#bc like what else is she supposed to do it’s easier to just pretend it’s normal

[im-smart-i-swear]

Does Jiro has ghost like abilities (possession, ability to levitate things, etc etc) or does she just live in Shiro's head?

when i created this au, i thought the best option would be for her to be unable to interact with the physical world in any way(including possesion), beacuse i really wanted to lean into her isolation and how it affects her....... and while thats something i still want to emphasise here, lately ive been toying with the idea of jiro being able to impact the physical world somehow(though it still being fairly limited). i think letting her have some control could have a lot of potential! buuuut i also have no idea what abilities i want her to have lol

For now i think im not gonna give her any telekinetic abilities, bc i feel like it would be giving her too much power......... if she could throw shit, shed go APESHIT with it. it would made things too easy for her. i'm sorry babygirl but i'm NOT giving you the possibilty to throw knives and other sharp objects, i dont trust you to not kill someone:/

i really like the idea of her being able to temporarily posses her old body in certain circumstances tho- maybe when shiros uncouncious?? or like when hes is very tired or heavily injured she can kind of 'squeeze through' and take control back for a few minutes???? idk. i think this could be a very cool ability to give her- it cant be frequently used but can also be very helpful, and also theres so much potential for ✨shenanigans✨here>:) oh god i could put these fuckers in so many Situations with this..........

uhhh. so basically i think all of her influence on the physical world are through shiro. shes here bc of her connection to her old body, and thus its the only way for her to interact with anyone besides him- and shes NOT HAPPY about this(neither is shiro).

[thursdayg1rl]

Really trying not to get angry at my sister for always forgiving my aunt and talking to her as if nothing happened after every one month long silent treatment..

[hijinxinprogress]

Young justice and the titans not getting along makes no sense to me. You’re telling me the titans did dumb shit and hated being micromanaged by the league but then a couple years later they’re doing the same thing?? that’s so dumb?? the titans are like “god you remember what we were doing when we were their age?? Were we that small?? Fuck, do you know what we’re supposed to do besides feed small people?? This would be so much easier if any of us went to therapy”

The titans help yj get away with shit all the time

“Young Justice just blew up one of Luthor’s vacation homes, did you know about this?? Where are they!?” “Who’s young justice? It’s not my fault…I plead the fifth…?”

Kori has claimed Kon and now has beef with Luthor and Clark

Besides Wally, Bart is closest with Kori and they trade stories about their homes bc it’s nice to talk to someone who’s gets it

Greta and Garth are like sitting at the bottom of a pool and gossiping about their teams

YJ and the titans have city wide manhunt games once a month and the jl hates it bc they wake up to their children trending bc they’re jumping off buildings or breaking into civilians’ houses to get away from each other

They race spaceships if they’re not on planet

Greta and Garth are the worst gossips so they just tell each other absurd things about their teammates completely aware that everyone will know within the next 4 hours

Everyone else makes jokes about how Kons what would happen if Kori and Nightwing had a son (he has anger issues, curly hair, he’s alternative, isn’t white, & he’s the mom friend)

Roy and Cissie only compete amongst themselves bc everyone was so sick of them winning that they started cheating or in Kori’s case incinerating the targets

One time he was talking to Kori about mental health stuff and she’s comforting him and mentions that “yeah you get that from nightwing” and nightwing cuts in “Kori, you do that too?? Don’t lie to him”

Whenever Kon loses his temper he’s not afraid of people thinking less of him for it bc it always sparks up the never ending debate about whether Nightwing or Starfire are responsible for Kons temper

“NO FUCK THIS, FUCK YOU, AND FUCK HIM, YOU FUCKING-” “he gets that from you” “he’s floating rn wdym” “yeah his fucking eyes are glowing that’s definitely Kori’s temper” “look at him doesn’t his face remind you of when kori was pissed after I broke my collarbone?” “no listen dick has that same crease between his eyebrows when he’s mad”

“I’m your leader, assholes” “rn all you are is the leading cause of that baby’s short temper”

Kori helped Kon with controlling his powers bc Clark wasn’t gonna do it

Wally and Bart get along!! From the beginning 

Besides Nightwing Tim is closest with Vic not even bc they’re fucking nerds but bc they’re both so unbelievably petty

Anita and Rachel should not be left alone together bc they’re always doing nonsense with magic

They mentioned air boarding so Tim and Vic are trying to find the schematics for a hoverboard…💀 Anita and Rachel figured out how to make people feel like they’re suffocating without killing them or doing permanent damage (all the scarring is psychological)

Cissie and Donna get along really well and Cassie pretends they’re jealous

Also, Cassie gets along really well with Roy and Cissie will loudly complain about her older brother hating her

the jl is so tired bc they thought the titans would be helping them with yj and they were wrong

[a-name-or-three]

i’m think about speech patterns! take these for all your fic writing needs! not all of them are done bc i was taking requests for who to do next on the discord lol

Jon: He tends to speak like he'd type, a veneer of professionalism and Oxford education, but one which slips the second he's shocked out of his facade by worms, or Martin. He's one for run on sentences; he has a lot of thoughts and he wants to get them all out the second they come into his head, no matter if they actually make sense to the listener or not. If he's shocked! or upset! He gets snippier! His phrases are cut off, or bitchy.

Martin: He, well, he hedges a lot. He lets people come to their conclusions before he, uh, before he finished speaking. It's easier that way, y'know? They hear what they want to hear. But when he's angry, or annoyed, or tired, he lets slip what he's really feeling. He stops biting back his words and he gives up on being sweet. You know what he thinks? Maybe people better listen to him now and then!

Tim: Tim is a consummate professional, but also? A Lad. A lot of people forget, but he started in publishing! He's good with his words, and a nerd. These are two Very Important Things about Tim Stoker that he will ensure that you know by the end of a conversation with him. Tim does his best to make you comfortable, talking casually but without restricting what he knows. He's not about to back down from a point if he disagrees with you, though. He's always up for a bit of a Scene, be that imitating his movie of the month, or creating some imagined moment about the people around him. He cares, so deeply, and he wears his heart on his sleeve. His emotions ride high; he can be the class clown if he wants to, but he can just as easily be hurt very badly. Oh, yeah, another thing to mention! He's a little forgetful in conversation! He needs to wheel back to things when he remembers them! He also has a habit of asking questions without asking them? He's more curious than he wants to let on...

Elias: Well, Elias is very similar to Jon. He's a little more restrained in terms of run-on sentences, though. He's spent a long time crafting his language to provide authority in equal measure with a non-threatening presence. He speaks slowly, as if he's thinking over every word, rolling them in his mouth like a sweet. When he realises he needs to intimidate, though, a thrill laces everything he says. He *enjoys* the ability to put those below him into their places. He likes using his words to mould and crush people, and he isn't above doing so. Do I make myself clear, Jon?

Annabelle: Well, Annabelle is similar to Elias, actually. She chooses her words very carefully. She knows how much affect a single choice can have, even down the stress she chooses to put on a phrase. There's a smile in her voice, like she knows everything that this conversation is going to include. Though, I suppose, it's important to remember how young she is. When she died, she was just a poor university student... She's not sure she's grown up since then, and it's much easier to weave a web when people think you're innocent...

Nikola: Nikola talks Exactly how you'd expect a ringmaster puppet to talk! Grand gestures, bright smiles, all with a plastic coating! Isn't everything she says just wonderful?! She knows people hate her, and she also knows how funny it is to pretend like they adore her! She's less self-aware, than some of the others, but she's there to have fun, not manipulate people! She understands her atrocities, and *delights* in them. She doesn’t have a face, so she has to put all her emotions into her voice!

Peter: Peter is just... Tired. Growing up as he did has him split between an innate human desire to share, and the exhaustion of other people. He settles by picking a confidant, and markedly rejecting everyone else through a professional, bland exterior. He knows, he knows better than you, but he's not going to stress himself proving it. He's got better things to do.

Michael: Michael... What an interesting boy... He... I...? Was... Is...? Michael is something else. He knows he doesn't talk in a way that others understand instinctively... And yet it's always very clear what he means. He is deceit, but he will never lie to you. It's easy to understand a lie. Much harder to unravel a half-truth. I suppose that's what Michael is... A half-truth. There's amusement in his nonsensical nature, even as he bites back resent. Some remnant of that anxious little boy long to make a joke, to titter anxiously at the things his friends say... Michael is confusion, confusing, confused. And he knows exactly what's happening.

[acaciapines]

Could you talk about Toriel and Carol’s relationship in your au? How did they end up married? Seems interesting!

yeah!!! this is one of those things where i think i first was like 'wouldnt this be funny' and then thought about it a little too hard and oh no im invested now.

basically, i knew from the start that rudy would be dead here...not sure WHEN exactly he dies, but i think it wasnt that far after dess and kris being presumed dead...maybe a year or so later. the loss of them both was just wayyy too much and since monsters partly hold on by hope its like. that breaks a man. the dreemurr divorce is also a LOT more bitter, here, since there's the loss of their youngest child to deal with. all that to say toriel and carol would turn to each other!! since they both lost their children in the same way, and then both lost their husbands, and eventually that becomes a relationship.

theyre ALSO together because i knew from the start the two families were going to be close (asriel is Very Much noelle's older brother) and making the moms married is just the logical conclusion from there lol. i think its good to put them together 'cause it also means i can further explore the theme of parents with noelle, too! the way i see it, carol actually sold the holiday house because losing dess + rudy so soon after each other was really hard on her, and the way she deals with her feelings is by pretending they dont exist and pushing through. and so for her, selling the house is like, leaving that part of her life behind. then it can't hurt her. so she has to plan everything out and shes VERY hard on noelle because she cannot lose noelle because noelle is sort of all she has left in the world.

noelle is very bitter about this. like her mom never cared about dess and rudy at all. and now doesnt love her, because she lost the actual family members she loved, and noelle is just the worst one she was left with. yes the holiday women have so many issues they refuse to talk out with each other.

with toriel its a lot easier to tell that she does love and care about noelle, but! this! manifests! in being super overprotective! which noelle ALSO hates!!! she cannot win. plus the moms do tend to side with each other (bc tori + carol know what page the other is on when the kids Never Do), so for noelle its like. her mom hates her and toriel never takes her side so like. what is she supposed to do with that?

in regards for the family structure, asriel's already 18 when carol and toriel get married so he doesn't consider carol his mom and probably still calls her 'aunt carol,' mayyyybe he uses 'stepmom' if talking about her to someone else but she's been his aunt his entire childhood so i think thats what sticks. aka he probably only uses 'stepmom' if he wants to quickly get across that she's married to his mom, otherwise he describes her as his aunt. he 100% sees noelle as his little sister. noelle usually just calls toriel 'toriel' (so she drops the 'aunt') and would use 'stepmom' when talking about her to other people. like asriel, she 100% sees him as her older brother.

they hyphenate their last names so its 'holiday-dreemurr.' noelle has this last name, asriel might just stick with dreemurr?? i honestly dont know lol. he lives with them but again. hes an adult when they get married.

annnnnd thats all i have on them so far! when i get into the writing of this i'll probably do a lot of little test-scenes for all these dynamics, lol, but i'm a bit far out for now. the two test-scenes i wrote were 'cause i Had To or else i would explode.

[officialbillhader]

Sometimes i wish abuse was more black and whote than it actually is. Like, if my father were to hit me right now, i'd know what to do. I'd know that i had to leave him at all costs. Him and i would not need to be close anymore. But what are you supposed to do when your father looks you dead in the eyes and asks you if it's alright if he kills himself after you leave and his 91 yr old mother dies? Or really, after his mother dies. He couldnt die before his mother. It wouldnt be fair or right. But, oh, the selfish act of suicide inflicted upon your daughter would be good and justified. Sometimes i leave, other times i push him like im some kind of psychiatrist, the psychiatrist that he refuses to visit. I find out that he doesnt want to die. He doesnt want to kill himself. He's saying it as a way to inflict pain upon those that are supposed to love him. He thinks it justified. We dont love him enough, he thinks. We just want him dead, he says. A lot of times, it's easier to pretend we do.

He gets physical with my mom, at times. Scares her into thinking he'll do something awful. She'll leave the room, but never leave him. She's both the strongest and weakest person i know. Fantasizing about us moving away from him, but wont do it. Some days, i become her stand into him. I take on her face, become the women he lashes out against the most, and it isnt easy, because i used to be able to control him. To get him to shut up. Now im nothing more than the woman who trapped in a marriage that forces him to joke about hiring prostitutes to get laud. Am i worthy of being the stand in? Am i worthy of the hatred? Its so much easier when my mom is with me because then we know hes being ridiculous. We escape into eachother.

But when its just me and him and he decides im not worthy of being my own person, he bitches and bitches and wants to call me a selfish bitch just like my mother all because i asked if he would help me bring the mattress into my room that i had asked him to help me with five hours ago. Bc his daughter wanted his help. Instead, she tells him to leave, she moves the mattress herself, she sobs the entire time, she promises herself she wont speak to him anymore. Maybe the silent treatment will get him to realize he needs help. She knows she wont do it.

Its not all like this. Just last weekend, we went down to my apartment and packed the rest of my things. He was pleasant enough all day. We take road trips, go to packed concerts, visit family (where he can despise his mother and pretend he loves his wife), have a good time. He's my father. He's the dad that everyone wishes they had. He knows how to hide himself still, though it gets harder every day.

It's always easy to tell someone else that their loved one is abusing them. I reassure my mom that hes abusing her, she reassures me hes abusing me. But when youre alone in your room debating, its an entirely different story. You think about the good. You think about how much easier life will be. You think about the nice boy you broke up with bc he bitched about how you did the dishes and you cant risk marrying someone like youre dad. You think about the time your mom has expressed regret at marrying him, only to inadvertly say that he was not worth your existence. You forget that 30 year wedding anniversaries aren't supposed to be purposely forgotten about, but celebrated with parties. You think about how your dad cuddles with the kitten sweetly, but thinks its funny to turn the stovetop on when they walk across it. You think about how he hurt your half sibling more than he could ever hurt you. You think about how your children won't be allowed much of a relationship with him.

You think about all of this while you put damp sheets on the mattress that you hauled into your room by yourself. Youre not sure if its abuse or a bad day. Tomorrow, he could be fine. Today, you stressed him too much by asking for too much of his help. Tomorrow, hopefully, you wont wake up with damp sheets.

[cherubicwitch]

want to be desired and desirable but I also am thoroughly repulsed by my own being and existence, feeling as though I’m simply a tangled mess of underprocessed emotions that will never see the light of healing and acceptance. im guilty for existing, everything will always be my fault. I am both never good enough and yet too capable to not be used. have two degrees yet part-time jobs elude me. always a second choice. can’t even consume any kind of spicy media without wanting to tear out my insides bc I can’t help but to compare myself to everyone and everything around me. constant nagging thought of “I’m sure that she’s much hotter than me/thicker than me/sexier than me/more interesting than me/not as weird as me/softer than me/quieter than me” every time and it sticks in my brain as I think of more stupid shit that I thought I was done being upset about. I’m only just convenient and nice and subservient and I don’t know how to be any other way, so I sit. and wish that a tragedy out of my control takes me away so I can be done. so I can be a good dead wife a good dead sister a good dead daughter a good dead granddaughter. so everyone’s expectations of me can go away and no longer apply to me. so I don’t have to feel like I’m drowning and numb and yet overwhelmed with every emotion that a human can possibly bear all at the same time. so I can probably finally get an apology from someone as they stare down at my grave, maybe someone will say it out loud maybe someone will mean it maybe someone will beg for my forgiveness bc they know they hurt me. as a subservient kind and forgiving woman, no one feels like they really need to apologize bc I do forgive. and I always will but I just want someone to feel bad for hurting me and wronging me and I don’t think I’ve gotten very many apologies ever in my life. I’m supposed to just move on and forgive but where is remorse? no one is ever sorry for what they did, just sorry for getting caught or sorry that I felt that way. idk I have too much in my head and so much abuse from years that I’m trying to undo my horrible bad habits but fuck is this hard. it’d be so much easier to bury myself. I don’t know if I deserve any of this. I hurt people too from being a constant victim and passenger in my own life. I’m trying to fix that but it comes with being more connected with your emotions and not just pushing them aside and pretending they don’t exist bc you can focus on something or someone else. so now I’m trying to let myself feel things but holy shit it’s so much and these emotions are so big, idk what to do with them. but then I feel guilty for feeling. then I shut it down again and apologize for my outburst(s) and try to go back to normal bc I’m sure no one else around me wants to figure my bullshit out either. everyone else has their own problems, I shouldn’t burden them with me and my stupid emotions and issues.

[epipenis]

if he died tomorrow i don’t know what i’d say…. but i feel like i’d want to say that despite having a lifetime of practice, i don’t know that i could ever fill his shoes. i’ll never be able to be their golden child, their first, the one that is real and autonomous, that’s exists in the world and not just in relation to them in constant retaliation. i have suffered so much living in his shadow, with the light cast by my parents perception of me. and yet… he has always been my biggest supporter. more than any partner. more than anyone. i’ve always looked up to him. sometimes it’s easier to pretend he doesn’t exist even though i love him and want to look up to him just so i don’t have to see how they treat him, how she treats him. she’s so proud, but i don’t think she’ll ever look at me with that gleam in her eye. i don’t think she’ll ever cry out of joy on my birthday. i don’t think i’ll ever exist except in the perception they put out for me… the worst part is is that i can find the exact moment i should grieve the loss of that gleam, of that freedom, of that pride, of that light, of any of it. it’s written in my baby book, the day my parents found out i would be a girl. i think there was always going to be too much trauma for any girl born into the family to bear. truthfully i don’t know how to parse these lines, what’s the chicken, what’s the egg, and if one is even responsible for the other. i suppose i feel a twisted sort of comfort in knowing that i saved another possible life from having to suffer, one that maybe couldn’t have bared it at all. maybe i saved her from having to live this life. to them, in this light, in this shadow, i am nothing, but maybe to that girl, who could’ve taken my place, maybe i am something… maybe. just maybe. i want to be seen as me. i look at boys and forget where the barriers between my body and theirs end. i look at them and i think about the mundane experiences they’ve had, and must then remember how intrusive i am being. i wish i could tell them. i wish they could know the comfort they provide me simply by existing and letting me look at them. a life where i am doing great things, where people see me for me, are proud of me, have a gleam in their eye, where i am not having to fight and suffer and feel rejected and placated and burdensome for asking if maybe today being me is ok, is good enough to exist, to simply be.

congrats brother,

it was an awesome show,

so please let me be

proud of you,

because everything in me

wants to be proud

i want to choose to be proud because if i am dont

i will suffer and grieve

in your shadow

angry at you

for casting it,

and yet knowing

that you do not shine the light, and hating myself

for hating you.

i must choose

pride

when i have been so angry because

of your shadow

when you have shown your own small light on me

as best you can

when no else would

and i have been so resentful

so please let me choose pride

i cannot hurt

you any longer

as i have been

now for the record, if i die, and y’all find this- i only made this into poem format bc it was way too long of a run on sentence. and i don’t have the energy to clean it up or try too hard. i’ve already cried enough. and maybe i am throwing a pity party. i don’t want to compare, but how can i now when i simply have to ask and be told.

once again, i am tired.

maybe i will wake up tomorrow and i won’t have to stare at boys anymore to wonder what it’s been like for them. maybe i can stop replacing their memories with images of me. maybe i can be my own. and that will be good enough.

am i stoic now?

[maysbanks]

are you bored yet. (jj maybank)

hey everyone ! basically this is my first time writing for jj, or anyone from obx in general. this is a side acc from my main acc that i made purely bc this fic idea came to me when watching obx and after listening to the wallows on repeat for weeks. idk i just thought the song was kinda fitting for jj, and im a sucker for soft ! jj with a friends to lovers arc, so here this is. it's quite a long one btw, the words just kept flowing so i apologise in advance. also i have a few more fic ideas based off some songs so if you like this and are interested in more pls let me know ! im probably gonna be writing a lot more for this boy bc i adore him. anyways i hope u enjoy !

warnings: features swearing, mention of sex, underage drinking, drug use and violence.

summary: based lightly off the song 'are you bored yet?' by the wallows ft clairo, reader and jj delve deeper into their relationship, taking the steps further into becoming something more than best friends. however worries and doubts begin to plague their minds, as they fear their relationship of becoming just a memory.

( gif isn't mine! please let me know if it's yours so i can credit you. )

"What are you doing later?" You looked towards Kie who'd directed the question towards you, her eyes squinting from the sun that was grinning down at your forms from where you were both seated on the sand.

"Dunno," you shrugged your shoulders. "Probably hanging out with J or something."

Kiara scoffed, a mocking look taking over the features of her face as her head turned towards yours, your eyebrows raising at the sly smirk on her lips. "What?" You questioned, narrowing your eyes when all she did was laugh. You shifted in your place, body moving from laying on your back to on your stomach, figuring it was about time to switch positions for your tan anyway. "Seriously Kie, what're you laughing about?"

She shifted along with you, only laying on her right side so she could face you head on, her hand propping her head up from the ground. She was still grinning. "JJ," she said simply. You raised your eyebrows at her once more, seemingly not understanding what she was trying to get at. "What's going on with you two?" Kie pushed on when you didn't respond, her own eyebrows inching further up her forehead.

In the distance you could hear the boys' screams, their commotion coming from the water you had passed on entering. You could hear JJ taunting John B from where you lay, Pope laughing along, and the splashes that you could only assume were also coming from them. You never spared them a glance, though from the corner of your eye could see their figures and indeed the loud splashes of water were coming from them, and you were certain JJ was holding John B underneath the water.

"Nothing's going on," you said in response to Kie's question, rolling your eyes playfully at her exclaim of 'oh c'mon!'. "What? It's the truth. Nothing is going on, not really."

Kie furrowed her brows. "What do you mean by 'not really'? Did something happen between you two?" She prodded.

You shrugged, because in all honesty you couldn't say much of anything about your relationship with JJ. You were just as unsure about it all as Kie and more than likely the rest of the gang were (because if Kie had picked up on it than surely Pope and John B had too, and you were kind of freaking about it.) and had no idea what to say in her line of questioning. Of course you wanted to talk about it, you and the Pogues never kept secrets from each other - but was it really a secret when they technically knew about it anyway, and was it really a secret when you and JJ hadn't even spoken about keeping it a secret too? Your mind raced, and you figured it was easier to just shrug it off for the time being. Kie would no doubt ask again, and you hoped you had the answers by the next time she (or someone else) would.

"He's my best friend," you'd decided on saying. From the corner of your eye, you could see the guys approaching. "We've been close since we were like, ten. We've always been the same."

Except now the two of you held hands under the table and kissed in the safety of your rooms, among other things. That part of your relationship was fairly new though, and so you decided against saying anything until you could work out exactly what was going on between you and JJ - because you had no clue, and weren't even sure that JJ knew himself. It just sort of happened, the line being crossed over from friends to lovers in the blink of an eye. One minute you'd never dare to give in to the temptation of JJ Maybank's heavenly sinful lips, and the next the pair of you were sharing a bed almost every night.

Nothing much had changed though, in regards to your friendship. JJ and you had always been close, always intimate in your touches. Always beside each other, rarely without the other. You were an unstoppable duo from the minute you met. Just somehow, along the line, over the years, your friendship had turned into more. Each touch became longer, each glance would linger, and something had shifted. It was inevitable, you supposed. Nobody was ever really that close with someone without feelings getting involved at some point.

The guys were a lot closer now, and Kie spared them a glance before looking back towards you. "Friends don't look at each other the way you two do." Was all she said before the sun that was earlier shining down on you was blocked by the trio of tall guys that smiled at the pair of you. Kie sat up, smiling as Pope took a seat beside her on her towel. "Have fun out there?"

"Oh, tons," came the voice that belonged to the person you were talking about not a minute ago. JJ smirked down at you, blonde hair dripping wet on his forehead and golden tanned chest on full show. You admired the view behind your sunglasses and sent a grin in his direction when he seemed to notice. "You checking me out there, babe?"

You laughed as he did a little shimmy, rolling your eyes as you looked at him over the rim of your glasses. "What would you do if I was, Maybank?" You played along, smirking when you heard John B let out a gag from somewhere beside you. JJ smiled back, and squatting down in front of your form he'd grabbed hold of your feet, laughing when you squealed. Tugging so that you were laying on your back rather than your front, his sea blue eyes gazed down your body, unknowingly leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The feeling you shared with JJ was unlike any other, nothing or nobody could come close to topping it. It was unexplainable, the feeling of absolute longing for him to just be there forever. You couldn't ever imagine a life without him in it, and that thought both scared and excited you.

JJ stared down at you, tongue peeking from his mouth to wet his pink lips as he looked. You felt hot all over and you knew it wasn't because of the sun. "Things only you could imagine sweetheart," he taunted from above you, knowing fine well that what you could imagine he'd probably already done to you. You smirked back, feeling a thrill shoot through you because the pair of you knew this and the remaining three of your group had no idea, or so you believed. This new relationship, this unspoken thing between the two of you was simply yours, and somewhere in the future you feared you'd both come to regret it, whatever it was, but in the moments of the present you knew neither of you could find it in yourselves to actually care.

And so you both smiled at each other like the world around you didn't exist, and for a couple of seconds you could pretend it didn't, JJ moving so he was seated behind you with your body seated between his legs and your back against his chest. Sat there, surrounded by your friends though almost oblivious to their presence as JJ's hands rested on your skin, his breath on your neck. You leaned into him, and smiled when he placed a discreet kiss to your shoulder.

Locking eyes with him, you grinned. The burst of happiness and content when he grinned back was almost unbearable, and in that moment you knew you never wanted whatever it was that you two shared to end.

It was a few days later when JJ showed up at your window, his face bloody and bruised, his form weak as he pulled himself into your bedroom. You didn't need to ask twice about who'd caused the damage, your body and mind going into autopilot as you hurried from your bed and grabbed hold of him, JJ grunting as he fell into you, his hand clutching desperately at his side.

"Shit, JJ," you'd cursed as you helped him land on your bed, hands instantly grabbing at his face and assessing the damage that had been left by his father. There was cuts along his brow line, his eye was bruised and already swollen shut, his bottom lip bust open and oozing blood. Your thumbs swiped along his cheeks, being careful of the injuries, and you felt tears pricking at your eyes at the sight of him. You blinked them away as quickly as you could, he didn't need to see you being so upset in that moment. And besides, you had bigger issues like getting him cleaned up like you had done too many times before. "Stay here, okay. I'm gonna go get the first aid kit."

JJ only grunted, and you pressed a kiss to his forehead before leaving the room to get the kit, your mind reeling. It was no secret about JJ's father and his years of abuse towards his own son, and you'd seen him beaten so badly so many times before, but it never got any easier. Each time it happened JJ would wound up at your house, and each time you would clean him up, making sure his wounds were tended to and making him as comfortable as possible as he slept next to you, most nights with his head resting on your chest as you soothed him to sleep with whispers of reassurance that you were there and that you loved him. He would fall asleep with tears staining his cheeks and you would cry yourself to sleep afterwards too, wishing that could just take away all his pain, wishing that you could do more, wishing that JJ had a better life than what he was given, because there was no-one that deserved it more.

You sniffed and forced your tears away, trying to focus on the task at hand. It didn't take long to locate the first aid kit and within a minute you were back in your bedroom, where JJ lay, staring up at your ceiling with his chest moving up and down in a motion that proved he was trying to hold his own tears in. Your heart broke at the sight, and you bit down on your wobbling lip as you moved towards him. His eyes met yours when you were close enough, stood in front of him on your bed. You smiled softly.

"Hey, honey," you soothed as he slowly sat up, grimacing at the obvious pain from his side as he did so. Despite his pain, he smirked back at you.

"Hi, baby."

Stepping closer, effectively between his legs, you smiled as his hands wound around and grabbed at your legs, almost as if he was grounding himself, focusing all his attention onto you. You took a moment to take him in as you pressed the wet rag you'd also grabbed on his face, beginning to clean the cut on his eyebrow. It wasn't too deep, thank god, you thought. You feared for the day where one cut might be too deep and one blow too strong, and the thought of JJ, strong and hot headed and impulsive and passionate, might not being able to drag himself out of the house of hell and getting to anyone for help, to you, to John B, to Pope or Kie, scared the shit out of you to put it simply. JJ was so strong, but there was only so much he could take, and you dreaded the day when that would come. You could only hope it never, and in the meantime do your best to prevent it. You let out a shaky breath as you continued to clean the blood from his face, gently dabbing at his torn lip as he hissed. "I'm sorry hon," you murmured, feeling your gut twist at the sight of him in pain.

"I'm okay," he breathed out, only it was shaky and you both knew it to be a lie. You said nothing though, not wanting to start an argument that night. You'd had countless in situations like these, where you'd tell him he needs to get away from his dad and he'd tell you its not that easy and that nothing fucking is on this island, and you'd try and tell him you understand that but you hate seeing him like that, beaten to a pulp, sometimes barely even able to move, and that you were scared to lose him. He'd tell you that you were too good for him, you deserved better, you deserved more, and you'd cry and tell him to shut up, that he was your best friend and all you ever needed and you'd always be there for him, and he would shake his head and deny it all with tears streaming down both your faces until you collapsed into each other and fell asleep with your limbs intertwined whatever mood you'd gone to sleep in. There was something about that night that told you not to argue, not to push him, just clean him up and hold him and let him know that he wasn't alone in this world. His eyes met yours once more. "I'm okay." He repeated, as if you hadn't heard him the first time.

All you could do was nod, and wiping the last bit of blood from his face, you quickly went over the cuts with disinfectant, JJ's grip tightening on the backs of your legs as you continued to tend to every last bit of him. Finishing on his face, you placed a kiss on each and every cut, bruise or scrape that was etched into his skin. He let out a shaky breath, one hand moving up and landing on your back, rubbing up and down as his forehead rested on your shoulder. Running your own hands through his blonde locks, you pressed your nose to the top of his head as you held him close to you. It wasn't long before you felt the tears soak through the material of your shirt (which was technically JJ's shirt, but that didn't matter much.) and his body started to shake against your own, chest heaving and hands shaking.

"I hate him," you heard him mutter. You closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around him tighter, one hand clutching the back of his neck as the other rubbed soothing patterns onto his back. JJ shook against you, hands clutching onto the sides of your shirt as his lips brushed against the side of your neck as he let out a sob. "I just - I fucking hate him! Why does he do this, why does he -? Why, why, why?"

He was muttering the word over and over again, all sense of himself lost as he sobbed into your neck. In that moment, you felt so useless, so powerless, and you knew that JJ did too. You wished you could take away all his pain, make him see that he was so loved, that you loved him entirely and surely, but all you could do in that moment was hold him tight and screw your eyes shut as you cried along with him.

"He doesn't deserve you, J," you whispered into his hair. "He doesn't deserve you one bit. You're the best son, okay. You're the best friend, the best goddamned person on this island, on this planet! You're so loved, you hear me? You're so loved, babyboy. We all love you, I love you okay. I love you more than anything."

You'd said the words a million times before, but somehow in that moment, wrapped up in each other, JJ sobbing into your chest and you holding him like a person would a child, his ear resting against your heart where he could hear every little beat, his own matching the rhythm soon after - in that moment, _you both knew it meant more. That the friendly shared 'love you's' from so many times before were different to the ones now, and yet still neither of you spoke about it. You focused on JJ, giving him the comfort he so desperately needed. And JJ focused on you, focused on your heartbeat and the sound of your breathing and the soothing words you were whispering to him, and you had no clue as to what he was thinking; that he loved you, so fucking much. JJ Maybank didn't know what to do with that, to love someone so completely and honestly like he loved you, beyond the point of friendship and into the unknown territory of _in-love _absolutely _terrified him. But he knew it to be true, he was in love with you.

And as you forced him to take his shirt off so you could inspect the bruises surrounding his stomach and chest, laying a gentle kiss onto each and every one of them as he started at you with pure adoration in his eyes, he thought about your relationship - fears of you getting bored of him, wanting more than the island life and more than him, fears of you leaving him for something or someone simply more. Realising that he was no good like he'd always said, always suspected. But then you gazed at him with a certain glint in your eyes that he knew was reflecting in his own, and you were pressing your lips to his in a soft caress that dimmed all thoughts from his head and the question of 'are you bored yet?' fell flat on his lips as you ate them, chewed it up and spat it straight back out.

That conversation could come later, he supposed.

JJ's jaw clenched as he took in the sight of you, skin glowing in the late night sun that was slowly fading in the moons advance. The kegger had begun only an hour or so before, and yet the beach was filled with people already - varying of Pogues, Tourons and Kooks.

Among them all was you, red cup placed in your hands as you laughed at something the guy in front of you was saying, a small smile on the boys lips as he watched you. JJ felt something twist in his gut, suddenly feeling nauseous as he was stood a bit away from you, taking in the sight with malice in his blue eyes. He didn't know the guy that much was for sure, which could only mean one thing; he was definitely a Touron. That also probably meant that he was one of the few people at the party that didn't know JJ or anything of his reputation for being a bit too hot headed. JJ couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

"Dude," John B slapped a hand on his shoulder, effectively snapping his trance at the pair across the beach. JJ turned towards his best friend, a smirk on John B's lips as their eyes met. "You're gonna poke holes into that guys head the way you're glaring at him man."

JJ rolled his eyes, his head once again moving to look back towards your figure. You didn't look mad at the attention the guy was giving you, and that sent a trail of fury in JJ's veins. "Who is that guy, man?" He asked instead of replying to John B's playful taunts. John B seemed to take note of that and simply shook his head. Fucking clueless, he thought.

"Dunno," John B replied as he took a swig of the beer in his hands. "Some Touron, probably." He glanced at his best friends face and noticed the glare darken in JJ's eyes. He suddenly shifted, blocking his view of you and the guy, ignoring JJ's grunt of displeasure at his move. "Don't start anything, J. Alright?"

JJ scoffed. "Me?" He chuckled darkly. "Nah man, you know I'd never start anything," he patted John B's chest twice. "I'm not the fighting type." JJ knew that John B could make out the sarcastic drawl to his words, and looking away from the brunette's eyes JJ was glancing back at you. His features shifted dramatically as he saw the guy take a step closer to your body, and despite the somewhat uncomfortable smile on your face you never seemed to object to the move. JJ felt the anger in his veins grow. "Fuck this!"

John B stopped him before he could take another step, shoving his chest so that he stumbled backwards. "Don't even think about it," JB warned. From afar, Pope seemed to take notice of the two and began to walk towards the seething blonde and his brunette best friend. "Pope, man tell him," John B practically pleaded as the most level headed of the group arrived at their side. It didn't take long for Pope to realise what the source of JJ's anger was, spotting you and the guy, completely oblivious to what was going on. "What are you planning on doing, huh?"

"He's all over her," JJ simply said - as if that was enough of an excuse for his anger. Pope and John B shared a glance. "I'm just gonna go over there and see if she's alright, alright?"

"Why do you care if he's all over her?" Pope raised his eyebrows. "You're not her boyfriend."

That faltered JJ's stance, and for a split second he looked away from you - still laughing, both hands gripping the cup in your hands, bikini clad top on full show for unwelcome eyes to wander. He clenched his jaw tighter, teeth clashing in his mouth, as he thought about Pope's words. Was it technically true; wasn't he your boyfriend? He didn't know - neither of you did. You hadn't spoken about anything, the changes in your relationship coming almost naturally so that neither of you cared to at first.

First, there was the no Pogue-on-Pogue macking rule. Second, there was something so deliciously thrilling about keeping your relationship from everyone else - no room for drama or prying eyes, or so he thought. But the unknown was beginning to scare him, and all he wanted was answers.

It was as if putting a label on what you both were would potentially put an end to everything, all the kissing, cuddling, secret touches, lingering looks, whispered endearments. The pair of you were too young for this shit, JJ thought. Thinking so hard about what you are or weren't. And god forbid you'd both come to regret it all; JJ couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't.

"I'm not gonna do anything," he said simply, and shoved his way past his friends before they could do anything else. He approached you, your eyes immediately catching his and a large grin overtaking the features of your face as he came closer. The guy seemed to notice your shift in attention and he turned too, eyes widening a bit at the sight of the blonde stood in front of him. JJ tried to smile naturally, his too sharp teeth secretly grinding together. "Hey," he chirped as if he was talking to an old friend. "How're you doing, man? I'm JJ."

You hid a laugh behind your hand, having no clue as to what JJ was trying to achieve but finding the obviously fake enthusiasm rather hilarious in that moment. Over his shoulder, you noticed John B and Pope watching with careful eyes, and everything seemed to click in your mind. _JJ was obviously planning on starting something. _You decided to get yourself and your somewhat boyfriend slash best friend out of the situation before anything could happen, the poor Touron didn't have a clue that you were kinda taken, to a fist throwing first ask questions later, tall blonde named JJ Maybank after all.

"It was nice talking to you, dude," you told the guy, his face dropping at the word dude. God, had he seriously wasted all that time flirting with you? You grabbed JJ's hand, only for him to tug it out of yours and place it around your shoulders, blue eyes sending daggers to the nervous boy on front of you. "We're gonna go now, I think."

And with that, you led the way away from him, not missing the way JJ's eyes swooped over the guy in an almost warning manner before smirking at him. Your hand reached up and fingers intertwined with those of JJ's that were sat rather comfortably near your breast. JJ's fingers squeezed yours in response, his arm tugging you closer before he leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to the top of your head.

Once you were a good distance away from the party and its occupants on the beach, you turned in his arm, hand letting go of his to wrap both your arms around his waist. He kept the same arm around your shoulder and placed his other on your bare back between the high waist line of your shorts and the knot of your bikini, long fingers spacing out and rubbing soothing patterns into the skin.

You sighed as you looked at him. "What was that about?" You questioned, a small smile tugging on your lips regardless of the seriousness in your question as you demanded answers.

"That guy was all over you," JJ grunted, his eyes leaving yours to glare at the space where you stood a minute before talking to the said guy. "He was practically drooling all over you. I saved you, y'know. You should be thanking me, babe."

You laughed, and rolling your eyes you reached up to touch his face, thumb smoothing over the still darkened skin under his eye from the confrontation of his dad earlier that week. Leaning up on your toes, aware that nobody could see the action from the distance you and JJ were stood from the kegger, you pressed a kiss to the bruised skin, JJ's eyes closing at the feel of your lips against his skin, a soft exhale leaving his chest.

"Were you jealous, baby?" You teased gently, chuckling at his scoff in response to your accusation. "Relax, J. You don't have to be. I've only got eyes for you."

That seemed to catch his attention. JJ pulled away from you a bit, blue eyes suddenly serious and pink lips forming a tight line. For a second you worried you'd said something wrong, suddenly afraid that he would pull back completely and distance himself from you like you feared one day he would - it was only a matter of time before he realised what you had was a mistake, you worried. That he'd get bored of you and realise there was so many other people he could have. The thought alone made you sick, and you forced the intruding thoughts to the back of your head as JJ's eyes trailed over your face.

"What's wrong?" You couldn't take it anymore. The silence was deafening, even with the music and chatter of the teenagers behind you lingering in the night air. JJ seemed to get hold of his bearings at that moment, shaking his head and leaving a hand from your body to run through his hair. You watched him all the while, lip between your teeth. "J, what's wrong baby?"

JJ wished he had an answer, but he simply didn't. He had no idea what was wrong, no way of telling you the thoughts that were running through his mind. JJ had never been good with words, or emotions, or anything much like that at all. And so he just shook his head, sighing deeply as his hands caressed your face. You welcomed the touch, head leaning into his hold as he smiled down at you. You knew there was something he wanted to say to you; you had known him for so long, felt like all your life, and you could see right through his lies. However you never said a thing, once again. In that moment, it felt enough to just be by his side.

"Can we go?" He muttered quietly, despite no-one being around you. You smiled softly, eyes staring into each others there on the beach. "Just wanna go to sleep with you," he murmured that time, leaning down and kissing the side of your lips, not completely which had you grumbling quietly.

"Course, baby," you whispered as you looked at him, feeling nothing but adoration and love for the boy in front of you. "Let's go."

And so after kissing him under the moonlight, feet sunken in the damp sand as the sea splashed around you, the kegger still going strong in the distance, JJ took your hands and led the way back to the Chateau, where despite both your similar thoughts you crawled into bed in the spare bedroom and fell asleep together, your head resting on his chest with his cheek pressed against your head, arms wrapped around forms and legs intertwined.

It was hot, blistering heat panning down on your form as you lay on the hammock outside the Chateau, eyes closed with one arm resting over them in a fleeting attempt to block the sun out. Despite the unbearable temperature of the day, JJ lay in between your legs, perfectly muscular arms wrapped around your waist as his head rested on your stomach that was covered only by one of his infamous cut-off sleeve shirts, only a bikini underneath it keeping you modest.

One of your hands played with the hair on the back of his neck, twirling the strands in between your fingers and repeating the process over and over again, JJ letting out a low him as you did so.

It was just the two of you, the quiet and peacefulness welcome on the hot day as you cuddled as close as you could and as much as you wanted, nothing off limits away from the prying eyes of your best friends. Both Kie and Pope were working, John B having traded your company for that of Sarah Cameron's for the day, and so that only left the pair of you to do anything and everything you pleased. JJ had let out a joyous whoop when you'd discovered the fact, and you'd only managed to get out of bed half an hour before as he took full advantage of having the Chateau to yourselves for the morning. The original plan was to go surfing, but as soon as you'd stepped out of the house the both of you seemed to come to a silent mutual agreement that lounging around in the sun on the porch was a much more welcoming idea instead.

And so that's what the pair of you had done; there was barely a word uttered between you both as you lay there, JJ's skin slightly sticky and damp on your own due to the heat, but neither of you seemed to mind as you simply closed your eyes and basked in the quiet, content with doing nothing with your favourite person.

JJ's hands had moved so that he was caressing your side, your skin revealed with the low cut of his shirt as his thumb rubbed patterns into your skin. In its wake it left goosebumps, JJ's touch never failing to make you shiver even in all the years you had known him. He knew what effect he had on you too, he smirked as you shivered, his other hand squeezing the flesh of your hip.

You trailed your own hands down from his hair and onto the exposed flesh of his back as he lay shirtless, and you could feel the muscles under your palms clench as you let out a small giggle. JJ chuckled along, although he'd had no idea as to what it was you were laughing at in the first place. The sound of your laugh just made him happy, he supposed.

"What're you laughing at?" He murmured quietly, chin propping on your stomach and his eyes squinting up at you. He'd moved a hand down to your thigh, now kneading the flesh there as his other remained on your side and wrote unknown words into the skin there. You grinned down at him lazily, the sun and his charming aura making you feel high. Then again, you probably were high; the blunt you'd both shared a couple of minutes earlier taking its toll.

"Nothing," you hummed. "Just really, really fucking happy right now s'all."

JJ laughed, laying a kiss onto your stomach and loving the way you giggled at the action. He pressed more there, letting out dramatic sounds of various 'mwah's' as he trailed them up further until his lips were on the skin on your collarbone, continuing his assault onto your neck. JJ's tongue darted out, and your giggles had soon turned into breathy moans of approval as he sucked on the skin, his sharpened teeth sinking into the flesh not long after. You gripped the back of his neck, fingernails digging into his hairline as your sounds of pleasure rippled through the air surrounding you without a care in the world. In that moment you couldn't care less if anyone had caught you - all that mattered was JJ, all that ever mattered was JJ. He sucked gently on your flesh, adding to the bruises that already littered your chest, stomach, thighs, anywhere he could get his mouth earlier. You both knew questions would be asked from the others, in the high temperatures of the Outer Banks your skin was almost always revealed. But again, neither of you cared.

Not when JJ's mouth left your skin with a satisfying pop, his eyes taking in the sight of the freshly bruised flesh, a content smile on his lips. He leaned down and peppered a kiss to the lovebite, soothing his tongue over it afterwards. You let out a sigh, suddenly breathless under his heated gaze.

JJ shuffled his body up and closer, one leg in between yours as his right hand came up and held your face tenderly in his palm, the rough skin of his thumb swiping along your brow as he grinned cheekily down at you. "You're fucking beautiful y'know that?"

Your cheeks blazed, an almost embarrassed laugh leaving your mouth and you shook your head at his words. JJ looked offended suddenly, his brows furrowing as he nodded furiously. "Um, yes you are. Don't you dare say that you're not because you're, fucking, beautiful, okay," between each word he left lingering kisses to your lips with his own, and you knew it was probably the weed in his system that had spurred him to such a romantic confrontation, but you welcomed it regardless, giggling against his lips as one leg hooked around his waist. "Fucking god, you keep doing that and we won't be moving from this hammock all day."

"I'm not complaining about that," you replied and pressed your lips harder to his. JJ let out a groan, his body impulsively pushing down further onto yours, his hips directly on yours, chests pressed close together, his arm holding him up enough near your head so he didn't suffocate you completely, his other kneading the soft flesh of your bikini bottom clad ass. Your own hands caressed the skin of his abdomen, fingers sprawled and feeling his abs tense underneath the tips. You pulled away only slightly, taking in the sight of his flushed face, his eyes bright and yearning, flashing with something you couldn't quite place and his lips swollen and so very red. "Thank you, by the way." You whispered as you reached up and pushed the hair from his face. "You're pretty beautiful yourself, hon."

JJ seemed to understand what you were getting at then, his chest heaving with a chuckle as he shook his head at you. He leaned down and placed a kiss to your nose, returning his head to snuggle into your neck as you were once again wrapped around each other. "Thanks, I know," he joked (possibly) as his hands resumed their pattern of soothing shapes on your ribs. You hummed a random tune, the calming atmosphere returning around the pair of you on the porch. It was quiet for a few more minutes, your eyes closing involuntarily and almost falling asleep right then and there before JJ spoke up again. "You're my best friend, y'know."

The words were so quiet you almost missed them, but with the silence surrounding you, you'd heard them loud and clear. Your eyes opened and you glanced down at the boy laying atop of you, his face hidden in the skin of your neck.

"I would hope so," you laughed slightly, having no clue as to where JJ was planning on going with the fact. "You're my best friend too. I'd be lost without you and the guys."

"No," JJ shook his head. He shifted in his place, eyes connecting with yours as you sent him a questioning look, quirking your eyebrow. JJ sighed deeply, sucking his lower chapped lip into his mouth for a second before releasing it and allowing your finger to trace the outline of it. "You don't get it. You're like, my best friend. I know it sounds stupid and I'm probably a selfish fucker for saying it, but I'd put you above everyone else. You are above everyone else. And like, I don't know how else to explain it but you mean the fucking world to me. Without you, I'd be nothing. If I lost you, I'd fucking die."

His voice broke at the end, and it damn near broke your heart as you hushed him gently, arms circling around his head and holding it close to your chest. You kissed his forehead, hearing him sniffle before he raised his head and met your eyes, the sea blue crystallised by unshed tears.

"I feel like I've known you my whole life, and I just - I don't know what I'd do without you. I'm scared honestly, shit fucking feared of losing you, or you realising that I'm just a no good low life and you could do better, and honestly you could and I don't even know what the fuck you're doing with me," JJ chuckled darkly and you shook your head, feeling tears prick at your own eyes at his words. "And I don't even know if you want to be with me, or if what we're doing is some mistake you're gonna regret, but you're my best friend."

The earnest in his voice made your heart clench in your chest. You'd seen JJ cry numerous times, seen his facade break and his world around him to crash, seen the emotions pour out of him with so much force whether they be happy, sad, fucking hysterical or ecstatic; and you'd loved him through it all. The realisation of just how much you loved him, that went beyond friendship and into pure, earnest and genuine love for the boy in front of you, made your head swirl and butterflies in your stomach to clash heavily against your ribcage. Something warm spread throughout you, and you welcomed the feeling with open arms. You loved JJ Maybank, purely and honestly, with every fibre in your being.

"J," you murmured carefully, gripping his damp cheeks and forcing him to look at you. His face was unreadable, but you could see in his eyes what he was feeling in that moment. "You're fucking crazy, alright? Everything about you is so damned chaotic and I love every bit of it. I love every bit of you, so much. Do you know how scared I was that you would take all this back? Regret it all, leave me for someone better. I was scared shitless, because I cannot lose you. You're my best friend, and all I wanna do is spend all my time with you."

"I've never felt like this before," you whispered as JJ's gaze softened, hands gripping your hips and squeezing gently. You traced the worry in his brows, easing it away, traced the bottoms of his eyes, the slope of his nose and the outline of his lips. He breathed against your fingertips, the soft exhale making the hairs on your arms raise. "I love you, J. And if you think you're ever gonna get rid of me, you're terribly fucking mistaken."

JJ chuckled at that, blonde head falling on your chest as he breathed in and out, seemingly catching his breath at your confession. "Thank god," he breathed, cheeky gaze raising to catch yours as he grinned, suddenly surging forward and catching your lips with his own in a deep and passionate embrace that had you feeling dizzy at the pure feel of it all. "I was scared you were gonna tell me to fuck off, thought you were using me for my body for a minute there, babe."

You full on laughed, breaking away from his eager lips to let it out, your hands clutching his cheeks and your legs squashing his body atop yours from where they were wrapped around his waist. "You're such a fucker, J." He kissed along your jaw in response, biting down softly. "God, that weed must have been some new level shit."

"Nah," JJ shook his head and grinned. "You just drive me crazy, babygirl." His hands wandered from your ribs higher till his fingertips just slipped under the material of your bikini top. He pressed a further series of tender kisses to your chest, trailing them down and then back up to meet your lips once more. He gazed lovingly at you, looking golden in the sunlight. "I love you too, by the way. Just so y'know."

You grinned softly, catching his bottom lip with your teeth when he began to pull away, pulling a delicious groan from him. "I know," you echoed back to him, lips raising on their own accord to match JJ's almost shy smile at your declaration. "Hey, can we stay home today? Wanna watch the sunset with you later."

JJ snorted, laying one last lingering kiss to your lips before snuggling back into your neck, his eyelashes brushing against your delicate skin. "Whatever you want baby," he chuckled, breath warm. "Whatever you want."

Yours and JJ's (now established, thankfully) relationship only progessed from there; it was in the little things, spending every moment you could get with each other, always touching in some kind of way whether it to be hands curled around one another's, fingers dancing on skin, shoulders and arms brushing, legs squished beside each other. It was all new, and it was all so exciting, and any worries that the two of you may had shared earlier vanished and in their wake came new thoughts of the future, of which you'd spend together.

If the gang had noticed the change, they hadn't mentioned it. Though you already knew Kie suspected something a long time ago, and probably Pope and John B too, due to JJ's little episode at the kegger that time. But you and JJ rejoiced in the unknown, relationship growing stronger each day all the while. You weren't trying to hide it - god forbid, you'd both been waiting so long for it, but you hadn't officially announced you were boyfriend and girlfriend either. There wasn't anything to say, you thought. The relationship came naturally, years of close friendship gradually turning into something more for the pair of you, and you'd both agreed it would be way funnier for the gang to come to their own conclusions and confront you about it themselves. However long that would take them.

The Pogues had driven the HMS Pogue out to the marsh, planning on drinking, swimming and simply hanging out for the day. Sarah had joined you on that particular day, body pressed close to John B's as the group lounged around on the boat, you and JJ wrapped around each other as usual.

His muscular arm was wrapped around your shoulders as you sprawled out close together, your legs thrown over his as your body angled towards his own, head resting on his shoulder. Your hands held the one thrown over you, absentmindedly playing with his ring adorned fingers. His other gripped your knee laying over his, thumb rubbing gentle patterns into the tanned skin there.

Nobody had mentioned your closeness - it was nothing new, the pair of you had always been so close, always touching even before becoming a couple. But Sarah wasn't as close with you as the others, and though she was aware of how close you and JJ were, she wasn't as up to date with everything like everyone else. You'd had no idea that she always just assumed the pair of you were dating, until that day.

"So, you guys are like, a couple right?" She'd asked out of the blue, eyes directed onto you and JJ. Kie suddenly sat up straight, sunglasses raising to rest atop her head rather than on her nose, Pope beside her seemingly taking as much interest, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he listened.

From beside Sarah, John B laughed and shook his head. "Everyone thinks that," he grinned, looking to you and JJ who shared a knowing glance. Sarah looked at him in confusion. "They can't help it though, their sexual tension is through the roof."

Sarah looked even more confused. "Wait, so you guys aren't together?"

JJ cleared his throat, arm tightening around your shoulders. You squeezed his hand as you stared up at him, smiling softly at his uncertain gaze. Once he'd met your eyes, the uncertainty faded away and in its place came a cheeky kind of look, mischievous and so attractive that you had to hold yourself back from kissing him right then and there. You knew it was time to come clean; and you thought it would scare you, your relationship suddenly becoming so real, but the thought only made your insides twist and churn with nothing but excitement.

You looked back at Sarah, who's gaze was still on the pair of you, as well as everyone elses. You noted the almost giddy expression on Kie's face, the barely suppressed curiosity on Pope's, and the suddenly confused one of John B's. You almost laughed, but held it in to say, "Actually, yeah. JJ and I are together."

JJ squeezed you gently as the reactions from your friends began. Kie grinned smugly, Sarah smiled at the two of you, John B raised his eyebrows so high they almost got lost beneath his hat, and Pope slapped his knees before he lurched backwards with his arms raised above his head.

"I knew it, man," Pope shook his head, though a smile was growing on his handsome features. "I knew something's been up with you two."

You laughed as Kie scoffed, "You knew? I had it figured out from the very beginning, I could tell something had changed." She eyed you. "And I was specifically told that nothing was going on, you big fat liar!"

"I'm sorry," you chuckled. "In my defence, when you asked me about it then I actually didn't know if we were like, together together. We hadn't spoken about it yet."

JJ grinned and pulled your body closer, leaning down and pressing a sloppy kiss to the top of your head as your face was mushed into his bare chest. "Yeah, and who can blame her for wanting to keep my Sex God body all to herself?" He asked rhetorically, laughing when you slapped him on the chest with a playful eye roll.

"Wait, so are you a couple now?" John B questioned, puzzled. He looked between the pair of you, your arms wrapped around his waist, one of his still around your shoulder and hand resting between your boobs. The other brushed hair from your face, JJ's gaze loving and soft as he looked down at you before looking back towards his best friend. John B scrunched his face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"We didn't tell anyone man," JJ shrugged carelessly. His fingers had began to play with your hair. "Figured it would be funnier for you guys to find out yourselves," he grinned. "So congratulations, you guys now know. Your reward is the knowledge that we fuck now!"

The gang groaned at his ludicrous words, and you slapped his chest with more force than you had before, just slightly as you scoffed and attempted to raise your head and move position to get a good look at him, but all JJ did was grab your hand and pull it upwards to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles instead.

You rolled as your eyes as you turned back to your friends. "We're sorry about not telling you," you said almost sheepishly. "We only really figured out what this was between us a few days ago, and by that time we just kinda forgot to mention it. This whole thing just kinda happened, we didn't know if it would last or become serious."

"And it has become serious now?" Pope voiced everyone's thoughts, glancing between the two of you. "Like, you're together as a couple. You love each other?"

You and JJ shared a look, the pair of you smiling softly as your hand raised and brushed the blonde strands of hair that fell over his brow, his own reaching up and holding the side of your jaw, his thumb swiping along your cheek lovingly. The others shared glances, unknown to you and JJ as you seemed to be lost inside your own little world for a moment.

When you came to again, you never turned from his eyes, watching the sea blue irises light up at your words; "Yeah, I love him, the fucker."

You heard a collective round of replies, but the feel of JJ's lips on yours for a second forced your attention on him and only him, your hands on his cheeks as you held him there for a full minute before pulling away, leaving a couple more little pecks on his lips. He whispered, "I love you." before he turned his attention to your friends, your smile so bright.

"I thought she'd get bored of me," he revealed unexpectedly. The Pogues (plus Sarah) all looked to him with various expressions of confusion, your own face matching theirs for a moment. JJ felt a smile tug on his lips as your hands massaged his scalp, nails scraping gently against the skin beneath. "But of course she couldn't, I mean I'm the fucking best am I not?"

The gang rolled their eyes as his normal cheeky expression returned, though they all smiled at the pair of you cuddled close together on the seats of the HMS Pogue, realising it was the happiest they'd ever seen the both of you. John B let out a sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well, it's about time anyway."

And just like that, everything went back to normal. You knew they'd have more questions in the future, prepared to answer any and every one of them when they came. But your little group swayed their attention elsewhere sat out on their little boat, laughing and joking at the next topic of conversation, bright eyes and giddy smiles on every face as you drank, swam and sunbathed out there on the marsh. JJ was only looking at you though, skin golden and blue eyes shining. You loved him, you thought. How could he ever think you'd get bored of him, with his charm and quick witted words, sarcastic drawl and tendency to get into trouble, his obsession with weed and putting others before himself always, his beautiful mind and ridiculously good looks to match. He was yours, all yours. And you loved him. JJ grinned. "Are you bored yet?" He asked, just once, loving the sound of your giggle as you shook your head at his antics. "No? Good, because I'm never gonna get bored of you."

[roublardise]

One of the thing with 14x13 Lebanon is that it's not Mary and John reuniting. it's 2019-1983!Mary and 2003!John

They shouldn't fall in each others arms like no time had passed. They should be weird out. Mary is 29 and John is 49. And they both can see it, can’t ignore it. 

John isn't who he used to be. And Mary isn't who she should or could have been. They both ended up in a time which wasn't theirs, were none of them should have even breathed, and the one thing that could feel familiar, that could make them feel like home, make them feel like it wasn’t wrong - each others - doesn't even sit right.

They're a misfit made in Heaven. They were never on the same timeline, not even when they had kids. Mary was hiding the hunting part of her life, and she was pushing parts of herself away so she could fall into the Mother role she wanted so bad - so she could not be herself, twist the truth, be the woman she pretended to be, the one she wished she was.

She made a deal to save John, to get the normal life she had dreamt about, and it didn't even work.

She thought she could cling to the fact that, at least, John was a normal guy, a sweet guy, someone who would have been a good father. But she actually lived to see this came out as a lie, too. She has since learned who he’s been and who he grown up to be. People never stop changing, and John had so many years ahead of her, so many years without her, with the kids Mary feels like she failed - with the kids he failed. 

Mary in 2019 was already shaky. She came back to learn she wasn't even there for her children - the one thing she wanted to be. She can't really be there for them now, not in the same way, and she never got time to learn how to be a mother when your children are adults - are older than you. And she has to grieve the man she died for - only to learn he wasn’t the man she actually died for.

And then, when she’s finally finding a place in all of this, John shows up again right in front of her. And she’s her - finally she’s allowed herself to be her. But he’s so much older. She’s 29, but she isn’t who she was when she was 29 in 1983. And John is 49 and could be her father - and she knows that, when she looks at him, at how he barely looks like the John she knew - the one she thought she knew. 

She doesn’t reunite with the man she loved - bc none of them are the people they were nor the one they pretended to be. They weren’t ever meant to meet like that, with so much years between them. They were born the same year, supposed to go through life together, on the same path, on the same rhythm. And yet. 

And they all - Sam and Dean alike - can sit together and enjoy the family reunion, but it’s just a game of playing pretend and they all know that. They all look at each others and only see what was obvious but what they refused to see - that even in the right time, even without any time travels, they would have never fit into the perfect nuclear family, and they sure won’t succeed now. 

That’s not even bc their family specifically is fucked up. They’re just old enough to realize the perfect nuclear family is their shared unachievable dream. It was just easy to pretend they had it when it was memories ; it was easy to pretend they could’ve had it when it was what ifs.  But now it’s right in front of them, and they all know it didn’t work, wouldn’t have worked, and isn’t working. Not like they would want it to.

They just can’t pretend anymore and they’re all grieving what they thought was their happiness - and now they just don’t even know.

They’re all faking smiles & trying to hide their disappointment, bc they don’t realize they are all playing the same game here - they’re still family, more alike than they think. They’re trying to convince the others that they’re okay ; trying to convince themselves one last time that this is okay. 

Even though they see, now, that it’d be easier to move on and accept what it is, just for what it is. They’re all desperate to drop the act but too afraid to do so and ruin it for everyone else. Because it’s fake, but at least they’re together, in this fucked up way, and they don’t know what their family is if not this lie. 

Like if spn truly wants to make me watch Mary and John in 2019, then that’s what I wanna see. I wanna see their tragedy unfolds.

[masonscig]

stay

pairing | mason x detective sofía olmos

word count | 3.3k

warnings | discussions of mortality, mentions of sex, lots of angst. but like. in domestic situations

tags | @raleighcarrera, @pixeljazzy, @natesewell, @masonsfangs, @agentsunshine, @tuagonia, @pixelsandkink, @crackerdumortain, @echohauville, @admdmrtn, @bravomckenzie, @durogatorymortain 

author’s note | well i’ve been toying with the idea of sofía choosing not to turn, so i thought i’d flesh that out and ruin my own day :-) so... here’s all the times mason tried convincing sofía and every time she turned him down. i’m not exactly 100% satisfied w how this came out but i’m still not sure how mason would react in this situation so i’m making things up as i go tbh. the title is inspired by 400 lux by lorde specifically the “i’d like it if you stayed” line bc whew!!! and i’d like to clarify that she’s not like ancient by the end of this she just greyed early LMAO

read it on ao3

•─────────────────•

The first time was casual. She had a knack for musing her thoughts aloud, tossing her harmless opinions out for anyone who’d catch them.

She was good at starting conversations in that way – while he’d never been one for talking.

She never did it with heavy topics, though.

He could sense a shift in her before she said a word. Squirming just a bit in her seat, shifting from thigh to thigh, jaw clenching, shoulders tensing; all telltale signs that she was on edge about something.

He assumed it was the nightmares. Or the disease seeping its way into the town of Wayhaven, its rot afflicting its citizens, her suffering taking a quiet backseat to her duties.

She surprised him, and that was rare.

“I don’t think I’d turn, if given the chance.”

“You really think that’s in the cards for you?” He said, a bit rudely, scoffing.

He didn’t intend to be that mean, but she couldn’t understand the complexities of immortality just yet. She wasn’t ready to deal with that – she could barely handle her life as it was.

“I know…” she winced, trailing off. “I’m just saying. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it.”

At least she felt the same.

––––

The second time, it came as a question.

He’d all but forgotten about her bringing it up. For him, it was out of the question. He didn’t care if she wanted it – he couldn’t do that to her.

It was one of the first times he stayed (was compelled to stay, like he sensed she actually needed him there).

She kind of tipped her chin up at him from below, staring like she always did.

He’d known her for her impulse – quick to assist, quick to support, quick to fight, even if she knew she was outmatched.

But with him, she always held back, and he knew that. He wasn’t quite sure if he was grateful or jealous that she reserved the wild parts of herself for him and the emotional parts for everyone else.

She reached over and pushed a strand of his unruly hair away from his face, fingertips lingering on his temple.

“Would you want me to turn?”

This time, he bit back the snarky retorts that threatened to burst out of him. “Not sure.”

She nodded, content, settling against his chest again. “That’s okay. There’s no rush.”

He couldn’t agree more.

––––

The third time should’ve counted as the first – he was the one to initiate it, surprisingly. And it wasn’t easy.

Her hair was tied up in a sloppy bun, a few strands of hair clinging to the sweat on her temples. She was using her chin to fold the fresh towels she’d just grabbed from the dryer, a relatively easy chore compared to the deep cleaning she’d given the cabin.

Fold, plop, fold, plop, fold, plop.

The fragrant smell of lavender in her favorite detergent didn’t bother him as much anymore. It kinda relaxed him. He was up to his neck in folded towels, just watching her hum to herself and hand them over one by one, smiling at him every single time.

When she got to the sheets, however, she jumped on top of them, rolling around the mattress until she was wrapped up in them.

“Mmmm. I could live in warm sheets forever,” she smiled up at him, laughing when he tossed the stack to the ground, opting out of being helpful, instead climbing over her body and pressing his weight onto her.

“Hey, I just washed those,” she pretended to pout through her giggles, her arms trapped in the tangle of sheets, his arms tightening around her to hold her in place.

“S’not a big deal,” he murmured, pressing kisses to the scarred skin at her neck, smiling into her skin when he heard her sigh contentedly.

“It’d be a big deal if I made you wash them. You’re lucky I like you,” she squirmed, freeing a hand from the covers, a hand brushing softly over his hair.

He normally couldn’t stand the feeling of his strands being tugged – his hypersensitivity made it feel identical to the sensation of something crawling and biting his scalp until it bled.

He fucking hated feeling that way. But when Sofía tangled her hands in his hair, whether pulling on them when he was buried between her thighs, or stroking it absentmindedly in the most innocent way (like in that moment), he endured it. It honestly wasn’t half bad.

“What’s on your mind?” She asked, running a thumb over his cheekbone.

She’d learned how to read him over the years.

“Nothing urgent. Just thinkin’.”

She grinned, stuck a leg between his thigh, and pushed herself upwards, trying to flip him over. She was fucking awful at anything combat-related, so he just rolled his eyes and went with it.

She flopped on top of him, nuzzling into his chest. Her body was draped over his, which he normally hated, but the weight of her didn’t drive him up the fucking wall anymore. So he allowed it.

“Well, you know I’m always here to listen.”

They laid there for a while, and he was silent, unsure.

“How long do you plan on living?”

“What do you mean?” She pulled back and stared at him, loose hairs a wild frame around her face.

He huffed in frustration. “I don’t fucking know what I mean.”

“Hey, hey, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?”

Her gaze was soft, tender, understanding he’d never quite felt from anyone else nestled in her warm hazel irises.

She was so patient – way more than he deserved. No matter how many times he pushed her away, she was always there, waiting for him to come back to her.

“I’ve been thinking about how long you’ve got, is all,” he said, pulling her tighter when she tucked her head underneath his chin.

“How long we’ve got,” she whispered, running a palm over his chest.

“Yeah.”

She was quiet for a while, so long that he thought she’d fallen asleep.

“I’m not sure how long I’ve got, but I know I want you there.”

She leaned up, pressing a long kiss to his lips.

He wasn’t much for romanticism, but even he could admit that he enjoyed softer kisses from her.

Sofía always kissed him like it was the last time. Granted, it might’ve been because of their rocky start, but she poured everything into them, regardless of if it was a “good morning” kiss or a “see you later” kiss or a “fuck me until I can’t walk” kiss.

He pulled back with a smirk. “You want me for my body.”

“Oh, shut up. You know there’s more to it than that,” she rolled her eyes, slinging a leg over him to straddle him.

“Oh?” He quirked a brow at her.

“Yeah, it’s just a perk,” she teased, tugging him in for another searing kiss, and that was the end of that.

––––

The fourth, fifth, and sixth times were all him.

Once on the rooftop, once when she was sick, and once in the afterglow.

It got both easier and harder with every time.

The sensation of the wind against his cheeks struck him like a blade slicing at his skin, the smoke dulling it to a pinch instead of a cut.

She sipped her coffee next to him, tugging her side of the blanket underneath her chin. Her bangs had grown out, the soft edges of them grazing the plush material.

Her cheeks were flushed, the wind drawing out the rose of her cheeks.

She was his favorite garden.

It wasn’t his job to nurture her, but he wanted to. He hadn’t admitted it out loud before.

In every sense of the word, he was her guardian. Self appointed, but hers nonetheless.

It was hard to get the words past his lips, but when he did, his shoulders lifted with relief.

“I think you should stay with me.”

She swallowed her mouthful of coffee, brows furrowed. “I am. This is our house.”

He eyed her, mouth tugging up at the side. She was still figuring him out. Hell, he was still figuring himself out. It was fun to watch her detective skills in action.

“Oh…” she trailed off, heart racing. He could practically see the blood pumping to her heart.

“I, uh, don’t know.”

“Don’t know? What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shook her head, staring into her mug. “I don’t know how I feel about… forever.”

“Forever with me,” he said, taking a deep drag of his cigarette, his other hand fisting the blanket at his chest.

“No, no, not that. I just don’t have the best track record with being… satisfied with life.”

He chose not to respond, glad he knew how to refrain from saying things he’d regret.

The cigarette was gently pulled from his lips, and she was right there – face even closer to his despite them being huddled under blankets.

He blew out a thick plume of smoke from the corner of his mouth, away from her face. She laughed, swatting it away, before tossing the cigarette off the roof.

“Hey, I wasn’t done with that,” he smirked, eyes flitting to her mouth.

“It’s not you, I promise. I just have to sort through some things,” she said, the sincerity in her tone enough to make him believe her.

“I believe you.”

It wasn’t that he ever didn’t trust her – he trusted her more than anyone he’d ever known – it was that he never felt compelled to verbalize it. They just… knew.

Those three words softened her gaze and pulled her to him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips that he quickly deepened (after throwing her mug off the roof).

The first time she got sick, Mason wasn’t equipped to deal with it.

She looked weak, broken out in cold sweats, the warmth drained from her features. The first twenty four hours were torturous – despite it not being a life threatening illness, she’d never been this way.

He knew humans got sick (of course) but it wasn’t like they ran into battle with their weapons raised and he could anticipate the fallout – one day she was fine, and the next she was hospitalized.

He was supposed to take care of her, but instead he stood by, helpless, as the nurses poked and prodded and doped her up until she was comatose.

His mind was reeling with possibilities, mulling over what would happen if she was ripped from him.

I didn’t give her a kiss before I left. I didn’t take her hiking like we’d always planned.

I didn’t tell her I loved her.

I mean, he had, hadn’t he?

Living with her, sleeping with her, being with her was more than enough… right?

She stirred after a while, trying and failing to sit up.

“Don’t get up. You’ll hurt yourself,” he almost barked, adjusting the pillow underneath her head. “You’re not supposed to be moving.”

She laughed weakly, barely pushing the bangs away from her face. “You worried about me?”

“Of course I am. What kinda question is that?” She chuckled a few more times, morphing into a cough. “Just teasing. You’re sweet.”

He grabbed the cup of ice water and adjusted the straw, bringing it to her lips gently, letting her sip it.

It was a different experience considering he hadn’t ever taken care of her like that before. She was fiercely independent, so she never really needed him like that. Still didn’t, even as she was shivering uncontrollably in the hospital bed.

“Thanks,” she breathed, settling back against the pillow.

“You shouldn’t have to worry about this,” he mumbled, setting the cup down with some force, the plastic clacking against the tray.

“It’s not a big deal. I should be back to new in a couple of days,” she said, wiggling until she was on her side, facing his seat at her bedside.

“It is a big deal.”

“Mason, I promise, I’m fine –”

“I want you to turn.”

He didn’t mean for it to come out so demanding, but in truth, he was desperate.

She chewed her lip, tucking her pillow underneath her chin. “Do you really want to have that conversation here? With me doped up on medication?”

“No.”

She was silent for a while. Her gaze raked over his face, flitting from his eyes to his nose to his cheeks to his hair back to his eyes again.

“I don’t want to argue,” she said finally. “My brain isn’t even functioning properly to argue my case.”

“Doesn’t have to be an argument.”

“It’ll be one.” Her voice was sure. Weak, but unwavering.

He figured he had time to convince her – plead his case, make an undisputed argument, and win her over. Something. But he could never find the right time. Or rather, he was never driven to do so.

The one time he felt compelled to bring it up was in the early hours of the morning, the first rays of sun slicing underneath their dark curtains, gold streaking across their crumpled clothes long since abandoned on the floor.

He hated the way the sun made him feel, but seeing it catch the silver strands in her hair changed his mind. Just a bit.

He drew patterns across the smooth skin of her back with his fingers, smirking at the shiver he elicited from her body without even trying.

Her head was tucked underneath his chin, arm and leg curled around him, face buried in his chest.

“So needy,” he murmured into her hair, watching her back rise and fall.

Her chest rumbled against his, her laugh vibrating up through him (one of his favorite sensations).

“‘S’cause you’re warm,” she mumbled, squeezing him tighter. “I’d stay in this position forever if I could.”

“You could.”

She tensed against him, her grip loosening. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that, Mason…”

“Will you ever be?” He asked, a bit sarcastically, regretting his tone almost immediately.

“I… don’t know.”

“It’s been a long time since we’ve talked about it.”

“Why do we have to talk about it now? Can’t we just… I don’t know, sleep? And talk about it tomorrow?”

He sighed, dropping his arm from her back. “At this rate, we’ll never talk about it.”

“What? No, we will, I just need more time –”

“Sofía.”

She pushed away from him until she was on her side, staring up at his stern expression.

“I know,” she said, voice low, pressing a kiss on the crook of his elbow. “Honestly, I’m fucking terrified.”

“What’re you scared of?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“Disappointing you, mostly. And the process. And living forever. I feel like I’m upsetting somebody one way or the other.”

“Are you really worried about what I’ll think?” His laugh was curt, cutting. He didn’t really mean it to come out that way. It was just baffling to him that after all these years she still cared about what others thought of her.

“Well… yeah… you’re the only person I’m worried about disappointing in the first place,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“I’m flattered you think so highly of me, sweetheart, but I’m the last person you’d disappoint,” he shrugged, mouth lifting at the corner.

“You say that, but I know you’d be upset if I chose not to turn,” she sighed, rolling on her other side, folding her pillow around her ears.

“Damn right I’d be upset.”

She scrambled to a sitting position, swinging the pillow at him, hitting his chest with a soft smack. “I know you’d be sad. But more than that… you’d be disappointed.”

“You’re going on and on about my disappointment but I’m failing to see why that’s important here.”

“Because if I choose not to turn I’m essentially a ticking time bomb and you’re gonna treat me differently and everything we do is going to be tainted by that because I’ve let you down –”

Mason cut her off with a kiss, palms cupping her cheeks – no, cradling her face – like she was fragile, precious.

He was never much for words, nor was he one for meaningful sentiments. He was never good with words like his counterparts.

But just then, in that moment, seeing his girl ramble on and on about how her eternity boiled down to those she cared about – he had to say something.

“I need you to stay with me.”

He breathed the words into her, lips grazing her own, like in his own way he was pouring how he felt – what he wanted – into her.

She curled her fingers around his palms, which were still gently holding her face, and pulled back so she could see his eyes.

She was misty-eyed and trembling, like whatever she needed to confess was ten times harder than what he’d just said.

“I would be turning for you, not for me.”

His first reaction was anger.

He could feel his body heating up, his jaw working, his muscles tensing underneath his skin. But she didn’t deserve his immediate reaction. She was better than that.

“Is that such a bad thing?”

She rolled her lips together, pursing them, anything she could do to hide her bottom lip quivering. “You’re the only one I’d do it for.”

“And… that’s a bad thing.”

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, blinking furiously to try to keep the tears back. He still held her, as gentle as ever.

“I’m just starting to figure things out and – and I think I’d disappoint myself if I stayed alive and couldn’t live up to all the good things I did when I was human.”

“There you go with that fucking word again –”

“I can’t think of another word for it. Just disappointment.”

“You mean with yourself? Because I’m sure as shit not,” he joked, getting a small part-sniffle-part-laugh from her. He ran a knuckle underneath her eye, catching a tear there.

“I don’t want to sound rude –”

He laughed, a genuine laugh, so much so that he dropped his hands and fell back against the headboard.

“Do you know who you’re talking to?”

“The rudest person on the planet,” she said, still sitting up, reaching back to tie her hair in a sloppy bun.

“Hit me.”

“I don’t want my existence to hinge on another person’s.”

“It’s not. And that wasn’t rude. It was honest.”

She squirmed, tugging the sheet up to tuck under her arms and cover her up like a makeshift shirt. “I’m not making this decision for me anymore. It’s for us.”

He shrugged. “Sure, I guess, but if you ever get tired of me you could just, I dunno. Bail.”

“Isn’t this life… enough? Won’t you get bored of me? I don’t know if I’m interesting enough to keep you preoccupied for… uh, ever.”

He shook his head. “No.”

She leaned back against the headboard, arm pressed against his. “How are you so sure about everything?”

“I’m not.”

“I wish I were more like you,” she sighed, scrubbing the back of her hand against her cheeks, wiping away any stray tears.

“You could be,” he joked, this time a bit more pleading than the last time he’d said a variant of the phrase.

He slung an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him, hand rested on the plush skin of her stomach. She nuzzled into his skin again, breathing deeply.

“I don’t know if living forever is in the cards for me,” she mumbled into him.

––––

[disclaimer at the end bc i am still very ... ab this fic but !!! this is the first time i’m really writing domestic mason x sofía so i’m not even sure if i nailed the dynamic bc i’m so used to them never being on the same page .. which if you think about it they’re really not on the same page here LMAO but you know what i mean!! and tbh im not even sure i wrapped it up well... because like... how DO you end a conversation like that SJDFKSKDF like i racked my brain trying to figure it out and i just let it fizzle out bc i think after all the years of fighting they know they’re both too stubborn to change each others’ minds... i think. i might revisit this in the future bc this concept is very pleasing (sick and twisted i know) to me]

[peeterparkr]

Not smut but potentially one with Dick where him and the reader are keeping their relationship a secret and she stays over at his (😉) and in the morning they’re off to brunch with friends so try and enter the place at different times etc to not give it away that they came together and they think they’re safe until one of the gang says “hey! Isn’t that Dicks sweatshirt y/n?” And she gets all red and flustered - lol idk but that would be hella cute!

oh but there’ll be smut bc I combined it with this one, this is filth with some angst and then some fluff and it’s a rollercoaster

warnings: smut, swearing, 18+

word count: like 2,5k 

Busted. 

Love can be too complicated. Relationships are complicated. Dick Grayson was complicated. So much so that you preferred to keep it a secret.

Easier than having to explain to the world that in reality the feelings you had always had for him were never negative, they had always been awe and sometimes a little contempt, but you supposed that it was given to the fact that Dick was someone you thought you couldn’t have.

You hated that he was so perfect. It was a compliment to hate him, now you knew. He was always there with his perfect eyes that could kill you with just one look. That smile that could manipulate you. Make a fool out of you. 

We are talking about Dick Grayson, who really has got a bunch of problems, with the lack of love he had when growing up and the big abandonment issues, thanks, Batman. Always wanting to be alone.

Neither of you wanted to explain to the world that your whole act of hating the other was nothing more than a façade for the crush you both had towards the other and how much it frustrated that you couldn’t have the other. The nerves you would get whenever you saw him, all flustered, maybe that was why it was easier to insult him so that he would let you believe that you hated him and make you believe that you were not deeply in love with him.

How did you both reach that conclusion? How did you both realize that you were both desperately in love with each other? Being alone, what that can be. One thing led to another and as the big drama queens you both were, you’d both searched for the other in a stormy night just to end up making out with your clothes on the floor.

But you needed to keep that a secret, mostly because neither of you could understand how you could be so fond of someone who’d constantly make you lose your temper. Because you’re so alike, stubborn and incredibly bossy. 

Add to all of that, it’s Dick Grayson who we are talking about. He loves to make a big deal out of everything. But of course that’s only because he cares enough. Too much sometimes for your own convenience. 

There were still a lot of things you despised about him. Like whenever he would always be wrong, even when he is right. Or the way he’d make you smile even if you had basically ended an argument. 

The fact that at the end of the day, he was still a sweetheart.

But you had to hide it. Because you loved him. And who in this world understands love? You didn’t want anyone trying to explain it to you. You liked to figure it out on your own.

Besides hiding made it way much more interesting. It was a challenge. Even spiced things up in the relationship. You still hated him, to everyone else. And he still hated you. And sometimes you knew you both did hate each other, not pretending. So annoyed by each other’s presence because you’re both so equal yet so different. 

And you were very good at hiding it. Even when you couldn’t quite keep your hands to yourself. You’d manage to keep up the hating relationship to a certain level where they wouldn’t even think you’d ever be in the same room alone.

Sometimes the arguments would go a bit too far, but you’d end up apologizing and making it up in bed.

Just like you probably were going to, now. Rachel was there, watching you both make an argument about how stupid having brunch and inviting Jason Todd, whom you were pushing to get into the group. He was a nice addition.

Rachel was sitting with her feet up on the couch, as she was watching some videos on her phone, ignoring you both. However, truth to be told, you had almost forgotten that Rachel was there and it had kind of turned into a real fight. 

“I don’t want anything to do with Bruce Wayne, and Jason—Jason still has everything to do with him!” Dick yelled. 

You closed your eyes, “Oh my God, Dick, you’re not— this is what all of this is about?” 

Dick rolled his eyes. “No, but I… I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation. This is stupid–I…I am going home. Fuck Batman.”

You knew why this was happening, he saw himself in Jason Todd, he saw it too badly. But he saw a lot of things he never had had with Bruce and that bothered him, and that made Dick despise him even more. 

And you were home, and you were supposed to stay at home. Sleepover with young Rachel, you guys loved those, they meant fun nights.

You watched Dick storm off and slam the door. You wondered if it was part of the act or if he really meant it. Dick didn’t know Rachel knew. You knew she knew.

You squeezed your eyes shut. 

“You guys really hate each other don’t you?” Rachel asked you, she was going to stay the night. 

“You’ve no idea.” 

“But he didn’t mind about the brunch.”

You shrugged. “Thought he didn’t. But now he’s angry we are all spending it together like a big happy family.”

“Go, fix it, I’ll start the movie and you can come back later.” 

Rachel, you knew, was probably very aware of the real situation, not because you’d told her but you couldn’t possibly lie to her, but she hid it from everyone else, knowing  damn well you’d been hiding it for a reason.But you had never adressed it, and she had never asked about it. Maybe she didn’t know. You both were very convincing when it came to making everyone believe you hated each other. 

So you did as she said, you followed after him to his car. You hopped in.

“I’m leaving.”

“I know,” you said. “You can start driving, I’m coming with you.” Dick stared at you. You pointed at the road.

He clenched his jaw but started the car.

“Go to Wayne Manor,” you ordered.

“Wayne—“

“Batcave, more specifically,” you added. He stared at you. You smirked, running your hand through his thgh, and you could easily see a bulge forming in his pants. “Fuck Batman, right?”

He started driving as fast as he could and you let your fingers walk down his leg. 

“I’m not in the mood,” he snarled, but you looked down at the growing length.

“Seems like you are, though,” you pointed out, and you chuckled, leaning over to peck his cheek. He cleared his throat. But drove fast enough, you’d tease him, running your fingers through his arm, to his chest and to his leg, nowhere close, but enough to get him flustered. 

The Batcave, it gave you such a challenge. It was incredibly hot, to think you were sneaking there. As soon as he hit the brakes, he turned to you and unbuttoned your blouse, as he jumped over you, kissing your lips and trailing his way down to your neck, you moaned closing your eyes. The way he kissed you was always a new experience. 

“Wait– Dick,” you managed to say as he was already grinding against you, his hands pressing your breasts. He was sucking on your collarbone as you let out a soft gasp. “Want to piss off Batman more?” 

His eyes, filled with fire turned to you, as he just shot an eyebrow up. 

“Let’s go to the Batmobile,” and there’s a sound in your voice that made you sound even more into it than you actually were. If we were honest, you feared getting caught but, of course, it would make it a thousand per cent even more interesting. 

And in no time, he picked you up and opened up the doors to it, setting you down. It’s smaller than Dick’s but it doesn’t matter, because with no further ado, Dick pulled down your underwear and he’s set between your tighs. He kept kissing you and his fingers pinched your breasts, you could feel his hot breath as he pulled the seat down, making it easier for both of you. The reducted space pulled you even closer. Your legs were snaking around him as he kissed from the space between your breasts to your stomach. You looked up and took off his shirt, clawing your nails into his back as you pulled him down to your lips.  His own hands were caressing your legs, his fingers toying with you. 

Your lips were focused on his neck now, trailing wet kisses over it, and your hands were going down to knead his ass, as he was grinding into you, causing friction to your core, as the bulge on his pants kept growing.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, as you were unbuckling his belt with desperation. You were in such an ecstasy as you accidentally hit a button. The car announced ‘error’ but you were too busy as his cock had popped out. His fingers grazed over your wetness as his tip teased your clit. He loved teasing you. 

“Dickie, I–” 

“Say it,” he ordered. 

“I need you, now,” you pleaded and he finally thrust into you. He started panting as he started to move inside, finding a slow soothing rhythm. A smug smirk upon his face as you’re moaning his name. He was cursing profanities and then yelling your name. You see the car windows blurring up, as you try to keep yourself comfortable. Your hand found the window but you pulled it back down, leaving a mark of your fingers all over it. 

He was fast and his fingers are all over you, edging you close each time he drew circles on your clit. And he loved seeing your face as you’re at your bliss, and he began slowing down his pace as his own back was arching. But he started to thrust even deeper, as your toes start to curl. You came first, but that was the cue he needed for his own high.his hot breath deep on your neck. He yelled your name in pleasure and then found your neck with his lips, peppering kisses all over it, just as he pulled out from you. Your chest was pounding as you watched him.

“I love you, y/n,” he whispered, causing a  short laugh from you, catching your breath. 

“For what? For helping you break the rules?” You grinned looking up at him, and he kissed your lips again. 

“Making everything fun,” he laughed. “Did… did… you push any buttons?” 

You turned to look at the board, embarrassed. “Maybe, a thing or two.” 

And both of you heard footsteps.“Shit, shit, shit,” Dick pulled up his pants and buttoned your shirt back on, you both quickly ran out of the car and you hid on Dick’s backseat, as he tried to make himself presentable, but the sweat and his panting were not easy to hide.

It was Alfred. “Master didn’t know you were coming.”

Dick cleared his throat. “I was—“ he ran a hand through his hair. “I was just—going to check on some information regarding the—uh, case with Mikron O’Jeneus.”

Alfred stared at Dick’s car where you were holding your breath, praying to all known deities that he wouldn’t catch you.

“Alright ” Alfred nodded. “Whenever you get the chance, please send my regards to Miss Y/N, you and her seem to be close lately.”

Dick blushed and gulped. “We are—working together on the case, that’s all,” He assured him.

Alfred nodded. “Alright, master Grayson.” 

When Alfred was gone, you both laughed in the car. He went to his place where round two happened, nothing wild, it was simpler and more romantic. Dick had managed to now make it more soothing, apologizing for his bitching attitude and smiling each time he kissed you. And that was the sweetheart you knew, it was fun, the vigilante and the dark Dick but then turning him into the beautiful thing he was. You loved him for both, both ‘Dicks’ were fun, and you knew you needed his lips, and you knew he meant it every time he said he loved you, because each time it was different and like hearing it for the first time. 

And the morning had consisted of him peppering you with new kisses, he’d invent one each morning. It was a routine, making each kiss special each time you woke up by his side. As he managed to take your breath away with that smile that was reserved only for you. And you were lucky because he truly never smiled the way he did to you. And you were sure that nobody truly saw hi the way you did, as the blinds would let in the light so the sunlight bathed him and only him. 

He had pecked all over your face, tickling you as he did. “You’re an idiot,” you stated, which was your way of telling him you loved him. 

“I know,” he grinned, that was the way he said it back. 

And he agreed to the brunch, at the end. But you both had to be careful, so when you arrived he dropped you a block away from it, the price you had to pay for wanting to keep your relationship private. He walked into the place first, and you found a place beside Kori. 

You grinned as you said hello to everyone, and then you turned stiff when your eyes landed on Dick. “Grayson.” 

“Y/L/N,” He didn’t even look up. 

Jason Todd watched you both, “Please act decent,” he pleaded. “Don’t fight here.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you guys are so annoying,” Gar pointed out. 

Dick rolled his eyes. “We are adults, at least I’ll act like one, don’t worry.” 

You flipped him off, rolling your eyes, as you stole from Kori’s mimosa, taking a sip. 

“That’s mine,” she complained but ignored. 

Rachel stared at you. “Hey, y/n, why didn’t you come back home last night?” She asked. 

You almost spat your drink. “I did! You didn’t hear me and I woke up early for a run,” you lied. 

“Are you sure?” Kori pushed. “Because Alfred told me he saw you and Dick at the manor.” 

Dick laughed, nervously.  “Why would I be with her at the manor?”

“I dunno,” Kori smirked. “Same reason as to why she’s wearing your sweatshirt?” 

Both you and Dick froze.You stared down at your clothes, and you were indeed wearing a sweatshirt of his. 

“Busted,” all of them said. 

[seijohsfairy]

𝙷𝙾𝚁𝚁𝙸𝙳

rhi, this is for you ♡ remember when you said mafia seijoh and i said i’d write it?? but then i got super distracted with other fics and never did the thing? weLL I FINALLY FINISHED IT. she’s cut up into two parts bc i didn’t want to make it too long but part 2 should be up soon for @/seijorhi​ & massive, big fat ty to @/xplosiveboy​

.wordc. 3k+ tw mafia!big 4, noncon, sexual harassment, yandere, coercion

horrid pt 2

It was written somewhere in your favorite library, on a vacant page of the grimy literature textbook stuffed between two shelves maybe, you read it just once. Back then you didn’t care much for the radical, unwilling to trust the faith of someone destroying what wasn’t theirs to begin with. Long, curved words littering the white; claiming full of hate that the poison our mind makes is the most powerful decay, that humans are the most horrid of creatures.

Back then you’d closed the book, sliding it back into place and tucking the knowledge far back into your mind, unwilling to use such a straight-set line of thinking on a world which had given you life, gifted you virtue and loudness. So terrifying; but splendid. You had swallowed, light and unwavering in the knowledge that you were still capable of processing, and giving kindness. You had settled above the cold of those words, thinking them sickly and rotten.

But you didn’t forget, the fire of them on the curve of the page. Or rather, you couldn’t.

It isn’t unlike you to falter in your step, feet rushing ahead faster than your mind can catch up and taking those half-hearted fumbles as just what it needs, before granting you another dash of mindless cadance. Not lost but wanting to reach home a bit faster, slicing off the unnecessary travel so you’d be able to cuddle up in a blanket a second sooner. Even without anything waiting for you on the other end. So you correct your balance for long enough to notice the long straight between brick walls, the direction of it catching your eye more than anything of value. The buildings here are taller, stubbier in their set size and darker, like the grime of the city has never been washed off them.

You’re small in between, but that has never stopped you before. You wonder if you could take that road, rush it. An alternative for the boring path you’re supposed to take. The monotony aches. You’re young, invincible, not having existed nearly long enough for something truly horrible to happen. Unbalanced, in a way.

But you’re not foolish either, and wasting precious time is the exact opposite of what you want. You bite your lip, carefully crossing the street to peek into the alley. Littered, wet, vacant. Until the breeze picks up and ruffles your hair, calling out for disaster. Unwilted flowers and those dusted grey to the core aching to meet, to make the balance even.

A show of red, white and black in the form of a man, and one that has your chest craving to be leveled with his. It isn’t that you haven’t been blown away by beauty before, but equality is something else entirely. Those things are weighty in their presence, heavy enough to break your reasoning and to have you rolling forward without will of your own. The heavy-set darkness of his eyes, his hair, his dress shirt. As if he wants to melt into the background, yet everything about him seems to demand attention. The bony points of his hands and fingers are bloodied, chafed and red shows through the split skin where his nose is lowest. But he fuels your wonder with a dignity, leaning against the metal door just as practiced as the cigarette held between his lips.

Never would you be more aware of your foolishness than looking back on that instant. But sadly you only figure that out long after you allow your body to drift towards him. Your kindness hasn’t failed you yet. It does crumble slightly when the weight of his gaze falls on you, staring your way like you’re a broken record disturbing his peace. But even in your clumsy approach you are obviously good and innocent, dragging closer. The pitter-patter of your feet against the wet concrete is shy, it drips from your lips. And beasts hidden in the cracks of society always sniff out that kind of virtue. “Excuse me,” you say. “Do you know where this alley leads?”

It’s a silly thing, more close to an excuse to speak than true curiosity but it has his mind churning. He blows out a white cloud beside your face, picking the destructive thing from between his lips with a tick of his brow. The tilt of his head in the way you had motioned leaves you tense, used breath building in your lungs, your tongue rubbing on the roof of your mouth like it has something to scrub away. “Don’t think you wanna go that way,” he simply says, eyeing you up and down with the languid movements of a lioness not yet bothering to stretch her muscles, “it’s dark and scary down there.” The glint in his hazel-greens should remind you of water pulling far back from the beach. It does remind you of it, but for reasons beyond you it doesn’t quite click.

So you puff out your chest, basking in the tiny bit of confidence you house to nod. “I think I can handle it,” you smile. As you consider your chances of making it to the other end, a feeling of irony comes to press on your shoulder. Sucking at the brave front until you’re all but left a shivering deer on two dainty legs. It feels colder here than it did on the main street.

So you look back only once at the handsome stranger, bowing in gratitude. “T-thank you, I— I’ll be going now.” Polite despite the tremble you feel, you were raised to be good. He only tilts his head in response, choosing silence the moment you wish for anything else, but you too are at a sudden loss. You turn on your heel and start tiptoeing away from the vast security of the street to drown yourself in sudden doubt in your ability. Most times you experience the opposite. You know the feeling of living, breathing with no worry, well and polishing your renewed understanding only later.

But the path his eyes take in chase of your body has a stickiness, and you can’t help but imagine he has already eaten you up in his mind, walking away with sweat on your palms. Two bangs sound against the metal, leaving you skittishly darting forward with your nails pulled into your palms. It’d be easier to pretend to be strong if you had a bit more faith in your own destructive power. Should you be a monster of preposterous size in the body of a cowering young woman, it’d be easy to push away the need to check, to make sure that you are not under threat. But you’re painfully human, so you glance over your shoulder anyway.

The handsome man has already slipped back into the building, but the memory of his expression gives you goosebumps. A reminder that humans are greedy in nature even when you don’t want them to be. You let the tense air out between parted lips, continuing down the wet curve of the buildings until a creak up ahead calls your attention. Against the darkness where another door swings open, two figures come out into the chill of the falling evening. You envy them for a moment, as they are not alone and you are, but then your feet halt to let your thoughts churn. The men, one with pretty, brown hair and the other a strawberry blond color, don’t need to search to find what they are looking for. The sharp eyes are turned your way the moment they exit the bruised building.

And you blink a few times, before taking a step back in the narrow space. They stand at the door with a stony confidence. Running now is definitely proof that you are not as brave as you pretended, but you can’t help it. With a deep breath you turn back, suddenly feeling hurried. No one reason could be good enough to put yourself into the jaw of an animal willingly, definitely not one as feeble as yours. You scurry back around the corner with a speed that would go unnoticed by most, but still you have to stable yourself again when you connect with another body. It catches you, wraps a large hand around your arm and you look up to express your gratitude by habit.

It’s another tall person, dark curly hair and a surprised expression. Something about his touch is debasing, seeming to latch onto every single one of your fibers. If it had only been this, it would leave you starving, your greedy heart categorizing everything under love at first sight— though you are barely old enough to have liked properly. But the contact is too long to sit well, your body straightening from him as best you can. “S-sorry,” you begin, silencing yourself with a gasp. The brunet of earlier, as well as the other two are upon you already, the presence of four men surrounding you so suddenly a frightening thing. “I- I’m sorry,” you mumble again, though it is lost in the intrigued gazes. They crowd around you before you can think of what you should do.

One of them shoots you a grin bright as the sun, leaning over your shoulder to come into view. “Look at you being the gentleman, Mattsun. You saved the cute girl from falling down!” You are still held onto by the curly haired man, who shrugs off the compliment with an indifferent expression. The cheerful one clicks his tongue, before rounding back on you with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle. The weightlessness he carries reminds you of something out of a fairy tale. Bright, obnoxiously cheerful. “What are you doing here, gorgeous? How old are you, you in college?” Voice lithe, sweet on your tongue like honey.

So you try to straighten up, dropping your lip from between your teeth. “Y-yes,” you say, to be interrupted by another voice. This one is more familiar, the first of the few. Tanned skin, handsome at every angle.

“All alone like this?” he breathes, “you must be pretty brave.” With an endless intrigue laced in his eyes, you’re pulled closer to the man with dark, spiky hair by your free hand. You stumble forward with the sudden shift. If you were ever an angel, your wings are useless now. And something tells you these men will make sure that soon they’ll be no more. He only smiles when you have to steady yourself on his chest with gentle fingertips, keeping you close to his warm body. But eager, it plays on his lips like you’re the thing he’s been looking to find for hours, maybe days. He lets out a chuckle at your dumbfounded expression. “I’m Iwaizumi, that’s Hanamaki and Matsukawa.” He waits a moment, smiling wider when you don’t show any recognition at it. “What’s your name?”

You’re so overwhelmed that it’s hard to even sound out the syllables. Your name doesn’t matter, you don’t disillusion yourself to think any of it matters, truly. But the looks remain even when you hesitate, and you find yourself speaking aloud. Though you barely get your name past your lips before you’re turned around by your shoulder, your response setting them alight. You’re left glancing up into a happy grin and pink hair. “You’re dressed up pretty. Nice skirt,” he coos, picking at the edge of it just once before leaning his face a bit closer to yours. “You’re pretty all over, you know that? Really pretty,” he draws out the sound until it sounds almost comical. “Right, Mattsun?”

You believe him when he says it, he looks at you like you’re shining, reflecting light like a diamond. The compliment, not your first but never truer, stews in your veins and boils your blood. There’s a vague hum from behind you, the man who caught you in your fall putting his big hands on your shoulders. Content to be near, if for a moment. With your constantly shifting gaze, you miss the lines on their hands and arms, the overwhelming smell of different colognes mixed with the smell of blood. “Not gonna say ‘thank you’?” He pouts.

“Tha—”

“Be nice, Makki!” The voice drowns out yours. “She’s just flustered. Right?” The unintroduced man smiles down at you again, his pretty face coming so close you can feel hit breaths tickle your cheeks. Kind or not, you jerk back instinctively. He continues, unbothered. “Sweet girls like her aren’t used to this. But we’re not so bad, I promise.” His pretty hand comes up to brush your hair back, cooing when your skin turns up the degrees more. Stupid, silly, your mind screams; it’s like your feet have been cemented to the floor. Like you’ve been here for centuries, and finally someone’s come to worship you.

Though his hand is shoved away from you rather harshly, with a frown. “Oi,” Iwaizumi growls, “let us do it ourselves, Oikawa.” He turns back to you with a certitude, closer and though you try to back away you’re only met with the hard lines of the person behind you. Mattsun still has his hands on your shoulders, rubbing comforting circles into the thin fabric of your blouse. Quiet, but not forgotten. You don’t dare look away from Iwaizumi though, his pretty eyes dark enough to make your heart jump uncomfortably against your ribcage. “He’s right though,” the noiret’s voice sinks low, “we’re not so bad. I think you’d like to see, huh?”

The words feel claustrophobic, your eyes widening. You glance at their faces in confusion, switching between each person quick enough to make you dizzy. “Uhm- I,” you stutter, but a brush up your leg has you gaping, frozen. “I don’t-” The cold fingers trail up the inside of your thigh, too high.

“Of course she does, look how nervous she looks.” Makki is so close now he’s molded to your side, the other men not far behind. “So precious,” he coos. “Here, take my hand for a second.” It is put in your field of vision like a peace offering, the breaths on your neck feeling suffocating. But with his long fingers opened invitingly, it’s almost easy to believe they have good intentions. You give in and drop your smaller hand in his, if only to get rid of the revering stare. Hiro grins wider though, and laces your fingers with his. He giggles, softly. “Like this, isn’t it so easy to just,” he drops your interlaced hands to brush up against his crotch, “put them here.” Every muscle in your body seems to quiver, but spun too tight to move. “You like it, right?” he taunts when you look down at the floor, holding your hand in place stubbornly. “Eheh, I can tell.”

“W-please stop,” you try to pull away, but the grip on your hand only tightens, thumb pressing down hard enough that you jerk back from the pain. “Aw, aw!” It’s painful, like your bone will shatter if he moves wrong, and the harder you pull back the more he clamps down. “That hurts!” you gasp, turning away in Issei’s hold.

“Such a good girl, look at you,” Iwaizumi says, his hands sliding around your waist to secure you a spot against him. You’re struggling now but there’s hands all over. More touch, more overwhelming motions to keep you near. You’re tucked into Mattsun’s chest, each swell of his chest brushing against your shoulder blades. And your cheek is pressed against a face, someone who starts pressing small kisses there. “You’re precious, I could just eat you right up.” Hajime grabs your face to turn it more towards him. On the inside you want to bare your teeth, show your claws and rip yourself out of the fragile shell, but then he presses a kiss to your forehead and all your fight sinks away. You were never the warlike type. You’re small, frightened and worst of all, cowardly. He smiles over your shoulder. “Right?”

“I’m sure she’d like that,” the tallest behind you grins, his deep voice shaking your body in his hold. “Just look at her.” One of his hands slips under the edge of your blouse, sparking like a smoldering ember. Though you start whimpering in their arms, he smiles. “Are you scared, little girl?” he chuckles, hovering his lips over your ear long enough to give you goosebumps. Your breathing is laboured, unable to stop the whimper that comes out.

“Pretty face, pretty hands, pretty legs,” Hanamaki names, his lips glued to the curve of your neck, “I bet you have a pretty tummy too.” He slips his free hand easily under the waistband of your skirt, pulling it away from your skin and you try to push him away to no avail. Though the pressure of his grip on you is anything but playful, he’s grinning like there’s no worry in his mind. “And pretty tits.”

“Guys,” Oikawa breaks the moment to motion his head towards the door then, already holding it open as the stroking continues. “If you would, please.” They’re suddenly pulling away from you, all but Mattsun who turns you in his hold and wraps your arms around his body, picking you up. His large hands under your butt, he chuckles when you gasp at the touch. Your arms are pulled over Issei’s shoulders and grabbed tight, forcing you in place.

You’d been overwhelmed, stunned and frightened, but when Iwa looks at you like you’re a new toy he can’t wait to use, to break; the building feeling shifts into something else. Terror.

“No, no, nononono,” you start pulling back against the brunet, looking around at the four men with big eyes. You try to kick your legs so that he’ll drop you, get fed up, anything. But he carries you into the building without a problem, much stronger than your pitiful attempt. “I have to get home, I can’t come with you,” you squeak, bristling when someone laughs. It’s a mean sound, cold and vicious and it makes your faltering heart drop. There’s an explosion of— some emotion or other, a stutter in your capacity to take in the world. You can only open your eyes wider, hoping that some sense comes through with it.

Excitement and fear always have a similar taste on your tongue, close enough in their thickness to mistake one for the other until it crawls out of your throat with a violent gasp for life. But this is more bitter, a feeling you recognize as panic too late.

“Let go! Let me go!! I don’t want to be here,” you rasp, the feeling slipping out in tears of stress at the corners of your eyes. The door is shut, casting you and them in darkness together.

“Yes, you do.” It’s Oikawa, though you can’t see him. The touch dragging up your back is enough to leave you with shivers. “We’re only going to take a second of your time, promise.” You’re carried deeper into this hall, the cold and draft the least of your worries. Part of you wants to scream, wants to bite and kick until you’re out of the door and as far away from them as you can. But a bigger part of you is more afraid of what they’ll do in retaliation, so you just bite your lip and try to control your tears.

“Hey, we promise,” the strawberry blond echoes, slipping around the tallest to shove his lips to yours. A deep rumble comes from his chest when you tilt your head away from him and against Mattsun’s neck instead. But he’s undeterred, instead pressing a few kisses to your wrist. “We’ll take real good care of you.” You can’t shake the feeling that their promises count for nothing. And as his long, scarred fingers tangle with yours like a mimicry of comfort, you can’t help but wonder. If those words on that page were written with so much conviction because the thing penning them down was the same as these men. Beastly, ungrateful monsters.

//

part 2 coming soon

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [94]

x. a little sacrifice

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 5.9k

Warnings: language, mentions of anxiety, blood, injuries, death, violence, genocide.

Summary: clarke’s arrival in bardo throws everything off, and one of your own seeks revenge against the people of bardo.

a/n: I feel like the next few updates are gonna be rough, so please remember to trust me bc I’ve got your backs, okay? the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

Clarke seems to remember that she’s in a room full of people, all eyes on her, because you watch her mask slip back into place as she shifts the gun closer to Cadogan’s temple. “Let them go.”

“They're not my prisoners, Clarke.”

Clarke looks at you, her eyes begging you to say you’re joking, but with no guarantee you can get off of this planet and no guarantee that you can save Hope, you offer her nothing. You keep the same blank expression on your face as she nods, “Great, then here's the deal. I'll use the Key to help you, but only after you let my people return to Sanctum.”

Her eyes stay locked on you as she adds, “All of them.”

Cadogan looks over all of you and shrugs. “You're free to go with her.”

Your brain runs through the offer, looking for holes, but finding none. If all of you are allowed to leave, that means you can take Hope, and all of your people will be safe. There’s no way in hell you’re going to leave Clarke behind on Bardo to deal with the disciples on her own, but at the very least you can make sure the others are safe and finally off of this inescapable planet. But as you prepare to open your mouth and agree to the offer, someone speaks up for all of you. “We're not going anywhere. We have a war to fight.”

You almost spin around and give Echo a look, and your left hand curls at your side, wanting to hit her for keeping all of you stuck here. And you suppose that now you have the answer you were waiting for this whole time; Echo is no longer on your side. She really has bought in and fallen under the spell of Bardo. 

You hear her walk off, and you turn to glance at Octavia and Diyoza, both of them seeming as panicked as you are beneath their blank demeanor. And because neither of them are arguing to the contrary, you speak up on their behalf, turning your gaze back to Cadogan. “We're staying too, sir.”

Diyoza and Octavia turn and leave, and you shift your gaze to your twin, hesitating, hoping she can read the hidden expression beneath your blank mask, confirming that you’re still you. And though you still just want to run to her and hug her, you force your body to turn and head towards the door. On your way out, you pass by Gabriel, his eyes locked on you as you move, but you keep your eyes averted, not wanting Anders to see your excitement at seeing your friend. You spent three months thinking he was dead and pretending you didn't care, and it's a relief to see that he’s still alive, but you can't erase all the work you did in this moment. Not yet. Not when Echo has forced your hand. 

You pull on your helmet and step back into position, thankful that the emotion on your face is now hidden, allowing a few tears to spill from your eyes and down your cheeks. The other disciples fall in around you, taking up their position as Clarke steps away from Cadogan and stares at you in absolute shock, not understanding how you could just walk away from her. But her shock quickly morphs into anger and she turns to face Bill, lifting the gun and pointing it right at him. “What did you do to them?”

Anders is the one to answer, “We didn't do anything. They're simply committed to the cause, ready to serve mankind in the Last War.”

Cadogan adds, “A moment that will soon be upon us now that you're here, with the help of the Key.”

Clarke lowers her gun and steps towards the revered Shepherd, her voice low and serious. “So here's the new deal: we talk to our friends alone. I don't even want to see your men in the halls. You want my help? Earn it.”

Cadogan stares at Clarke, his gaze heavy with happiness, like he just found a hidden treasure. His gaze never leaves her as he calls out across the room. “First Disciple Anders, have all nonessential personnel return to Livsec.”

“Sir, I'm not sure if that's-” Cadogan and Clarke both turn to cut Anders a look, and he immediately backs down. “Yes, my Shepherd.”

“Good. Your Shepherd stays here, the rest of you out.” When no one moves, she turns to glare at Anders and the group of disciples just outside the door, lifting her voice to snap, “Now!”

Everyone remains frozen in place, awaiting orders, until Cadogan looks at Anders with a smile. “Go, I'll be fine.”

Anders backs away, worry written all over his face as he turns to face all of you, and you’re shocked to see it, sure this is the first time he’s lost his cool around all of you. He steps into the hall, motioning for all of you to follow, and you turn in unison to walk back towards your rooms, the door to the Stone Room, to Clarke, to your escape, closing as you pass. Anders leads all of you through the halls, stopping at the end of the hall to address you before you leave. “I want all of you to stay in your rooms. We can’t do anything that will put the Shepherd at risk. Everyone is dismissed, except for Echo and Miss Griffin.”

You freeze in place, sure that you already know why you’ve been singled out, but curious as to why Echo is. Everyone else files around you and heads towards their respective rooms, leaving you and Echo alone with Anders. Once it’s just the three of you, he motions towards your helmets. “You can remove your helmets.”

You reach up and remove your helmet, moving it to rest in your right arm as you look up at Anders expectantly. He turns his focus to Echo first. “Since you chose Hope’s punishment, I want you to make sure she is on Penance before the others can get to her.”

You freeze again, taking in his words. He wants Echo to send Hope to Skyring now, before any of you can save her. Even if she’s only there for a few hours, it’ll be years for her on Skyring because of the time dilation. You can't let them send her away. “Miss Griffin.”

You are pulled out of your thoughts, your gaze lifting to meet his eyes, which are watching you closely. “Due to your twin’s arrival and lack of cooperation, you will be staying with me at all times, where I can keep an eye on you.”

You understand the implication of his words, what he really means but isn't saying: by his side, where he can use you as leverage. But you know you can't say anything, not in front of Echo, who has bought in, or in front of the groups of people that are still filing past, running to their rooms to abide by Anders command. He dismisses Echo, sending her off to banish Hope, and you watch her leave with wide eyes, fearful of what will happen if she’s successful. Because no one knows that Hope is being sent away at this moment, not her mother or Octavia, not even Hope herself. And you stand there conflicted, wanting to run after Echo and stop her, unsure what to do as Anders hovers nearby, motioning for you to follow him. 

Ultimately, you cave, deciding to follow Anders until you can get away and stop Echo, hoping that you can get there in time. Taking the First Disciple out in the middle of a crowded hallway is almost a guaranteed death sentence at this point, so the only thing you can do is hope that he takes you somewhere with less people, somewhere you can ditch him and get back to Echo. Anders leads you down the hall, turning to look back at you every few seconds, seemingly fearful that you're going to run off. But you don't, not yet, and you allow him to lead you away, towards some unknown destination. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere you enjoy.”

You pull a face as you stare at his back, wondering if you should be more worried than you are in this moment. For some reason, you are eerily calm, despite the challenges in front of you. You're stuck with Anders, Echo is going to get rid of Hope, and your twin is on this planet somewhere, probably looking for you. Despite it all, your anxiety is low, which you’re thankful for, as your head is clear and a plan is forming. It doesn't take you long to realize that Anders is leading you to the oxygen farm, towards the empty halls on the other side of Bardo, making your escape plan much easier. 

As he presses the button for the farm and steps inside, he turns to look at you with a small smile. “I thought we could practice controlling your emotions while we wait.”

If it were anyone else, you might find the gesture sweet, pleased that he remembers your fondness for the woods and trees. But because it’s Anders, you’re worried something about it is much more sinister, because he’s too calculating to want to take an innocent trip to the tree farm. He doesn't care about you. He seems fascinated by you, sure, but most of that has to do with your connection to Clarke, not because he genuinely cares about you. Because the disciples don’t care about the individuals, so whatever interest he has taken in you is starting to feel more dangerous than it did a few weeks ago. 

You follow Anders deeper into the farm, walking behind him, sizing him up. If you can take him out now, you can go find Echo and stop her. The halls should be empty by now, making it easier to slip away unnoticed. And just as you’re preparing to lunge at Anders and attack him, he surprises you by attacking first. He spins around, something held tight in his hand, moving towards your shoulder. You duck just in time, catching him off guard, before you knock whatever is in his hand out of his grip. It hits the ground by your feet, but you don't have time to look at it, because Anders is now swinging a punch towards you, which you don't notice fast enough. His fist lands on your cheekbone, pain exploding across your left cheek, knocking you off balance a little. 

Anders seizes the opportunity and reaches down for the object, which you now see is a syringe, and your panic sets in immediately after that. You lunge at him, a growl ripping from your throat, aware that you don’t want whatever is in that syringe to be put into your body. You collide with Anders, knocking him back and onto the ground, rolling over him as you land. You recover first, scrambling towards him and grabbing him by the front of his robes and punching him with your other hand, giving him a bruise to match the one he gave you. You hit him again, getting angrier as you realize that he brought you here just to take you out. 

But Anders recovers and blocks your next punch, sending one of his own into your stomach, making you double over in pain. He stands and kicks you backwards, one solid blow to the chest, sending you flying onto the ground before he drops on top of you and reaches for your throat. You reach for his face, clawing and scratching, trying to stop him, but his hands close around your neck, beginning to squeeze. Anders looks crazed, his bright blue eyes standing out against the blood on his face, brought to the surface by your nails, and his expression is wild with anger as he squeezes the air from your body.

Panic sets in when the black spots dance around the edge of your vision, and you fumble around, searching for anything to use as a weapon, but finding nothing. You start to feel the fight leave your body until your hand closes around a tube at your side, reminding you that your disciple helmet is still connected to your suit. You tug on the tube and bring the fallen helmet closer, knocked out of your hand in the scuffle, and your fingers close around the helmet with a flash of relief. You swing it towards Anders, using all of your strength to hit him in the side of the head, knocking him off of you in the process. 

He falls away from you and you roll to the side, gasping for air, drawing in long breaths as you suck oxygen back into your body at an alarming rate. You can hear Anders shift beside you, still conscious, and you roll over to your hands and knees and try to frantically crawl away, trying to give yourself enough space to recover and fight him off again. But Anders growls in anger and reaches out for you, his hand clasping around your ankle, trying to pull you back towards him. You feel your eyes go wide in alarm, the moment reminding you so much of the fight for your life in Shallow Valley, and just like then, you don't want to die. There is too much at stake, and you have to get out of here and save Hope and Clarke and the others, before it's too late.

As you slide back towards Anders, tugged by the ankle, a glint of something shiny catches your eye. You look over, your gaze falling on the fallen syringe, and you reach out for it, grabbing it while you still can. You pull it close to your body, gripping it tight and hovering your finger over the plunger, waiting for the right moment. Anders gives it to you when he flips you over, preparing to choke you again, but you never give him the chance. This time, you act first, and you plunge the syringe into his shoulder, pushing the liquid inside of him with your thumb, watching his eyes go wide with the realization of what you’ve done. His face contorts into one of fury, and he mutters, “You bitch.”

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him curse, and it’s alarming, if not a little funny, to hear the word come from his mouth. But it’s all he manages to say before his eyes flutter closed and he falls forward, right on top of you. You push him to the side, sliding out from beneath him, before pressing a finger to his neck as soon as you're free. Whatever you injected him with didn’t kill him, his heart still beating strong, so you can only guess that it just knocked him out for a little while. 

You stand and stare down at him, his clothes streaked with mud and grass, his perfect white robes no longer perfect. You consider leaving him right where he is, but start to worry that doing so might raise an alarm before you’re ready, so you ultimately decide to drag him off to the side, hiding him beneath a row of bushes. You quickly strip out of your disciple suit as well, leaving it discarded beside him, not wanting to run in the slightly stiff material, now comfortably dressed down in some Bardo leisurely clothes. And the last thing you do before you run off is bend down and tug your sock down, removing the necklace from around your ankle. You slide the ring off and move it to your finger before reattaching the necklace around your neck, letting the moon hang in full view.

You leave Anders and your suit behind as you run through the farm and back into the hallway. You move as fast as you can, headed straight for the cell block, checking every room once you arrive. You finally stumble upon something in the last room in the hall, a guard laying on a bed, stripped of her uniform, a stab wound on the back of her neck. But there is no sign of Hope or Echo, and you feel your panic start to rise again as you rack your brain on where they could be. Ultimately, you decide to check the Stone Room next, because if Echo is taking Hope away, you’re sure that’s the first place they’d go, and you can only pray you’ll find them there. On your way, as you’re running down the hall, you see a disciple walking towards you, dressed all in white, a machine gun in his hand. It takes a second for you to recognize him as Gabriel, and you smile and call out to him, “Gabriel!”

He looks up in surprise, clearly so lost in his own thoughts that he didn't even hear you coming, and he drops the gun before running towards you, the two of you colliding in a hug for the first time since you were dragged from your shared room. You're both laughing when you pull apart, and he’s looking at you with relief when he mutters, “I thought you were dead.”

“I thought you were dead. They refused to tell us where you were or how you were doing.”

He smiles, shaking his head in disbelief a little before a look of confusion passes over his face. “Wait, what are you doing here? Clarke was on her way to come see you.”

“Anders made me stay with him as insurance, and then he tried to drug me. I fought him off and used the syringe on him instead.”

“You fought off a level 12 when you’re only a level 2?” He reaches up to brush a finger over the symbols along your cheekbone and you roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, what are you?”

“A level 3.”

You scoff, “Diyoza, Octavia, Echo and I-”

And you cut yourself off as soon as you say Echo’s name, reminding yourself of your time sensitive mission. You look at Gabriel in alarm, and he shakes his head, growing concerned. “What?”

“Oh god, Echo and Hope. Hope failed and they sentenced her to five years on Penance. Echo bought in, she’s taking her to the Stone Room right now to send her away.”

You start to run off, trying to push past Gabriel, but he reaches out and grabs you, holding you still as he says, “No wait, cielito, I just came from the Stone Room, and I never saw either of them.”

You look at him in confusion, “Then where the hell are they?”

“I don’t know. I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on Cadogan, but I can come with you instead and help you find them.”

You shake your head, “No. We need eyes on Cadogan so we can keep the upper hand. You go, I’ll find Echo and Hope.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” You smile up at him, and he smiles back. 

“I’ll see you soon. Go find the others so we can get off this planet and go home.”

The two of you break apart, running in opposite directions now. You switch your destination from the Stone Room to the living quarters, hoping you can find them over there instead, looking for Clarke and the others. As you run down the hall towards Echo’s room, you can hear the sound of muffled yelling steadily growing louder. Confused, you slow down, following the sound as you reach a door in the middle of the hall. You hit the button, stepping inside tentatively, surprised to have your gaze fall on Levitt. He’s tied to a chair, his face bloodied and bruised, blood all over his white clothes, a gag tied around his mouth. You run over to him and yank the gag out, looking at him in confusion, “Levitt, what the hell happened?”

“Echo. She's getting revenge for Bellamy. She killed two people in front of me and I broke, I told her how to get the Gem 9.”

You give him a look of absolute panic. “Gem 9? As in the bio weapon that could wipe out this whole damn planet?”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

“Raven said Echo’s probably planning to use the central humidification system.” 

You look at him in surprise. “Raven was here? Was Clarke here too?”

“Yes, with Octavia, Hope, Diyoza, and Miller.” 

You start to back away, panicking at the thought of Echo preparing to kill all of you in a need for revenge. “I have to go.”

“Wait, don't leave me here!”

“There’s no time, Levitt!”

“Please!”

The pain and fear in his voice affects you, so you look around, trying to find a way to help him but still save the others. Your eyes fall to a knife sitting on his desk, and you grab it and toss it near his feet, meeting his eyes as it lands. “If you can get yourself out of this, consider yourself a Grounder.”

And before he can say anything else, you turn and run off, heading towards the machine level. You run as fast as you possibly can, your legs carrying you through Bardo at an alarming rate. As you draw closer to the machine level, you swear you hear voices, the hairs on the back of your neck lifting in a warning. You slow down a little, making your footsteps light enough to listen, but still moving fast enough so you don't lose any time. And as you listen, you recognize Clarke’s voice urging someone to move faster. You break into a run again, your feet pounding along the tiles as you move down the hall and round the corner, coming face to face with a large group of people. 

Every available weapon lifts towards you, ready to shoot you and take you down, until they catch sight of your face and freeze, looking at you in shock. Clarke pushes through the group and takes off running towards you, and you run down the hall towards her, the two of you colliding halfway in a hug that nearly knocks you over. You grip your twin with desperation, tears springing to your eyes as you hug her for the first time in over five years. An audible sob slips from your mouth, emotion squeezing your heart in your chest as you think of all the things you want to tell her, all the things you need to say, but your brain struggles to settle on one thing. Clarke beats you to it, her voice soft as she squeezes you and whispers, “I’m so sorry about Bellamy, la lune.”

And the comfort that you needed from her from the last five years, the comfort from someone who loves you and truly understands you, it’s enough to send you over the edge. Tears start rushing down your face as you grip your twin tighter, choking back, “I couldn't save him. I failed him.”

“No you didn't.” She pulls away to look at you, her expression serious. As she reaches up to wipe the tears from your face, her eyes land on the bruise forming along your cheek, something that clearly wasn't on your face the last time you saw her. She ignores it to whisper, “This is not your fault.”

You nod, willing yourself to believe her, reminding yourself to put the blame on the people that deserve it: the disciples. You look at Clarke, your mind shifting to your niece. “How’s Madi? Is she okay?”

“Yeah, she’s-” She doesn’t get to finish, because a series of beeps rings out in the small space, followed by Hope’s panicked voice. “We’re out of time!”

Clarke looks over in alarm, and unspoken, all of you break into a run again, tearing down the hall towards the humidification system, situated at the very end of the machine level. When you reach the door to the room, you can see Echo inside, standing over a pipe, a dropper in her hand, and as Raven struggles to get the door open, you yell out, “Echo, stop!”

She freezes and turns around in alarm, the door to the room finally sliding open, allowing all of you to spill inside. Echo glares at all of you before directing her anger at Hope. “You were supposed to get them out!”

Octavia steps forward, defending Hope. “It's not her fault, we wouldn't leave without you, Echo. You don't have to do this. I get it, everything they took from you they took from me too, but there are good people here.”

“Who? Levitt?” She gives Octavia an incredulous look. “The man who stole your memories and gave them to the enemy? Who stole la lune’s memories and gave them to the enemy? All of this happened because of him. Way to honor your brother's memory.”

Clarke steps in next, taking a few steps ahead of you to stand beside Octavia. “Echo, this is not who you are. I know you think this is the right thing to do, but trust me, it's not. Grief is something we can learn to live with, but once you make a choice like this, it stays with you.”

You know she’s thinking of Mount Weather, of the genocide that has stayed with you, her, and Bellamy since you pulled that lever. It had such a profound impact on all of you, and despite doing it to save those you love, you’re not sure any of you would do it again, if given the option. Which is why preventing this genocide right now is important. But Echo fails to see the comparison between the two, practically rolling her eyes at Clarke. “This is nothing like the choices you make, Clarke. You take lives to save the people you love. This is vengeance, pure and simple.”

You step forward now, joining Octavia and Clarke near the front, Echo’s gaze shifting towards you. You shake your head, disapproving, and her face falls a little. “Echo, this is not what Bellamy would have wanted.”

“If they killed you or Octavia or Clarke, he would be standing right where I am! Three months ago, when you found out he was dead, I saw how that crushed you, I felt how it crushed me. And in that moment, I made a promise to myself that Bardo would pay for what they did to all of us. I’m doing this because it’s what we should have done from the beginning, and I know that none of you have the strength to do this. I'm doing this for you.”

“I love Bellamy with all that I am, but this is not how we should honor his memory. This is not how I want to honor his memory. I don't want you to do this Echo, not for me, or Bellamy, or any of us. There are good people here, innocent people, and they shouldn't die for something they had no control over.”

“Good people?” She scoffs and shakes her head at you. “How’d you get the bruise, la lune? Because you were fine when we separated in the hall.”

You look at Clarke, silently asking for help, aware that your answer is only going to fuel Echo’s anger, but Clarke isn't the one to speak up next, Raven is. She moves closer, her voice soft as she pleads, “Echo, you're my sister, and my sister wouldn't do this.”

Echo starts to cry, shaking her head as she fights off her tears, the decision already weighing heavily on her. “You're wrong.”

Raven stands firm, not backing down. “I'm not leaving, Echo. If you drop that, I am staying right here. You will have to kill me too.”

You step towards Raven, drawing Echo’s gaze. “And me.”

Echo looks between you both, her emotions warring inside of her, threatening to take over, and you all stand watching with bated breath, panicked on what emotion will win. There’s a sense of relief when a sob bursts free from her, and Raven steps forward and wraps Echo in her arms, whispering in her ear to comfort her. “It's okay. It's okay. We're here now.”

Diyoza walks over and slowly slips the Gem 9 from Echo’s grip, holding it carefully as you all watch Raven and Echo hug each other, thankful that Echo’s love for all of you is enough to stop her revenge. Clarke reaches out for your hand, holding it tight in her grip as you both watch, tears springing to your eyes again as Raven whispers, “We're gonna go home.”

“Good choice.” All of you turn towards the door in surprise, greeted by Anders, a glare on his face, his clothes still stained. He’s wiped most of the blood from his face, but the scratches remain visible on his skin, the bruise along his cheek already darkening, and there’s a knot forming on the side of his head where you hit him with the helmet. 

Clarke steps forward, her hand still holding your own, her voice angry and commanding. “We had a deal. I told Cadogan if I saw any of you, I wouldn't help him.”

“That was before one of you tried to kill me.” He turns to glare at you, and you glare back, both of you knowing damn well that’s not what happened. He turns to Echo, adding, “And before we knew that one of you killed three more of us, torturing another just to get him to give you a weapon with which to commit genocide.”

“The man makes a good point.” Diyoza steps forward, holding out her hand, offering him the unused Gem 9. “Let's call it even.”

“Even?” He takes the Gem 9 from her as he looks you all over. “I just told you three disciples are dead. You people disgust me. Look at yourselves: raised in the wild.”

He looks at you, and you feel yourself start to grow angry as he confirms what you already knew: that he thinks he's better than all of you. More civilized. “You're nothing but primal beasts, utterly in thrall to your feelings, prioritizing the want of self over the need of all others. You don't deserve the Shepherd's mercy.”

Miller lifts his gun and counters, “Brave words coming from a man standing alone in front of a pack of armed beasts.”

You shake your head, your eyes never leaving Anders. “He's not alone.”

Despite his anger with you, his admiration shines through as he smiles at you. “Smart girl.”

On cue, the disciples behind him leave ghost mode, four of them now visible and aiming weapons at all of you. Clarke, Raven, and Miller all react and lift their weapons, aiming them at the disciples who are aiming at all of you. Diyoza raises her voice to be heard over everyone’s panic. “Probably not a good idea to fire lasers in a room with a WMD.”

Everyone calms a fraction of an inch before Diyoza steps closer to Anders, giving him a small smile. “Let's get back to the Shepherd's mercy.”

“Echo will be sent to Penance for 20 years, but she'll be back before you know it. Unless by then, the code hasn't been entered to begin the Last War. In which case, she dies there.”

Hope snaps, “I have a better idea. You die here.”

Before any of you can react, Hope steps forward, a knife sliding out of her sleeve to slash Anders’ neck. In surprise, he immediately drops the Gem 9, which all of you lunge for, not wanting to crystallize to death. But Hope grabs it first, turning to run back towards the pipes, all of you turning to watch her in shock. None of you can grab her as she runs past, but Diyoza is right behind her, and as Hope squeezes one drop of Gem 9 into the water supply, you watch in shock as Diyoza reaches out to catch the drop before it can fall into the water. She immediately closes the door to the water supply, and you all run towards Diyoza in surprise, her hand already beginning to crystallize. Hope stares at her mother in shock before she screams, “No, Mom! No!”

“Get her out of here!”

You and Octavia heed Diyoza’s request and rush towards Hope, both of you grabbing one of her arms before you pull her back towards the door. Hope fights against you both, kicking and screaming, and Octavia yells to be heard over her, “Hope, it's too late!”

“No! No, Mom! No!”

Everyone else in the room is frozen in shock, and as Diyoza’s arm turns to crystal in a matter of seconds, she looks over everyone and yells out, “What are you all waiting for? Move! Go!”

The disciples leave the room first, Miller, Raven, Echo, and Clarke behind them as you and Octavia struggle to drag Hope out of the room. She fights hard against you both, you and Octavia using all of your strength to pull her past Anders’ dead body, the crystal now rapidly covering Diyoza’s body and beginning to climb up the walls around you. Hope screams as she watches her mother be engulfed, “I can't lose her, not again!”

“Hope, we have no choice!”

You turn to look at the door, nearly there now, the crystal rapidly closing in on all of you, and Diyoza watches on, the crystal climbing up her neck and spreading across her face. “Don't waste this, little one! Be better than me.”

Hope sobs as the crystal completely engulfs her mother’s face, no part of Diyoza visible any longer, and you and Octavia drag Hope through the door, yelling, “Get the door!”

Someone hits the button, the door sliding closed in front of you, cutting off Hope’s access to her mother. She pulls herself free from yours and Octavia’s grip and jumps against the door, sob after sob tearing from her throat. “Mom! Mom!”

And there's nothing that any of you can do except watch on as the crystals spread from Diyoza and take over Anders, spidering out into the air and along the walls, all of you safely on the other side, thanks to Diyoza’s sacrifice.

You watch on, crying as you and Octavia struggle to comfort Hope, another person taken from you on Bardo.

Part of you wishes you hadn’t stopped Echo, and that you crystallized the whole planet before escaping back to Sanctum.

But the rest of you knows that another genocide isn’t the answer. As much as you hate Bardo and the disciples and the Shepherd, there are innocent people here, and killing them, repeating the sins of your past, won’t fix any of the hurt that’s been done to you. 

It won’t bring back Bellamy.

It won’t bring back Diyoza.

It won’t bring back the part of you that died with your fiance. The dreams and memories that left when he did, all the hopes you had for your shared future together. No, a genocide won’t bring any of that back.

Unfortunately, knowing that doesn't make the loss any easier. Which is why you cry alongside the others, mourning the loss of the Navy SEAL turned terrorist turned freedom fighter turned Eligius prisoner turned mother. A woman that came into your life as an enemy, but left your life as a friend.

-

next chapter

[mallowstep]

The fact that tiger calls her golden flower...like I ain’t even read the thing but that has me feeling Some type of way....obvs Goldens better off away from him but like, what does Tiger...think/feel idk about her/the situation, if you’ve given it any thought? I’m super curious

i have given it all thought lovely anon.

okay, we're going to put this under a cut.

cw: sexual assault, child abuse, abuser's pov of abuse

ohh i accidentally took a dose of my meds too early i can Feel it that's fine this is fine sorry if i ramble a lot i am Wired.

tigerstar is a fundamentally terrible person. while i have his rationale for basically everything he does, please forgive me for not going in-depth into his perspective. it's not something i generally like doing, and i've already given myself enough tawny fics to indulge that side of this au.

anyway, we're still going to talk about it. just. from a more analytical pov. probably., i don't know. i told you i am Wired. i am. trying to stay on topic instead of rambling about reward centres.

anyway.

tigerstar! goldenflower! okay so. anon ik u said u haven't read mistyfoot's fic, so i'll try to be good and provide good examples. so basically, tigerstar alternates between being angry at mistyfoot and...almost treating her like a mate?

and there's uh. we'll focus on the mates thing for this because the anger thing is a whole different topic. all quotes i'm going to use come from "the blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine," for personal reasons i don't feel comfortable directly linking to it, so you can find it on my ao3. (should be a link on my pinned post, about page, sidebar, etc. there are like 14 links because self Promotion.)

okay so like. misty's first interation with tigerstar and he calls her brave and noble. there's. a lot i could unpack but i'm trying to get to the goldenflower thing. so i'm going to move on, his second significant interaction is:

"With who?" Tigerstar says. His tail flicks to her chin. The sudden gesture of kindness startles her. "Besides, Mistyfoot. If you want to help your Clan so badly, there are better ways you can help."

which ooh boy the tangent cannot be avoided. so okay tigerstar wants power, yeah?

and the thing is, any she-cat can have a position of power he's completely limited from. which is why he manipulates mistyfoot using that, it's a power trip, it's taking that position away from her.

but the reason he fixates so heavily on this is because of...

goldenflower.

he leaves his kits with her because he has no authority over her. or them. my world does not have paternity rights lmao. sorry. different not better.

but that's, uh. yeah wow. he's doing a Lot with that re goldenflower if you want to analyze it from that pov, which we do. goldenflower is a queen, right? we've never seen her to have an apprentice. while i like giving her apprentices, holding to canon here and say, she probably hasn't.

and that's. tigerstar is. he's putting mistyfoot into a similar position as goldenflower so that he can this time have control over the situation.

(maybe that's what he would've done with the kits. take them away from mistyfoot. because he has the power this time. or force her to raise them, knowing that he's going to turn them against her. i don't know. there's a Lot he could have done.)

anyway, so yeah! that's his first interaction. and he's already putting pressure on mistyfoot's value as a queen.

they have some more interactions, but let's jump ahead to

"It's alright," he whispers, like she did not watch him tear Featherpaw open. He wraps his tail around her, pulling her in like he could comfort her, like Featherpaw's blood does not coat his claws.

what's up with this? well, it has a lot to do with how i view goldenflower and tigerclaw's relationship. he's trying to...do a lot. there's a power trip in this, there's a "if i force her to do it enough, maybe she'll do it naturally," there's a lot. and you wouldn't know unless i told you, so you can freely dota, but this is. tigerstar is puling on what his relationship with goldenflower was like. (from his pov.)

and the thing is it works. i'm skipping past some stuff i may or may not circle back to, but it works. i mean it does and it doesn't. it does the way abuse does.

She'd be ashamed of how grateful she was, of how she purred in front of him, of how she didn't even flinch when he ran his temple against her, but none of that matters, not if Featherpaw can eat.

like. god.

so uh. that's a thing.

i was talking on discord about how. tigerstar makes mistyfoot's treatment excruciatingly public for her. and part of his reasoning for this is that goldenflower rejected him. he's a fucked up man.

"reasoning" well it's not, he's not aware of this. but let us...

so there's a scene (before the last excerpt, but after "it's alright"), where it snows overnight. mistyfoot is in tigerstar's den (implied to be overnight), and so he says, "well! sucks to suck, you can't see featherpaw bc of all that snow." basically. and she...

"Please?" she asks, trying not to feel sick when she brushes her temple against his shoulder.

yeah. and he's like, "well, fine, but i'm going to make you walk through all of the snow that like comes up to your back because we are cats, even though you could walk straight across camp where the snow is packed down."

but the thing is, mistyfoot, just like goldenflower, chooses her kit over tigerstar, and he's pissed about that. he...well he's not thinking rationally here, but. this is kind of...so he's forcibly pushing featherpaw and mistyfoot into this isolated relationship where they have no one else, so that mistyfoot will do Anything for featherpaw. that's how he gets mistyfoot's obediance. we see this in one of the earlier scenes:

"Featherpaw isn't well, is she?" he asks. "Mudfur keeps trying to see her, but the guards don't let him in." His whiskers twitch, like this is all a game. "But you know, Mistyfoot. If you were good, if you'd just behave, I think I wouldn't have to worry so much about the guard. And you're always so good when it comes to Featherpaw."

where she's not doing what he wants, and he says this, and he does.

but tigerstar is not a person who loves. so i think he just. doesn't know that when mistyfoot would do anything for featherpaw, she would do anything for featherpaw. she would walk around camp while all of tigerclan watches and mocks her to see featherpaw and know that featherpaw is okay. without a second thought.

and that angers him. because she's not supposed to do that. she is supposed to do what he wants. because it benefits her by benefitting fetherpaw. so he just does not understand their relationship.

and so when mistyfoot chooses to leave him, just like goldenflower, his ability to play house with her is broken. and we get this:

Even with his permission, she is punished for leaving him. Tigerstar barely gives her half a day with Featherpaw before he drags her out again.

and this is another scene where we see that mistyfoot would do anything for featherpaw, because

(He leaves her in the snow until her paws go numb, and she watches as Darkstripe walks Featherpaw to the center of camp. She raises her head, trying to get her apprentice's attention, because even if she must look miserable — at least Featherpaw would know she was trying.

and mistyfoot spends a lot of her fic not acknowledging what's going on. she pretends that featherpaw doesn't know because. it's easier that way. but here, she's wiling to shatter that whole illusion just so that featherpaw knows mistyfoot hasn't abandoned her, that mistyfoot is trying to get back to her.

mistyfoot is in pretty terrible shape here, too. i chose not to state exactly how she's positioned in this scene, but. the intention is not just that the snow itself is cold, but that he's once again humiliating her.

tigerstar. buddy. you don't fucking get it.

mistyfoot doesn't care what you do to her. she will always be trying to get back to featherpaw. everything she does is for featherpaw, not for herself.

(which, aside, but this is not lost on featherpaw. she knows what mistyfoot does for her. some things she doesn't (notably, she's not aware that mistyfoot's demeanour is tied to featherpaw's access to medical care), but she's still deeply aware of this.)

so. anyway. tigerstar punishes mistyfoot for choosing featherpaw over him, and in the middle of that punishment, she once again chooses featherpaw over him.

(no wonder goldenflower didn't want to go with you dude.)

and so he punishes featherpaw, because that's what works. he does a lot of terrible things to mistyfoot, and all that happens is that she fights back. but when he hurts featherpaw, she concedes instantly.

he doesn't get it, he doesn't understand why it's like that, but he doesn't need to in order to manipulate her.

so after this, there's a lot of scenes. but just because you haven't read it, here's mistyfoot coming out and saying what i've just been explaining:

(She can't force herself to be willing be compliant be good and her consolation is that Tigerstar doesn't bring Featherpaw forward to be punished, that he digs his claws in her legs and his teeth in her scruff and it doesn't matter, not if Featherpaw is safe.)

and there's stuff, there's always stuff, but featherpaw's health goes into sharp decline, there's another defying tigerstar scene but it's for a different reason, and then we get to goldenflower moment.

so featherpaw sleeps On Top Of Mistyfoot, for reasons that aren't relevant. but there comes a point where blackfoot comes to bring mistyfoot to tigerstar, and featherpaw is asleep, and we get this moment of defiance:

Blackfoot comes for her when Featherpaw is still asleep. She needs every scrap of it she can get, and Mistyfoot waits until Blackfoot snaps at her for wasting time to rouse her.

but tigerstar finally gets what he wants, because when blackfoot forces the issue, mistyfoot leaves. and from his pov, mistyfoot doesn't even say goodbye to featherpaw.

(she does. it's not directly stated anywhere, but mistyfoot and featherpaw have some very strong nonverbal communication. this is the scene that sets it up, actually, where mistyfoot says goodbye without looking back.)

so from tiger's pov, he's finally gotten mistyfoot to choose him, and this is when

(He calls her Goldenflower, and even he seems surprised by the name.)

happens, and it's when tigerstar finally realizes what's going on.

<3

[livvywrites]

🪡 for aishlynn and tali

thank you for giving me the opportunity to talk about Them bc i love their dynamic SO MUCH. they're one of my faves, honestly (all of my character dynamics are fun to me! but there's something about this one that just. Gets Me.)

'cause like

u have aishlynn, right? and outside of like. certain arranged settings with clear etiquette, aishlynn Does Not know what to do with people. she does not Get them. she misses social cues, subtext, hints, etc. slang often passes over her head. (in modern times, she would have No Idea what a meme was even without the age difference!) she's just. awkward. a bean. she sticks her nose in a book and pretends the rest of the world doesn't exist because that's easier. because she cant do the wrong thing if she just... doesn't participate.

and then u have talitha. talitha, much like aishlynn, is an odd duck. she's loud. she's, and i say this with fondness, really fucking annoying. she's smart & she doesn't like pretending otherwise. her brain moves faster than her mouth does (which is a feat) and she often makes connections between things that don't make sense to people outside of her head.

and then you have the two of them together.

& they MET at a meeting tali wasn't even supposed to be at. like. her brother in law was the one with the invite, but she was like. "no this is sketchy af, i'm going too". and then she got there and was like "oh okay, this is a good cause. here's how i can improve it." & aishlynn was understandably pissed that some stranger just came in there and steamrolled over her carefully calculated meeting w/ a clear script.

& then they kept butting heads.

and like. it took a while for them to start listening to each other. i think it was after aishlynn almost died, and after talitha's family DID die---though it may have been before the latter? the timeline is fuzzy :p it takes several missions of being forced to work together & the other's plans working out despite initial doubts, and also having to make plans together despite opposing styles.

but they do start listening to each other, and finding that the other has valuable things to say, and contributions to make. both of them are capable, & they come to a mutual understanding and even respect.

and they still argue. talitha thinks arguing is fun & aishlynn appreciates being around someone who doesn't flinch if her tone is a little too sharp, her comments too barbed. who thinks its GREAT, actually. they have to learn each other's boundaries; what things they can poke at and what they can't and in the end---

they Get each other, in this weird, argumentative way.

no one else really understands it, tbh, bc like. 90% of the time they DO sound like they hate each other but like. thats how they show affection, and somehow it works for them. they also do have like. emotional / vulnerable moments in private??? i've written about one of them before. but that's between them & the gods :P

anyway

the point is i love them, thank u for letting me rant about them

[ send me a 🪡 (threaded needle) and i will tell u about some of my character dynamics ]