing most things shirtless.
Not like you minded, in fact, it didn’t seem like anyone in the neighbourhood really minded. Only Sam ever giving Bucky shit asking do you even own any shirts?
It was Sunday morning which meant you’d woken up to multiple sets of lawnmowers and the faint sound of chirping birds before you’d decided that you’d add your brand new hydrangea tree to your front yard.
Lucky for you, Bucky had decided to workout at the same time.
He jogged past you, stopping to send you a wink.
“Looking good, plum!” He chuckled, stopping on his driveway as you saw the gym equipment in his garage.
You could do nothing but shake your head and laugh as you continued to prod at the dirt.
The sexual tension that Bucky carried with him was obvious. You’d learned very quickly that everyone was interested in getting into Bucky’s pants, but no one had ever gotten that lucky.
He loved the attention though, he had to as he did pull-ups in full view of everyone.
It wasn’t long until his sweaty torso, dog tags clinging softly, was making it’s way over to you as he brushed a few beads of sweat off his forehead before crouching down beside you.
“What are these?” He asked, slightly out of breath as you dropped the small shovel in your hand.
“Hydrangea’s.” You answered, smiling as you finished patting the soil.
He hummed, “they smell sweet.”
You nodded your head, “they’re my favourite.”
Bucky looked at you, smiling, “not as sweet as you though, plum.”
It was an instinct to roll your eyes as Bucky chuckled, the two of you standing up as the local power walking club passed you; mostly paying attention to the shirtless Bucky.
You couldn’t blame them.
“You wanna come in for some lemonade? It’s freshly squeezed.” You enticed him as he chuckled.
“I’d love some.”
Bucky knew your house all too well, his trips becoming so frequent that you had decided to give him the tour one night before dinner.
They were cookie cutter houses, an identical copy to all the other houses on the block, but Bucky still took the tour as if his life depended on it.
“Any plans for today?” You asked, opening the fridge as you grabbed the glass pitcher while Bucky slid onto one of the bar stools.
“I’ve got a few case files to look over tonight,” he groaned as you poured him a tall glass and slid it over to him before you did the same for yourself.
Bucky was an attorney, so it made sense as to why he didn’t have wife.
Or at least that’s what you told yourself because surely there’s eligible people that he’s shown interest in.
His work hours were hectic and never consistent, some days staying in the office until five and other until one in the morning.
“Well then here’s to the weekend,” you smiled, raising your glass as Bucky did the same, lightly tapping them against one another before taking a sip.
He let out an approving moan, eyes locked with yours as he licked the remaining lemonade from his bottom lip; but he knew what he was doing.
“Almost as sweet as you,” he was proud, the smirk on his lips telling enough as you shook your head.
“You’ve gotta put that pent up sexual energy to use, James.”
The slip of his name always did something to him, watching the way his eyes darkened just a little.
“Plum, if you call me James one more time I’ll have no choice but to put you over my knee,” he deadpanned, your breath catching in your throat at the prospect.
Was that something you were into? You weren’t sure, but for Bucky? You’d try anything once.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you mumbled jokingly, half jokingly, as you began wiping the counter down to distract yourself from the fact that Bucky had stood up and was reaching his black and gold arm out to place over yours; stopping your movements.
“Let’s stop playing this game,” he purrs, heavy hand tugging you so you’re facing him.
His hair has grown since you’d met him almost eight months ago, pushed back from his sweaty workout as you meet his gaze.
It’s darkened, pupils consuming his irises as you swallow thickly.
“What game?”
He shakes his head, looking down as another smirk tugs at his lips.
“Don’t act stupid with me now.”
A shiver rolls down your spine at the authority in his voice and the way he’s holding you by your bicep.
“Don’t act like you don’t think about me late at night,” he purrs, voice dropping an octave and you can smell him.
There’s sweat and bergamot, presumably his deodorant as you’re chewing on the inside of your cheek.
“Do you wanna know what I think about, plum?” He then cooes, cupping your face gently with his cool palm.
You can only nod your head.
He turns your head, “see those windows?”
He asks, your eyes scanning the large living room glass before you nod your head.
“They look out into the entire neighbourhood.” He whispers, “and I’ve dreaming about the day I get to fuck you against them for everyone to see.”
His words make you gasp, breath hitching in your throat as you have to bite your lip to stop the moan that threatens to slip past your lips.
“Dreaming about the day I get to make you mine.”
You feel butterflies, but not in your tummy.
He pulls you close again, pressed against his crotch and oh.
“That’s what you do to me,” you wiggle your hips instinctively, finding your confidence and Bucky sees this.
“Use those big girl words of yours, plum. I know you’re a smart girl,” he mocks, tapping your lip and suddenly you forget how to speak.
“I want you to use me,” you finally manage to spit out, watching the way Bucky’s face lights up and the way his cock twitches against your hip.
“Good girl. See what happens when you put that baby brain of yours to work?” He taunts you, already bunching your sundress until he’s hiking it around your waist so he can slip his fingers under your panties.
It makes you gasp, eyes closing and mouth opening as he runs warm fingers through your folds.
“So fucking wet.” He growls, “barely need any warming up, could probably take my cock right now. So desperate.”
Oh how his taunts makes your knees weak.
He’s quick to sink to his knees, nose prodding your covered core as he looks up at you before he’s biting your panties with his teeth and slowly tugging them down your legs.
That’s a new one.
It causes a moan to bubble, leaning against your counter as he shoves your panties into his pocket.
“I think I’ll keep these.”
Do whatever you want, just touch me you keep repeating in your head as you feel his hot breath over your pussy.
His mouth is finally over you, lapping your juice up as he hums and moans against you. The vibrations are enough to have you teetering on the edge, his beard rubbing against your inner thighs and you’ll be feeling that tomorrow.
“God,” he groans. “You’re so fuckin’ sweet, plum.”
You look down, seeing the way he’s palming himself through his shorts all while he’s eating you out and it sends a shiver running over your body.
He pulls away, lips glistening under the light filtering through your windows.
“Have you ever squirted?”
The question catches you off-guard, mouth slightly agape as you stutter out nonsense.
“I-uh, I think? Maybe, once, I-I don’t,” you don’t know what the right answer is, but Bucky just hushes you.
“I want you to relax, okay? Don’t think, just feel.” He explains as you swallow and nod your head before he’s back between your legs.
He starts slow again, with his tongue flat against you before feel his fingers at your entrance.
When he slowly stretches you, curling his vibranium fingers, there’s absolutely no holding back.
“That’s it baby.” He cooes, “can feel you squeezing me, I know you wanna.”
It’s a slightly foreign feeling. The tightness and pressure mixing and meshing with each other as sudden waves start washing over you.
It happens all of a sudden, a loud yelp leaving you as you soak Bucky’s face and chest, and Bucky looks feral.
He’s up, standing, before pulling you into a kiss, your first kiss, where you can taste yourself.
“You ever done that, plum?” He asks, heaving chest and aching cock as you shake your head.
“No.”
“Of course you haven’t, but now that your sweet cunt is mine, I’m gonna have you squirting every goddamn day.” He growls, quickly tearing your dress off of you, taking a step back and admiring you.
“You see this?” He pulls his cock free, pumping himself, “all because of you.”
You’re kissing him again, skin against skin, as you’re moving towards the large windows in the early afternoon light before Bucky has you pressed up against it.
The glass is cold against your skin, nipples perking up as you gasp again, “now everyone’ll know just who you belong to.
It makes you whimper, feeling him run the head of his cock through your folds teasingly.
He kicks your feet apart further before he’s wrapping his bicep around your neck, getting so close to your ear that you can feel his breath against you.
When he sinks into your slowly, you relax against him.
“Fuck.” He hisses, “so fucking tight.”
Your walls flutter around him, greedily grabbing him as you swallow him.
“Taking my cock so well, baby. And all for the neighbours to see.” He chuckles lowly, bottoming out and pulling your back flush against his chest.
His warm, wandering hand starts down at your clit, teasing you before slowly running up your tummy before he groans.
“I’m deep inside you, can you feel me?” He purrs, pressing on the belly bulge as another low groan echos in your ear.
“Bucky,” you whine, wiggling your ass as you feel your slick against your own thighs now, without a doubt dripping onto Bucky too.
“Aww, sweetheart.” He’s mocking now, “you need to be fucked? Can feel how wet and desperate you are.”
He rocks his hips, a gentle taunt as he gets even deeper.
“S’okay,” he cooes. “I’m gonna take care of you even better than that husband of yours ever did.”
He then snaps his hips harshly, taking the breath from your lungs as you’re pressed harder against the glass.
You can feel his now hot dog tags pressed against your back, clinking together as he fucks you deep and hard.
“C’mon, plum.” He grunts, “want you to squirt over my cock.”
The same pressure is there again, like a rubber band waiting to snap as Bucky’s fingers find your clit and you can’t hold it back anymore.
You’re soaking his cock, pushing him out with the force of your orgasm as Bucky bites down on your shoulder before he’s slipping back inside of you.
“My dirty slut, getting fucked for the neighbours to see,” he growls.
“But I’m not satisfied yet.”
He’s grabbing your ass, squeezing the supple flesh, “come for me, cream over my cock, plum. Let me breed you.”
You’re whimpering, voice leaving you as you feel your orgasm gripping your body in immense pleasure before Bucky’s hips are stuttering deep inside of you and you can feel the twitch of his cock.
The sound of Bucky cumming, deep, rumbling moans replay in your mind as you find your breath again, his bicep relaxing from your neck.
He presses soft kisses to your shoulders and neck, turning you around with a lazy smile.
“You’d make a great wife, you know that?” He smirks, wiping your bottom lip.
“Sweet, innocent looking thing on the outside, but fuck do you make my knees weak, plum.”
You can’t help but giggle, pulling him in by his dog tags, “take me to dinner first, James.” You purr teasingly, watching him bite his lip.
“Only if I can have you for dessert.”
Dessert, breakfast, lunch, dinner? Bucky didn’t care, he just wanted you always.
And he finally got you.
#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucksfucks writes — [♡] ;#bucky barnes headcanon#bucky barnes headcanons#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes oneshots#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes au#bucky barnes blurb#bucky barnes drabble
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HCs for Gus Hunter Mattholomule eventual friendship? 👀
If anybody has like good headcanons of the three of them together they should send them to me cuz not a lot is coming to mind rn. The only thing I can really think of at the moment is Hunter getting roped into being Mattholomule's relationship therapist. Which is very funny to me, but very Matt and Hunter centric with little Gus involvement. But I'll talk about it anyway.
I like to imagine that if Matt develops a crush on Gus, he doesn't actually realize it until he's like 15-16 and has a little gay crisis over it. And Hunter (around 18-19 at this point.) sees his younger self in Matt so he's like "Hey. Wanna talk about it?"
Their relationship is fun cuz Matt is very hesitant to extend it any further beyond playfully vitriolic because he's not very good at expressing friendship in a sincere way. Hunter, meanwhile, has never minded playing along with this dynamic and Matt is super obnoxious so it's very easy for him to be snappy with him. However, Hunter is also a very gentle and compassionate person and has had a few years of practise talking about emotions with people, so he has no problem breaking the status quo of his and Matt's dynamic and offering support when he thinks Matt is actually upset. Though it freaks Matt out a lot and makes him uncomfortable so he throws a little bitchfit about it and insists he doesn't need Hunter's help and storms off.
Only to cave under the pressure of his own complicated emotions and goes running back to Hunter about an hour later. Because like. He needs to talk. And yell. And complain. And get this shit out of his system. He doesn't know what else to do but go talk to Hunter about it. Even if it takes swallowing all his pride to do so.
And so begins the saga of Mattholomule's crush on Gus getting worse and worse with every passing day, which leads to so much overthinking and magnifying and panic on Matt's end and every time he has a moment where he's like "But....but what if he finds out and it fucks everything up?? What then??" He picks up his crow and calls Hunter.
This happens....a lot. And more often that not, Hunter is in the middle of something. Either giving a presentation on his wild magic research, or having an important dinner with a witch he's trying to get a job from, or taking an afternoon nap after pulling an all-nighter, or about to score a win for his flyer derby team, or Titan forbid, trying to spend quality time with his girlfriend, there WILL be a fucking crow smashing itself against the nearest window and demanding Hunter's attention until he picks up. And every fucking time it's just that gay little bitch.
And every fucking time, Hunter answers. He's not even mad. He's been in this situation and he just sympathises with Matt so much that he has the patience of a Saint when it comes to dealing with him.
Willow is getting progressively more and more pissed that Matt keeps interrupting her dates RIGHT when it's getting to the good part.
Hunter will be untangling their limbs and trying to stand up so he can answer the crow and she's like "Honey....you can just ignore it. He will survive, I promise."
But Hunter's just like "But...I gotta help him, Cap. I gotta. You don't know what he's like. He's got big sad wet eyes and he nervous sweats all the time."
And Willow just has to sigh and accept it, because she can't exactly be mad that her boyfriend won't rest until he's made sure every single one of his friends is happy.
She can still be irritated as hell at Matt tho.
Anyway Hunter barely even needs to talk to Matt when he has these little moments. Most of the time, all Hunter has to do is stay on the other line and go "Mmm." Cuz mostly, Matt just wants to yell into the void but it's comforting to have someone who will listen and Hunter is the only person he trusts to do it. He feels weird asking Steve cuz Matt loves him but he also idolizes him and doesn't wanna come across as a pathetic pining idiot around him.
"But you know what it's like to be a pathetic pining idiot so it doesn't matter." He tells Hunter on one occasion.
"You suck, you know that Mattholomule?"
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7:22 PM- Jungkook
(A/N: this is connected to my 9:20 PM and 6:00 PM couple. Read those before this one if you want, or don't- either way, feedback is appreciated! This is pre-breakup, post 9:20PM, if that makes sense.)
"When you say you like my lips, are you picturing them wrapped around your cock?"
Jungkook's eyes snapped up to yours, holding contact there like you had dared him to a staring contest. You didn't waver, for once. This was new to you, being so forward. His face was neutral for a moment, making you nervous until he raised his eyebrows a fraction and tipped his head to the side, impressed by you. You felt a warm sense of pride blossom in your chest, taking it as an invitation to nestle closer to him.
He made room for you, slotting you against his body like he knew you liked.
"Yeah," He admitted. "I also just like the words that come out of them and how they look when you're smirking at me, kind of like you are now."
He dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, the pad of his finger rubbing soft circles into the supple flesh. He let his eyes lock onto the way your lips looked as he toyed with you, running the edge of his touch along the seams, stopping at the corner and then tracing the edges of your mouth all over again. He hummed in a satisfied sort of way before looking back up to you, his own smirk now settled onto his face, "But yeah. When I say I like your lips, I'm picturing them wrapped around my cock. Must feel nice- they're soft and warm and when you lick them every so often they're wet, shiny."
You licked them now, wetting your lips unconsciously because your mouth was wet too, saliva pooling just at the notion of Jungkook wanting this cock in your mouth.
You smiled, leaning into his hand until his rough palm was cupping your hand, "You're really good at turning me on."
"You're really easy to arouse," He countered, grinning teasingly at you, "All it takes is a little honesty and some good communication and boom- you wanna sit on my dick."
You did just that, slinking your leg over his lap and squeezing against his thigh, powering yourself upright until you were straddling his lap, "Honesty and communication aren't my strong suits, remember? I'm turned on by them because I'm jealous it comes so easily to you."
"You wouldn't have admitted that a couple months ago," Jungkook noted, "Progress."
A couple months ago, you couldn't even admit to yourself that you liked Jungkook- let alone that you wanted him this bad. It was new, the status change from reluctant friends to... something more. You hadn't even had the chance to go down in him, which is what caused this whole conversation. Things were still difficult, he still annoyed you endlessly and made you be honest about things you'd normally just lie about. You still preferred it, lying. Even if it meant you were lonely. You didn't really know why you were indulging him so much, why you were trying to hard to let him into your head.
"Progress," You repeated, mumbling against his lips before kissing him. You rocked yourself against him, pushing your chest against him. You wanted him close, so incredibly close. You tried pulling him nearer to you but got frustrated when he did the opposite, leaning back against the couch the two of you had been sprawled out on, whatever movie he had chosen drolling on uselessly in the background.
"Uh, uh- You gotta say it," He reprimanded, looking at you from the corner of his eye. "Tell me what you want."
"I already said you make me horny," You whined, squirming in his lap.
"Okay, so what do you want me to do about that? I make a lot of women horny-"
Jungkook cut himself off, wincing in pain as you dug you hand into his arm instinctively, nails pressing into the flesh of his bicep. You glared at him, raking your hand down a couple centimeters before releasing him, "Don't talk about other girls when I'm on top of you."
"What about when you're underneath me?"
You made a glutteral noise of disgust and shoved him away from you, moving to climb off of him before his large hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place easily.
"Okay, okay- I'll stop," He lamented, laughing despite himself. "Let's go back to you telling me what to do."
"Let's just watch the movie," You pouted, as immature as ever.
Jungkook sent you a reproachful look, wrapping his arms around your waist stubbornly. He shook his head silently, leaning forwards to kiss his way up your neck, sucking on the warm, thin skin there. "I'm sorry, doll. I was just teasing you."
"I don't like the idea of other girls wanting you," You mumbled, letting him bite bruises into your neck despite normally hating the marks left behind the next day. You wanted it now, a sign that he was yours and no one else's.
"I like that you want me all to yourself," Jungkook said against your skin, silvery tone humming in your ear. "You have me, you know. I do belong to you."
You carded your fingers through his hair and tugged his head to the side sharply, exposing his neck to you. You pushed the collar of his threadbare shift down, weathered material rendered almost transparent given how many times Jungkook had worn it. You ran your tongue along his skin before nipping at him, giving him a matching mark barely visible if he wore the right shirt tomorrow.
"Satisfied?" He asked, smirking up at you teasingly.
"Not nearly," You replied, widening your legs so that your center pressed more deeply into his lap, "I want you to fuck me now."
"Yes ma'am," Jungkook grinned, already pushing the waistband of his pants down.
masterlist.
#bts timestamps#bts drabble#bts fic#jungkook drabble#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fic#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook headcanons#jungkook x y/n#jungkook fluff#jungkook x you#jungkook oneshot
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I don't think you should take it personally?
Remember it's September now, people are busier from school starting up again (and during the holidays, they might have been busy being at the beach, yaknow?)
And that's just one thing, there's other factors like "people might reblog one thing but not the other posts they saw in a row", so if you post 4 art pieces at once, people might be self-conscious and only reblog one to not spam.
You also don't know people's motives, maybe some like HoV, but others might like birds, so if they see HoV not being a bird they won't care enough to reblog it.
Maybe they like a certain coloring you use, and when it's more sketchy, they're not interested.
Maybe they just like some of your drawings more than others and only reblog their favorites.
Maybe they're not as into Honkai anymore after Part 1 ended so they don't reblog Honkai stuff anymore.
Regarding your joke posts that get more notes specifically, that's a well-known phenomenon, people don't reblog based on your effort but based on how they felt about the art. If it's pretty, they might think "oh, pretty", and not think of it again.
If it's funny and makes them laugh, though? They are a lot more likely show it to their friends who'll laugh too, especially if the context, whether it's reblogging or spreading it via other means, and jokes can often transcend their fandom and spread much wider, too.
Other kinds of art that get this treatment tends to be especially creative concepts like the tuna tail that felt really novel (and also had jokes!)
The amount of notes you get is not a measure of your or your art's inherent value. You do not even get anything from it, at least on tumblr, it's just numbers that do not translate into money or anything like that. At most it might get used by corporations to measure your clout, which is... not a practice I find good but this isn't what this post is about.
Personally? I love getting attention. I love knowing lots of people read my works, hell my memes too, especially if it prompted them to speak about it to their friends or think about something more deeply. I want my stuff to spread! I want it to be popular enough that people talk about it where I can see!
So yeah I know it's easy to feel bitter about your numbers, I've stopped watching ao3 numbers a long time ago because it stressed me out for no reason (I only have comment emails on, which is also why I strongly encourage people to comment on my work, that's the only way I know people cared! I still love attention, I want to talk about my work, I'm just watching my mental health by not caring for the actual numbers...)
It's alright to take pride in getting something popular, but the flip side of that is that when your expectations grow, you feel you're doing "worse" when you're still doing much better than the beginner you used to be.
Looking at the quality of my writing, I've made a lot of progress, and even my most read works are kinda old now. But did you or I get "worse" just coz the recent stuff got less attention? No. We just kept doing our thing, and whether it clicks with the invisible audience isn't up to the effort we put in.
Just gotta keep doing what we love. You draw HoV because you love her right? Not for little numbers.
my content just never gets much attention unless it's a shitpost does it
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I've been quiet around here lately, so I hadn't reflected on the year yet. 2020 was already a less active year for the blog compared to 2019, in which I plowed through over 150 issues to finally finish the pre-Flynn era. I can't say I expected to return to that breakneck pace in 2021, but I also wasn't expecting to take half the year off and cover even fewer issues with a grand total of 16. (Plus three TKP Addendums, scattered thoughts on new IDW issues, and several lengthy breakdowns on the controversy surrounding the Penders-licensed Scourge comic that was canceled after four days. Remember that? That was in November. Time flies.) Needless to say I fell very short of my goal of reaching Sonic Universe in 2021
I'm a broken record at this point, but this lack of progress is mainly due to me focusing on my actual job: finishing SLARPG, which I recently confirmed is due out this year. 2021 wasn't a particularly productive year for me reading old Sonic comics, but boy howdy I sure did get a lot of my game made in that time. More than any previous year, even, hence me confirming that it's finally gonna be out in 2022. I'm thankful that most of y'all are understanding of my priorities (and/or excited about the game itself, since it's my pride and joy)
Towards the end of the year I also ended up disabling the ask box on this blog for the first time ever. While I do always get many chill and reasonable messages from folks who just wanna joke around or talk about Sonic and related subjects with me, I can't say I miss waking up most days to requests to have proxy debates random Sonic hot takes and repetitive messages about Sega mandates and questions about how Penders can possibly own [insert character here] even though the answer always boils down to "they fucking settled it in court and they said he owns it man what do you want me to say," all from anonymous strangers. I love running this blog, but that part gets tiring. It really does. It will be back when I'm back to updating, but I'm still not quite ready for that yet. (For the record, my ask box is still open on my main, but please don't just redirect a billion Sega mandate questions there thanks)
Anyway, here's to me covering more issues in 2022! It's gonna be a big year for Sonic with a new game, movie, AND Netflix cartoon, so that will probably energize me. I gotta at LEAST be able to do 17 issues, right? Right...?
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Pirates and Princesses (8/8)
(gif: @beccs) (PART SEVEN) (SERIES MASTERLIST)
Summary: JJ must confront his childhood trauma when returning home for the first time since his dad went to jail and prevent it from sabotaging his new relationship. Meanwhile, something sinister happens at the Chateau that brings Y/N face to face with her grief over John B’s death.
Word Count: 13.4k
Warnings: Angst, implied sexual content, strong language, parent/child abuse, mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, grief, and fluff.
A/N: Welcome to the final chapter of Tokens! This one has a little bit of everything in it, but it also has detailed scenes about JJ and his dad, so proceed with caution if you’re easily triggered by that topic. The love you guys show this fic warms my heart so much, so thanks to anyone who stuck with this story until this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!
Now that she has been sentenced to both punishments, one as a consequence of the fight with Kacey and the other as a consequence of the stunt she pulled with JJ to break out of ISS, Y/N can confidently say that out of school suspension is superior to in-school suspension by a long shot. Instead of sitting in a humid room with Alec for the duration of multiple school days, she's allowed to stay home, go out surfing, and do whatever she wants in lieu of doing classwork.
She promised herself not to make it a habit, promising the invisible presence of John B that she likes to pretend follows her around that she will never get herself into trouble again, but she sees no problem in enjoying her suspension while it lasts.
For the first few days of her suspension, JJ skipped school to spend it with her. Their memories of the conversation they had at three in the morning on Sunday were fuzzy, but not missing entirely. She noticed a difference in his behavior for the first few hours after they woke up under the tree together for the second time in one week. It wasn't a difference in their relationship or how he treated her, it was a difference in him.
He was quieter than usual as they cleaned up cans of beer and tossed them into the recycling, sending pictures to Kie while she was in class after she made them promise not to throw them in the trash. Rather than cracking jokes or making casual conversation with her, JJ made his way around the yard with the recycling bin in his hands and his head in the clouds. It disappeared as the day progressed, but for a little while, he wasn't completely there.
Today, he went into school instead of ditching to spend extra time with her in between shifts at work and time spent with their friends. Since they can't exceed three consecutive absences without a doctor’s note and he doesn't own a printer or laptop to forage the header from a doctor's office, he had no choice but to part from her this morning.
He bites his lip to contain his smug facial expression at the recollection of her wake up call for him. The hand holding his locker door open for him to lean on in the midst of his not-so-wholesome thoughts of her squeezes the metal hard enough to turn his knuckles white.
The curtains weren't shut all the way when they fell asleep before midnight last night, allowing a shaft of sunlight to shine in and land on his face. But that wasn't what woke him up from the dream he was having. In fact, the reality he opened his eyes to was a hell of a lot better than any dream he remembered.
Most of his memory of those moments spent suspended between consciousness and unconsciousness consisted of feeling her pressing a kiss to his shoulder, then her hands rubbing up and down his waist to slip lower and lower until they settled on the waistband of his underwear. It was then that he woke to find her looking up at him for permission from where she peppered kisses along his chest.
Their eyes met right as she kissed the edge of his nipple with this pleading, needy look that he took pride in causing without actively attempting to. She woke up on the brink of coming undone from a pleasant—to put it tamely—dream about him. With a glimpse at the time displayed on the alarm clock, it didn't take much for her to roll over to wake him up.
It ended with her beneath the sheet, finishing what she started Friday afternoon until he was clutching the pillow beneath his head in the midst of his orgasm. It happened so fast, a fault of how hot he found it to wake up to her wanting him so badly, but it felt slower than it truly was in the early morning haze of exhaustion they felt.
The memory as he relives it is as heady as it felt the first time around. He sees it in fractions; her eyes looking up at his, warm palms finding the familiar planes of his muscular body with the exploratory touch of someone who's never traveled it before, and the intense sensations he felt at the end...It's easy for him to stand here and lose himself in it. Despite the class he has to go to, he bargains with himself for one more second spent in the paradise of his memories before he has to come back to reality.
Reality, as his shitty luck would have it, comes in the form of a familiar feminine voice chirping from behind his back as he replays his morning bliss.
"It's good to see you're alive and well, Maybank."
He decides, based on who he knows he'll see when he turns around, that he might invest in a sharpie to write "Bang head here" on the inside of his locker door for instances like these where he'd rather suffer brain damage than speak to someone he can't stomach the presence of.
When he turns to see Kacey with one arm still stretched to hold his locker open, he doesn't bother concealing the genuine reaction from his face for the sake of her feelings. Any care he had for her and her feelings was thrown to the wind as soon as she decided she could steal from and put her hands on his girl last week. However, after a second of thought, a condescending smirk finds its way to his face.
He says, jerking his chin to vaguely gesture at her bruised up face, "Purple really suits your complexion. It makes your eyes pop, don't you think?"
Though the swelling of her black eye has deflated in the days since the fight that’ll soon tally up to a week, the verbal jab hits right where it intended to if the light leaving her eyes tells him anything. She bounces back after a second, though, ever the relentless pest they've come to see her as.
She offers a sickeningly sweet, yet fake smile to mirror the one gracing his striking features and spins so her back meets the locker beside his, allowing herself to invade his space further.
A collection of Y/N's stickers decorates the inside of his locker door that he briefly entertained the idea of designating as a place to bang his head against. They range from girly, glittery ones to those he willingly picked when she gave him the choice. Whenever they're at his locker together, she sticks one on the inside, and the evidence of the habit catches Kacey's wandering eyes.
Her fingertips brush against the surface of the sticker-covered metal while she ignores his protest of, "Can you not touch my stuff?" to inspect them. Since one of the Pogues in particular is famous for her endless supply of stickers, her expression sours at the thought of the girl responsible for them.
She spares him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye as she continues to analyze the sticker collection against his instructions not to, asking, "Why weren't you at the bonfire?" A failed attempt at a seductive look in his direction makes him fight not to roll his eyes. "After how last year's ended, I thought you wouldn't miss it for the world."
JJ doesn't bother to take a second to think things through before he reaches to slam the door closed with her hand still outstretched inside of it. Watching her pull it away just in time to avoid jamming it in the locker probably pleases him more than it should, but he can't help it. His hand catches on the edge of the door, halting it in place right before it closes where her hand previously rested.
She doesn't look too happy with him when he opens the door with no harm done except for the drop of her stomach when he initially pretended to swing it shut on her bruised knuckles. She didn't get many shots in on Y/N when they fought, but apparently it was enough.
He doesn't bother with the fake niceties she's giving him after the disrespect she showed him, his friends, and, most importantly, his girlfriend. The fact that she thinks she has any right to breathe in his direction, let alone flirt with him, after she stole JB's bandana is criminal. 'Cause not only did she mess with Y/N, she messed with John B on multiple levels, and his loyalty to his best friend hasn't disappeared with death. Kie and Y/N told him everything she said about their departed friend in the locker room last Thursday.
But he's smart enough to know what'll hurt her more, so he doesn't go for the general scolding he imagined giving her in his head. Since he was told everything about the encounter in the locker room, he knows she's still holding their history together near and dear to her heart.
"We stayed home," he says, casual and cool as always, with added emphasis on the first word, "You know how it is, my girl doesn't like parties. Especially not ones with kooks."
Hook, line, and sinker.
She scoffs, "Your girl?"
Looking at her now, he wonders if she was always this stupid, or if this is a new development she's had in the year since he last spent more than a minute or two at a time with her. It’s easier to trick her than it was with Kie and Y/N a few days ago, and those poor girls flew into that trap like moths to a flame.
"That's what I said, isn't it?"
The ire is visible in the way her face tenses up in places, her lips pressing together a little more firmly and her forehead creasing between the brows.
"Doesn't your, um, history bother her?" she asks, and he's gotta give her credit for being a sneaky little shit when given the chance. The girl takes every possible opening she can to strike for a potential weakness. "No offense, but you kinda get around."
He shrugs this time, deciding to drop his casual act and aim straight for the jugular.
"She likes having someone who knows how to fuck her right, actually, but I really appreciate the concern."
Much like Kie's reaction to their matching tattoos in the hot tub the other night, her jaw is unhinged to meet the unswept hallway floor they stand on. It makes him wish Y/N weren't suspended in order for her to see the gobsmacked reaction Kacey has to the harsh dismissal. Though he wouldn't want to incite an extra round of the Kacey vs Y/N WWE showdown by having her watch another girl flirt with him and essentially call him a slut upon rejection, he knows she'd get a kick out of it.
This one's for you, baby, he thinks with a quiet laugh to himself and turns his focus to the sticker collection she so lovingly crafted.
There are plenty of summer themed ones left over from the same pack he gifted her for her birthday with the surfboard sticker she used to tease him, as well as a newer genre of Valentine's Day stickers she started using the closer they grew since first getting together. They're mostly different colored candy hearts with corny phrases ranging from "U SXY THING" to the classic "BE MINE" and one printed with "ANGEL" on it—his favorite by far.
However, others are random ones from her endless stash built up over the years from birthdays and holidays deemed worthy enough by her dad to stop by Dollar Tree for a new pack, so the one he sets his attention on is likely meant for teachers or coaches to give to their students. The opportunity appears too good to be true to him when it clicks, but it isn't.
He peels the sticker off of the locker door, careful not to disturb the ones around it, and leans in closer to her to place it on the front of her tank top.
"Leave us alone or I won't stop her next time," JJ says lowly, past the point of civility, then backs away to slam his locker shut for real this time as his voice raises back to a normal volume, "And keep John B's name out of your mouth, got it?"
All she can do is look down at the sticker placed on her shirt with squinted eyes to try and read it while he walks off in the direction of his next class. It tears away from the fabric with a soft noise, and when she finally reads it, she rolls her eyes.
“Good Try!”
Walking out of school to see the Twinkie parked in the usual spot Y/N takes when she isn't suspended is a delightful treat he didn't know to expect after a rough day in class and his run in with Kacey. His head was hung low on his way to Kie's car to hitch a ride to his house before going home to the Chateau, since he had some things to pick up with his dad out of the picture for the near future, but then he heard her greet them.
JJ's body melts into hers upon contact, and he nearly pushes her up against the closed passenger side door of the van with how hard he hugs her. Though he doesn't want to acknowledge it, his dad has been living in his thoughts more than usual today. Ever since he texted him goodbye, he's been withdrawn inside of his head more and more, and after today's inconveniences, the rising anxiety of his plan to visit home has him two seconds from losing his mind.
Her eyes widen at his zeal, meeting Kie's concerned gaze from over the shoulder she rests her chin on. She stands with her keys swinging around her finger as she watches the couple embrace one another. In an answer to the silent question Y/N asks her in their stare, her lips mouth the words, "His dad," to her.
Deep down, Y/N had a feeling.
It began with his impromptu request to run away with her a few days ago and extended into his uncharacteristically reserved attitude the next morning that receded somewhat, but has yet to fully disappear. There is a part of her that's upset that he hasn't come to her to talk about it, to communicate the way they swore they would, yet she also knows it isn't that simple.
She has to remind herself that she knew what she was getting herself into with him. That's not to say that dating her must be a walk in the park for him, it isn't.
She knows based on the amount of times he had to hold her as she cried, or the time he curtailed her panic attack in this very parking lot, that she hasn't made it easy for him in the aftermath of John B's death. But it's because she knows how it feels that she has such patience with his communication issues.
It's not a conscious choice most times, it's an involuntary blockage preventing the words from being spoken no matter how desperately they long to be. They may have made a promise, but she won't chastise him for succumbing to the same pitfalls as her. It’d be hypocritical.
"Bad day?" she asks.
Her voice is tender with him, prodding gently for a clue as to why he pounced on her on sight. He sinks further into her arms at the sound and lets the sanctity of her touch sway him into submission. Everything about her sets him at ease, if only for a second. Her hand lifts the beat-up red hat from his head to allow the other to brush through his hair.
There's a hum of agreement that she feels vibrating through the center of his chest into hers, and her arms pull tighter around his shoulders in response. This time, when she looks up to see Kie there, she's waving a quick goodbye and setting off toward her car, clearly giving JJ the space he needs.
"We can go to the beach," she says softly, "I have a towel in the back of the van, we can just lay there and talk about it if you want."
The idea of her kind offer to him should add to the comfort he finds in her embrace. It should make him nod and whisper his gratitude to her for being the one person that knows him better than anyone, but it brings him back to the gloomy headspace he was in before seeing her.
It started as a minor distraction when he first arrived at school after carpooling with Kie. It followed him in the quieter moments, only making appearances when he wasn't distracted with more pressing matters. It began as that and built the closer the day came to ending. The sooner his inevitable visit back to his childhood home came, the more he lost himself in his fear, reverting back to a state of helplessness he now occupies with no small amount of shame.
His bottom lip trembles with the urge to cry.
"Can we stop somewhere on the way home first?"
The last place she expected him to drive the Twinkie is here.
As they made their way down each street, taking each turn necessary to bring them closer to the house he seldom let her go to over the course of their lifelong friendship, she felt her heart begin to race. And now, as the van rolls to a stop in the yard in front of his house, she has swallow back the lump in her throat at the sight of it.
She has only been here a few times.
The first time, she was seven years old.
It was a sweltering summer morning in the Outer Banks for her and John B as they set off to retrieve their friend after he missed their plans to meet up at the Chateau for a day of having fun, riding bikes, and playing on the boat. Pirates and Princesses was her favorite game to play with them because JJ would switch roles with her halfway through when she grew tired of being the damsel John B had to rescue from the most cruel and vicious Captain Jesse James Maybank.
The HMS Pogue would rock beneath his feet as he marched across the deck of the boat and took her place as the kidnapped Princess Routledge. He handed off his "sword" to her, a stick he found in the yard, and stood at the edge of the boat with his hands behind his back as though he were a tied up damsel in distress for her to hold captive. The sun setting behind them laid a picturesque backdrop that made the scene all the more vivid to their imaginative young minds.
The boat floated in the afternoon current as John B approached the pair with his best pretend face of worry for the fair Princess Maybank, who had the sharp sword of the pirate queen pressing into his throat with the threat of death should he have tried to escape.
Sometimes, she'd let John B advance on them and tie make believe rope around her wrists and ankles while he and Princess Maybank claimed their victory. Other times, they'd get backed up until the heels of her sneakers hung off the edge of the slippery deck. One move from her brother would have her yell something along the lines of not taking either of them alive, then she'd let her and JJ fall back into the marsh together with gleeful laughs infiltrating the humid air upon their return to the surface.
On the day he didn't show up, none of that happened. She and John B rode their bikes together along sidewalks until they pulled into a driveway marked with the address number he remembered from the other time he sought him out to play before.
Y/N didn't understand what they were hearing when they pushed their kickstands down and called out for their friend, but John B's little face blanched at the sound flooding out of the opened windows of the dilapidated yellow house. It was a combination of banging against the walls, glass shattering, and childlike shouts of frustration and pain. Her big brother placed himself in front of her protectively when the front door opened and smacked against the side of the house, but it wasn't his dad storming out of the house, it was JJ.
His eyes widened at the sight of the siblings standing there, and his heart dropped to his stomach at the realization that they heard it. Maybe not all of it, but based on how the girl peeking out around John B's shoulder looked at him, they heard some.
The van is parked in the exact same place their bikes once were, the exact place she and John B stood years ago when they were first confronted with the harsh reality about their best friend's home life, and he looks like he has fully backpedaled into the state of mind his childhood self inhabited. Even when he turns the key in the ignition and lets the rumbling engine sputter down in silence, he sits in the driver's seat with his lip drawn between his teeth in thought.
Yet as soon as she summons the courage to say something, he takes a deep breath and opens the door without a warning or the typical instruction for her to stay in the car. He doesn't tell her to follow him in, nor does he order her to stay out as he used to when his dad still lived inside. He gives her the choice to make on her own, and, when faced with the opportunity to support him or stay outside like the confused little girl she once was, she chooses the first option.
Her swift steps kick dirt up from the earth onto her ankles as she follows him out of the van to the front steps of the house. She tries not to make her concern for him as evident as it'd be without her intervention on her way up the porch, but it's impossible to erase every sign of it from her face.
It isn't a particularly special or scary house. It's a normal home that'd likely look more inviting if JJ were still living here to mow the lawn and tend to the household upkeep his father saddled him with since he was old enough to be put to work. But she knows better than to trust the street appeal. As he takes her hand to lead them through the threshold of the haunted structure, she is overcome with a sense of creeping trepidation that she can't shake.
"You're sure he isn't here?" she asks.
The entryway is crowded with stacks of mail his father wasn’t bothered to open, as well as empty cardboard boxes that once held cans of beer that are scattered, empty, in various places around the house. Her question is answered by the state of the rooms they breeze past in the direction of his bedroom, but she needed something to say to fill the silence. With them, they usually don’t feel uncomfortable not speaking to each other, but this feels different.
The way he stares out in front of him with his hand squeezing hers hard enough to cut off circulation unnerves her more than the tainted energy of the house itself. He isn't himself. He's a shell of the JJ they know and love, the JJ who is most comfortable tucked away in the safe walls of the Chateau with their friends, not here. If anything, how he is while he's here is the antithesis of his behavior while living with her.
Ever since John B died, he's practically moved in with her. When they're hidden away in her house without the reminders of his home life in sight, he's usually the caretaker of the relationship. It comes naturally to their dynamic, both with him being slightly older and his promise to take care of her, but everything is flipped here. It's an alternate reality for him, or, perhaps, actual reality smacking him in the face after a carefully constructed two months in utopia with her.
They come to a stop in front of his closed bedroom door.
"He's gone," he says, not even sparing a glance at her for reasons she can't decipher, "He texted me a few days ago to say goodbye."
With that, he turns the doorknob and lets the door swing open to reveal the bedroom she only saw one other time.
The second time, she was thirteen years old.
It was a Friday.
Since his dad was supposed to be at work, they stopped at his house on their way home from school exactly like they did today so he could share with their friends what he got from his cousin the night before. Being the good girl she was, she didn't even know what he was showing her when he dug it out of the backpack in the bottom of his closet.
Her brows furrowed at the ziploc bag, more specifically the contents inside of it. She was knelt down on the floor in front of the opened closet door with her shoulder pressed up against his to inspect it. The dried green cluster of a plant didn't look like anything she'd seen before, and she couldn't help but ask him what the hell it was rather than react the way he knew the others would.
"What is it? It looks like dried up moss."
JJ laughed and pulled another bag with rolling papers and a grinder stowed inside.
"It's weed. My cousin Ricky gave me a discount since—"
He halted mid-sentence abruptly enough to startle her, his head turning in the direction of where he heard a trunk pulling up to the front of the house. Her stare was still set on where he was holding the plastic bags in his hands, and she noticed, after he stopped speaking in reaction to his dad coming home, that his hands began trembling. It was so minimal, she almost didn't catch it until she saw the bag wavering under the light coming in from his window.
Before she could open her mouth to say anything more, she felt his hands on her shoulders shoving her into the closet. He followed in closely behind her and crawled in until they were both crammed into the confined space together. With the closet doors shut in front of them, he clamped a hand over her mouth, whispering in her ear for her to be quiet.
She stands with her arms crossed over herself in the center of his room, and though nothing has yet to be said or done to convince her anything is wrong, that's the exact reason why she feels so unnerved by the entire experience of coming here.
He's silent.
The closet doors are wide open as he stuffs the rest of the clothes he had yet to bring to the Chateau into the biggest bag he could find. He rips through his belongings in a fit of melancholy driven anger. His thoughts are swirling with similar memories to the ones she conjures from being here again, but his are tinged with a darkness hers don't have, even with hearing him crying in pain as a child and hiding in the closet with his hand smothering her mouth to evade his dad.
JJ visibly grimaces at the memories he's forced to relive in flashes with every glimpse he gets of the room he spent so much time hiding in. It used to be more tolerable to be here, or at least easier to suffer through. At least he was used to it before, but he got so accustomed to life somewhere else that the second he was confronted with coming back, he started to fall apart.
Whatever he can't live without, he finds space for it in the bag and prepares to leave the rest behind. But every object he touches and step he takes around the room brings him back to the person who he spent his adolescence simultaneously fleeing and wanting more from. More notably, it brings him back to the train of thought that has been nagging him ever since he texted him over the weekend.
The third and final time she came here was over the summer.
It happened right before Hurricane Agatha waged war on the island, when none of the Pogues heard from JJ for two days after he said he had to go home to help his dad with something. She didn't want to track him down to his house after they went over twenty-four hours without a single message. She didn't want to have to go back to the house that gave her chills to think about, let alone go to again after they hid in his closet when they were younger, but he gave her no other choice.
What was she supposed to do except go check on him where he last said he'd be? After all, if she lived in the hazardous environment he did, he'd do the exact same for her. If their friends were involved in her thoughts at the time, they would've gone out on a limb to say he would've gone beyond what she did to protect her if the situation were flipped. If he knew someone was hurting her, he would've come in swinging first and asked questions later, but, in her defense, he strictly told her to never come back to his house. By walking over in the first place, she was breaking one of the fundamental rules of their friendship.
Nevertheless, she found herself crouching around the side of his house to find his bedroom window and check if he was in there. Kie and Pope weren't aware of what was happening with his dad yet, but she and John B accidentally found out years ago, so she wasn't wondering why he wasn't answering them, she was wondering if he was alive.
Part of her truly thought underneath it all that Luke might've killed him. He might've been too drunk or high and went too far when beating him, too far to the point where he didn't want to risk going to jail to take him to the hospital for help. She couldn't live with herself if she didn't check, and if he got pissed at her for showing up against his wishes and didn't want to speak to her ever again, she could live with that.
She knocked on his window in a cadenced beat loud enough for it to heard through the room but not any further. After the first series of knocks, no one came to the window. It ripped her heart to pieces to wonder if she'd see him again as she continued to knock and allowed the sound to increase in volume in hopes that maybe he was asleep, but it didn't bring anyone to the window.
It wasn't until she turned back around to go to the front of the house again that she bumped right into the solid wall of his chest and was pushed back up against the house. The question of what she was doing there was on the tip of his tongue, but she said something that stopped him from asking it.
Her arms were thrown around his shoulders in a desperate bear hug.
"Oh God, JJ, you scared me half to death!" she cried into the front of his shirt, "I thought he killed you!"
He can't help but think of it as he packs his belongings away for a final time to bid his hellish childhood home goodbye: What kind of life are they going to have together if they can't get off this island? Running away may have been an idealistic drunken fantasy for him to entertain after his conversation with Pope got him to admit his true feelings for her, but they both know his consistency can't be trusted.
One moment, he's planning to tell her. The next, a day like today comes along, sweeps his legs out from beneath his body, and he's questioning whether it's worth it to force her to put up with his fickle commitment to her. It isn't fair to her, is it?
Right now is just about when he'd normally start to hyperventilate with an oncoming wave of panic, and he does, but he can't let it fully sweep into him with her here. He fights the urge to smack his head with the heel of his palm, as if that'd forcibly remove the poisonous thoughts infiltrating his mind and ruining the careful work they've done together to remedy their issues with communicating their feelings.
Just like you ruin everything, a thought whispers in the corner of his mind. What made you think this would be any different?
His actions around the room have turned somewhat aimless and distracted, which she notices as soon as he starts to disintegrate into a mess of heavy breaths and self-sabotaging thoughts. She picks up on the shift in his energy as soon as the anxiety starts to wash over him, and she'll be damned if she continues to stand here quietly to let it happen.
It's one thing if he's being silent because being here upsets him, or if he simply doesn't know what to say, but she refuses to let him tailspin into a mental breakdown without doing something to stop it. Whether he knows it or not, after what they went through with him trying to push her away last week, she knows what's occurring within his mind right now.
He flinches at the feeling of her hand grabbing his shoulder to turn him to face her at first, and when she reaches again with her other hand to try to hold his hand as he cries, he shrugs off her touch.
"JJ..." she lets the solemn sound of her own voice murmuring his name trail off, "it's just me."
His head shakes at her consoling words. Everything else inside of his mind is so earth-shatteringly loud, he can't drown it out with logic or reason to bring himself away from the memories of his dad. Those intrusive thoughts keep attacking him with doubled, then tripled force the harder he tries to resist them, and he's so exhausted from it. All of it—the memories, his dad going to jail, and his inability to accept her love to its fullest extent without convincing himself she'll abandon him—is exhausting.
This time, when she rests her hand on his shoulder, he swats it away as the frustration of today crushing him with the force of an avalanche. Not to hurt or scare her, but to get her hands off of him before he bursts out of his skin with the sickness it stirs in his stomach. So detached from himself, he anticipates pain from every touch she gives him, and he knows it hurts her.
JJ hardly recognizes his own voice as he backs away from her a step and says, "Don't."
He can tell it hurts her based on how she looks at him immediately after, but he can't handle being touched right now. How did this happen so quickly? It was overwhelming when they first parked outside, but as soon as he stepped foot inside, it was as if a switch was flipped inside of him and all of the buried feelings he kept hidden over the past two weeks exploded into this.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"You need to leave. I just-I can't breathe and"—He still refuses to look up from the ground or see her face as he paces around the room with no real intent in mind—"You can't see me like this."
That is what breaks her out of her soft spoken, timid attitude to handle the situation the way it needs to be handled. Their natural dynamic worked best for him to take charge when she had her panic attack because JJ acts first and thinks later. He saw that she was in distress and jumped in to help her before things got worse rather than allowing her to keep him at an arms length where he couldn't do anything about it.
Taking a page from his rule book, she takes action.
The room surrounding them is in a state of disarray from him searching through it for the items of clothing and objects now stashed in his duffel bag. There are multiple obstacles in her way as she steps between them like navigating a minefield to reach him after he backed away in instinctual fear, but they don't stop her from reaching him. Nothing could.
Y/N walks right up to him and reaches to grasp his face between her hands, forcing him to stop pacing around and actually look at her for the first time since they arrived her so he hears what she says. To say the least, the way he looks right now is enough to make her cry. There are tears welled up to the brims of his blue eyes, his lips are downturned with his sobs, and he's staring at her like she's about to strike him.
She says it as slowly and clearly as she needs to get it through his head, "He's not here," and before he manages to squeeze out another word of doubt between his rapid inhalations, she cuts in, "Take deep breaths."
He isn't listening to her.
The movement of his chest that hits hers from how close they stand to each other has yet to settle into the familiar pace she remembers from nights of falling asleep with the rhythm of his breaths beneath her head.
Her eyes search his face frantically, from left to right and top to bottom, for any sign of the person she's known for years, but she doesn't see him. Instead, she sees the same panicked child her and John B saw the first time they visited this house. It's uncanny how similar the expression in his face is. It feels to her as if she's been hurled back in time to the moment itself, and when she tries to think about what would've worked with him back then, she doesn't know what else to do except help him escape.
So, with the helplessness of having to watch him turn into a sobbing, incoherent mess, she decides to step into the darkness with him and do what seven year old Y/N would've done. Just like their games of make believe, of pirates and princesses, she assumes the role John B would have and rescues him from what holds him captive. It’s his own mind in this case, but, in the physical sense, it's the house.
She drops her hands from his face and takes his hand in hers to drag him out of the room. The packed bag sits on the floor in their wake as she pulls him back through the bedroom door and into the living room, not caring about what they came here to do.
It doesn't matter anymore.
The various rooms of his dad's house pass by them in a blur as she leads him down the hallway to the front door with one sole objective in mind: get him out of here. If he wants his stuff to bring back to the Chateau, she'll go back inside and get whatever he needs her to, but she isn't letting him inside of this house again. Not under her watch.
Thankfully, since he is undeniably stronger than her and she wouldn't have stood a chance, he doesn't fight it. He stumbles after her guiding hand the same way he always has, just like how he followed her back to the Chateau after she and John B saw him that day when they were kids. She led the way as he sat on the handlebars of her brother's bike, and he watched her hair flutter in the wind with the momentum of their bicycle spokes until the tears dried up.
He watches her drag him out of the home until they've reached the safety of the yard at the bottom of the porch steps, and as soon as the soles of her shoes meet the dirt, she feels his hand slipping out of hers.
"JJ?"
She turns around to see him clutching his chest, rubbing his hand along the front of his shirt over his heart as though it'll loosen up the tightened muscles preventing him from catching his breath. His body weight is leaned onto the railing of the porch steps for support. He's partially slumped on it, looking at her desperately, like she somehow knows the answer to every question screamed inside of his head, and she has never felt as useless.
"You're gonna leave," JJ says through the gasps and cries that leave his cheeks stained with tears.
When she reaches out again to help him remain upright without leaning over the railing, he doesn't shove her hands away as he did inside of his bedroom. It's a small battle won, but she takes it as a win nonetheless.
"What are you saying? I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere—"
"You're gonna leave! Everybody does! My mom, John B, my dad, and you"—his head falls to look at the ground instead of her, and she watches him work through it in his head—"I mean, look at me. You don't want this."
"Don't tell me what I want," she says.
Her voice remains as steady and calm as she can force it to be amidst the turbulent situation, but the way he said it...It takes her right back to sitting in the back of the Twinkie with him at the Cherry Bowl, except it's ten times worse. That felt like a break up, but based on what he's saying, this is one. She hasn't prepared herself for the heartache she feels in response to it.
"You don't want me, you just think you do 'cause I was there after John B died, but you don't. You're gonna go off, find some perfect guy that isn't as fucked up as me, and have a great life somewhere else, but it ain't here," JJ says, his breathing evening out with the distraction of the argument to keep him tethered tor reality, "And it won't be with me."
He can see it every time he's looked at her and debated saying those three titular words that have been floating around in his head since he first met her.
How could she want someone who can't walk into his childhood bedroom without breaking down, or someone who still has years-old scars from cigarette burns on his skin when she touches him? Her bright future contrasted with his pre-designated fate on the Cut, her personality better matched with someone more similar to her, her life continuing on whether he's there or not—it's his worst nightmare, but he's prepared to see it through.
What he doesn't expect is for her to hold her ground.
"You honestly think I'm buying into that bullshit?" she asks.
"What?"
She doesn't put it softly, she states facts with as much harshness as his cruel fantasy had, "You're trying to push me away and I won't let you."
Her typically sweet, soft features have hardened into a bitter expression he's sure he mirrors. The arms holding his waist to keep him upright move to climb up his chest and cup his face between her hands with all of the gentleness her face and voice don't have right now.
She sees right through him.
When he tries to look away again, to avert his eyes to make what he's trying to do easier on himself by not having to look at her when he does it, her grasp on his face holds firm. Her hands guide his chin back up so they're face to face, and he realizes what a mistake everyone makes in assuming her this dainty, broken girl whose only source of strength came from the brother she lost. She's a forest fire.
"You're not hearing what I'm saying—"
Y/N interjects, "I am hearing what you're saying, I'm just saying it's bullshit."
She refuses to let him off the hook, and though it frustrates him on the surface, deep down, it makes him fall in love with her all over again. Her insistence against his speech about her leaving him proves him wrong more than anything else could, 'cause he gave her the perfect chance to dip and she shot it down instantly.
The house looms behind them as a menacing presence that threatens to take control of him again, but she doesn't let it. She keeps his eyes on her no matter how many times he tries to look away and doesn't let anything get in the way of what she says next.
"You think that if you push me away and get me to leave you right now, it'll hurt less than it would if I did it later, and I don't accept that. I won't take the bait and let you torture yourself anymore, okay? I can't speak for anyone else, but I know I'll never leave you. Not willingly, anyway."
She looks into his eyes, and this time its softer, more loving, and he's never felt as understood as he does when she continues to speak.
"I'm in love with you. Whether it scares you or not, it's the truth, and I'll never stop saying it. If you think that your issues with your dad are gonna change that for me, you've officially lost your mind." Their noses brush as she leans in to ghost a kiss over his mouth and pulls away a second later to whisper, her forehead pressed to his, "I love you, JJ. Stop being so stubborn and just let me."
His next breath in trembles as he lets her words sink in, and he's stuck at a crossroads inside of himself without a clue of what to do.
The breeze blows her hair away from her face, the afternoon sunshine painting her golden, and when he sees her hair flutter in the air like it did so many years ago, he can't help but feel as calm as he did during their bike ride home. The further away he got from his dad and the house where it all happened, the calmer he grew, and it hits him at this moment that he's so taken aback by her confession to him, he forgot why he was so upset.
It's sobering. The intoxication of his panic hurtled him back in time to the frightened, childlike state of mind his dad's violent abuse often sent him to, but it was hearing her say those words he's feared for weeks that brought him back. Like the jolt of a defibrillator, he's roused back to life with more clarity than before.
She loves him, but, perhaps more importantly, she said she'd never leave him, and that is what he needed to hear more than anything. That is the statement worth more to him than the four letter word he has agonized over endlessly. No one else every attached the promise of "I love you" with the stipulation of it lasting forever. They said the empty words and contradicted it with their actions, but she hasn't done that. Her actions spoke the words long before her mouth did.
He sighs.
It's a deep, yearning sigh that sends him melting into her with the acceptance of what he's denied for too long. He savors the hands cradling his head, as well as the body pressed up against his that he has memorized down to every beauty mark and imperfection, and makes the right choice.
It isn't like it was the night at the Cherry Bowl, or the night he spoke to Pope about it. It still takes more bravery than he possesses to form the words, but there isn't a physical incapability stopping him anymore. It's just him against the trauma beckoning him into its trap again, and he won't let it lure him back into that house.
"Alright," JJ says to her through a sniffle in acceptance to her command, as if he were agreeing on afternoon surfing plans rather than something as monumental as allowing someone to love him, then continues onto with a timid tone, "I love you too."
Before he can watch for her reaction, she's surging forward through the few inches of space left between them to connect their lips in a kiss.
It's vastly different to the kiss they shared in the hallway at school last Friday. In contrast to that one, the reigning emotion within him that drives the kiss after the hesitant beginning doesn't lead them into increased intensity, it gets gentler. It doesn't explode into chaos and passion, it's a tired kiss that he never wants to retreat from. It's the physical manifestation of his feelings for her underneath the guarded exterior he uses to protect himself: gentle and yielding, yet undeniably powerful.
He feels her smiling through her tears against his mouth. In the face of everything that happened this afternoon, he doesn't feel like he should be smiling back at her, but he does. He smiles while kissing her with tears streaming down his face, still reeling from his traumatic response to coming home for the final time, and wonders how a person can feel such contradicting emotions all at once.
Y/N is the one who starts to pull away first, though it's only to check in on him. If she had it her way, she could stay here with him until the sun sets, but he did just come back from the brink of a full-blown panic attack, so she can't in good conscience ignore his well-being for the momentary bliss of their love confessions.
Her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her smile drooping with worry as she asks, "Wanna spend the rest of the day on the boat? You always say being on the water makes you feel better. Maybe it'll make it easier to talk about it."
His Adam's apple bobs with how he swallows the lump in his throat.
"Can we maybe take baby steps for now? I don't think I can handle telling you all that shit yet."
It was already enough to allow her to follow him into the house, watch him break down into a fit of panic no one else has seen him in, and tell her he loved her, but it'd cross the line into uncharted territory to talk about everything between him and his dad so openly. Between the minor annoyance of dealing with Kacey to this hellish visit home, he thinks he's reached his quota on feeling uncomfortable today.
She nods in agreement.
"Baby steps."
Drawn back to each other by a force stronger than gravity, they collide again, but it isn't a kiss this time. It's a hug charged with all of the previously unspoken emotions they've buried inside of themselves for years, the same hug she gave him the last time she came to this house with the fear of his potential death lingering in her thoughts.
She throws herself at him with the same desperation she did that day and relishes the feeling of his muscular arms returning the embrace until their bodies are tangled together. She'd usually never refer to something as inherently affectionate as an embrace as violent, but it's the closest she can come to capturing how it feels as their bodies meet. It makes her lose her footing on the bottom step they stand on together, teetering on the edge she'd surely slip off of with the force if not for him keeping her steady.
He's about to say something, a thank you to her for calling him out on his bullshit and not letting him go that easily, when the grating sound of her ringtone blares from the back pocket of her denim shorts.
The contact popping up on the screen along with a series of frantic messages when she pulls away from him to answer shows Pope's name.
Pope You and JJ need to get back to the Chateau ASAP!!
The van doors slam shut behind Y/N and JJ as soon as it rolls to a stop in front of the Chateau.
Under the assumption that something dire happened, as in injury or death or catastrophic damage to the house itself, they bolted off of that porch faster than they knew they could move. She only turned back when she remembered the packed back of JJ's things they abandoned on his bedroom floor and, not wanting him to reenter the house, she brought it back to the Twinkie in record time.
They're preparing to trample up the porch into the house like a stampede of animals when they hear Kie calling them over to the backyard and change direction.
"No one's hurt!" she shouts, knowing that was likely where their minds went after everything they went through during the summer, "You have to see this though, I don't know who did it!"
Sticks and fallen leaves crunch beneath her feet on her way around the side of the house. Her mind races with the possibility of what could've happened that didn't hurt their friends but necessitated a series of texts and calls as frantic as the ones she received at JJ's house. She drove over here in defiance of the speed limit, something she rarely does, and prayed nothing terrible was happening.
It gave her flashbacks to when she found out John B and Sarah died in the storm. The pedal beneath her foot brought the van to an uncomfortably swift speed, then she remembered the sound of Shoupe's voice when he gave them the news. JJ warned her to slow down, then she remembered how it took multiple people to help her restrain him from attacking the new sheriff for letting his men drive their friends into their deaths.
At first, she doesn't realize what's wrong.
Kiara and Pope are standing and waiting for them across the grass near the large tree that sits as a centerpiece to their yard. Based on the body language screaming their frustration and the tears in their eyes, she can tell something bad did happen, but it's not clear what it is until she looks past them to the tree. More specifically, until she looks at what's on the tree.
"Oh my god," she whispers to herself.
Her hand is already up to cover her mouth and conceal the instantaneous frown besmirching her previously relaxed face. They both are stopped in their tracks halfway to where their friends are standing, and she can’t hear JJ's reaction over the rising volume of her hysterical thoughts.
Spray painted in red on top of their memorial for John B are the words "COP KILLER" in bold letters that conceal what they burned into the tree trunk for his gravestone. It sticks out from the beauty of the greens, browns, blues, and swathes of other earthy tones composing the scenery around the Chateau like a thorn amongst flowers, so much so that she wonders how she didn't instantly see it when they rounded the corner to come back here.
Yet that isn't the only thing amiss in the peaceful sanctuary they call home, there are random things strewn around the ground around the tree. An old t-shirt spray painted with the word "murderer" on the front, four ripped up envelopes, and a gorgeous mahogany jewelry box...broken on the grass.
The freshly turned dirt they had the contents of the box buried beneath is scattered around the trashed area as well. It clicks with her a few seconds late that whoever came here to do this must have seen the pinwheel she put in the ground to mark the "grave" and dug it up to add insult to injury.
She moves forward without consciously realizing it and stumbles until she reaches the first object of the debris field. Before this, she was doing a masterful job of holding in her cries, but as soon as she crouches down to pick up the pieces of the jewelry box, the lid snapped clean off the hinges to separate it from the bottom section, it comes rushing out of her against her will. The first unrestrained keen is the first thing to snap JJ out of his shell shocked trance.
He walks after her as fast as his legs will take him without breaking into a run, but she isn't letting him get close before she puts the box back down and shuffles forward to collect the torn letter remains. She doesn't want them to get blown away by the wind anymore than they already might have been, so she scrambles to gather the pieces until they're cupped in her hands to protect them.
"Why?" she asks and looks up at Kie and Pope with tears dripping down her face, "Why would anyone do this? Who would do this?"
Pope says, "My guess is as good as yours. We didn't see anyone leaving when we got here, so it must've happened before school ended. This is all we saw before we called you guys."
For a second or two, JJ is grasping at straws for why this happened and who did it like the rest of them are, but then something Pope said makes it click into place. It sets off a domino effect in his mind as he brings back the memory of a certain offspring of satan being absent from gym this afternoon despite being at school earlier, since his encounter with her before Physics made him, unfortunately, aware of her existence again.
His face is set in anger, jaw clenching with the tension of him grinding his teeth together, and he takes his hat off to fidget with it between his hands for a second. Their friends are too focused on her crying to see him contemplating it, but as soon as he speaks, they look up to see him setting his hat back onto his head in preparation to leave and track Kacey down.
Y/N's head snaps up from the torn letters in her hands to the sight of him storming off across the yard with his only goodbye being the words, "I'm gonna kill that bitch."
Her and Pope stare after him in shock, unable to put the pieces together about who that "bitch" is, but Kie doesn't miss a single beat. While Y/N is crumpled over on the ground in tears, she's rushing after JJ before he can approach the bike parked in front of the house. He doesn't even make it five steps before he feels her hands latching onto his wrist to stop him.
She asks, "Who the hell are you talking about? And why would they do this?"
His eyes narrow at her. His unreleased frustration for the situation in general and having to watch Y/N cry after an emotional afternoon together comes rushing out when he snaps at her.
"Kacey. She talked shit at school and I put her in her place. Now, if you don't mind, I'm gonna pay her a little visit."
He yanks his arm sharply towards himself to free it from her grip, but she's a step ahead of him. Quicker than he can think to stop her, Kie swipes the keys hanging out of his back pocket away and throws them to Pope, who, bless his heart, can't catch to save his life. The key ring jingles with its contact at the dead center of his chest, and she mouths an apology to him before turning back to face JJ.
"What the fuck, Kie?"
He makes to stomp past her and retrieve the keys from Pope only to be stopped by her hands reaching out to grab his shoulders.
"Listen to me, you can't go anywhere. Look at her," she whispers lowly enough to keep Y/N from hearing, pointing behind her to where she sits on the ground with Pope knelt beside her, "I wouldn't put it past Kacey to pull a stunt like this. I'm just as mad as you, but revenge can wait and you know it. She needs you."
The fury visible in his expression is subdued by looking past Kie's shoulder to see Y/N crying softly to Pope about the vandalized memorial.
The last time he saw her so distraught over something, it was the day they made the memorial and buried the box in the first place. She sits on her knees with her mom's broken jewelry box between them, shuddering with the sobs she has no control over, and pours the torn paper into the empty bottom half of the box. Exhausted to the core, she looks more like a sullen, kicked puppy than she does herself.
It makes his anger-fueled instincts that urge him to hunt Kacey down and do something, anything he can to make her feel the pain they do right now bubble down into sorrow. It's visible in his eyes when he looks at her.
Kie knows she's gotten under his skin when he sighs, sparing a parting glance to the bike in the driveway, and nods once at her before setting off back to where they're sitting in the grass.
Meanwhile, Y/N is stuck staring down at the disarray of her backyard with nothing but pain aching through her to the bone.
Her brother did wrong things sometimes as a consequence of being human, but never this, never something worthy of having his name dragged through the mud and being branded a murderer after his death. He stole scuba gear from Ward and broke dozens of laws in their hunt for the gold, but he never crossed that line into moral bankruptcy. Rafe did, and it kills JJ to see someone like Kacey do this to his best friend while hanging off of Rafe and his friends like a leech.
The fabric of his worn t-shirt is tarnished by the dried paint clinging to the front of it to the spell the lie written there, and her vision blurs with tears for what feels like the millionth time in the span of an hour. First, it was JJ. Now, it's John B, and she can't help but wonder if the heartache will ever end. It began to feel better over the course of the week, her grief for him slowly beginning to slip from her mind until now. Until the storm clouds converged again to batter her with another wave of it.
Through the deafening volume of her mind racing with thoughts and feelings to process what's happened, she hears Pope shuffling around to stand on his feet. Then, another person sits down in his place and scoots closer until their bodies are touching, and she knows it's him. She doesn't have to wait to hear his voice or look to see his face, she can tell based on the feeling of his touch and the smell of him she's so intimately familiar with, yet couldn't describe it aloud if she tried.
He doesn't smother her. He sits close enough to touch her and doesn't push it any further.
The background of the pale, cloudless sky frames him in the foreground like the subject of a painting—a living, breathing painting that she could study endlessly. The other trees planted in the yard's leaves flutter distantly behind him and try to draw her gaze away, but she keeps her eyes on him.
Maybe that's how it is, she thinks.
Maybe it'll get better and worse in a dance that'll only stop when they're no longer here to agonize over it. Maybe this is what moving on from John B will always be like. It'll feel like they've made strides in the right direction, then something will come along to shatter it to sharp pieces that'll reopen their stitched up wounds. If that's the case, at least the four of them have each other to lean on when it gets worse again.
JJ sits with her and lets her crawl onto his lap, resting her head on his shoulder, until the sun sinks below the horizon.
The gentle bobbing of the HMS Pogue at the surface of the water steadies her amidst her eddying thoughts. It keeps her present to the moment the way the ropes tying the boat to the dock keeps it from floating adrift into the marsh. It's a motion engrained in her from the start of her life until now from countless days spent on the water. Whether it be for fishing, swimming, or playing make believe with her boys all those years ago, it's as much a part of her as her personality or body itself.
JJ was right about one thing: being out on the water makes it easier to think.
He hasn't followed her out since she woke up before sunrise and snuck out of bed to come here. Despite her efforts not to wake him, he woke up when she disentangled her body from his, silently cursing the fact that they always cuddle so closely, and he tried to pull her back to him with a whine of displeasure in his groggy, half-asleep state. Sleep finally found them after hours of staying up together to talk about what Kacey did, unable to relax from the chaos of yesterday, so he wasn't prepared to wake up that soon.
"Go back to sleep, angel," she whispered as she hovered over him, brushing a chaste kiss to his lips that he was too tired to return.
That was the last time she saw him since this morning, and now that the sun has risen to its peak in the sky without her moving an inch from her perch atop the bow of the boat, she's begun to wonder if he's awake yet. It isn't uncommon for them to sleep in for half of the day when there isn't school or work, so it isn't surprising to her that he's just now waking up when she hears the back door to the Chateau opening and closing.
Unbeknownst to her, JJ has been awake the entire morning since she left bed.
They were so attached to each other yesterday night, he didn't have the time to put it together without her seeing and ruining the surprise, but once he heard the door to the porch close to signify her leaving, he kicked the blankets off of himself and got to work. He wasn't originally planning on starting so early, since they stayed up late into the night together, but once he woke up to the feeling of her sneaking out of his arms, he was too awake to fall back asleep.
The sound of his footsteps on the dock warns her of his approach, but she doesn't raise her head from where she rests it in her palms to stare out at the water.
"I was wondering when you'd finally wake up," she says.
There's another few steps, then the boat jostles with his weight stepping onto it.
He doesn't say anything to her in response. The only clue she gets as to what he's doing are the footsteps on the deck that lead closer to her until she feels him sitting down on the bow next to where she is. And she's about to open her mouth to ask if he's okay when he sets something down in front of her.
It's a shoe box.
Y/N turns to see him, eyes flickering over his tired face, and looks back at the box with furrowed brows.
"What is this?"
His hair is messy, exactly how it was when she left him in bed this morning, and if she weren't more focused on the mysterious box he plopped down in front of her, she'd be combing through it with her fingers. He's gotten used to those casual displays of affection from her; how she runs her hands through his hair on mornings before school when he forgets to brush it, or when she fixes a button on his flannel that he missed.
JJ's lips are tipped in a smile, and she can't help but blush with how he looks at her. She never used to see it, but he has always looked at her like this. Like he's hopelessly, utterly in love with her. Even before they lost John B, back when he'd expend all of his romantic and sexual attention on girls he hardly knew, he still looked at her this way.
He gestures at it and says, "Open it."
The lid of the box is coated in a freshly dried layer of blue paint to match the shade of the sky overhead. She knows instantly that he must have dug through the arts and crafts box she specifically labeled with a warning for him and John B to stay out. It's painted with aimlessly sloppy brushstrokes and stickers placed at every corner of the cardboard box, all of which she recognizes from the stash she kept under her bed alongside the India ink he borrowed last Friday.
As she gives him a skeptical look and reaches to lift the lid off of the shoe box, she makes a mental note to rewrite the label on the arts and crafts box without the warning for him to keep out. Since John B isn't here to steal anything from it and JJ never follows that rule anyway, it's redundant at this point.
Any skepticism is washed away from her face as soon as she flips the lid open to reveal what's inside. It leaves her speechless as she looks down at it all.
"JJ..." she murmurs in awe.
Sitting at the bottom of it is a folded up t-shirt she saw JJ wear multiple times, but never again since John B died. He refused to glance at the shirt his best friend gave him the year before they never saw him again, let alone dig it out of the corner of her closet where he keeps his things...until now.
But that's a scratch on the surface of all of the things about his gift that stuns her to silence. The next thing to catch her immediate attention is a picture she hasn't seen in years.
It's one that Big John took of the three of them together right where she and JJ are sitting. She was much younger in it, flashing a toothy grin with her arms thrown over both boys' shoulders. To her left, John B was leaning his head on her shoulder. To her right, JJ was wearing an eyepatch they crafted out of an old black shirt he stole from his dad. It was cut with the kitchen scissors and tied around the back of his head in a knot.
She brushes her thumb over John B's face, then sets the crinkled photograph back down atop the folded shirt and moves her attention to the last surprise.
Letters.
Torn up pieces of paper painstakingly taped back together sit one on top of the other, some missing pieces here or there, and it makes her mouth part in shock. Her hands shuffle the letters apart to see each one and recognize the handwriting: Kie's bubbly, swirling letters, Pope's neat cursive, hers, and JJ's chicken scratch writing that she's able to decipher from years of proofreading his essays.
She pictures him at her desk all morning while she was sitting out here, ripping tape off of the roll and arranging the puzzle pieces of the ripped letters until he was sure he got it right. It made him want to rip the hair from his scalp, but he sat there and pushed through the frustration to make it as perfect as he could for her. The missing pieces were primarily from Kie's letter, which fluttered away on a balmy breeze when Kacey tore it up and threw it to the ground, but the one he wanted her to have the most wasn't missing more than a single piece.
Y/N looks up from the letters held like a precious treasure in her hands to see him watching her with that same classic JJ smile on his face, but he doesn't let her get a word in yet.
"Go on," he says, leaning closer to pull his letter to John B out and place it on top of the pile for her to read, "I want you to read it."
"You didn't let me read it when I asked before though, are you sure you—"
He interrupts her before she can worry herself over it, "Dude, just read it. I promise I'm fine with it. I want you to."
The letters crinkle under her touch as she looks back down and smooths them out on the deck enough to read through the clear tape. With one last confirming glance to him for permission, she takes a deep breath and reads the first line.
Dear John B,
You really know how to keep a guy on his toes, don't you? You really outdid yourself on this one. I was so sure we were gonna make it, but I guess you had to go all Romeo and Juliet on us, huh? As long as you and Sarah are happy macking on each other in heaven, it's okay.
In all seriousness, I fucking miss you, bro. I miss you more than I realized a person could miss another person. Whenever I need to talk to you again, I don't know what to do. I guess that's why it's good that Y/N made me write this.
Also, I'm really sorry for—
"What does it say there? There's a whole chunk missing," she murmurs.
He scoots close enough to her that she can feel his body warmth radiating onto her through the shoulder of his flannel. Sunlight reflects on the silver rings decorating his fingers as he holds one side of the paper to tilt it enough for him to squint at.
"Macking, I think. It's supposed to say "I'm sorry for macking on your sister."
—macking on your sister. You can totally kick my ass for it, but before you come back from the grave to murder me, let me defend myself, okay? She isn't just another girl for me, John B.
I think you knew it before I did.
Last summer, you asked me straight up if we were hooking up behind your back after I kissed her in front of you on the porch. I laughed in your face, but you were right.
You saw everything before me, man. You knew I loved her since we were kids and waited for us to come to you about it, so that's gotta mean something, right? I hope it means you wouldn't be mad at me for this.
I swear I won't fuck it up with her, but you already know that. That's why you asked me to take care of her,. I didn't know why at the time but I do now. I won't let you down.
I'm keeping my promise.
- JJ
P.S. Don't miss me too much. We'll be shotgunning beers together up there before you know it.
There are tears blooming in her eyes when she lifts her gaze from the tattered paper to look at him again, but they aren't sad. For once, the tears slipping down her cheeks are happy tears, not born from grief, sadness, and pain, but bittersweet happiness.
They're caught staring at each other for a second before he asks her shyly, "It isn't too sappy or anything, is it? 'Cause I thought it—"
"C'mere," is the only thing she can get out before she's tugging him forward by the front of his shirt to kiss him.
JJ stumbles a little with the unexpected force of her pulling him to her, but he takes it in stride. He steadies himself and lets his hands shoot out to grapple for purchase on her waist, keeping her pressed up against him tightly as he kisses her back.
And it doesn't get much better than this, does it? This is it for him. He meant what he wrote to John B, he won't fuck it up with her, especially not because of his trauma with his dad getting inside his head and sabotaging his relationship with her. This is what makes everything worth it.
It brings happy tears to his eyes too.
She can taste the salt of them where their lips meet in the middle. It makes her smile, wrapping her arms around his neck and clenching the letters he mended for her in her fist to keep them from blowing away in the wind, and they both start to laugh into each other's mouths at the poignant feeling they both share but can't quite place.
They pull away from each other to catch their breath after another moment of it, and she can't help but stare. How could she not when she feels like this? It’s less like he’s her boyfriend and more like a piece of her soul has attached itself to his with no hope of letting go in the near future.
"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," she whispers to him.
Plain and simple. No room for disagreement or a bashful rejection of the compliment. She's pulled back from him enough to hold his gaze and make sure he sees her seriousness, and there isn't anything he can do to refute her statement.
He brushes his nose against hers affectionately, dipping down to kiss her again, but when he leans back to see her face, he can't help himself.
"Ditto."
The rest of the day after their moment on the boat, locked away in their own little world where none of the monsters chasing them could sneak through and ruin it, melts away peacefully. After another half hour spent looking through the box together, of her thanking him over and over again, he hops off of the HMS Pogue onto the dock and extends his hand to her in the most gentlemanly manner possible.
His lips are curved into a smirk as he kneels down on one knee as though she's a revered royal and bows his head in subservience, "Princess Routledge."
Her hand fits in his warm, calloused palm as a perfect match, and she steps off of the boat onto the dock beside him with an expression to match his.
"Captain Maybank," she says in her most regal royalty voice.
Her stellar performance breaks into a laugh they share as he stands and throws his arm around over her shoulder to walk back to the yard. The cardboard box is tucked beneath one of her arms while the other slips around his side to hold him back, and her heart feels full with both the presence of JJ and John B alongside her.
They bury it together.
Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, @idk-ijustworkhere, and @krisphann
Also, now that it’s over, let me know what your favorite part was in the comments or tags if you’d like to :) I’m curious.
#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank smut#outer banks#obx#fanfiction#i'm gonna miss these dorks#🥺#I love how he tries to break up with her and she’s like ‘no❤️’#also totally do not put on ‘seven’ by Taylor Swift during the childhood flashbacks unless u wanna cry#cause I did and my sensitive ass was crying#that song is about John B and JJ okay#it just is
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If any, how are the interactions between Xanxus and his daughter ??(baby, kid and teenage)
Baby He doesn't know what he's doing and he doesn't like to be alone with her. Finds the crying annoying but never yelled at her for it (has yelled at Levi to "make the kid shut up"). Grunts in displeasure when Katsuki drops the baby on him. He tried to put the baby on a pillow or somewhere not close to him but quickly got spooked cause she almost fall or looked like she was going to injury herself. In the end, he very unhappily lets her sit on his lap. A lot of frustrated "No" and "Don't do that, you stupid <mutes himself as the next words are not appropriate and Katsuki's going to smack him if he heard>" Matilde is a happy and carefree baby. Wiping her drool or spilling the milk bottle all over Xanxus's shirt without a care in the world. -Xanxus: "Stupid germ bag, hurry the fuck in growing up and stop looking so weak." -Matilde: *Baby noises* Kid The habit of letting her sit on his lap stayed. He drops her off on her separate throne chair besides him when she got older though. Starts sending her off to tutors but occasionally he will gives a few pointers that are definitely too mafia. Matilde watches him when he maintains his guns. He doesn't talk casually with her, more like give out short orders or questions. Sometimes if he needs alone time with Katsuki, he'd scoop their daughter up and drop her off with a maid or one of his officers despite her protesting. But he does give her everything she wants. Everything. Toys and nice clothing, food and books, it's like everything he never got as a kid before being adopted he made sure she had it all. Matilde is a bit scared of him, especially when he's angry. Still smiles a lot around him though because she realized he likes her more when she smiles. She thinks he's cool and strong though. And since he's the one to make the final decisions around the castle, she looks up to him. Matilde has also gained enough survival skills to know when she needed to run away from him or get Katsuki (crucial in Varia) -Xanxus: "...She's starting to look like the brat when he was younger...Got my fire in her, probably won't kick the bucket soon. Fucking hell, there's no way we're getting another one, Kastuki." -Matilde: "Papa's scary...I want Mama. But I can't lead Varia when I grow up if I'm always scared of Papa. Mama said I gotta stand my ground!" Teen He checks in on her progress weekly. Don't got a lot of nice things to say but there will be at least a nod of approval. He trains her himself when he is not busy and it is as spartan as Reborn had done to Tsuna. A constant back and forth between "WTF did Dad (Katsuki) see in you, you old drunk?" and "I'm not a kid anymore! Stop treating me like I can't handle myself!" on Matilde's side. Matilde is eyeing for Xanxus's spot as Varia's boss already and looking to collect her own set of guardians. Xanxus turns a blind eye to her "acting out of line" unless it's something real stupid and dangerous. He will sneer at her when her attempts to defeat him failed with a mocking jab of words. But she's still super proud to be his daughter and prides herself in being Varia's princess. Xanxus is the person Matilde goes to if she fucked up and know Katsuki is going to be angry. There's an exchange of an offering of peace (or bribe) along with a "Please, Father". Xanxus would look at her and huff out of amusement before taking the bribe, ruffling her hair, and going to deal with Katsuki or clean up the mess Matilde made. Matilde's standard for romantic partner is that they got to compare to or be better than Xanxus in all areas (minus the anger issues), preferably with Katsuki's cooking skills too. -Matilde: "*screaming* STOP SCARING OFF MY DATES!" -Also Matilde: "I'm going to prove to you that I can already do better than you, stupid old man! Varia's going to be mine anyways so fucking go have a honeymoon with Dad already!" -Xanxus: "Those trash are not fit to be called dates. And you still haven't defeated me yet." *raises wine glass in a cheer*
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welcome to another "I wrote this at work ignore the typos" situation featuring content in the little teaser for s3
ao3
"Michael Guerin with a cup of tea. Interesting."
"Bettering myself with soothing beverages," Michael said, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at Alex. He still felt a little off kilter, but he had no intention of guilt tripping Alex. It was a work in progress. He was a work in progress.
"Is that a quote from self proclaimed life coach Isobel Evans?" Alex asked, cocking his head to the side and smiling. Michael felt dizzy with it. It'd been so long without that fucking smile.
"How'd you know?" Michael asked, trying to keep the conversation light and not let it drift to an antagonistic place. He was good at that. Unfortunately, he was less good at keeping that at bay. "Where's the boyfriend?" Work in progress.
"He couldn't stick around, had to get to a meeting. He just met me at the bus stop," Alex said. Michael nodded and only then let his eyes drift away from his face, giving him a quick once over and tried not to be greedy with it. He still had his bags. "Is this seat taken?"
"Yeah," Michael said, casual as possible because Alex deserved that, "Saving it for this guy I met a few years back. You might know him. Around my height, dark hair, nice biceps, used to be in the army, killer thighs–literally, I almost suffocated me once."
"Shut up," Alex laughed, sitting across from him, "And I wasn't in the army."
"Same evil."
"Fair enough," Alex said, clasping his hands together and leaning forward, "Man, what's a guy gotta do around here to get a drink?"
Michael absolutely did not get his hopes up about this.
"Just sit there and look pretty," Michael said, pushing himself to his feet.
He'd been working a little harder and getting Sanders to make the place look a bit nicer in the front so new comers would show up, both resulting in everyone making more money. It was the most money Michael had ever had saved up before and he barely knew what to even do with it. He'd never wanted it before, never wanted to act like he was here to stay, but now it was there and now he could pay for Alex's drink.
He allowed himself to feel a little good about himself for that.
He order a medium vanilla latte, extra vanilla and an extra shot of expresso like he'd seen Alex order when they were a younger. Before he was a complete fuck up. Before when ordering anything but black coffee felt rebellious. And he paid for him for the first time. And he absolutely wasn't prideful bringing it back.
The look on Alex's face said he was also aware that this was the first time he could afford to buy him something so trivial, but he wasn't going to say anything because he was Alex. He took a sip as Michael sat across from him again and he smiled with a tiny bit of foam gracing his top lip. Michael felt his chest constricting with some twisted sort of pride and he refused to let himself be embarrassed by it.
"Thank you," Alex said.
"No problem."
Then they lapsed into silence, drinking their respective drinks and staring. Alex never turned his head away like he usually did; Michael never broke the silence like he usually did. None of it was awkward or uncomfortable or tense. It was just... having non-alcoholic drinks with someone he loved in whatever sense of the word he could.
It was nice. It was easy. It was something so completely different than Michael knew what to do with.
He craved more.
"So, do you need a ride to your house so you don't have to walk with all that?" Michael asked, definitely not mentioning that Forrest at the very least could've taken it. Granted, there's a chance he offered and Alex declined, which would be very much like Alex, but still. If he can kiss him, he can help with his bags.
"Depends. Are you willing to drive out to the middle of nowhere?"
"So that was a sold sign," Michael said. Alex took a deep breath and nodded.
"Yeah. It was a nice house, but it didn't really feel like home, you know? And after everything..."
"No, I get it," Michael said, nodding, "So where are you staying now?"
"Old Valenti hunting cabin. My cut of the inheritance and what I'm getting for selling my house is gonna be used on making it decent," Alex said.
"And amping up the security system," Michael added. Alex grinned and nodded.
"And amping up the security system."
"Well, it's my day off, so I can definitely take you," Michael said, not saying he took the day off specifically to meet Alex. That wasn't necessary information.
"You don't have to."
"What if I want to?" Michael asked. Alex looked at him, still smiling but he was clearly a little wary. "Just let me help out. I'm even going to try to not make you feel bad about the boyfriend."
"Oh, well, thank you so much for your efforts," Alex said sarcastically, but his tone was light and his smile was even more so, "But you really don't mind?"
"Alex, it's the least I can do," Michael said. It sounded weird in his voice, but it felt right. Alex seemed to agree if the look on his face said anything. Michael was more than a little proud of himself for not second guessing himself or assuming the worst.
Maybe he actually did do some growing.
"Okay then. Let's go."
Having Alex in his truck again didn't feel real. He was giddy in a way he hadn't felt in awhile and the fact that his bags were on the floor and not between them made that feeling skyrocket. Alex was comfortable with him. Or, at least, he seemed to be.
"Did you have fun?" Michael asked. Alex huffed a laugh.
"Well, I mean, I was doing dirty work, so not really. Forrest met me a couple times but I never wanted him to stay too long, was way too dangerous," Alex said, turning in his seat to face him.
"When I came out there with Kyle, you let me stay awhile," Michael said. He wasn't bragging. Absolutely not. He was simply useful for the task at hand and Kyle had to get back to work. Them eating take out on a hotel room floor and staying up too late was just convenient, a secret little addition to the trip.
"Yeah, but I trust you not to get killed by accident," Alex said, "Forrest had a good childhood. He's not at all aware of his surroundings like you are."
"Good for him," Michael said, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel. Alex may or may not have noticed.
"Also," he said slowly, "I'm kinda getting spoiled with the telekinesis thing, I'm not gonna lie."
Michael bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to be unnecessarily happy with that.
"Well if you ever need to make use of it, I'm your man," Michael said. Alex hummed in response–Michael couldn't tell if it was an acknowledgment or agreement.
It was around a 45 minute drive to the Valenti hunting cabin and the trip there was a bunch of small, winding, hand-made paths. You couldn't find it if you didn't know it was there. It was perfect for Alex.
Michael helped him get his bags inside and took in the fact that most of the stuff that had been in his house wasn't present. The furniture was broken in and there were a few boxes around, but not enough to hold everything from his house.
"I need a change," Alex said, going to the breaker box to turn the electricity on, "I thought that when I came back the first time that would be my big change, but I just did more of the same shit. So this is a real change."
"Sounds like it'd be good for you," Michael agreed.
"Yeah," Alex sighed, looking around. His eyes eventually landed on Michael again. "Do you have to go?"
"No, not unless you want me to," Michael said. Alex nodded.
"Move some boxes for me, telekinesis boy?" he asked. Michael grinned.
"Sure."
The spent what felt like two hours rearranging and unpacking and cleaning, Alex encouraging him to show off in a way that felt so ridiculously good. Everything about this was good. Spending time with him without expectation and tension and time limits.
He loved him more than his body had space for.
"Michael!" Alex said, immediately followed by a laugh, "You're going to break something!"
"I won't, have faith," Michael said, pulsing with the attention, "And if I do, I'll fix it."
He twisted his wrist, manuvering the fully put together bed frame through the door with his mind. It bumped into the door frame once or twice, but Alex just laughed and lightly scolded him.
Later, once they did what they could and got settled, Michael found himself on Alex's back porch with cans of coke in hand instead of beer.
"I love the view," Michael said.
"There's deer that'll get close if you're quiet," Alex said, "You'll have to sit with me to see them sometime."
"Yeah, whenever you'll have me," Michael said.
"Whenever you want," Alex responded. He sounded like he meant it.
Him meaning it didn't stop his phone from lighting up, didn't stop the way Alex's face closed off, didn't stop the way he sighed and locked it back. He took a long sip of his drink before he spoke.
"Forrest is on his way," Alex said. Michael shifted in his seat and nodded.
"So I should go."
"Do you have work tomorrow?" Alex asked instead of saying leave, instead of saying stay.
"Yep, bright and early."
"Okay," Alex said, "If I bring my truck up there in the morning, do I get privileges where I can sit with you in the back while you look over it and tell me what I need to fix after it sitting in my yard for nine months?"
Michael swallowed the lump that rose in his throat. He was leaving, he had to go because it wasn't his place to stay right now. But there was a promise of tomorrow. Of spending more time together just because.
The privilege of it, Alex said.
"Absolutely," Michael said, standing up, "I'll squeeze you in."
"Cool. I appreciate it," Alex said, looking up at him with a smile, "And I appreciate you helping me out today. Made all of that a lot easier."
"Not a problem," he said, "So I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Wait," Alex said quickly, getting himself to his feet and coming closer. Without much of a warning about what exactly was coming, Alex wrapped his arms around his neck. Michael hugged him back easily.
Alex squeezed him; Michael squeezed back.
"I'm so glad you're back," Michael whispered against him.
"I've gotta come home at some point, right?" Alex whispered back. Michael nodded.
They held on for longer than they should.
"Alright," Alex said after awhile, letting go with a reluctance Michael wasn't so unfamiliar with it ached, "I'll see you in the morning. I'll bring food."
Michael didn't like to get his hopes up.
He decided not to be scared this time.
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