#i have a strong memory attached to this moment ;-; it's very special to me!

[sunlightdrop]

    a single drop of sunlight fell from the heavens.

#rapunzel #tangled #tanglededit #disneyedit #disney #filmedit #animationedit #punzie #eugene fitzherbert #flynn rider #princess rapunzel #♡ #⭐ #this is one of *the* most beautiful parts of the film ;;; #i have a strong memory attached to this moment ;-; it's very special to me! #tangled tuesday #*edits #*gifset

[archiveikemen]

Liam Evans Main Story: Chapter 10

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(I don't know Liam’s heart.)

Maybe the star shining on stage wasn't there because he wanted to be, but because I wanted him to be.

== Flashback Start ==

Liam: Hey… want to kill me?

== Flashback End ==

(If she tried to kill him back then… would he have accepted it without hesitation?)

He couldn't have been serious, he just wanted to calm her anger.

I was in a dilemma about whether to believe it was simply to appease her, or to believe that he was serious about letting her kill him.

(There's no way he would…)

Elbert: … Kate?

Kate: … Sir… Sir Elbert.

Elbert: There's no turning back, so don't think so much about it anymore.

Kate: I’m sorry. I was in a daze.

Elbert: …

Elbert: … My special ability is to bring back a person’s most painful memory.

Kate: ? … Yes, I witnessed it earlier.

Elbert: When I first met Liam… Victor advised me…

Elbert’s sorrowful gaze focused on Liam.

Heathcliff (Liam): “... Catherine is dead? Listen, Catherine. Become a ghost… and haunt me.”

Heathcliff (Liam): “Be with me always — take any form — drive me mad!”

Heathcliff (Liam): “Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”

Heathcliff (Liam): “I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”

Heathcliff (Liam): “You are my everything… Catherine!”

Elbert: … Not to step on Liam’s shadow.

Kate: Only Liam’s…?

Elbert: Al once told me, “Liam is beautiful”.

Elbert: But…

Elbert: … Liam is beautiful, yet awfully miserable.

Kate: …

Kate: … I… I see.

Soon after Elbert and I returned to our seats in the audience, the story of “Wuthering Heights” came to an end.

After the final line was delivered, the audience fell silent—

Then came a round of thundering applause and loud cheers.

(... It’s a standing ovation.)

Everyone in the audience stood up from their seats and applauded passionately.

The applause grew louder when the actors came back on stage.

Liam: How did you find the “Wuthering Heights” play? Thank you all for coming to our theatre tonight.

At that moment, Marie muttered in a soft voice that was almost drowned out by the cheering.

Marie: The truth is… I already had it all figured out in my mind.

(...?)

Elbert • Harrison: …

Marie: There’s no denying that Liam was the cause of Jacob’s death. … But he didn't do it on purpose.

Marie: I read in one of the letters that… he was very attached to Jacob.

Marie: Jacob is a man with an affectionate heart and strong sense of justice. … It was his own decision to protect Liam.

Marie: … That's the kind of man I fell in love with.

Marie: And yet… I… I couldn't clear my mind… so I resorted to resenting Liam.

Marie: When I did that… it felt so much… so much better.

A single tear fell from her eyes as she looked at Liam.

Marie: I… I want him to live.

Marie: I’m.. I’m glad he’s alive.

(... I can’t console her.)

Matters of the past, the loss of a life, a broken heart — none of those could be undone.

The only thing I could do was hug her while she wept, as if trying to cope with that reality.

I hoped that one day, her open wounds that rooted deep inside her would heal and turn into scars.

Liam made a good decision to overlook Marie’s countless wrongdoings.

Harrison, Elbert, and I had no objections if that was what Liam wanted.

…

I left the theatre to catch a carriage for Marie to go home.

Kate: See you. … Take care.

The gaze in Marie’s puffy eyes softened, and she gave me a small nod.

The coachman shook the reins and off her carriage went.

(... I have to go back to Liam.)

(I’ll tell him that he did a great job, and…)

(What else should I say to him?)

As I searched for the right words to say to Liam, someone tapped my shoulder from behind.

Kate: Liam…?

The person I saw when I turned around was—

…

After the curtains had fallen, the halls of the theatre were filled with audience members who were still in a state of feverish excitement.

Liam: Harry. Sir El.

Harrison: Oh, Liam.

Curly Hair Woman: Look, it's Liam. He looks great off-stage…

Freckles Woman: I wish I could get close enough to smell him. Oh, are the two handsome men next to him actors as well?

Even with guests’ eyes drawn to his looks, Liam’s eyes were frantically searching for Kate.

Liam: Uh… where’s Kate?

Harrison: Kate went to see that lady off.

Elbert: … She isn't back, huh.

Liam: …

Liam: … I’m getting worried. I’ll go look for her.

Liam’s rose coloured hair swayed as he rushed through the waves of people.

Curly Hair Woman: Liam!? Where are you going…?

Freckles Woman: Can we talk to you—

Liam: Thank you, but not right now. Please excuse me.

Something fell at Liam’s feet with a clang.

It was a wooden cane.

Liam swiftly picked it up and offered it to the hooded man next to him—

Liam: Um, is this yours?

The hooded man nodded and took the cane from Liam’s hand.

Liam: Please be careful. Thank you for coming tonight.

Liam said with a nod and immediately continued sprinting towards Kate.

…

Kate: Ugh, let go of me. … Let go!

I was dragged into an alley, and looked up at the men who grabbed me.

When I turned around after someone tapped my shoulder earlier, standing there was — two young men I had never met before.

Without as much as a self-introduction, they simply grabbed me and dragged me into this empty alley.

(... Who knows what they’ll do to me if I get violent. I should try buying myself some time by talking to them.)

I had a tiny bit of hope that someone would notice us and come to my rescue.

Kate: Why did you bring me here…?

Young Man with Piercings: Your stage actor man got handsy with my woman.

(Is he referring to Liam? These guys… they think I’m Liam’s girlfriend.)

Young Man with Piercings: It was definitely my woman who seduced him first. … She’s a big fan of that man.

Young Man with Piercings: That man knew she was taken, and yet he still held her in his arms. … Damn it, that shameless bastard!

Brown Haired Man: Just one night with him was enough to have her absolutely smitten. She ended a 100 year romantic relationship because of him.

Young Man with Piercings: Ggh, don't say anything unnecessary…!

Hearing that he held a woman in his arms caused a dull aching in my chest, and an uncomfortable feeling spread through my heart at the same time.

(“Just one night” means that Liam is no longer in contact with that woman…)

The Liam I knew was affectionate and cherished interpersonal relationships.

It was hard to imagine him doing such a thing.

(Could it be that… Liam held her because “it’s what she wanted”?)

(If it was against Liam’s will…)

Young Man with Piercings: If it weren't for that man… we wouldn't have broken up.

Young Man with Piercings: Therefore, to make him feel the same way I did…

He strengthened his grip on my arm, and it grew tighter and tighter.

Young Man with Piercings: If you’re obedient, I’ll make you feel good… got it?

(... I need to escape.)

The first thing that came to mind was an image of Liam.

(... Liam, save me.)

Kate: Mmph—!

A hand was slapped over my mouth when I tried to scream, muffling my voice.

A dreadful feeling crawled up my back, and I desperately tried to break free, when—

???: … Hey, what are you doing? Let go of that girl.

I looked up when I heard that familiar voice.

Liam was standing there, huffing and puffing.

(... Liam.)

Liam: I don't know what happened, but… give that girl back to me.

With a fearless smile, Liam closed the distance between us with movements as nimble as a cat’s—

Young Man with Piercings: Gguh…!?

He twisted the man’s arm with one hand, and pulled me to his side by the waist with another.

Liam: I kept you waiting, Kate. Are you injur—… ah.

My wrists were grabbed so tightly that there were finger marks on them.

Liam: That’s…

Kate: I’m fine, Liam. These marks will disappear soon, so I’m not injured—

Young Man with Piercings: … Why the hell are you playing victim? This is all your fault!

Liam: … What?

Young Man with Piercings: If you hadn't fooled around with my woman, we wouldn't be after you.

Liam: … That means, it’s my fault this happened to Kate?

Young Man with Piercings: Yes, that’s right. All of this, everything, is your fault. If it weren't for you…!

Liam: …

Liam: I see… I… again…

Liam: Ahh… it's always like this…

(... Liam?)

Liam: …

Liam’s rose coloured eyes grew as dark as a cloudy sky before a thunderstorm.

While I was feeling perplexed because it was the first time witnessing that side of him, his thin lips curled into a smile.

Liam: … Pfft, … haha, hahaha

Young Man with Piercings: … Wha… Why are you laughing…

Brown Haired Man: … Oi… what’s with this guy…

Liam: Fufu… fine, you just want to get rid of me, right?

Liam: Then let’s try to kill one another, starting now! … Haha, I wonder if you two can even kill me…?

Fear crawled over me when I saw Liam’s dark eyes and unsettling smile.

— The most bothersome side effect caused by his cat curse is… having an episode.

Whenever an episode is triggered, things will get complicated and worrying.

(... Could it be that he’s having an episode now?)

Liam: Well then, let the fun and games begin. … Hah, caught you.

Young Man with Piercings: *gasp*...!

Liam easily reached his arms around the man and pinned his hands behind his back.

Liam: Ahh, you got caught so quickly. … You should try to escape.

Before I knew it, Liam had a dagger held at that young man’s throat—

Liam: I’m going to kill you before you can kill me, you know?

His curiosity-seeking smile made my skin crawl.

(If this goes on, Liam will kill someone…)

My voice caught in my throat out of fear, I could barely speak.

Kate: Liam, no…!

Liam: …?

Liam: Kate…?

(... Until now, I still don’t understand Liam’s heart.)

(Even though I’ve been by his side for so long.)

There's no denying that truth.

(However, even so…)

Crown’s mission was to fight evil with evil, even if they had to take people’s lives.

Liam would never let me see it, but he’s definitely had blood on his hands.

But, as much as possible, I want him to avoid getting his hands dirty.

It was so that the gentle part of Liam would remain unharmed.

(... Please. I have to let him know.)

Kate: … Liam. I don't want you to do this. I’m really fine, therefore—

Kate: Shall we go home together…?

Liam: … Ggrh.

Liam’s eyes shook as the darkness faded from his eyes.

Liam: Ah—...

Liam: … Okay.

Liam: Sorry… I almost did something wrong again…

(...?)

Liam: You don't want me to kill them, right…?

Kate: … Yes.

Liam: Is that what you want…?

Kate: … Y-Yes.

Liam: Mm, okay then. I’ll do whatever Kate says.

Liam: It's okay. I won’t do anything wrong this time. I surely, most definitely, won’t do anything wrong.

Liam: Because I care a lot about you.

Liam released the man who had his hands pinned behind his back, and tossed his dagger aside.

Liam: Kate, this is just for a short while— I’m sorry, alright?

Liam put an arm behind my knees and lifted me up in a princess carry—

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikevil main story #liam main story

[disfrutalakia]

Imagine q!Pac an q!Mike going back to the favelas in hopes of finding their family and their son, but instead seeing f!Cell standing at the middle of the favelas.

Or in which I couldn't sleep and wrote this so my brain could have peace.

(Tw Panic Attack, but they are very brief)

They were tired, not only physically but also mentally, specially mentally probably. So they simply refused to leave the murder arena for 3 days, 3 days where Pac had to hold Mike during his nightmares, hearing his friend calling desperately for Walter Bob at least most nights, In some of them Mike called Pac name and woke up right after, giving just a single look at his best friend’s face before tears would start to fill his eyes, mind plagued by nightmares that Pac couldn’t even imagine.

Mike had never been very emotional, he wasn’t cold but, the men just preferred to push his emotions down but this time they were too strong and with too many memories attached, Pac knew his friend better that he knew himself and he knew that without a doubt Mike was blaming himself for what happened with Walter Bob, which didn’t help with the tendencies of self-guilty that the men already had, Pac could only be there for him right by his side, the same way he always was.

That wasn’t to say that Pac himself didn’t have nightmares, but they were mostly of the past, he had dreams of sharp teeth dripping with blood while an agonizing pain went up his body, he dreamed about the dead eyes of Jv in the floor of that bloody cell, they were dreams that stopped having years ago, but recently they came back with full force.

Sometimes they would hear voices around the arena, people looking for clues or just being given a tour by Richarlyson, they could reach out at those moments but they didn’t want to let their… friends, see them in that condition, with dark eyes from lack of sleep and puffy eyes from crying. The only reason they decided to leave when those 3 days were over was because Mike was fucking fuming, he had decided to stop being sad and now he was just pissed, ready to overthrow the federation! But baby steps, first they needed to go talk with their friends so with their communicators they asked for everyone who was awake to go meet them at the favelas, immediately people started to aske questions, if they were okay, Pac just answered that they would explain everything once they were at the favelas.

Usually they would like to go by train, but they needed to get there fast so teleporting was the best option, in seconds they were at the main plaza from the favela, standing there was…

- Hey, had fun at prison without me?

All Pac could see in front of him was Cell, in his bloody orange jumpsuit looking at him and licking his lips, Pac could only retreat until his knees hit the fountain and he was made to go to the floor, his breath shallow and his heart going way to fast

- Get away from him Cell! – Mike put himself in front of Pac, trying to shield his friend from danger.

Cellbit looked confused, they interacted just fine nowadays, they held no real grudges for what happened years ago (okay maybe he did a bit, but he pushed that feeling down, just like his therapist had taught him!)

- The fuck is happening over there?– Forever’s loud voice made itself present, he carried at his lap an excited Richarlyson while Bad came right after him.

- I don’t fucking know man – they could hear a very faint “language” being said but they ignored it – I went to say hello to Pac asking if escaping had been more fun without me being there to get in their way and he just… collapsed, and Mike got mad at me.

- Fuck… I think I know what’s going on – he turned to the demon behind him, who today had his long blonde hair out, which was a very common sight when Forever was around – Bad do you mind taking Richas to StarBobby? We kinda need to have an adult talk.

The kid went from his dads arms to his uncle’s, clearly unhappy since he wanted so bad to see his dad Pac and dad Mike.

- I will talk to you later okay? – Forever whispered to Bad, who just did an okay with his head before squeezing Forever’s hand in a gesture of comfort.

- I think I know what happened here.

- Great cause I don’t!

- Think a bit Cellbo, they just came from prison, where for sure a lot of traumas were relived and seeing you – Forever felt a bit awkward, he didn’t want to make it sound like it was his friends fault, but there wasn’t a better way – In their eyes right now, you probably look…

- Like the asshole that tried to kill them – Cellbit sighed, tired just from hearing those words – Look, I’m gonna go back to the castle okay? I will just ruin everything if I stay.

Forever heart ached for all his friends, with such complicated pasts that were interlined, no wonder they sometimes seemed awkward around each other.

- Want me to tell Richas to go with you?

- No, no, you were taking him on a playdate with Dapper, I don’t wanna get in the way, I will just ask Roier to come back with me.

- Alright, take care.

And with that Cellbit disappeared in a purple cloud.

Forever approached the two that were on the floor, Mike had his hand at Pac’s shoulder and they talked in whispers, whatever had happened at that prison hadn’t been good.

#qsmp #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp tazercraft #qsmp cellbit #qsmp forever #qsmp richarlyson #a bit of implied 4 halo maybe? #anyway I couldn't sleep withou writing this so have fun

[tomtenadia]

Thicker Than Blood - 24

Here we are with another update. It took me almost a month to decide to post again because the interest in this fic has been so low recently that I had kinda lost motivation.  I almost abandoned it. Anyway... let’s give it another try This chapter is quite heavy.. Rowan and Fenrys make a very, very disturbing discovery (I am putting it bold as a warning.)

THere’s a bit of scientific explanation too about vampires. So, I came up with the idea that vampires are how they are (immortal, strong, healing powers) because they have 6 base pairs ( a regular human has 4: A, T,C and G). Now, this is not something I have invented... I have read some articles about bioengineering and so on :HERE) so I used this idea and played with it.  Things are starting to heat up in Orynth...

MASTERLIST

The first thing Aelin noticed upon waking up was that she was in a car. Such discovery was soon followed by a splitting headache and a metallic taste in her mouth. The partition was up and could not see the driver through the thick black screen. She remembered men coming and arresting her and accusing her of being a junkie. 

The car stopped and a moment later the door flew open and she was dragged out. She was in a yard. The air smelled like nature and she realised that she was deep in the mountains. Two men slapped chains on her wrists and pushed her to walk with little ceremony. 

“Move, the queen doesn’t like to wait.”

Aelin froze. Maeve. No, no she was back at Maeve.

They walked until they stopped in front of a door. One man knocked and a woman’s voice reached them. She was pushed in and found herself in front of Maeve. A snarl left her mouth at the woman.

“Aelin, darling, welcome back.”

“Fuck you.”

“What a foul mouthed young lady.”

“Fuck you, bitch. Happy now?”

“We are going to have some fun.”

The woman called for someone and a guy came into the room and grabbed her “let’s go. I am taking to your new home.”

Aelin tried to resist but the man dragged her harder. She was taken along a corridor and then down a path of stairs and towards a dungeon. Terror spread through er while painful memories came back. The same dungeons, the same house. She tried to rebel but the man dragged her harder.

She was shoved inside a room with white walls and a metal bed with straps.

Inside the room there was a man with dark hair and dark eyes. He seemed familiar.

“Welcome back, Aelin, I have missed my favourite lab experiment.” The stranger nodded to the man holding her and he forced her on the bed and the two tied her down securing a strap on her head too. 

Once the second man left, she was alone again with the one who looked like a doctor.

“You don’t remember me?”

“Should I?”

He ignored her and pulled up the sleeve of her hoodie and exposed her arm.

“My name is Erawan and many years ago your aunt asked me to make you special.”

“You?”

The man sat on the stool at her side and started trafficking with tubes and needles “yes, we needed you, so I played with your DNA.”

“You made me a junkie,” she growled.

The man smiled in satisfaction “oh yes, we wanted to see if it was feasible to transform regular vampires in killers and make them more addicted to blood.”

“Bastard.”

“It was a shame that you never killed anyone, but all the humans you turned, made us proud.”

Aelin saw him prepare a syringe and filled it in with something. 

“Why the golden blood?”

Erawan looked at her with curiosity “oh yes, it was to make really sure you’d reject the synthetic blood completely,” he added with a cruel smile “and I made you sensitive to A+ because we still needed you to drink from humans.”

He flicked the syringe “It was fun playing with you.” Erawan tied and homeostatic elastic around her arm “and while you were with us you gave us so many new vampires. But now it’s time to have more fun.”

Aelin tried to move but she couldn’t. A second later she felt the needle pierce the inside of her arms,  Erawan then attached her to an IV and as soon as the liquid started to enter her bloodstream she felt her entire body on fire.

Erawan adjusted the flow and Aelin screamed in pain.

*

After his meeting with Lorcan, Rowan had gone home. He could not stay at HQ after he had confessed the truth to Lorcan, so he decided to work from his sofa.

On his drive home it was when he felt it first a shock of pure fear running through the bond. It had been so strong that he had to stop the car and calm down. That was Aelin.

He finally reached home and crashed on the sofa. And that’s where, two hours later he still was. The fear was gone, but now there was a constant sense of desperation in his soul. He could not think, or work or exist. She was in pain and he had no idea how to even start finding her.

He was about to try and sleep a bit when someone knocked at the door. Annoyed he stood and went to open and was surprised to see Fen.

“Lorcan told me. I want you to know that if the order comes to hunt her I won’t do it.”

Rowan looked away “that is not something you can fight.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” the young man shouted “I am not sending another person in that hellhole to die like Connall did. They can take my badge for all I care.”

Rowan appreciated the sentiment but could not allow the young man to throw away his career like that.

“But I was here for another reason.”

He turned and stared at the blonde man with interest.

“Remember Ansel? The red-haired woman whom you saw naked in my flat?”

Rowan nodded.

“She did manage to put us on the list for the Vaults tonight.”

He stood in a powerful move “for real?”

“Yeah, she is that amazing.”

Finally, thought Rowan. 

“She is also working with a group of rebels. They are both vampires and humans and they have two projects going on,” he sat on the sofa happily “one, is to take down the deviation centres. She works there and knows the horrors that happens. She has proof that the inmates are being experimented on,” he explained calmly “it’s a lot of medical gibberish but she says that since Hamel came into power the prisoners had gotten worse. Before it was not like that.”

Rowan’s hand fisted in anger. They had to give that proof to Rhoe.

“She is also working on rising riots and hopefully depose Hamel.”

Rowan’s eyes widened in surprise “it might not look like, but there are a lot of humans out there who want a society where we can coexist and do not want a civil war. She is using those humans to raise an army.”

Rowan found the strength to chuckle “your lady friend is quite impressive.”

Fenrys smiled wickedly “she is pretty awesome.” He stood “I will send you the details for tonight.”

He nodded and Fen disappeared. 

Rowan walked to the window and looked away to the forest and sent all his love down the bond to try and sooth Aelin, in the hope she felt him and fought back.

*

Elide was busy working. She had just finished an autopsy for the hospital and was compiling the report when a familiar scent hit her.

“Lor?”

The chief of police waltzed in the room and she noticed his downcast stare. He had been pretty stressed recently 

“Hi El,” The woman stood and went for a gentle kiss.

“What are you doing here?”

The man sat on one of the stools “I assumed you know, it’s everywhere.”

“What?”

“Aelin is a junkie.”

Elide was silent. She had never told him that she had known for a long time and also helped her friend. But he was chief of the paranormal unit. It would have been his job to arrest her and she could not allow that. At her silence Lorcan glared at her.

“You knew.” He roared “you knew and never told me. Am I the only poor bastard who didn’t know?”

“You are the chief. I am not going to tell you that my friend has a problem and arrest her.”

Lorcan’s glare intensified “it’s my job.”

Elide folded her arms at her chest in challenge “sure, throw your best friend’s wife in a cell to rot while tortured and experimented on?”

“You have no proof.”

“Connall autopsy is proof enough. What they did to him was insane. I am not having my best friend go through that.”

They stood in silence for a while.

“Is it true that Aelin was made a junkie? Rowan went on with this crazy theory.”

This time it was Elide who glared at him with a vengeance, then walked to her drawer and took out a folder and slammed in front of him.

Lorcan grabbed it and flipped it through but to him was a bunch of big words “in layman terms?”

Elide sat at his side and took the folder and pointed at a picture “this is her DNA. Humans have four base pairs: Thymine, Adenine, Cytosine and Guanine.”

Lorcan’s gaze looked lost already.

Elide sighed and almost smiled “they are like building blocks. Their order vary from each person but it’s always four.” She grabbed another picture “this is vampire DNA,” she pointed at the picture again “we have six base pairs. They developed throughout evolution and they are what makes us what we are: stronger, immortal, fast healing.”

Lorcan nodded.

“This is Aelin’s DNA,” Elide pointed to a specific spot “her two extra base pair have been altered and made her into a junkie.”

“So Rowan was not lying.”

“No, she had no control. It was forced on her. They messed up with a lot more things but is the important one.”

Lorcan sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“And she has been taken,” a soft whisper “I was here. Some goons arrested her and took her away. They knocked me out.”

Rage surged in him “are you okay?”

“Yes, Rowan found me. I only have a bump.”

“Lor,” Elide took his hand “Rowan needs your support now, not the chief. His friend.”

“If the order comes I will try and stall as much as I can.”

“Thank you.”

He stood and kissed Elide gently “I have to go. Text me when you are going home. I will pick you up.”

“Fussing much?”

A last kiss on her forehead and the chief left.

Elide remained seated and smiled deeply.

*

Rowan parked his car outside Fenrys’ building and waited for his friend to join him. The man arrived ten minutes later all nicely dressed for a night out. Rowan had just worn jeans, a polo shirt and his black leather jacket.

“Is that what you are wearing?”

Rowan stared at his friend with a raised eyebrow “I am not coming to bring a date home.”

“Me neither, but at least I have a sense of fashion.”

Rowan shook his head and started driving. 

They reached the club twenty minutes later and parked. On their way to the door he looked up at the roof and thought about the evenings he spent there with Aelin I will find you.

“Moonbeam and Whitethorn,” he heard Fen say at the security at the entrance. The man scrolled his list and when he found them he grabbed their hands and stamped them.

They climbed down a set of stairs until they reached a door. Fen opened it and that’s when the noise hit them. 

The club was huge and busy, lights of every colour flashed and the music pumped a loud rhythm. Rowan hated clubs. They were obnoxious, the music horrible and the people irritating. But they were working, so he shoved down his annoyance and followed his friend. Both men walked around trying to spot anything suspicious. Fen dragged him to the bar and ordered for two. Rowan leaned back against the counter and while he drank his beer he scanned the locale. Fen at his side was already chatting up a woman. He rolled his eyes and elbowed him “we are working,” he mouthed. Fen looked at him in a way that told he knew what he was doing. Rowan was about to go back to his job, when a dark-haired woman approached him “Hi sexy,” he groaned loudly “Sorry, I am married.”

The woman wrapped herself around his arm “the wife is not here, we can have fun,” Rowan was about to reject her and then had an idea. 

“Do you come here a lot?” He moved closer, pushing his body against hers.

The woman moved even closer and he felt her breasts push hard against him. He sent a silent  apology to Aelin.

“Yes, this is the best place to get spiked blood if you are willing to pay.”

Rowan froze. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He knew it.

His mouth moved to her neck while his arm sneaked around her back “I haven’t had a good drink in a while.”

She licked his neck and he had to restrain his disgust “we have humans high on the best drugs you can imagine. They taste delicious,” she whispered against his ear.

Rowan had to use all his strength not to cause a scene. He was undercover. He had to pass like a vampire looking for a fix.

“Can you show me? I can pay.”

The stranger took his hand “come with me, we can drink together. It will be fun and sexy.”

Rowan locked gaze with Fen and with a nod of his head he told his friend he had a lead. 

Together they climbed another set of stairs and the woman showed an ID to the man guarding the door “he is with me.”

The security guard nodded and let them in after Rowan paid for his access.

Once the door opened Rowan felt sick. Inside there were about twenty beds. On them, naked women and a few guys, hooked up on IVs, some had two some had one. And vampires… vampires were drinking from them and using them as a blood bags.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The woman took his hand again and moved them to a body that was free and hooked on two IVs “The double ones are better. They give you a better kick.”

She sat down on one side and a moment later she was drinking. Rowan was feeling sick. He hadn’t tasted spiked blood in a lifetime. He choose a place where there was less blood and placed his mouth on one of the many cuts and pretended to drink. He bit his own lip to smear his teeth with blood. The woman on the table smelled the same as all of the other victims. He thought about Lyria. Had she been held like this? Did people feed on her while she lay naked on a cold table? After a few minutes he detached from the woman and walked away ignoring the stranger who brought him in that hell of a place. He ran out on the street and as the fresh air hit him, he vomited on the ground. 

He had to tell Lorcan.

*

Fenrys had noticed him ran away and joined him on the street “what happened?”

Rowan was still leaning against the wall breathing heavily and in shock.

“Rowan?”

He looked at his friend and told him everything. The room, the bodies.

“Fuck.”

“I had to pretend once I was in.”

“Did you drink?.”

Rowan shook his head “I bit my lip to make it look like I drank.”

“This is so fucked up.”

“We need to tell Lorcan.”

The two walked back to Rowan’s car. He was still in shock. He could not remove from his mind the image of that room full of humans being fed on. Then Gav’s words popped in his head: Hamel. That placed belonged to Hamel. He quickly texted Rhoe and agreed to meet later on after his meeting with his boss was over. They had to go public with that.

HQ appeared in front of them and Rowan went to park the car and together they rode the lift to their  floor. Both in silence. And shocked by the discovery.

Rowan burst into Lorcan’s office with little ceremony “we have news.”

“You look like shit.”

Rowan growled hard “Fen and I just made a discovery.”

He confessed everything. 

“You went undercover without my permission?”

“Is that what you are focusing on?” A snarl erupted from Fenrys.

“It was not sanctioned.”

That was when Rowan erupted and slammed his fist hard on the desk “Damn it Lorcan, humans are used as blood bags. Vampires pay. Women and men are lured and jacked up to drugs and exploited until they are useless and discarded like trash. You can’t fucking ignore this.”

“I’ll have Fen and the others work on this,” Rowan growled hard “you are suspended for lying to me.”

Rowan turned and left the office slamming the door so hard the glass rattled. Went to his office, grabbed some of his stuff, then went back to Lorcan and slammed his badge on his desk “Fuck you.”

After Rowan stormed out, Fenrys had a word with his boss “Really? You know what he went through with Lyria, and now Aelin is gone. You really are a fucking bastard. We discovered important proof.”

Lorcan stood “A proof that it was only one man’s word.”

“My female was about to take me there too, but I stopped when I saw Rowan storm out,” he snarled “she told me that vampires love that club only because they can feed.”

“I will discuss this with my superior and try and to open an official investigation.”

Fenrys grumbled something and disappeared.

TAGS:

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp​ @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity  @mis-lil-red @thegreyj​ @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories​ @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire​ @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon​ @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck​ @susumaus98  @gracie-rosee​ @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love  @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee

#rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin au #rowaelin #aelinandrowan #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fan fiction #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #aelin galathynius #fenrys moonbeam #rowaelin angst

[hauntedwoman]

tagged by @youngestdaughtersyndrome to talk about five things i'm obsessed with recently

barbie and the feminist agenda ever since i saw the movie saturday it has baffled me that so many people are holding it to impossible standards. many ppl online are criticizing it for being surface level and a two hour long "toy commercial" when the film is literally being produced by fucking mattel, a multi million dollar corporation. one of the prominent messages communicated in the film is that, in today's day and age, women are expected to be perfect at everything they do all of the time and i think audiences expected the same of this movie. i think the people that went into this movie expecting something progressive and queer and groundbreaking had the wrong expectations. greta gerwig worked as hard as she could to make a movie that had a strong feminist message while also being accessible to mass audiences. yes, the whole feminist monologue is a little bit cheesy but you have to remember that a) children are going to see this movie and i believe that the messages communicated in that monologue are very easy concepts for young girls (and boys) to grasp. b) she had to work through a LOT of red tape. even the scene where barbie tells an old woman that she was beautiful (a non-revolutionary message) was threatened to be cut for run time purposes. with the material she had to work with, i believe that greta made a movie that is funny and forward thinking and something that will stick with audiences for a long time. no, it's not anything that's advanced, but it's still special and has brought joy to so many women. the sheer experience of barbie, being surrounded by women of all ages dressed in pink and unafraid to be feminine and find joy in what society shames us for, is so beautiful and special and i loved every second.

antique photos at the moment, i'd confidently say that my antique photo collection in the 30s. antique photos are probably my favorite thing to buy (besides clothing) when i go antique shopping. i love finding photos of families from the 1900s showing off their family homestead, a couple in the 1950s sharing an intimate christmas morning, a small boy dressed up as a cowboy. these memories might not belong to these people anymore - so now they belong to me. i just love finding these moments captured in time, moments that strengthen the fabric of humanity.

american individualism in the united states today there is no sense of community. outside of organized religion, it's hard to find a way to feel connected with other people. the heightened awareness of individual freedoms and rights that has been a byproduct of online spaces that urge users to bran themselves, there is nowhere for the youth of today to gather and find people that are like them. i believe that bc of this that is why labels for sexuality, gender, and even what mental illnesses we have, have developed online. there are no malls or internet cafes, or parks for our generation to be together in and it's making the average american individual feel as if they are entitled to certain treatment due to having certain labels attached to them. it's all so fascinating how aesthetics and labels and what you look at online shapes our worldview. and yes, capitalism is involved somehow.

caledon hockley if you've been following me any amount of time you know that i've already written many thinkpieces on the antagonist of the 1997 film, titanic. notice how i didn't say villain. that said, i think people tend to forget what cal is like when we first meet him. yes, he's arrogant and pompous ("god himself could not sink this ship") but he doesn't do anything to outwardly control or harm rose. i'm pretty sure he was aware of the fact that she's miserable - sans suicidal. when he brings her the necklace he knows that something is wrong. he really tries in the only way he knows how to get close to her and yet she continues to push him away. i doubt that this is because she's unattracted to him but, rather, more the realization of what her life is going to become once they're married; being a wife and mother to his children, never experiencing any of her dreams. i want to theorize that when they met up until the engagement they were "happy" or at least what could be close enough and what we see in the movie is rose falling out of that happiness and yearning to find it in something or someone else (i.e. jack). i guess what i'm trying to say is that cal doesn't begin to shed light on his more undesirable traits (selfishness and possessiveness) until he can see rose pulling away from him and towards jack. the cal at the beginning of the movie, while he can be annoying and shallow, he's not necessarily a bad person. i think somewhere inside of him he wants to be good. but i mean there's also the whole sexual tension between him and jack and cal's hidden desire to live a life that's so free and easy and emotionally healthy. we also have to remember that he has his own suicidal tendencies - but we don't have time for all of that.

sylvia plath i'm just so so so interested in her personal life and her writings. im slowly making my way through her journals (unabridged bc fuck you ted hughes) and we are both libra moons and have prominent scorpio placements !!! i feel like i identify with her work very deeply and im excited to start reading a biography i got abt her the other day at the used bookstore !! she was such a genius and really set such a precedent for poetry today and just female artists in general she's like the patron saint of girls on antipsychotics and i love her for that

tagging: @truelovewaitsmp3 @sweetsweetjane @jonismitchell @serethereal and any other mutuals inspired to do this !!!!

[mostlyfate]

Hi :) what are your faves kdrama ?

Hi hi! :D Whenever I get ask about favorite dramas my perspective always seems to change as time goes by tbh! Here's an old ask from 2021 that included my favorite kdramas — but now I'm honestly really picky with what I call a "favorite" drama. Like yes, I still very much enjoyed past ones I called a favorite but if I had to put it in a category it'd be that I just enjoyed it a lot in the moment. If that makes any sort of sense 😭 For a drama to be a favorite I literally need to feel some sort of attachment to it. So if I would give a list of fave kdramas it would literally be like just one ngl 😅 But anyways I'll list kdramas that I enjoyed watching and would recommend giving a try! (read until the end for that one favorite kdrama haha)

2023:

— My Lovely Boxer | episodes: 12, duration: 1hr. 10 min. genres: drama, romance, sports. » Main leads chemistry and bickering 💯

— Destined With You | episodes: 16, duration: 1hr. 10 min. genres: comedy, fantasy, romance. » Plot 🙅‍♀️ Couple being sick in love w each other 👌

2022:

— May It Please the Court | episodes: 12, duration: 1hr. 5 min. genres: comedy, drama, law. » Fun, fun leads! Great chemistry, great acting, love me a law drama. 👩‍⚖️

— One Dollar Lawyer | episodes: 12, duration: 1hr. 10 min. genres: comedy, drama, law. » All around fun characters, great fits. Wacky scenes? ✓ Serious scenes? ✓

2021 and previous years:

— Idol: The Coup (2021) | episodes: 12, duration: 1hr. 25 min. genres: drama, music, youth. » If you're in the mood for an drama about idols... great music ✓ intense chemistry ✓

— To My Star (2021) + (Season 2!) | episodes: 09, duration: 0hr. 15 min. genres: comedy, romance, youth. » 🫶 Such an enjoyable watch, honestly! 🫶

— One the Woman (2021) | episodes: 16, duration: 1hr. 10 min. genres: comedy, mystery, romance. » idk i just remember enjoying this one with a lot of laughs! and honey lee kills it every time!!

— 365: Repeat the Year (2020) | episodes: 24, duration: 0 hr. 35 min. genres: fantasy, mystery, thriller. » I loved this drama a lot and the main two leads were everything!! 🥹

— Run On (2020) | episodes: 16, duration: 1 hr. 15 min. genres: life, romance, sports. » such a treat it was! everyone was chaotic, ki seon-gyeom i miss u 🤏

— Live On (2020) | episodes: 08, duration: 1 hr. 3 min. genres: comedy, romance, youth. » i remember loving female leads growth!! and the leads relationship was v cute!

— Radio Romance (2018) | episodes: 16, duration: 1 hr. 10 min. genres: business, comedy, romance. » 🫶 it's just a kdrama i love a lot 😭 and had a blast rewatching last january 😭 might be bias bc im in love with yoon doojoon lol but the first time i watched back in 2018 i didn't know much about him and i remember enjoying it then as well. idk i just love it and enjoyed it to the fullest. ✨

— While You Were Sleeping (2017) | episodes: 32, duration: 30 min. genres: comedy, fantasy, mystery, romance, thriller. » "So, the first kdrama I ever watched! It holds a special place in my heart because of that fact! The soundtrack for this drama also... I remember listening to it on repeat for a while after finishing." < What I previously said which still holds true! >

— Guardian: The Lonely and Great God (2016) | episodes: 16, duration: 1 hr. 22 min. genres: comedy, fantasy, melodrama, romance, supernatural. » Not me just rewatching this a bit ago... still v funny and iconic 😭

+ A Business Proposal (2022), A Piece of Your Mind (2020), Extraordinary You (2019), Strong Woman Do Bong Soon (2017), Secret Forest (2017) + season 2 (2020)

I'm probably missing others I enjoyed but these are like the ones I remember the most enjoying. I mean I have like the worst memory soo 😅

Drumroll my favorite kdrama?!?

— Splash Splash Love (2015) | episodes: 02, duration: 1 hr. 10 min. genres: comedy, historical, romance, supernatural. » "This one isn’t an full length drama but a special. It’s just a fun and charming drama? Like not exactly sure what about it made me love it so much? but I do and it’s an easy/quick watch. :)"

+ I know what made me love it so much = yoon doojoon (once again) 😂 for real though, I just love this special to pieces. and i wish it was an actual full-length drama 😭 like it's everything and i always think about it every now and then 🥺 their chemistry was everything! their acting was so good! i am so sad we didnt get moreee 😭😭😭

anyways!! i'm just a weird when it comes to something being a favorite like i only have one all time favorite drama ever (Talio Fukushu Daiko no Futari, 2020.) that i never shut up about and that's itt. 😅😭

#ask #anonymous #kdrama #e.txt

[calypsolemon]

The disciples are reincarnations of the same people they have the same personalities but they get reborn into new lives with new looks names and up bringings

they are different people up until when they get older and they regain their memories of their past lives and they start going by their original names and acting like themselves because they now remember

they are immortal but not the same way they can die but they always come back with a big gap of time in between rebirths

They have a special relationship with the gods because unlike regular humans that die they come back plus they are connected just not as much as the gods

as a result the gods are very fond of them but not as fond of them as they are each other due to the long periods between reincarnation keeping them from spending as much time with them

they grow attached because the way they perceive time has been messed with due to them being immortal it’s harder to get to know someone when you are an immortal that only have 100 years with them if they are very lucky especially when you are with people you have known for thousands of years

so yeah the gods don’t know the disciples as much as each other but they know them more than the average person which causes them to have a special connection and that’s my headcannon for that dynamic

uh. I appreciate the enthusiasm but if you had sent me a question about this aspect of the au first I would have been able to tell you we already have like. A Lot of established lore for how the disciples work that conflicts with what you're saying.

For one, the disciples have a connection with the Gods and each other because in this au, all elements are connected to each other. They all came from the first spinjitzu master's soul and therefore are broken pieces of what was once the same whole. Different pieces are connected to different degrees, but they all have that thread that connects them.

While certainly their constant reincarnation plays a factor in their relationship with the gods, there is no one true "self" that they begin acting like at any point, nor do any of them regain all their memories of their past selves. For the most part, regaining memories for them is something that happens infrequently, and usually only about strong events that happened in their previous lives. The reincarnation works similarly to how it does in avatar the last airbender, with the rebirths happening the moment the previous disciple dies, and each individual life contributing to the collective knowledge of the whole, which requires training to be tapped into.

As well, their original names are given to them by the gods as titles of sorts, indications that they are in full service of the gods. It's rare that they adapt these names for casual use.

I'm honestly not even sure why you would think they would care more about each other than the gods care about them when you also believe that they get their full memories back all the time, that is essentially immortality is it not? Regardless how close they are to either the gods or the other disciples is fully dependent on their personal feelings and experiences within each individual life. While they can never cut off the spiritual connection they have to the gods and other elemental masters, there are definitely times when the elemental masters decide to reject disciplehood for whatever reasons. The gods do not force people into such a thing. On the flipside, there are lives in which the disciples are very close to their respective Gods, and basically everything in between.

It's particularly important to me that each disciple's life is treated as unique even though they are the same soul that reincarnates, because a large part of the Point of transcendent is the tragedy of immortality. What the ninja sacrificed in becoming gods was the ability to grow, evolve, and live life in accordance to their own desires. The disciples may reincarnate, but they live each life fully different, and even their roles as disciples (should they choose to take it up) is mutable - some of them choose to take on the role by physically protecting people from harm, some dedicate their lives to the preservation of knowledge, others act as guidance to those suffering emotionally, and others still create great works of art that inspire people. This ability to define themselves is something precious that the gods intend to preserve and protect, in lieu of being able to do it themselves.

#long post #if i could readmore an ask i would but unfortunately i cannot #anyways sorry to respond to this ask with basically ''you're wrong'' bc i feel its rude buuut.... #i hate to say it but this au has a very well established lore and i do not feel comfortable with total strangers changing it up #i welcome questions but i am not taking suggestions #if that makes sense #transcendent au

[faerywhimsy]

I know that we are well into the 21st century and this means we can no longer talk about Buffy but… I’m gonna talk about Buffy. Or, more precisely, Anya.

Just gonna drop off my my official “death of the author” disclaimer and now we gonna proceed.

Part of my Personal History with [media] series

A Personal History of Anya Jenkins

Anya Jenkins is a character first introduced to the show in season 3 as a seemingly one off demon who the Scooby Gang must defeat to get back to the status quo of their senior year in high school.

As a teenager, I did not like this character, especially after she came back as a series regular from season 4 onward, after having lost her powers and becoming human. She became a love interest long before a character standing on her own two feet and I just... I just hated her honestly. She was annoying, overly literal, always asking questions and leaning on Xander far too much. None of the rest of the main characters seemed to like her or give her much time, and so neither did I.

The benefit of age and memory is the ability to reflect on media we've consumed at various points of our lives and consider how that interacts with updated views of ourselves.

At 16 years old, as I was the year this character was introduced, I was painfully aware of my growing need to fit in. I consumed bucket loads of media to help me understand how I might best do this as I'd realised that simply asking my peers was no longer an acceptable way to gather this information.

I hated my own social awkwardness and lack of understanding what seemed basic to others, but it was that much worse when I saw it exampled in characters who could be my peers, and whose behaviour I had no hope to control or effect.

This was especially true in a show that was my own special interest for all of my teens and most of my 20s.

The first time I liked Anya in a Buffy rewatch was as I was starting to come to terms with the fact that I myself was autistic. And I don't honestly think this was an accident. I had aged, but Anya remained the same: a 1000 year old demon, yes, but also stuck in the slowly aging body first of a 18 year old who only ever lived to the age of 22.

Why do I choose to break all this down now? Because I realised last night how much this depiction of a neurodiverse near ancient being surrounded by young people in the 21st century has shaped the way I've viewed vampire and other supernatural media ever since.

Unf, would you look at that physical recoil from the surrounding Scoobies (perhaps with the exception of Tara who herself has a strong case for a very different presentation of neurodiversity).

Homework today is finding any media involving vampires or demons that does not have this moment: Where the humans in the room are faced with the inability to avoid when someone doesn't conform to their view of how the world ought to be. Mostly this sense of oddness is shown through one of many well known existing tropes such as unexpectedly cold extremities, or blood where it ought not be, too fast healing, or how they speak/move. Anya, in particular, is off putting in two these ways (how she speaks always & blood where it ought not be in one ep of season 7).

Now we finally come to the point of why. And I believe that it's because characters who live as long as Anya must, at the core of their narrative, keep themselves separate from humans (because either humans are prey, or they grow old and die). It's this fact that has the knock on of forcing old demons to distance themselves from the contemporary and constantly changing/updating cultures of the present day world — cultures cobbled together by the very humans they must in turn avoid.

If you don't practice being part of something, how can you be good at it as those who are native?

The culmination of my TED Talk is: This always happens when an ageless character breaks the rules of their narrative and forms attachment with a human from whom they're supposed to remain distant. There is almost always immediately a sort of disconnect that comes between that character and their human counterpart. Sometimes it is merely the awkwardness / discomfort of something akin to uncanny valley.

And sometimes it looks a lot like autism. I'm not saying it isn't. Anya's portrayal offers that sense of belonging-slash-discomfort to many autistic people watching, depending on where they are on their own autistic journey.

Maybe the reason Anya was never officially acknowledged by the writers as autistic is because Buffy was a show that aired primarily in the 1990s. But it's also possible that it was never acknowledged because this outcome in media is something that looks a lot like autism, but it's not the only way it is intended.

In Anya's case, as with more than one of the immortal characters of the Buffy universe, being dropped back into mortal humanity actually is an achievable goal for these immortals (desired or not / where they belong or not) which only further puts a spotlight on how well they manage to sink or swim in this human dominated culture. And, imo, only makes the subsequent portrayal the richer for it.

** This post can be read as a continuation of the thoughts I started playing with back here in this post.

#buffy #anya jenkins #actuallyautistic #neurodiversity #theory also can also apply to: #vampire diaries #interview with the vampire #twilight #I'm looking at you Armand

[quietcoffeebean]

Snowflakes in April

Do you ever scroll through old pictures and one of them suddenly wakes a memory so strong you can feel what you felt in that very moment, almost smell the surroundings from back then?

I just went through my phone’s gallery from when I had heart surgery and there’s that one picture of roses in front of my hospital window and you can see fresh snow falling outside, in the middle of april. I scrolled past it so many times, just seeing a few roses and not holding much of it but this time, I remembered. I remembered why that picture is actually very special:

I remember having been tied to that bed for weeks, not been able to walk or get up on my own. Despite the fact that I was too weak to even try, I wouldn’t have gotten far due to the all the things attached to my body. I thought.

I remember waking up and suddenly seeing that snow outside of my window. And I wanted to see it closer so badly that I gathered all possible strength to sit up, rearrange all the cables and infusion stand, and stand up from that bed for the very first time. Just stopping shortly to find my balance, I then pulled all the attached machinery with me to the window, just so I could look at the snow.

That’s when I knew, I have won this fight. I will get better again, I will get out of this hospital room eventually!

All this because of some snowflakes in April.

I know, when I feel weak again, I will think of that, so I can do it again, to gather strength I didn’t know I had and do what I didn’t know I could.

[dufreydiaries]

Dufey Diaries Chapter 23

The portal set them down in the main square of Daggerfall. Lucline felt uneasy as the sounds and bustle of city life went on around them. Even after two years away, the city had not changed at all. She looked now at the building they were standing outside and felt her blood drain away. The old Mage’s Guild building. The base of the High Rock Society of Magic branch office. She felt herself wobble for a moment before she gained her balance back.

The doors opened and an Orc in regal robes stepped out of the doors, franked by six Brotherhood mages, summoning weapons from Oblivion. However, this Orc was not unknown to them.

“Sharh!” Lobamog roared. “Traitor to Wrothgar. How dare you be working with the Brotherhood of Galerion!” ”You see, little brother, this is why you weren’t told the truth. You’re far too noble.” The female Orc scoffed. She turned and looked at Lucline. “You though, you had promise. Arnlec is disappointed you could not be brought into the fold.”

Lucline again felt the world spin around her. “You lie, Sharh! My mentor would never join a group that would hurt a child.” ”You’re correct, Lucline.” The familiar voice of Arnlec Beatte came as he stepped out behind Sharh. Beside him was Minrre and the Khajiit leader, Shurrina. “I would never join or ‘lead’ a group that would hurt a child. However, this is a special circumstance I’m afraid. There has not been a vessel of such magical power in far too long. We must act now. This means displacing the child’s soul with that of the Great Mage. I know you grew attached to her, but she will still need a parent after the transfer. Join us, and we will not interfere with you raising the girl. Vanus’ memories won’t manifest until adulthood.”

“No!” Lucline said, her anger overflowing and causing her mentor to step back. She clutched the spear tightly and his eyes went to it in fear. He knew very well what they had turned her into, in that deep room where she could not even see the sunlight. “No, she is her own person! She wants to be a knight! I will die before I help you unmake the person she is.”

“I see. Well, if we cannot sway you to our side, we will have to deal with you. Brotherhood mages, these five have proven they are too strong for you. Allow us Commanders to deal with the interlopers.”

The mages sighed in relief and turned and ran back inside.

“Come to me, then, Lucline. We will have our battle in the inter rooms.”

Arnlec bowed and gestured her inside. She looked at the others but saw them downing their potions. Rasina charged at Minrre, Shehai conjured in her hands. Minrre summoned a greatsword from Oblivion.

“It was you!” Rasina roared. “You stole the child from the desire of my heart? I’ll kill you, blood traitor.” ”I know, my little Ansei. Come then, pass judgement upon me.”

Meanwhile, Sharh had brought her hands up and launched a cloud of frost magic laced with shock magic. She was by far the best Destruction user in the Society. However, the spell passed through Lobamog and made him disappear. The air shimmered next to her and his fist slammed into her as he appeared.

“You always looked down on illusion magic.” He taunted as he vanished again and three versions of him appeared, surrounding her.

While this was going on, Vasfer had leapt at Shurrina. Talsma slid off to one side and launched a bolt at her. Shurrina cast a flesh spell, her fur becoming like iron. The bolt shattered on impact and Vasfer’s claws slid off her. Shurrina then cast another spell and picked up Vasfer and threw him at his sister, who made a mewing noise and badly leapt clear.

“Brother, are you alright?” She called to him.

“This one is fine… but his pride is hurt.”

Lucline hoped they would be alright as she followed the Breton leader into the building.

*Elder-Scrolls*

They arrived in a large room with Tira laid out on a table. Flowing from her body into three tanks was red, green, and blue light. A glowing form like a psjiic projection floated near the body. The spirit looked up, scared.

“Miss Lucline! Help me!” She called in desperation.

“I’m coming, Tira. Once I beat him, I’ll get you out of here.”

Arnlec rolled up his sleeves. “Winner takes all, my dear. I win, you die. If you win, I die. And you will have to kill me to stop the spell. I tied my very life-force to it.”

“Why would you do that?” She asked, downing her potion, and twirling the spear.

“I can’t make it easy. My ideals must be realized, the world needs the balance that Vanus can bring.”

Vanus’ voice appeared in her head. “My time is over. I can’t fix the world.”

“Can they not hear you?” She asked him and he chuckled.

“No, and even when they held my crystal they could not. I tried but my voice could not reach them. Use your magic on the crystal, I’ll start working on the spell needed to restore Tira after the spell ends.”

She nods and gives her magic to the soul gem and Vanus’ spirit leaves and floats next to the girl. She started to back away but he held his hand out gently.

“Let me help you, child. We will restore you.”

She smiled and took his hand. Lucline kicked off the ground even as Arnlec summoned a ward. The conjured spear and the ward clash and the battle had begun.

A/N: Tomorrow we will have the finale for this arc of Dufrey Diaries. Look forward to what is coming tomorrow. See you then.

#elder scrolls #fanfic #sapphic

[tocreateistobe]

Vape Memories

I'm moving.  You don't need to know this. This is for me.  I'm moving.  I saved the bed for last. I dragged the mattress with all the bedding still attached down those steep narrow stairs and strapped it down in my trailer. When I got it to my new place, I somehow dragged it up a different set of narrow stairs with the bedding still hanging on. I shoved it into a corner of my new room and tried it out. I immediately rolled into the wall. I'm sorry for all those nights you had to spend on that mattress. I'm sorry for complaining so much about how you didn't let me get enough sleep when sleep should never have been possible on that piece of shit mattress. I went back to take care of those old wooden pallets I used to hold that old mattress. Those old pallets I used because I'm creative and different, because I don't need to go buy a traditional bed, because I wanted a rustic look, because I'm an idiot. I slowly brought down each pallet, bumping into walls, getting slivers. Indents in the carpet remained that will probably never fully disappear. And I've never seen so much hair and dust and lint gathered in one spot. Honestly, it was disgusting. I was surprised to find very little else left on the carpet, an old band aid from the pharmacy when I got my Flu Shot, a candy wrapper, and a vape of yours. The vape you lost which slipped between the mattress and the wall and somehow made it through the stack of three pallets all the way to the floor. The vape I had tried to reach, lifting the mattress and stretching my arms into the gaps of the pallets. The vape you had said to forget. I picked it up and wiped off the dust. I slipped it into my pocket and drove those old pallets to my new place. I'm not going to use them again. I think I'll burn them. That old wood, covered in dust and lint and hair, should burn easily enough. I set them in the backyard and pulled out your vape. I thought about you and the vape that was always near by, how I wouldn't be surprised if you had a vape in your hand for more time in the day than not, like it was an iconic accessory of a cartoon character or maybe a superhero. I thought of you holding it in your hand as you scrolled on your phone or tried pulling me into those serious talks of ours, even while fucking, you like a queen with your arms and legs open as you exhaled steam with disregard, me feeding you grapes, fanning your stoic face, massaging your olive skin. I thought of you and tried that old vape, taking it like a cigar, never mastering how to do it. I coughed and smoke sputtered out of my mouth, the taste of mango still strong. I think I'll keep it. I think I'll treat it like a fine liquor, taking it out at special moments, perhaps with a candle burning in my holy room, or while on a night walk under yellow lights, a pilgrimage through this new part of town, or maybe while sitting cross-legged before a burning pallet, the smell of treated wood and burnt hair mingling with the smell of grass and cherry blossoms. I'll close my eyes and press my lips to your vape and let the vapor slowly into my mouth until it tickles my throat and I'll think of you. And one day, the vape will run out, I'll inhale deeper, searching for the mango blanket to fill around my tongue and teeth, and I will find nothing but empty air. I will say a blessing, lift the lid to the trash container, and drop it in with a soft thud not unlike the beat of a heart.

[soc350blog]

Emotional Analysis #1: Place

When most people think of a place that is special to them they may think of home or church or even school, but when I think of the place that is the most special to me I think of the place where I lost a very important person in my life. My friend was involved in a car accident that took his life at the scene, I have grown very attached to this place because it brings me peace knowing his spirit could still possibly be there. Ewing (2020) explains that having a sense of "place" is a universal experience, however, it varies from person to person, culture, geographical location, and over time. The strongest emotion that I connect to this place is comfort. It may seem strange to be so fond of a place that brings so much sadness and grief, however, sometimes I feel peaceful here. There have been a lot of complications surrounding his death and because of this, I as well as his friends and family, have no access to a gravesite, memorial, or even urn to help us through the grieving process. Having something to help remember someone who had such a huge impact on me allows me to experience this sense of peace. We are often expected by society to "move on" after experiencing grief or loss (Ewing, 2020), but I cannot work through the healing process if I attempt to cut ties with an impactful moment of my life.

Since this place allows me to feel closer to someone I lost, I have developed a strong place attachment to it. I grew up in a very unstable environment, I never had a place that I would call "home" and I have discovered that a place that brings you a sense of home does not always have to be the place you live, go to school, or work; meaningful places have been found to be widely varied and niche (Manzo, 2005). Although this place brings me negative feelings, it is not uncommon to have positive and even negative experiences in a place that can bring you a sense of comfort. I have found that my strong sense of place attachment has affected my emotions in several different ways. At times when I come to this place and it has been messed up by the weather, cars, or just people who stopped by to visit I get a sense of anger. I have this feeling of responsibility in my attachment to keep it clean and to preserve everything exactly as it was left. Since I have now moved away and live far from this place I also experiencing a sense of longing and disconnect. I have been trying to find comfort and fulfillment through other experiences and places but nothing has brought me the same feeling as being at this place. Among all the other emotions I feel, I also experience sadness with this place. As much as I try and attach this place to the memories of my friend before his passing, sometimes I cannot help be feel grief and sadness knowing that this is where he took his last breath. Manzo (2005) explains that place experience can range from positive or negative and intimate or distant. The passing of my friend was a monumental and life-changing event and in the months following his death, I became so fixated on his crash site. Manzo's (2005) research found that places in which someone experiences an important or meaningful event create a significant bond with this place and experience and place become intertwined. This research has clarified this place attachment that I experience can be explained by my strong connection to my friend's death. This research has also found that negative experiences with place can also be used to help individuals find their place in the world and allow for growth. I have found that when I visit my place I experience a sense of clarity, almost as if I am being guided by a guardian angel.

As time passes my place attachment will change, however, this will not affect the importance I put on this place. The adaptation of my place attachment will allow me to continue to grow and heal from the tragedy and discover new places to find comfort in.

[beefybiriyani-blog]

Mr. Bean's Beautiful Blues

The more someone was a role model in my life, the more my feelings about them become expressed as both an ode and a lament at the same time. Rowan Atkinson is such an example. A truly strong one, at that.

Growing up, Mr. Bean was so beloved no matter what country I was in or what language was being spoken around me. There's something so special and magic about that; about all the connections and laughter and memories attached to any episode of Mr. Bean. I will forever laugh at any of them, especially the older ones! I thought to myself as a little kid, "this is what I want to do. Make everyone around the world smile at my stories and silliness." Even now, that's still alive inside of me.

But the elephant in the room, at least for me: Rowan Atkinson has been a little mean about Muslims, to put it one way - he defended Boris Johnson's "[Muslim women in burqas] look like letterboxes hardeehar" comments, stating that jokes about religion shouldn't be taboo and that the joke was funny (to summarise).

It was strange that he seemed to forget that Johnson made these comments just around the time Islamophobia from the far right was also on the rise.

Yes, religion can be joked about. In fact, I make religion jokes all the time - but I don't make them about a religious group during a time of fear being invoked against that religion. And most certainly, the joke is made with love and appreciation; generally with good cheer, and that was absolutely not Johnson's tone.

The moment I heard about Atkinson's comments, I thought immediately: what a shame! For how many Muslims do I know that love him?

Too many!

I remember especially that we watched episodes during Ramadan in Saudi. I remember breaking fast and laughing with samousa in my mouth. We would sometimes have guests over and we could always count on Mr. Bean being on TV after maghrib when we were eating. No matter who was over, we could all bond over the funny man...

Stubbornly, in some part of my brain, I still love Rowan Atkinson because I don't deny what he contributed to the world and to my life. I have always respected him as a performer and comic. In fact, you might call him one of my greatest inspirations and there is no realistic way for me to throw that away. How could I throw away the memory of my sister's laughter as I did the Mr. Bean dance for her?

But this stinks, because he is either simply islamophobic and the rules of comedy can therefore be lax, or he lost his intelligence at a very important moment and defended someone deplorable. Either one sucks.

As I said: it's always an ode, and a lament. Perfect example.

#mr bean #rowan atkinson #love #comedy #islam #islamophobia #muslim #journal #personal #blog

[chuuyrr]

Hi! I love your works sm!! May we have an angst to fluff scenario where baby scarlet witch experiences a death situation (like in the comics says she actually dies) and gojo just breaks down but somehow baby reader gets healed and hes just a tearful sweet daddy who thought he lost his baby 🥺🥺🥺

platonic! dad! gojo nearly loses scarlet witch! baby fushiguro! reader

jujutsu kaisen x reader

masterlist of the series

warning(s): major anime/manga spoilers, angst with a dash of fluff at the end, mentions of death and blood

thank you so much for requesting and for being patient <3

i may or may not have shed a couple of tears while writing this, i know i wrote it but it hurts me too and im not allowing any of you to not experience my pain.

go listen to "another day" by monday kiz & punch while reading this for a MUCH better experience (i listened to this while writing and re-reading this prompt)

it wasn't your fault for being too attached and clingy towards gojo that you teleported after him when he and the rest of the sorcerers made their way in shibuya to face the special grade curses, but most important of all, gojo forgot that the fact that you were still human despite your near-godly powers of chaos.

you were now barely breathing, shaking and gasping for air as blood dripped from the corner of your lips. you were too exhausted to maneuver after you had unsealed your father from the prison realm with your magic. your uncle and your brother, as well as his friends were too slow when you had taken the hit.

the moment gojo got unsealed and saw his precious kikufuku lying on the ground, hell broke loose. he didn't even know what happened, his vision became a red haze and even his students couldn't believe what he had just done. they didn't even think it would be possible for him to just finish them off like that.

gojo had somehow single handedly ended the cursed spirits before him in a minute all by himself without a right state of mind. all he could think about was you, your bloodied figure.

right after he had taken the matter into his very hands, he immediately rushed to your aid—seeing you laying on megumi's lap as the others tried to tend to your bleeding.

"d-dad?" your vision was beginning to blur as your eyes met gojo's.

gojo took you from megumi, breaking down in tears. he didn't think his greatest fear would become a living nightmare. he clutched you in his arms, trying to apply pressure at your open wound as panic rose from his throat.

"kikufuku, look at me. it's going to be okay. daddy's here, i'm right here." gojo cracked a smile, lifting you in his arms.

"i feel sleepy.." you mustered out, your voice becoming soft as a whisper as your eyes began to droop.

"[name], no, baby. keep your eyes open." gojo's panic worsened when you began to close your eyes as the red hues encasing your [color] eyes began to subside into a dull color.

"help is on the way, you're going to be okay. you're so strong baby, please keep your eyes open for me."

before you could even attain medical aid as you were rushed, the light in your eyes left and the last thing you saw were the pretty, ocean blue eyes of your father and ebony eyes of your brother.

gojo stopped breathing as his hands felt your body become cold. his eyes dilated and shaking you became his first instinct.

"[name]? [name]!"

he cried out to you like a mantra, repeatedly patting your face but it was already too late. the red hues of your chaos magic had dispersed from your now dull and lifeless eyes.

"no, this can't be happening.. no! no!"

with that, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer had fallen.

time froze and no one dared to make a move as the heartwretching scene unfolded before them. they knew how you meant to gojo; how you held his heart. the cold washed over him when the warmth of your skin left.

at the moment, memories of you played over his head—right before his very eyes. gojo remembered the day that toji had told him about you, how he made gojo promise to look after you.

at first, he didn't think he'd become attached and simply intended to play the role of your uncle but he became a father instead; your father.

it wasn't easy, but it was the greatest thing that had ever happened to gojo. he learned so many things from you and understood what it was like have someone to protect and love.

he remembered you calling him your daddy for the very first time; you clinging onto him everytime he comes home after a long day; you flashing him that heaven-sent smile of yours everytime as you giggled and smothered him with sloppy kisses and hugs.

how was he going to last, now that he had lost his kikufuku? how was gojo going to wake up without seeing your smile, pinching your cheek or kissing your forehead?

how will a day go by without you scaring the living hell out of him with your mischievousness and chaos magic? how was he going to let that all go with just a snap? today, he broke the promise he made to toji. gojo had failed to protect you.

megumi's heart clenched when he heard gojo's painful sobs and screams as he clutched your cold, lifeless body in his arms. he had already lost people in his life, he didn't think he'd lose you too just like he had lost his father and mother.

just like megumi, everyone knew much gojo loved you. the moment he started to care for you after you called him your dad, he would brag about his precious baby and they certainly would never forget how frantic he was whenever you got sick or lost because who ran off to who knows where but the highlight of it all was gojo cradling you in his arms, peppering you with kisses and just spoiling you with his love.

everyone surrounded gojo, sharing his pain and shed tears. gojo continued to mourn over your death, but little did he know that somehow the chaos within his kikufuku hasn't fully-subsided.

just as despair encased his heart, the same, familiar red vapors of your chaos magic had took form and engulfed your body. an immense aura shrouded you, filling you with warmth and strength. everyone watched your wounds patched itself in awe as the light in your eyes magically returned.

you refused to die, it was as simple as that.

"[name]?"

fire burned inside gojo's heart when he saw life in your eyes once again.

gojo hugged you tightly in his arms at that instant and buried his face onto the back of your head, breaking down another set of tears. he barely had the time to comprehend what had just happened.

gojo didn't bother to question how you rose from dead just like that. all that mattered was that you were breathing and alive again.

after that eventful incident, gojo took time off his work to spend time with you. he was still shakened up with the fact that had nearly lost you at the hands of death.

he spent his days and nights sleeping next to you and sticking by your side, coddling you in his warmth and smothering you in kisses, telling you how much he loves you and promising to protect you.

on other times after that incident, gojo would just cry. he would randomly tear up as he watches over you, but that was until you caught his gaze. so, you ran upto gojo and hug him ever so tightly to give him reassurance.

"please, don't cry!" you swiped at the tears rolling down his face.

"i'm sorry, kikufuku. i just don't know what i'm going to do if i lose you. i love you too much." gojo sighed shakily, his eyes recalling your bloodied, lifeless body from that day, as well as his hands feeling the warmth depart your skin.

"i'm not going anywhere, that's a promise!" you beamed, "i love you."

a smile broke through his face as he looked at you with tearful eyes. "i love you too, [name]."

honestly, you didn't know how you did it. but if you were able to escape death, then you could do it again. you would do it again. you still had lots to do with gojo, you were still yet to become a teenager, an adult even. you had no plans giving up this life.

#jjk fanfic #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk toji #jjk fluff #jjk megumi #jjk x you platonic #jjk x reader platonic #jjk x y/n platonic #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo headcanons #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojou x y/n #gojou headcanons #gojou satoru x you #gojou x you #gojou fluff #gojou sensei #gojo satoru x reader #gojo sensei #gojo angst #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x y/n

[cinnamonest]

Yandere Profile - Link (Legend of Zelda)

ABSOLUTELY YES. MY BOY. LOVE OF MY LIFE.

As some of you may know, today is the release date of Skyward Sword HD for Switch!! So I decided to release this one now in honor of that :3

NOTES:

I went towards the idea of a Princess!reader because that just opens the gate for sooooo much potential. I'm leaning heavily towards the ZeLink interactions in BoTW and Skyward Sword just because those games have the most interaction between the two.

Also! This is great bc it gives me the opportunity to explore an idea I've actually had a long time! I've always thought about how many opportunities there have been across the games for Link and Zelda to be kinda like "haha well seeya later" and just... bolt, run away from everything, abandon their roles and responsibilities and all that. Like, if OoT kid Link got her before Ganon did and ran, if SS Link just decided to get her on the bird and bolt before everything went down, if botw Link was just like haha what if we ran away from everything together... jk... unless...?

And final note, Link is a great pick for the very traditional yandere -- sweet and : ) but can snap into darker personas. I really liked writing this bc I tend to have more self centered yans and less of the "worships the ground you walk on" type of yans like I think Link would be, so it's a nice change.

As usual now the nsfw section is divided by a ---- line.

TWs: fem reader, heavily implied Zelda!reader, stalking, murder, very brief mentions of gore/dismemberment of rivals, manipulation, very brief suicide mention, themes of reincarnation (I’ve been told this can be triggering to some people so just in case)

TWs (nsfw section): noncon, somnophilia

--------------------------------

Severity Scale

Intelligence/Perceptiveness: 4 Brutality: 8.5 Physical capability: 8 Mental/emotional instability: 7 Restrictiveness: 6 Sexual sadism: 5 Stubbornness: 8

What are they generally like? Lucid, aware? Obsessive? How do they behave?

The primary trait of Link that any darling -- any person, really -- would notice is that he is, well, quiet. He has always been a man of few words, and really, he often doesn't know exactly what to say. On his own, at a first glance, he really does seem like a gentle, humble spirit, someone who blends into the background pretty well, who isn't particularly prideful or reckless or aggressive.

Which is why, to be honest, he might sort of evade the gaze of most people -- he doesn't stand out. You remember him as the boy that smiled at you now and then, it's a soft, gentle sort of smile, one that you feel conveys nothing but the utmost innocence and contentment with the world. You know he's pretty good at fighting, but doesn't get into fights needlessly, he's accomplished and respected, but has never been the guy everyone is talking about -- he's in the background, against the wall. Never speaking, always looking out, sometimes at the sky, sometimes carefully watching people. Sometimes you see him, gaze blank and tranquil, and wonder what he's thinking about. Whether he's the village boy in the time of Twilight, the trained and honored warrior that slept for many years, the boy that came down from the sky -- you can't help but feel at ease around him, safe, you can't help but find him endearing and pleasant.

Yet, you always seem to notice him. Other people... forget he exists, sometimes, he's so quiet. You never do, for whatever reason.

When he needs to get something across, he prefers to express himself through actions, not words. If you lived in Skyloft, or Ordon village, you might find problems mysteriously solved, work suddenly done that you don't remember doing. That fencepost outside your home that broke has been replaced overnight. A village child went missing and he comes back a few hours later with them in tow. Always humble, never demanding or expecting thanks, he tells you in his quiet voice that he's happy to help you.

And should you ever ask him for anything, he'll drop whatever he's doing to help. Anything for you, he says with a smile, which makes you feel a bit guilty when, honestly, you're not even sure you're remembering his name right.

And yet, sometimes, you feel so at ease around him it seems unnatural. He seems so easy to trust. You feel like you've known him forever. And sometimes you feel... for just a split second, less at ease. You find yourself randomly stiffening at his calm, sweet voice. You find yourself looking around when you're alone, as if you feel someone is there, and for some reason, his face flashes through your mind. Sometimes when he looks at you, you feel sort of cold. It's almost like invoking a memory you don't have, like some kind of learned instinct you can't recall a reason for. But those moments are fleeting, they come and go before you can even process them, replaced by warmth and comfort.

If you do spend time with him, if you find yourself gazing out your window when he's training, the next thing you notice besides him being quiet and sweet is that he's strong. It's almost ironic, how all the other knights or village boys are so aggressive and rowdy all the time, many of them taller or bulkier, and yet, none of them could ever dream of defeating Link. Not one can match his agility, speed, prowess. Such a pleasant, calm person, with so much skill, strength, and power, but that power is so rarely seen exerted. People marvel at his talent, they say it's as if he has the experience of lifetimes and lifetimes of battle in his blood.

And it's why you feel at ease when he's assigned the task of guarding you. His capabilities are unmatched, and yet you'd never fear any harm to you from him. Both of those traits put together make him the best candidate to protect you.

Of course, you do find yourself doing most of the talking. Sometimes you find yourself rambling to fill the silence, and you fear you're annoying him, but when you stop he raises an eyebrow and asks why you got so quiet. Did he do something wrong? He seems to worry about that a lot -- has he done something bad? Has he made you upset? Are you mad? At first you think he's worried about his position security, but after a while you realize he genuinely worries about it.

And when you do continue your ramblings, you're surprised to find he remembers your words -- every little thing you say. Things you don't even remember telling him. He asks you about that relative you mentioned one time, his eyes light up and he walks a bit to the side because look, it's your favorite flower over there, he'll get it for you. It's impressive, really, how he manages to remember such things. He must take his job very seriously.

He does enjoy giving you such things -- he loves giving you gifts. It's usually things he finds, wholesome little things -- makes a crown out of the flowers you like so much, finds something interesting here or there, while he was off-duty he saw something in the markets he thought you'd like and got it for you. You almost feel guilty, it's so constant that he's giving you things.

Sometimes you ask him about himself, you realize he knows so much about you and you so little about him. He blushes, he rubs the back of his head, he insists there's nothing interesting about him, he wouldn't waste your time like that. It takes time to get him out of his shell, but eventually, he tells you this or that, little stories from his life.

Sometimes you take long walks, you like to get out of the stuffy walls and have fun outside, he accompanies you across Hyrule. Sometimes it feels familiar, you pass places you've never been that give you a feeling of nostalgia, deja vu, a sense that you've been here before.

He’s protectiveness incarnated. Insanely so. He can spring to his feet at a moment's notice and deals with anything that comes for you before they can even get close.

It makes you feel safe, but there's something else there. It's a ferocity that is so contrasting to his normal self, different even from the times you've seen him fight as he trains. It's a glint in the eyes, an aggression in his expression, that almost makes him seem like a different person. And it lingers for a moment, once the creature is dead and his sword hand falls to his side, he turns and glances at you to his side, a hand raised to wipe the blood off his face, and for that lingering second, it's still there, his blank expression and wide eyes -- a ferocity so intense it starts to look like bloodlust, chaos, destruction. And then, it's as if you imagined it. Smiling and telling you it's gone now, you're ok. You're glad he's so truly devoted.

In fact, he's so dedicated to his job that he starts... doing it... outside of his job hours...? Well, today he was given the day off, and you were told to stay inside because you didn't have to go out. He comes knocking on your door, says not to be startled if you hear someone outside your door move or shift or anything, but he just wanted to let you know in case. He'll be right here. Keeping watch. So don't worry. You're safe.

And likewise, he was supposed to have a day off when you were supposed to enter the town. You were assigned two other guards to watch you, since it's a special trip, so you're surprised to find just Link waiting for you. He took care of it, he says, he didn't feel right leaving your safety up to someone else, he doesn't trust them. So they agreed to let him take over for today.

All of this said, he doesn't have to grow alongside you, he doesn't have to be the childhood friend, the knight who guards you. He doesn't even have to have met you. Fate works in odd ways like that. There's a sort of inexplicable instant attachment he takes to you, almost as though it's some kind of destined, divinely inspired sort of thing. He would describe it as saying you feel familiar to him.

He's also, notably, prone to a more traditional trope of what you might call humility whiplash. For the most part, he's got that overly humble, worshipping, "I don't deserve to even stand in your presence" sort of mentality. However, although it's rare and requires a lot of wearing down his mental state, if pushed far enough, he can have brief moments where he snaps into more or less the complete opposite -- entitlement, arrogance, aggression, getting mad at you for the behavior he'd normally take with a smile on his face. Thankfully, unlike some yanderes that have a whole snapping episode towards their darling, his are very very brief, usually only a matter of seconds or a single snarled sentence before he snaps back to normal, wide-eyed and apologetic and telling you I don't know what came over me. It’s... a little frightening to say the least, but you blow it off, tell yourself that hey, everyone has moments like that... Right?

How likely are they to kidnap their darling? How quickly will they do so?

For the most part, he doesn't need it, he can pretty easily cling to your side well enough to be assured of your safety, and he manages to scare off the undesirables not with a glare, but a smile that's just a little too sweet and far too persistent -- it unnerves people. You hear a lot of people say that something about that guy rubs me the wrong way. Or that he gives me goosebumps for some reason. Even the people he scares away themselves can't pinpoint exactly what it is, all they know is that, despite being reputed as kind and quiet (and maybe a little dense), somehow a lot of people agree that something about him puts people at unease, and that's all he needs. Because they stay away from him, and if he’s by your side all the time, that means they stay away from you too. Why keep you trapped when you can just be isolated?

An aware Link is a a unique scenario. One scenario that's rather... interesting to imagine is a Link that defies fate itself, a Link that decides to be selfish in one of those rare snapping moments of his. Perhaps he makes a decision when everything starts going down, when the chaos is beginning, or perhaps he has somehow managed to gain knowledge of the bigger picture at work, the reality of the nature of your existence and his.

Perhaps he begins to think it's unfair. To suffer again and again. To prove himself again and again, and not always even to reap any benefits, to work so hard and yet still -- still -- you slip out of his grasp. He longs for a life with no tribulations, no struggle, no fights to be fought. He begins to feel like it's what he wants the most. He begins to feel like maybe it's what he deserves. So many lifetimes of struggles, if the higher powers won't give him a reward, he'll take it himself.

And perhaps, for all their higher power, not even the great goddesses themselves would have ever predicted it -- humans are ultimately creatures of will. To defy fate and to run away from destiny -- it wouldn't be the first time a human has tried such a thing. Sure, Hyrule may be destroyed. The people may all die. There may be nothing left. But you know what? He's stopped caring. If you're alive and he's alive, tucked away in your little corner of the world where you've found respite, well, that's all he needs. Even if you're on the run from forces that would want to find you, even if the threat of the final third of the triforce owner looms over your head. He'll ignore it, he'll look away.

You'll live a quiet little life together, a happy life without suffering, without quests and enemies, without strife, without worry. That's what he tells you when he steals you away, lifts you out of your bed one night. Says to be quiet, there's danger outside your door, he's rescuing you. You have no reason to not believe him. He waits until things go down, a castle under siege, but rather than taking you to where you're supposed to go, he climbs onto the horse and starts... riding away. It gets further and further into the distance, and you might ask why, what's going on? You have a job to do, he has a battle to be fought. But he says you're going far, far away, someplace you'll be safe.

But what about the divine beasts, the seals, the Twilight, whatever threat runs in this world in this time, what about the threat of Ganon, you ask? He says it doesn't matter anymore. You were doomed to fail, he thinks, it's either stay here and die, or run away. All that matters is you. And he'd like you to feel the same way for him. You will with enough time, don't worry.

He just wants this happy, quiet life with you that he’s been denied time and time again. It’s all he wants. If fate won’t give it to him, he’ll make it happen himself, and carve out the life he is determined to have, defying even the will of higher power.

How difficult is it to escape from them? How do they keep you restrained? How do they deal with attempted escape? 

He gets it. Really, he does. "Stop following me!" You yell. Well, he understands why you might feel that way, but this is kinda his job. He thinks you're naive. Not that he would ever, ever have a thought that you're imperfect, of course! It's because you're so perfect and pure that you're... less aware of the dangers all around.

He'll let you think you're free, perhaps. He's more than capable of being quiet, quiet is kind of his thing. Watching you from a short distance is easy. Of course, his horse might make a noise, he can't really help that, or he might misstep on a branch or something. And then you turn around and get all mad again. Now you're even more angry. Well, he can also tell your guardians/father, who will encourage you to accept it. You can't help but feel a little bad -- he's just doing his job.

Now, our aware, runaway Link, well, does he really need to keep you restrained? What would you go back to? Certain death, a land destroyed? Sometimes you mention home, and he's quick to remind you that home doesn't exist anymore. His home is where you are. Can't you feel the same way? You found peace here in this little place -- a village far far away. Travelers, you call yourselves. What's the point in going elsewhere? How would you ever survive without him? He's not very good at being subtle or skillful about the psychological manipulation, it's obvious he's trying to scare you into not leaving, but... it still works, because really, he has a point.

He doesn't want to have to use physical restraint, in any case. And for the most part, it's not needed, because one important aspect of your relation is that his job kinda revolves around you (in some incarnations), or, perhaps you live in the same little village, but either way the thing is that his presence does the job well enough -- he's always there, perhaps more so than almost any other yandere. Even when you think you've managed to get away from him for a moment, somehow his face pops up out of nowhere. How he manages to pull it off is a mystery, you swear he manages to find you so well and predict your movements it's inhuman.

But if you really, really pose a problem, a smarter and sneakier darling that somehow manages to keep slipping out of his grasp and running off (you never get away for more than about 20 minutes or so, but nonetheless), you keep trying to run off when he's sleeping (he wakes up in approximately 25 seconds if your presence is absent from the bed, but that's still enough time to run out the front door), every time he turns his head (which isn't often) you're trying to disappear... well, in that case, he can reach a point of deciding more straightforward measures are necessary. He hates to do it, really, at least when he's not yet at a snapping point. But it's for your own good. And he says so, quite apologetically.

But it's not so bad, it's not like you're being chained to a wall or anything. For one, he got leather ties so you'd be more comfortable, but more importantly, as your guardian, he figured the best thing for you to be tied to would be... himself. Think of it like friendship bracelets! It's just... got a 5-foot chain connecting them. This way you can't sneak off at night, and you won't get too far when he's distracted. It's a safety measure.

How easy are they to trick, deceive, or manipulate?

He's a learner. At first, it's easy. Honestly, he is a rather naive, gullible boy, sometimes he reminds you of a happy dog with his bright eyes. He likes to believe the best of people, give them the benefit of the doubt in all circumstances, and that goes double for you, who he believes can do no wrong.

And even when you do lie to him, it's still not wrong. You didn't do anything bad. Clearly there has simply been a misunderstanding, and you thought you had to lie. Or perhaps you simply forgot a detail or were confusing something with something else. It wasn't malicious on your end, he knows that.

He's actually significantly smarter than he lets on in practical knowledge, though. Those dungeon puzzles pay off, you know? He's got pattern recognition down. So over time he learns how to distinguish when you're lying to him or attempting to deceive him, and sees through it increasingly well.

And yet, he doesn't really... get mad over it, most of the time. Again, he's just capable of deluding himself into believing there's a reason. He believes so strongly in your goodness that he finds a way to interpret everything you do as out of benevolence. So you snuck out the window and didn't tell him you were going for a walk because you just wanted to get away from his suffocating presence for once? You were just thinking of him. You didn't want to burden him and wanted to give him a break. Well, that's thoughtful, but don't worry, he doesn't need a break. He thinks it's precious you're so considerate of him though!

You don't tell him you were talking to that person, and you lie and say no when he asks, because you don't want him to worry, and because you underestimate how dangerous others can be. He's told you a million times and you don't listen, but that's ok, it's because you're just so pure you see the best in everyone. Everything you do is good.

Because he perceives your lies, he will still work against and around it. He won't confront you on your lies, he'll just make sure to deal with the situation -- you lied about sneaking out, well, he'll just keep watch and be ready to meet you outside next time. You lied about talking to a person, well, he'll just have to make sure they stay away from you instead.

If you're trying to trick him, he just plays along until necessary. Smiles and nods. He gets the suspicion you're planning a break-out when he told you he was leaving to go get something from town... rather than saying so, he just decides, you know what? Why don't you come with him? Oh, you're feeling sick, you tell him it's ok, go without you? Well, he can't leave you alone then! Because you're clearly not and just trying to get him to leave... or, as he says, he can't just leave you alone. He'll go another day.

He's fairly manipulable when it comes to praise and affection. You can easily Pavlov him into certain behaviors or patterns with just the slightest words of praise and affection. He's not a very outwardly expressive person, tends to stay quiet, but you can tell how he feels inside when you give the slightest praise, a hug, a kiss on the cheek -- you can see that soft hint of a smile and tell that inside, he's basically melting, even if it's not obvious to most people. And, much like the lying, he’s honestly often aware of it, but he just can’t help it.

How lenient are they? What privileges can you have, and what will you be denied?

He tries to get you the things that he feels will make you happy. Your happiness is incredibly important to him, and he usually thinks about how any action he plans to take might affect you, spends a lot of time debating choices of things to do or say and try to determine how each one will affect you and choose accordingly.

As such, he goes out of his way to support the things you want to do. Have a hobby? He'll find the best materials available. Want a book or a food? He'll obtain it through some means. Even if procuring it involves a side-quest-y set of mundane tasks or scouring the world for 70 of this and 50 of that to exchange it for the item from an obscure specialist, it's all worth it.

The only thing he just doesn't give up on is the constant vigilance and insistence on being by your side more or less every waking second. And every sleeping second. And just every single moment you're alive. It's for your safety.

This is actually one of the things he can get a little nasty about when it comes to how he deals with it, because he quickly has the bright idea that if you don't get it, he'll make you understand. Of course, he can't actually risk you getting hurt, so he stages it. Allows you to sneak off, or at least think you have, and walk right into the path of those monsters he lured, or the people he hired to intimidate you. Of course, it's only natural that he shows up at the last possible second, right on time to save you. You should expect that, after all, it's his responsibility to protect you, of course fate works out perfectly like this. See, he was right, it's so dangerous, and without him you'd be dead. Hopefully you grasp that now.

What kind of rules do they have? What kind of punishment would they use?

His is mostly related to vigilance. Where are you? Who have you been talking to? Who was that person you were talking with just now? What did they say? He's not nosy. He just cares about you. It’s in the job description. You ought to understand just how much certain bad people would love to find you and hurt you. That's why he has to know.

This isn't our modern world, so there's no phones or tracking devices to speak of, just himself, which, well, might as well be a tracking device since he never seems to have difficulty finding you. Sometimes you're not sure how he does it.

He tells you that you don't have to be with him 24/7, but you will be, even if you don't realize it. He's aware enough to know that you'll feel suffocated and get mad if you're aware of his presence all the time, so he gives you your "alone" time, aka, the "follow her quietly from a 20+ foot distance" time. It all feels the same to you. Well, sometimes you feel eyes on you, but you shake the feeling off as paranoia.

So it's not so much that he sets rules and reacts when they're broken, but rather, he works his way around anything you might do so well that he doesn't need you to follow his rules, or really, you take them more as suggestions. But honestly, that's kind of worse. It's enough to drive a darling to the brink of a mental breakdown very quickly. With Link you will inevitably become paranoid, nervous, you feel like you're going insane because he manages to pop up everywhere, he always knows what you did when you did it and you have no idea how it is even conceivably possible for him to know some of the things that he knows. He confronts you very plainly and quietly, often sweetly, asking why you did this or that or telling you it's ok, you don't have to hide anything, surely there’s a good reason, and if not, he forgives you anyway. In a way, it's worse than an angry confrontation. You begin to feel like he's omnipresent, like he can read your mind, and it truly takes a mental toll and affect you worse than any normal yandere's concept of punishment.

This ultimately works out well in his favor. The more you just do what he wants, the less it feels like a violation or intrusion that he knows these things, since he was there with you, it makes sense, and you continuously get bent to his will.

How do they deal with rivals, or perceived rivals? Will they get rid of them? Will they kill them themselves, or find another way?

Ah, and thus we get to that brutality rating.

It would be unthinkable to think that any sort of scum would even dare. Even he isn't worthy of being with you, and someone else thinks they could be? So, he more or less views "rivals" as an offense. When they're threats, well, he's allowed to deal with them. When they're not, well... he has a wonderful reputation. If he says he overheard that person planning usurpation or assassination, that they realized he was listening in and wildly attacked him, everyone will believe him. Even if the death seems a little... non-immediate. And uh... frankly... overkill. How exactly... did those limbs get perfectly severed during equally armed combat? And was it... really necessary... to kinda spill entrails all over like that? He'll apologize, of course, he was just so outraged by the thought of someone hurting you or your family, you know? You notice his eye twitches a bit as he says it.

He has a lot of... bottled up frustrations, which we'll touch on in the nsfw section as well, but it tends to manifest in those two ways: sex and violence. Rather than exerting stress and anger and frustration as it comes, he lets it fester. He tries to maintain being the noble, humble, self-sacrificing person he feels he should be. That is... difficult to do for a long time. People expect a lot from him, even in timelines where he's not necessarily realized as the hero quite yet, he usually has a lot of responsibilities. But then you tack on the whole hero thing? The weight of the world is sometimes, quite literally, on his shoulders. Do you have any idea the kind of stress that comes with that knowledge? It's not pleasant. And it quickly bottles up, a very very fragile bottle set to eventually shatter in a matter of time.

On a longer sort of quest, he just kinda... leaves a trail of destruction in his wake. Enemies don't actually just poof out of existence the way they do on-screen, you know. Anyone coming across an area he's just been through is met with literal piles upon piles of corpses, sometimes monsters, but sometimes people. He takes a very scorched earth sort of policy when it comes to dealing with things.

He's able to easily get close to people, with that sweet face and puppy eyes and lithe body, people don't really feel on guard around him nor intimidated. That makes it significantly easier to infiltrate enemy hideouts, earn favors, and work his way in to be able to commit mass murder more easily. Granted, no one thinks too much of it because they *are* truly enemies, after all, they *did* need to be taken out and well, if the rulers can choose to either send a group of ten soldiers or just one guy and get the job done equally well either way, they'll go with the latter option. No one thinks anything of it, except the occasional person who laughs and says something to the effect of remind me to never get on your bad side, haha! He gives that sheepish, sweet little smile, and jokingly tells them that yeah, better not.

How easy is it to make them mad? What does their anger look like?

For you, nearly impossible. For others, at a hair trigger.

For the most part, he conceals anger well until, as aforementioned, it bottles up and bursts. The truth is he gets irritated virtually all the time by other people. People who talk to you. Look at you. Smile at you. He’s actually rather easily annoyed even when you’re not involved, but again, he’s good at hiding it until it builds.

His rage has a commonality with his calm -- it's quiet. At least, at first. When it's directed at others, his eyes narrow. It's the telltale sign that someone has ignited his rage. It burns on the inside, it starts off as a spark that builds and builds and grows larger and larger until it's a blazing fire that consumes everything in his path. It's a loss of composure, a rare moment of complete loss of self-control. From his own perspective, it feels like he's not in control of his own body, it's all a blur happening in front of him and when it's over he's looking down at his own hands, unable to process his own actions, sometimes unable to remember them.

But it's violent, merciless, unforgiving. It does not yield to begging, it does not leave anything alive unless forced to. You remember the first time you realized how unnatural it was, how shocked you were at how he did something that certainly went against the code he was sworn to follow, the very first time you felt truly afraid of Link. It was a walk in town -- someone called out to you, spitting obscenities about you and your family, your lineage, threw something at you -- he caught it in his hand and crushed it, and quickly, without a word, advanced on the offender. And, to make a long story short, you had to prevent him from beating a man to death in public in broad daylight. He was forgiven by his superiors, but even they seemed shocked. You had to pull him off, and when he jerked his head around to look at whatever was stopping him -- before his face softened as he recognized your own face -- the split second you saw the burn of hatred and fury in eyes that were normally so soft and loving, was nothing short of unsettling, you still recall the chill that ran down your spine.

And honestly? It's terrifying. And the first time, it's shocking. Sure, you knew he could fight. You've seen him fight off monsters, bokoblins and lizalfos and the like. But something is different about seeing the blood of a human being run down his sword, dripping onto the ground, to see the bodies and the blank, numb gaze on his features he always has after it's over. The absolute lack of hesitancy he has to run human enemies through before they even have a chance to explain themselves, how unbothered he seems by the carnage left in his wake. The way he turns back to you, drenched in red and smiles, tells you it's ok, you're safe now. There's no need to look so scared.

And it changes how you view him, in the long run. Less of a guardian angel, more of a guardian dog, one that defends your name when you never asked him to. Pleads to tell him not to fall on deaf ears -- you just don't understand why it has to be this way, he says, you can't comprehend the threat they posed. From the sweet boy that leaves you flowers and repairs and instead leaves a wave of destruction in his path you would not have thought possible.

Directed towards you, though, it's entirely different. He tries his best to have patience with you, no matter what. He smiles, he tries to make excuses as to why you'd say this or do that, why you'd feel a certain way, and he's rather good at deluding himself to give you the benefit of the doubt.

But when it reaches an end, when he can no longer lie to himself, when you push it to a point that you truly make him mad, it's more of a snap. The times he'll lay hands on you in a truly violent way are rare, and as aforementioned, very brief. It's usually not so much of actually a blow, so much as a grab. He just can't get what he's trying to tell you through your thick head, so he stresses it, trying to make you understand as he grabs you by the upper arms, shaking you with each word, and he only stops when he sees the pain and fear in your eyes, drawing his hands back at lightning speed. He saves you from some danger very narrowly, one of the few times he lost track of you for a moment and had to frantically search before coming across you being attacked. What would I have done if something happened to you? Don't you understand that? He's so lost in the relief it takes him a moment to feel you beating on his arms in the embrace, choking and wheezing that you can't breathe, that his grip is so tight it feels like he'll snap you in half. He draws back again, and he apologizes, but it will certainly happen more than once.

So they see you as above them, beneath them, or equal to them?

Above. Like, so, so, so far above. He feels like he doesn't even deserve to look at you. Of course, neither does anyone else, so he's just, you know, stepping up to bear the burden of wrongdoing to keep people even worse than him away from you.

So it's less that you're just above him so much as you're above everyone. He's actually, perhaps surprisingly, a little bit of a pessimist about the world. The world is full of so many terrible people and so many horrible things happen that he's borne witness to. It's a "world cold and hard, (y/n) soft and warm" sort of thing. You're the one good thing, the thing that makes him happy, the ultimate source of comfort he has, and he has to prevent you from being defiled by the evil of the world, keep you innocent and sweet (even if he's just deluding himself to think you are those things in the first place).

This ties into, again, how he interprets every action you take as good and benevolent -- he has the "you can do no wrong" mentality. Even very blatantly malicious things, he'll interpret in a way that makes you somehow still come out a perfect, innocent angel. If you do harm to others, well, they simply deserved it. You did something technically wrong, but you knew no better, or you were desperate. You can't be held responsible for any of it. And if you're mean to him, well, he probably did something to make you upset.

How determined are they for you to love them? How hard will they try to make it happen? Or are they content just having you?

Sort of a duality. Yes, he's very persistent. He thinks about it all the time. Every time you yell and try to run and hurl nasty insults at him, it hurts far more than you realize. He doesn't let it show on his face or in his voice, but it really does, and it gets to him sometimes. He's hyper observant of every little thing you do, your body language, your tone, the way you look at him, and the slightest of differences can change his mood internally, although it tends to look the same outwardly.

He makes little mental notes of it -- today she didn't flinch when I touched her shoulder. Today she didn't frown when she saw me coming. Little things like that will make his entire day. Likewise, the inverse kills him inside. He aims to make every day one of the former days, where the littlest signs of acceptance or even kindness and affection give him a sort of high that makes him feel like he's floating.

He tries his best to do things that he thinks will, well, earn love. Every opportunity to do something for you, he takes it. Everything he sees he'd think you'd like, he buys (or steals, or... loots from a dead body) for you. On and on that idea goes. And although he doesn't say too much, when he does speak to you, he usually has something nice to say. He views it in a formulaic way -- ironically, think about it like those collectibles in overworlds. You get enough of this or that thing, and once you have enough, you can go talk to this or that person and donate them all and get a reward, right? He's accustomed to viewing things that way. Love should be the same way. If he just completes enough tasks and gathers enough items, eventually he'll unlock your love.

That being said, even if it doesn't happen, much to your despair, he just... doesn't. Give. Up. He doesn't quit. No matter how many times you tell him, it doesn't make a difference. You can tell him you'll never love him, and it's like it goes in one ear and out the other. He keeps trying. And he never, ever, ever stops trying. What did you expect? The boy's been fighting the same enemy over and over across lifetimes, needless to say his spirit has build up some persistence.

Bonus: Is there anything that makes them unique, in comparison to other yanderes?

Bonus: Zelda/Triforce of Wisdom Darling

And don't worry. If it all goes wrong, when he fails, those divergences in time where the hero is vanquished and evil wins out -- it's not the end. Somehow, that's the feeling he gets, holding your little lifeless body up, running hands across your cold skin. Somehow, he feels oddly calm. Like it hurts, but it's ok. Like he'll see you again. Maybe not soon, but one day. This time didn't work out. But the next one will.

And that's the feeling you'll always have. Every time you meet him and you feel like you've met before, the lingering memories when you wake from your dreams -- flying through skies and sailing on oceans, a child, an adult, a boy you've never met, or one you've known all your life, but it's always the same face, the same voice, the one right beside you in the waking world. You sometimes wonder if he has the same feelings, the same dreams, the same sense of something greater than yourselves at work, the sense of being just smaller pieces in a much bigger picture.

The sense of permanency, that each other is all there will ever be -- regardless of how it makes you feel, regardless of how that scares you, sometimes you feel like you can never be free. Sometimes, when you think of running away, those dark moments when you think of even escaping from life itself, it feels futile. It's as if you know it would never hold him away forever. As if death is insignificant. Perhaps in this lifetime, you'll become aware of why that is, or perhaps not.

With other obsessive lovers, just the idea of til death do us part is a terrifying thought. But, for Link, not even death can keep him away from you. Your suffering is already determined by the will of higher power, for the sake of a greater good. 

In truth, it’s the goddesses who made him this way intentionally -- it’s designed to ensure your safety, even at the cost of your suffering. Again, for a greater good. Sure, you may live one lifetime to the next desperately locked in the same cycle in which your freedom and will is stripped from you, but in the end, it serves a purpose. 

Nor will he change -- perhaps this one this time is a bit more spirited, more calm, more pessimistic, more optimistic... but in the end, at their core, they're the same soul, with the same will deep, deep down. The same drive to find you and protect you. The same love for you, an all-consuming love that destroys everything in its path to you and leaves ruin in its wake.

And if fate should one day keep you apart, should things change, for whatever reason, it’s unable to change him. There's another force even more powerful than fate determined to keep you together. The only thing more unavoidable, inevitable, and unescapable than fate, is Link himself.

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General perverseness: how sexual of a person are they? What’s their drive like? How touchy do they get? Do they have any reservations about sexuality?

In moments of passion, he changes a bit, unlike other more submissive yans who stay consistent in their reverence and desire to please.

You see, after a while, being as lenient and tolerant and flexible and completely devoted as he is... constantly self-sacrificing in so many ways, to you, to Hyrule, to the world... some frustrations build up. It's a big, big bottle of emotion, all tucked away and festering, getting greater and greater and eventually it has to explode somehow.

His reservations and inhibitions fall away. Perhaps a darker, more selfish side comes out. Perhaps that's why he's so rough. He knows he'll regret it later, the bruises from how hard he grips, the marks from the bites, but the hormones and the heat takes over. He'll feel bad for defiling you. He'll apologize. And he'll do it again. And again. And again.

But once the resolve crumbles, it topples. That is, he can't partially maintain it -- if it's partially gone, it falls apart completely. He lets go, so to speak. And when he lets go, you find that underneath that carefully constructed resolve and willpower that holds him back, he can be a very, very rough and possessive lover. In his normal state, he wouldn't dare think of you as a possession, or as something he's even worthy of. He would like so, so much to think that, to feel like he's allowed to -- but he doesn't. He chastises himself for even having such a desire. But in those moments, when his resolve is gone and his brain isn't thinking quite too clearly, he might even have to audacity to say "mine." Even if it's not true, not now, maybe it will be. He would like that so much. His and his alone.

And in a moment of clarity, he might even throw away the inhibition on purpose. The more selfish side, the same Link that drags you away from your destiny -- he's already forsaken his responsibilities, hasn't he? Why care anymore about the structures that no longer exist, your status and his, if there's no kingdom left? He likes that it happened, even. This way, this time, you can throw off those titles, those roles. Without your status, your title, there's nothing stopping him from making you his. And you will be his, and nothing more. It's all you need to be. So he doesn't have to care anymore about any of that, he doesn't have to stop himself from going wild. Biting into every little spare patch of skin, covering your body with marks that make him feel comforted to see.

As far as drive it's a bit of a two-sided duality. Outwardly he's not a very sexual person at all, blushes and stutters and averts his gaze at the slightest mention of suggestive topics, tries his best to be Respectful(tm) by always looking away when you're in a compromising position, or your skirt flies up, etc etc. Given how constant his vigilance is, he has a tendency to accidentally walk in on your changing or bathing, except unlike with many yanderes, it's genuinely an accident. Not that the image doesn't stick in his mind, nor does he wish he hadn't gotten to see, but he does feel guilty, and it was genuinely unintentional. He kinda freezes up, so it takes a moment for him to actually snap out of it and run out.

That being said, he quickly develops something of a masturbation addiction when he's younger, it starts as more of a stress reliever than anything, He's so sweet and always feels bad about talking about his problems and feelings, so that and, well, violence are the only ways he can get it out. Thus he learns to channel stress and nerves into sexuality, and once he has a real living body and not just his hand, that dependency on cumming to relieve it doesn't change.

How forceful are they? Do they care about your willingness?

Particularly so, yes, cares quite a bit. And it takes a while for him to feel comfortable. Even consensually, the first few times he touches you for several months, he's got trembling hands and stays quieter than ever, constantly freezes up every time you move or make a noise because he thinks he's done something wrong. He has to be coaxed into feeling more comfortable before he gets used to it, but he will build confidence over time.

As addressed before, though, if he's pushed and pushed and pushed long enough, you can get a darker side to come out. This is most likely something that would only occur post-kidnapping in a distant time, once he's far away from any possibility of consequence and destruction has set in to the world around you. He starts to get a little bitter, if you've been mean to him. It all builds up. Don't you get that he's literally saved your life? That he devoted every waking second to you? Isn't he kinda entitled to some thanks? The cycle of time never rewards him. Even the figures he helps over time rarely give him more than a verbal praise and thanks, maybe an item here or there, and then disappear. His role feels thankless. He starts to feel like he deserves something, something tangible, in return.

Surprisingly, though, he actually does not take the route of guilt-tripping or emotional manipulation or gaslighting his way into it like a lot of the sweeter yanderes when he does have that snap. His snaps/breakdowns are rather extreme in terms of how much of a polar opposite they are to his normal state, rather than just a slight bend of his normal personality. Rather than taking the route of most yanderes like himself, he just gets directly physically forceful. Still somewhat sweet, though, reminds you he loves you, he'd die for you, you're his entire world. You'd argue that doesn't really change the actions, but considering how frightening he is in that state, you're not dumb enough to vocalize that.

The guilt consumes him alive afterwards. Like, immediately afterwards. He's still panting and twitching and buried inside when it sets in. That being said, he doesn't get to stuttering and profusely apologizing, like he does over smaller offenses. It's all done and he can't take it back, so he just kinda collapses and says nothing. He's not the best with words, you know. It's an odd mixture of guilt and, honestly, a bit of satisfaction and relief. It feels like letting go of some self-imposed burden, that feeling of finally surrendering to some deep want, even if it comes with a lot of remorse, the relief of finally letting go does have a good feeling as well... and because of that, it’s another one of those barriers that, once broken, can’t be built up again.

What sort of kinks or fetishes do they have, or would they fill?

In all honesty the boy is, for the most part, a fairly gentle and vanilla lover. He doesn't really need anything special to get off -- he's easily excited and cums very very easily too. Just the prospect of getting to stick his dick in you in any capacity is enough to make him nearly burst at the thought honestly.

In general, as aforementioned, he's very very cautious and gentle to a point, but has a tendency to get actually kinda rough once he gets into it. The thing is, the roughness aspect is actually unintentional. He's one of those boys that is a little bit unaware of his own strength, doesn't process exactly how hard and fast he's going. He just gets lost in the feeling, kinda enters a dazed lusty haze where he's less aware of his actions. Doesn't realize he's literally got an iron grip pressing your head down on his dick or into the bed until you start flailing your hands because you can't breathe. Doesn't realize how hard he was gripping until he sees the bruises on your arms and hips later. That sort of deal -- poor thing is just unaware and doesn't have enough blood in his brain to think straight.

Biting

Surprisingly a really big one for him. (Remnants of a past life cycle with some lupine experiences perhaps?) In all seriousness, he could not explain exactly why if asked, it's one of those "I just like it" sort of things. It feels like yet another way to conjoin the two bodies, pulls you close. The marking aspect is also nice. Granted, he feels guilty afterwards, tries to help it heal. He has that same duality where moments ago he was this intimidating beast of a human being, rough and growly and jerking you like you were weightless, and now he's back to this bright eyed softie stuttering while he apologizes.

The guilt is mixed with a bit of enjoyment, though. It's constantly conflicting -- sure, part of him understands it's embarrassing and will help you cover up, but part of him doesn't want to, he wants people to see. Part of him looks at the marks and tells himself internally to never do that again, and part of him sees them and just wants to give you even more. It's a constant internal conflict, poor thing.

As far as a place, he likes the neck and shoulders best, simply because it's the most visible and it's the most passionate ones to create, when your bodies are tightly locked together. That being said, though, he also has a thing for biting at the insides of your thighs. It's another one of those I just like it sort of things.

Sometimes, when you're asleep, or pretending to be, you can feel him trace the bite marks with his fingers, softly running them over the circular pattern, just enough to barely ghost over your flesh.

Somnophilia

It puts him at ease. This one is particularly prevalent towards the beginning of your relationship, before you really know... how he is. He has this image of you as so pure and he couldn't bear the thought of defiling you with his horrible horrible thoughts. The guilt eats away at him for a while, but eventually he just can't hold back, but how could he ever do anything to you and risk consequence? So... the solution he comes up with is waiting until you sleep.

He tests the waters to see how heavy of a sleeper you are. Calls your name at increasing volume, lightly runs his fingers over your hair, pokes your face, whispers in your ear, runs his hands over your arms. Just to see what makes you rustle, if anything, so he knows the limits. If it turns out you're an incredibly light sleeper, well, unfortunately that means he's limited to just jerking off to your sleeping form, but that's ok. Just seeing your soft face and the cute way you breathe, the slightest way your lips open, that's enough for him.

If it turns out you're a heavier sleeper though, well, he tries to fight the temptation, but ends up going further. Slowly climbs onto your bed, careful to make the weight shift as gently as possible. Slowly pulls the covers back. Runs his hands up and down. It's a lot better when he can actually see your body as he jerks off, honestly. If he's feeling particularly risky, he might press your thighs together, feel how soft your skin is to his cock, how nice the squeezing pressure between them is.

He gets easily lost in a haze, though, so he inevitably ends up accidentally cumming on you and has to frantically find a way to lightly dab it up without waking you. He panics quite a bit, but that doesn't stop him from doing it again the very next night.

Overstimulation/Forced Orgasm

It just means he's doing a good job, really. Sure, you squeal and kick your feet back and forth and tug at his hair, but that's just because it feels good. Orgasms equate to love and feel good, right? Sure there's a little bit of pain when you go overboard, but then it just leads to feeling even better, right?

It's kind of an irrational compulsion rather than a logical goal, though. He just has an impulsive need to feel you quiver and spasm and clench, it basically gives him a chemical high hit and a wave of reassurance, makes him feel good in both the physical sense and the emotional sense. The first one sends him into this compulsive need to feel it over and over and over again, as many times as he can. It's another one of his internal conflict things -- sure, he knows it's hurting, but he just has to get one more. Just one more. But of course, every time turns into "just one more" when he's been saying that for half an hour now.

And, to be honest, it kind of gives him a pride boost to think he can make you cum against your will. How many people struggle to achieve that even when both parties are trying? It makes him feel good in an adequacy sort of way, he feels needed.

Size Kink/Distension

You know, there's a well-known thing among the male-lovers in this world when it comes to size. It's never the arrogant, loud guys, it's never the social butterflies, it's never the tall guys, it's never the beefy muscly guys. No, they're not the ones that end up somehow bestowed with absolute monster cocks. It's always the soft, lean boys who don't talk much. And they're always painfully unaware of it, too.

He's no exception. Not to the size or the complete lack of awareness. He hasn't spent a lot of time around guys his age too much, he's always been the one sent for some special task and ends up out in the wilderness by himself on journeys, or, in some lifetimes, accompanying you most of the time. He doesn't know what the average dick looks like, so he has no idea he's far above average.

This might sound like a plus, and of course in some ways it is, but also he doesn't think about the fact that the average body isn't properly equipped to handle it. You're supposed to just kinda put it in, that's how the sex works, right? Poor thing, especially if it's entirely consensual sex, he's just kinda ???? because why are you in pain? What is he doing wrong? You have to eventually explain it's literally just his body, not something he's doing.

That being said, naturally, he's a humble person, but hearing you say that does kinda... make him feel good inside. A little bit proud. He's not a person who takes a lot of pride in many things, so he likes having this one thing, and quickly notices you can visibly see it through the bulge it makes in your stomach. Especially if it's in a position where your back is pressed to his front, every little movement creates the bulge, so expect to get a lot of that.

He doesn't really bring it up much or talk about it when he's actually fucking you, it's more like, as with many things, something he's quietly aware of and silently enjoys a lot internally, even if it's not voiced.

How do they feel about pregnancy or babies? Do they want them?

Yes and no. It has to do with his overactive protection instinct. What if something happened or went wrong? He couldn't take that. He couldn't lose you.

At the same time, he likes kids, and he's very good with them, very patient. And over time, realizes that a kid would be the perfect tool of manipulation, and besides that, isn't it a beautiful thing, an ultimate manifestation of love?

So how to work around that... Ultimately, what he decides to do is have a kid... Just not by blood. There are plenty of orphans in Hyrule, wandering the streets and the wilderness, picking one up is easy. ...You wouldn't leave this poor child to suffer out there, to fend for themselves, would you? Nor would you leave him to take care of it by himself... Right?

What kind of (nsfw) punishments would they use?

Oh, it's not like he thinks of it that way. He would call it... a reminder. You put yourself in danger again? You tried to go back again? You were gone and for ten whole minutes he didn't know where you were? What could the solution to this issue be? The only thing his brain can really come up with is making sure you need him. Making sure you're content and satisfied here with him so you don't go running off.

Thus we return to the forced orgasm thing -- see, you do need him. It feels good, right? You say it hurts, and maybe it does a little, but ultimately you wouldn't be cumming if it wasn't good. No one else can ever do that. No one else knows you like this. No one else was made for you like this. You can't replace him. You need him. And he can keep going as many times as it takes until you see that, too. Even if he gets milked dry, he has a mouth and hands for a reason.

And by "until you see that," I mean until you say it. In his more... emotionally intense moments, he gets a bit insistent. He needs to hear you say it. Admit it to yourself. And to him. That you need him, that you depend on him, that you'll never leave again. And don't think your patience and tolerance can stand a chance of outlasting his -- it will keep going until you say it.

What body parts of their darling do they like the most?

He's one of those wholesome type of boys who goes with something sweet. He says maybe your hair, your face, your skin, your eyes. It's all so comforting. So familiar. Of course, not to say that he doesn't like your less wholesome mentionable parts, but he wants to be chivalric about such a question, and feels answering that way would be too disrespectful.

In his unspoken thoughts, though, he likes the hips. It's a part of you he can grab onto and hold you close with. He puts his hands there a lot and holds tight, like he feels like at any moment you could slip out of his grasp. And, I mean, it's nice to look at, can't forget that.

#atml #scheduled post #yandere x reader #yandere legend of zelda #yandere link

[s-brant]

Angels Roll Their Eyes (2/2)

(gif: @toesure) (PART ONE)

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

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

Word Count: 24k

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

Hurricane Agatha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you smiling about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He isn't sure why she buys into it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

JJ misses her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Weird in what way?"

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

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

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

She sighs.

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

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

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

That part is the most fuzzy in her mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gotta catch me first!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They tried.

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

It was simple in the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fuck?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because what?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

There it is.

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

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

Her heart sinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then prove it."

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Internally, JJ is losing his shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll—"

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

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

"Promise?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's the one to break the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wasn't staring."

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

"Whatever you say."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's okay," he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

How could she be so stupid?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She is never skipping this song again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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