#especially since out of all of them he'd make the most comparisons between this ''new optimus'' and orion

[transingthoseformers]

I forget sometimes that by the point in the timeline we're in for the tfp au, which is somewhere from one month to four after the orion arc i suppose, the autobot elite triad and their dinky little ship is somewhere. And Pharma manifested at some point, and I don't quite know how yet thus the term manifested. Motherfucker likes to just //appear// i guess (and that's kinda canon)

When i say dinky little ship i don't mean the Jackhammer, i mean something that everyone questions how it even was able to survive the atmosphere lol.

[skylermadness]

Cosmic Adoration (Ophion TF/PMC)

(Original Date of Upload: February 14, 2024)

Hey look, I'm uploading something in the same day it gets uploaded on my other accounts. Woah.

Original Description:

Happy Valentine's Day! I've sort of become infrequent when it comes to holiday-themed TFs, but this was actually a story I've wanted to write out for a long time! Quite literally since I started writing it back in January of last year before getting burnt out and never finishing it... until now, anyway. Now I have it done and I can upload it publicly for all to see! I'm quite proud of how this turned out. I typically don't deal in PMC but I feel like that would have been the best route to take this story, and full MC would have tarnished what little themes I was trying to convey with this.  I don't think I have much commentary besides all of that though. I guess I could mention there was going to be a reality change segment in the furthest end of the post-TF, but with how I led that segment of the story along I couldn't really fit it in without it feeling needless and awkward.

   Valentine's Day.

   Initially the very concept of the holiday had eluded Hugo for a good chunk of his life. This had mainly been because he had trouble discerning the purpose of the holiday. Why did such a holiday need to exist to celebrate love? Especially when such a thing could be celebrated on any day of the year. To him, at least originally, it was just a way for stores to boost sales. The most he'd usually acknowledge is the price drops of confectionaries after and that was it. So as far as he cared the holiday was nigh-nonexistent…

   That pattern of thought lasted for about twenty-five years. Then he met… Jace…

   Dating had always been outside of Hugo’s range of social skills. He had originally thought himself as never really feeling the desire for it. He was content with being single, or at least he tried to tell himself that as to avoid confronting any weird feelings he might have. This thought pattern had quickly changed over the past ten months however, and it was all thanks to the introduction of his boyfriend into his life.

   It was… strange, really. Having first fallen in love all that time ago. Was it love at first sight, or was it gradual…? Hugo had originally just been sitting in a coffee shop waiting for his order before going to work, but had encountered Jace after they seemed to recognize him as someone whom he shared a few high school classes with so many years ago. He'd be lying if he said he knew what the guy was talking about, but the thought of being recognized so randomly was quite pleasant.

   Their encounters at that shop became frequent, almost weekly. Casual talks about life between the two, sharing their interests and enjoyments to one another. Admittedly Hugo had been the more reserved one of the two, but he always enjoyed listening to Jace talk about their own life. He loved hearing his voice, he loved hearing him speak so passionately about things, he loved… him…

   It was definitely a little awkward whispering those very words beneath a breath while in mid-conversation. And even more so when they decided to take things outside and less public so they could talk it out. That awkwardness had quickly faded though, their conversation shifting more into the hypotheticals of dating each other. It was silly and lifted Hugo's spirits up a bit after what he felt like was one big act of making a fool of himself.

   Then Jace said he would like to date.

   Hugo was surprised, stuttering and sweating and being filled with complete and utter confusion. Jace then gave him a small kiss on the cheek, the man's mustache ticking the skin and making Hugo feel even more flustered. 

   That was enough to settle everything though. They were officially getting together… but now Hugo had a new problem.

   It's been ten months of them dating now and he felt… inadequate? He always felt like his way of expressing love was lackluster in comparison to Jace's. Jace was the more expressive and outgoing one of the two, meanwhile Hugo always had trouble trying to properly express his own emotions in a way that didn't sound like he was forcing it out of himself. He just always had trouble trying to say things properly. Trying to determine what to say, what to do. Was he romantic enough? Was he receiving without giving back in a perfectly equal amount? Of course Jace had been left unaware of these concerns. Hugo had chosen not to tell these fears to them, which in truth might not be a good idea…

   He shook his head, then whispered to himself. "Why am I such a mess…"

   Realizing he had his head down in thought the whole time, Hugo raised it and looked forward. He was currently walking down the sidewalk of the city's shopping district. It was currently February 13th, the eve of Valentine's Day, and Hugo had decided that with the day of celebrating love fast approaching he should do something for it. It wouldn't necessarily be something grand, but he at least wanted to give his boyfriend something that would commemorate his own love for them.

   That's easier said than done though. Fortunately Hugo had a plan! He was on this particular street for a reason, to visit an antique's store and locate something of value there that would be enough to encapsulate his passion. Unfortunately, that was also easier said than done. He wasn't even sure he'd find something there, especially considering how… odd the wares seemed to be, at least just by a casual glance at the store's website.

   Still, it was an adequate starting point. His steps began to slow as his peripherals caught onto the deep brown wood of a building. Hugo turned, gazing into the windows and finding shelves lined with various peculiar objects. Too many to discern properly. He lifted his head for one final check, staring up at the letting that spelled out the store's name.

   Maurice's Audacious Antiques. The very place he was looking for. Perfect…

   A bell above the door silently rang as the young man walked in and the wooden floorboards softly creaked beneath the new weight introduced upon them. The place had an odd and comfy feel to it. Hugo would describe it as cabin in the woods-type vibes. And considering the rusting of the shelves to his left, this place definitely has age to it.

   His eyes then caught a singular person here. To the right, behind a counter was a rotund man with a balding head and a thick, tied up beard. His head constantly went back and forth between two objects, a laptop and a notebook with poorly scrawled wording in it, while mumbling random things that Hugo couldn't discern. Hugo took a few steps forward before he was in front of the counter, the younger man noting that the older one hadn't seemed to notice him yet.

   "Uh, hi…?"

   The burly bear of a man raised upwards with his eyes wide, sharply inhaling. "Got damn, ya' startled me!"

   Hugo rubbed the back of his head nervously. "Sorry about that… sir?"

   The man's face suddenly shifted from startled to smiling. "No need fer formal'ties! Jus' call me Maurice!"

   "Er, right. I just uh, came here to…" Hugo started to trail off. Should he say the reason why he's even here? Will it even help?

   Maurice raised a brow. "Ya' alright, son?"

   Hugo blinked a few times, then swallowed the forming lump in his throat. "I-I'm fine! I just uh, wanted to find a��� gift for someone close to me."

   The older man nodded, stroking his beard in thought. Silence filled the space between the two for a few seconds before one of them spoke again. 

   "Don' think I've gott'n a reques' like that before. Ya might be able to find somethin' in one a' the furth'r shelves though. They have all kindsa trinkets 'n knick-knacks." Maurice advised. He then repositioned his hand to lean his head on its palm. "With our recent batch a' stuff, ya' should find somethin' you like!"

   Hugo nodded in response. "Th-thank you… Maurice-"

   He turned around and went to the area he was advised to go to. The store's amount of stock was unimpressive with only a single row of five shelves filed one after another, but he had settled on checking the fourth one for anything interesting. It looked like it had small stuff in it after all. Although he was a little curious about the store owner's usage of should and would. It felt like they didn't know their own stock. They tried to ignore that though. They had to focus on finding a gift for Jace.

   It was now that Hugo truly saw how strange the objects on these shelves seemed to be though.

   Some seemed pretty normal. A few intricately designed rings, sets of jeweled earrings, and weird looking necklaces with a design-scheme that felt expensive to look at. However, oddities seemed to pop up left and right. A red, glass-looking orb; sitting beside it was a blue orb with gold metal zigzagging across the middle. Some weird sharp pen-looking thing, a golden chalice of some kind, and… was that a marble pauldron???

   "This is so weird…" Hugo whispered to himself. 

   Finding a gift was already hard enough, but the pure absurdity here made things feel more challenging than they needed to be. At least finding something perfect was a non-issue. He casually picked up one of the many spheres, one that looked like it contained an entire galaxy inside, and stared at it in utter confusion. 

   He whispered again, "What is your purpose??" while pushing his face close to the object. He then set it down again, suddenly worried that he might break it.

   "This isn't going to work…" he sighed, slowly stepping closer to the shelf's end and the window beside it. He sounded off more objects in his head as he continued forward. Weird blue crystal, a pair of sunglasses, a censor thing, some kind of… cap??

   For an antiques store all of this felt absurd-

   His confusion was momentarily broken as the peripheral of his eye caught onto something glistening. He turned his head to look and found… another necklace? A fairly simple one at that. It was a single golden string with a white elliptoid object on it. For some reason he felt compelled to pick it up, gently cupping the elliptoid and putting it in his hand.

   "What is this…" he asked himself, lifting his hand towards his face a little. The elliptoid looked almost like an egg. Its shell was adorned with beautifully designed spirals, rigid enough that rubbing a thumb over it allowed him to feel them out a little. It felt nice. Nice and warm. He wasn't sure why it was warm, probably because of the sunlight, but it was oddly calming to him.

   "It does look pretty neat," he said with a smile. His mind was wracking over all the possible representations this single object could hold. The warmth he feels around Jace, the way they have slowly have made him try to come out of his shell, the newness he felt upon realizing his love for them. A small laugh escaped his throat. All of those sound so cheesy, damn. But… they're the truth, are they not? 

   It feels so embarrassing though. His smile falters, his emotions dimming. What if it's too cheesy though? What if it comes out horribly and he makes a fool of himself in front of Jace? Damn it, damn it, damn it, he felt so fucking stupid!!

   He sighs. "I-I'm overthinking this, I have to… I have to calm down. I just…" he looked out the window, sighing. "I just wish I could better show my feelings…"

   Right as these words left his mouth the egg on the necklace began to glow. Bright gold shone from the unknown material, the object slowly shaking as it seemed to move closer to him. Hugo had felt the object moving in his hands and looked towards it, but barely got any time to process it as the object practically flung out of his hand and around his neck.

   "Wh-what the hell-" he exclaimed, feeling a tickling around his neck as the string tied around it. He reached up both hands to try and grasp the mysterious egg-like object and pull it off. However, the moment his palm made contact with it he felt an intense warmth run throughout his entire body. He took a few steps back, bumping into the shelf behind him, as an intense golden glow entered his irises.

   "What is… hhhaaa…."

   A hand opened, fingers unfurling away from the elliptoid as they began to twitch. A strange energy was filling his body, coursing through it painlessly and warming it to a strangely comforting degree. All the while strange changes was beginning to form into his form.

   His hands were the part of his body that first made contact with the necklace, which meant they were the first to have begun their transformation. As Hugo's fingers twitched his nails began to lengthen. They grew longer, the tips getting sharper and curling as if they were becoming claws. Their translucency was lost as they gained a golden tone as well. The skin on his hands started to lighten, a cream color entering them as the softness hardened. A leathery texture had steadily etched into them while their composition became less fleshy and more scaly.

   As the cream-colored scales started to form across his hands, their size was beginning to increase as well. Both hands had stretched out to become larger and thicker. His fingers were getting plumper and meatier. As his hands got larger in size he gripped both of them into fists, his knuckles proceeding to ache for a moment before short, sharp golden spikes erupted from beneath the scales.

   The scales quickly started to move upwards to his wrists and forearms. The area increased in size to match the proportions of his hands. However, this new enlargement had also been due to a gain in muscle mass. Comforting heat surging into his forearm muscles as they began to gain bulk. At the same time the coloration of his scales had steadily shifted, hue changing from its soft cream to a brilliant gold. All the while more short golden spikes erupted from the back of his forearms at evenly spaced intervals before seemingly ending at his elbow.

   His elbows got larger, the scales rapidly transitioning to his upper arm and running beneath the short sleeves of his polo shirt. The sleeves proceeded to constrict, his muscles now bloating beneath the lustrous scurf he was gaining. His biceps bulged beneath the fabric to a quickly noticeable degree. His triceps mirrored those changes as well, Hugo's once skinny arms now having been mostly consumed by his newfound musculature. Rips started to form within the fabric of his sleeves as his delts ballooned, his shoulders widening drastically as everything soon began to flow into his body proper.

   Hugo leaned on a shelf, breathing deeply as he stared down at a hand. His mind was feeling… conflicted, to say the least. A fraction of him wanted to be afraid, wanted to attempt to pry off this necklace from his neck. His other arm was slowly raising itself up to fulfill that desire. But his fingers that were slowly curling around the elliptoid never closed the gaps between them.

   There was still another fraction of his mind. Curiosity as to what was going on, as to what this object was doing to him. A strange desire to let that curiosity flourish and let these changes progress. What was happening to him, why was it happening?

   His breathing slowed just slightly. "What does this necklace want to do to me!?"

   It had to be the necklace's will after all. Such a thought felt so absurd, but in the back of his head he felt it was correct to assume to.

   A sharp exhale exited his mouth as he felt a sharp heat enter his torso for a second. His shirt began constricting even more as he felt his own collar bone widen, his entire frame being made more wide and broad. The one button of his polo he had fastened started straining as a result, his frame clearly getting larger than his shirt had been accustomed too. Shortly after that the comforting warmth entered his torso as well. The light of the necklace's egg glowed brighter for a moment, Hugo beginning to feel a strange feeling well up inside him as it did so.

   As the scales started to converge on his chest their color lightened back to its previous cream tone. Meanwhile, his chest began to swell in size. His pectorals got larger and rounder, packing on mass at a steady rate as his polo filled out more and more. It wasn't long until their thickening pressed up against his shirt, steadily testing its limits each passing second as his cleavage got deeper and more visible within the fabric. The new roundness of his pectorals were quite visible in general. The one fastened button of his shirt would suddenly pop off, unable to hold itself against the slabs of meat that were now his pecs.

   Meanwhile the changes were running down his back as well. The back of his shirt was tightening as his trapezius muscles broadened and enlarged. A sudden surge zipped down his spine, the vertebrae decompressing and getting thicker steadily forcing his height to increase by a few inches over the course of the next few minutes. But the strongest feeling was in two points of his upper back, a massive pressure slowly mounting into them. Two bumps slowly rising from the skin-turning-scales, hard spikes emerging from those bumps and beginning to poke holes in the fabric of his shirt. This pressure only seemed to increase as time went on, Hugo stumbling forward a bit and hunching. He gripped his abdomen with his left arm while he grasped onto a shelf with his right, the sound of metal crunching piercing the air thanks to the strength of his grip and sharpness of his claws. 

   Hugo practically growled at the mix of senses he was enduring right now. "F-fucking hell-" his voice cracks slightly, sounding slightly deeper as it crackles. "W-where'd that comfort go…"

   The warmth he was looking for still remained, albeit now drowned out by the insurmountable pressure in his back.

   His abdomen started to churn, the region rippling as his entire lower half was consumed by scales. Hardened slabs of muscles arose from the area, abs pushing forward row by row. His shirt was riding up his belly during the process, his new muscles being granted increasingly better visible. It wasn't long until a solid eight-pack of abs formed. An even stranger addition occurred in his abdominal as well, golden gemstones formed on the perpendicular folds of his muscles: a massive diamond-shaped one at the bottom of his pectoral cleavage, a smaller one at the base of his first row of abs, and the smallest at the base of the second row. 

   Beneath a hand he felt his side getting indented as well, the muscles in his obliques shifting and gaining in muscularity, strengthening as his chest was barrelling out. All these changes tightened his polo shirt to an even stronger degree, the threads on his sides unstitching due his much larger body size. The size of his newly formed muscles had resulted in the crevices his muscles had produced being visible from indents in the fabric. Due to his increasing height the hem of his shirt continued to rise even more as well.

   By this point, the holes in the back of his shirt has been stretched even larger by the formulating spikes. Although at this point the spikes had grown larger enough to prove themselves as the pointed ends of an external bone growth. This growth had continued to extend and expand, a pair of large triangular bulges swelling up at his back. Pressure just continued to build up as these bulges got larger and larger. More and more of the back of his shirt continued to tear, and the bulges gained more and more definition in their shape to point that they were proven to be more than just bulging scaley growths. But after a few more seconds of pressure building, everything came to one big feeling of relief.

   “GGRRRAAAAGHHHH!!!” Hugo roared, the sound of splitting fabric piercing the air as his back was finally granted escape from its discomfort. What had emerged from the region was a pair of magnificent wings. They were draconic in appearance with the flesh and membranes possessing the same golden scales that the rest of his body had formed. Furthermore his newly developed wingspan was noticeably large, and as the new appendages curled into themselves it became evident that the fingers of his wings were long enough to descend down to the ground. 

   The young man could feel the heat of his blood pumping through the newly emerged wings. Strange tingles and sensations coursed through his nervous system as his brain was forced to get accustomed to them, and in truth he could feel his muscle memory rapidly getting used to having them there. Once all the pressure and tightness had subsided, Hugo shakily straightened his back and looked behind him.

   “These… things…” he stated, his voice continuing to deepen in tone as he spoke. Like the feel of something commanding was seeping into it. “Why does… having them feel so… nice…?”

   Finally unhanding the shelf in front of him, he moves a hand over to give his new wings a gentle caress. That desire to be afraid had been dispelled now, the man filled with a feel of familiarity at the sight instead. These wings were his, and this body…

   This body is yours, a stray thought pierces his brain. The Celestial Egg is granting what you desire…

   Hugo blinked a few times at the thought, and the pupils of his eyes seemed to get thinner which each blink. He then stops caressing the wing and pulls his hand over to rub a thumb on the egg that adorned the necklace.

   “The Celestial Egg…” he whispered, the meekness of his earlier tone of voice almost completely replaced by an almost deific level of deepness. Meanwhile his mind dwells on the object and thinks about what it's done, what it's doing to him, and as he does so he feels a tinge of pressure at the base of his spine. 

   Instead of sitting around waiting for what he knew was about to explode from his body, he decided to just move his other arm behind him so he could push down the back of his pants a bit. It was a little hard considering his legwear was already at the point that it could barely fit around his waist, but he managed to push the top of his jeans just enough that he could let whatever pressure in his rear relieved itself without having to fight against his pants.

   The act had unveiled a small, pointed growth at the base of his spine. Its size wouldn't remain diminutive however as pressure continued to build up within it, that pressure causing it to quickly extend downwards. At first it started out being rather thin and small, like an unimpressive snake slithering out from above the waistline of his pants. However after a few inches it became noticeable that the lengthening appendage was beginning to get segmented, and each segment was slightly larger in diameter than the last. Come ten segments long and it was undeniable that Hugo was gaining a tail, and it was only getting longer. Twelve segments, fifteen, eighteen, twenty two; all with a sequential increase in diameter by almost an inch. Come the mid-twenties and the tail would be about a ruler in thickness. A few more seconds and the segment count reaches the thirties, in which the rate of growth begins to slow down. Thirty two, thirty three, thirty four… then it comes to a halt at about thirty five segments. By then the tail’s width was about a ruler and a half, and the length itself could only be about four times that long. It also formed with the tail’s aforementioned pointed tip, a series of spikes running across the top of certain segments, and a shine from the golden scales adorning it.

   Concurrent with the growth of his new appendage were the swath of changes entering into the lower half of his body. The sea of scales cascaded down all sides of his body, flowing down his waist and hardening the skin of his legs to match the nigh-reptilian nature the rest of his body was garnering. Beneath the shifting scales on his thighs were his muscles which, just like in his arms, were in the process of bulking up and discarding their once skinny appearance. His quads and hamstrings grew in conjunction with each other, absolutely bulging in strength as the denims of his jeans were forced to strain against his rapidly developing musculature. At the back of his legs were his gluteus muscles, them too in the process of swelling up to the point his rear was rounding out a fair bit.

   Pressure surged throughout the bones in his legs, and the bottoms of each pant leg rose up the crus of his own limbs indicating that more height was being added to his body. All the while a low heat burned in his calves, those muscles also ballooning out of the back of the lower half of his legs. By this point all the crevices that divided his muscles were indenting into the material of his pants, splits and tears forming in the sides of his jeans and revealing the shining gold his body had attained. It was like the changes had finely sculpted his form to a body type akin to the Grecian marble statues, except looking like he himself was worth billions.

   The final change in his body’s lower half came to his feet. By now they had already undergone a process to have grown in order to fit his new bodily proportions, larger and wider and thicker. His chunkier toes were pushing up against the fronts of his shoes to such a degree that the footwear themselves was bulging in its attempt to contain them. The heels of his own feet dug into the back of his shoes, and the sides pressed up against their sides. Even a few rips could be heard as the strings began to snap against the bridge of his feet.

   And then came the sea of scales…

   Once beyond his ankles the hardening of his flesh went from the pristiness of the rest of his form to getting mixed with a shade of vermillion around his feet. As his soles were covered in scales an almost reddish-orange hue formed in the area. Meanwhile the top of his feet seemed to practically harden as a scute-like segmenting broke apart the skin, perfectly dividing itself to align with the ligaments of his toes. And by the time this plating extended to the ends of his toes, an almost bronze shade of brown dispelled the translucency in his toenails as they gradually restructured and sharpened. Rips could be heard from the cloth of his shoes as a quintet of pointed claws emerged from the front, curved and pointed and almost bestial.

   Yet none of the sounds of his clothing shattering or the feeling of his form practically improving on itself were as much a distraction for Hugo as they could have been. All during that segment of the transformation his mind was instead focused on his own thoughts. Because the longer the changes are pressed on, the more his body becomes less human, the more information his brain seems to attain. The more the Egg puts into his mind to make his mentality compatible. And he knows it's the Egg that was doing this. His mind registers it as his unique Sacred Artifact.

   “Holding all that is and ever was in the very palm of my hand…” the changing man speaks cryptically, a low and deep chuckle escaping his throat after he makes the comment. He could practically feel the power of his own voice resonating through the walls of his throat. Although that could also be from the scales rising up his neck.

   A grin then forms on his face, any emotion he was feeling earlier cast away as a feeling of pure confidence had overtaken him. “…and out of everyone within you you're making me one of the most powerful there is? I should feel honored considering just who I used to be~”

   He could only grin wider as he felt pressure wracking his very skull. He lets out a laugh of triumphant glee and exclaims, “Yes! Give me that visage and make this Ophion complete!” For a moment the Celestial Egg around his neck glows brighter as if in response to him, then Ophion (who has at this point cast out the name Hugo) continued to grin as his face finally began to push out with his entire skull structure shifting alongside it.

   The way his skull was restructuring was a complicated series of events to say the least. The lower half of his face was being pushed forward, and his lower jaw seemed to be extending and growing to be a bit wider in size in comparison to the upper portion. That portion of his face would only continue to push out more and more into a muzzle, the very features of his face being reconstructed to fit this new development. His nose melted into the muzzle’s tip as the nostrils became holes at the furthest end, meanwhile his lips quivered as small portions of them reshaped into points and hardened as they did so. By this point his new snout was looking to be one that belonged to someone draconic in nature, much like how the rest of his body had. This was further proven by how the dome of his head was being reshaped, humanity rapidly being lost under a deluge of shifts that made his entire skull structure that of an entirely different species. 

   The shape of his skull wasn't the only thing changing either. As the scales washed across his head, rushing past his neck and circling the base of his muzzle, bony protrusions began painlessly erupting from certain areas of his face. On each side of his head a triad of bone spikes would emerge. The series of spikes just barely obscured his ears, which themselves were in the process of repositioning themselves to protrude at the sides of his head while also gaining an almost elfine pointedness to their structure. His eyebrows were quick to fade beneath the scales, quickly replaced by juttings of golden spikes that layered over yet another set of bone spike triplets that would rise from his browline. Even right in between his eyes a very small spike would emerge. And although these weren't spikes, a pair of short and pointed protrusions would extend out of both ends of his chin.

   All while these changes had occurred, Hugo’s somewhat lengthy hair was being steadily sloughed off. With each inch of his scalp the sea of gold claimed clumps of hair would slip off his head. It's once luscious fullness thinned out, each follicle being shoved out at the root by his magnificent scales. As more of his hair continued falling off it would also reveal one last set of growths on his head. The first of which was rising from the middle of his head’s apex, a series of short brown spikes that would soon run down the middle back of his head. The second of these changes however was significantly more substantial. Two brown points erupted from a portion of the upper region at his head’s back, and those points were quick to grow outwards and upwards. Unlike the rest of his face’s pointed protrusions, these ones were noticeably less bony despite possessing an appearance of hardness to them. And as the duo of brown growths continued to rise out from his skull, diameter getting a little larger as they got longer, it was evident that he was gaining a pair of horns.

   Perhaps the last major change came to Ophion’s teeth. The omnivorous nature of his humanity was quickly shifted, incisors and molars quickly sharpening to fit his new species well. The most drastic change would come to his lower canines though as the reasoning for his lower jaw’s protrusion finally came into tangibility. Much like the horns atop his head the left canine of the two lower teeth would extend upwards a fair bit while sharpening itself and, after a few seconds, shift into being more like a prominent fang. The rightward canine didn't get that luxury however as instead it seemed to practically atomize and leave the gum to harden and scar in mere seconds.

   The pressure that had enveloped the anthropomorphic dragon’s head finally began to subside. A glint of red overtook Ophion’s irises as the pupils finally properly slit like a reptile’s. “This feels so… good,” he muttered to himself as he raised up a hand and gently caressed his own face. “Makes me wish I had a mirror to see just how divine I look now!”

   Because at this point that's just how he felt: absolutely divine! His brain can register memories of a world beyond this one, a life beyond this one, all of which has been meshed and mixed with his own thoughts of his previous humanity. The Egg had taken his desire and, inevitably, went a bit overboard in fulfilling it. But Ophion hadn't cared, the personality overhaul he had garnered was absolutely wonderful! No more pitiful fears about how he acts, no more staggeringly low amounts of self-confidence, no more worries about… about how he can show his love to…

   “Jace…” he whispered beneath a breath. The very name carried the same familiarity that it had when he was a human. And thinking about it… about him made Ophion’s brain register the same emotion the dragon had towards him: an intense feeling of love. But now that intensity practically burned inside him, he felt a devotion that not even those atop the System of Olympus could fell. It was an unquantifiable feeling and was something he just couldn't hold himself from expressing!

   “I can finally do what I've wanted for so long~” Ophion proclaimed. He turns and takes a step forward, but is stopped in his tracks almost immediately as he feels a knee of his pants split over his own. It was at this point that the dragon had finally taken full notice of his extremely ill-fitting clothing. His polo was somehow still hanging on for dear life, meanwhile his jeans were a few stitches away from ripping apart at the sides.

   “I'm going to need something better than this if I'm going to look more presentable…” he sneered.

   The Celestial Egg sparkled a bit and glowed for a few seconds, prompting his clothing to sparkle themselves as a bright light enveloped them. A few seconds later and his clothes would begin to grow, expanding over his form so they could all cover him properly. The hem of his shirt was quick to descend over his abdominal region as the entirety of it enlarged enough that his muscle mass wouldn't indent so intricately into the fabric. But then a different change occured, a deep brown beginning to overtake the coloration of the shirt at a rapid pace. As it did so the small placket of the polo began to extend down the middle, golden buttons lining it but not even bothering to fasten themselves. The once small collar would also lengthen, popping itself upwards as it raised higher and higher. And as the shirt’s split finished its full formation the entirety of the shirt would open to now fully reveal his muscled torso. Meanwhile the back of his shirt was seemingly being restitched, the giant hole formed by his wings altering to become more intentional rather than a byproduct of the appendages tearing through it.

   The sleeves of the shirt weren't left unscathed as any rips were fixed almost instantly. The constricted feeling was alleviated, changed to a more snug feel as they more comfortably outlined his upper arm muscles. By the time the sleeves were enveloped by the brown coloration they would also bulge as if they were simultaneously extending in length while still trying to contain themselves to their shortness. This would eventually manifest in the form of his shirt sleeves now taking a rolled up appearance.

   A similar discoloration had entered his enlarging pants, although this time it was more beige in tone that was enough to shift the denim into a different and finer material. The shifts within his legwear were a little less intense as they would also only enlarge enough to allow movement yet still be tight enough to outline his muscles, all while fixing themselves of the damage his unexpected growth in muscle had incurred. The button that held the jeans closed gained a golden tone, as did the zipper, both of which being left completely open despite the fact his pants fit him now. And with no belt the only thing that held the jeans on his body was a pair of suspenders that snaked from over his shoulders and down his torso before promptly buckling on his legwear.

   The last piece of his attire that remained were his shoes which after being enveloped by the Egg’s magical light… straight up dematerialized into motes of light and leaving his feet bare. The motes of light didn't disappear however, instead floating upwards and behind the dragon before seemingly rematerializing into something else entirely. Fine silken material layering onto his back, amorphousness quickly dispelling as it gained a menagerie of whites and browns, all with trims of gold lining. It was hard to fully realize at first but it would seem that some kind of suit jacket had manifested behind him, being worn casually as it was just clinging onto his shoulders.

   With that the Egg’s glow finally dimmed, Ophion now sporting a look that could only be described as both distinguished and casual. With a smile he held the Artifact with two claws and brought it to his face. “Really abiding by all my wants today, hm?”

   For once the Egg didn't shine in response. The dragon wasn't expecting any though, so he unhanded the object and let it drift back to hang over his chest. He then sauntered forward, making his way out of the aisle… and into the eyeline of a very awestruck Maurice who was still behind the counter.

   “Was wonderin’ if I needed to check on ya’...” Maurice commented as he made eye contact with the anthropomorphic dragon.

   “Does this not happen often?” Ophion inquired as he stepped forward towards the counter. “I can practically smell the stench of anomalous magic from this place now…”

   “Err…” Maurice looked away.

   Ophion chuckled. “Do not think I give much of a care with what you do here. Although I do give thanks for your wares allowing me to attain such a brilliant form~ I don't think I've felt this great in ages!”

   “Uhuh…” Maurice nodded, face still in a mix of awe and surprise. “Well, that’ll be-”

   “I'll be deciding the price here…” the dragon practically demanded. He fished around a back pocket for a bit and pulled out a wallet, although upon opening it he was greeted with his former self’s image in the ID photo window. “…and I have a feeling I won't be here for much longer.”

   Ophion then placed the wallet onto the counter, then turned to make his leave. “Thank you for your help, Maurice! Your actions shall be etched into my memory for as long as time flows!”

   Maurice is just left dumbfounded as he watches Ophion leave the store and, after a good few seconds, jet into the air as one would expect a dragon to do.

   “...still not quite sure how to process that,” the storeowner muttered as his gaze drifted to the wallet the dragon had left behind as payment.

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

   The sound of a blender pierced the air of the apartment, Jace idly watching as the fruit within the object was shredded into a fine paste. He was never quite sure how to spend days off from work whenever he was left alone. Especially since he had his hopes on spending the day with Hugo, but it was almost 5PM and Hugo hadn't gotten back from his mysterious shopping trip yet.

   The apartment falls into silence and Jace eyes his phone. Not even an indicator that his last text was read. “What could he be doing…?” the man muttered in concern.

   Then the melancholy serenity of the room was broken in an instant by the sound of a thump from the apartment balcony. A giant shadow being cast through the glass, easily visible from the kitchen’s adjacency to the balcony door.

   “Uhhhh…” Jace backed up a bit, eyeing the shadow with a slowly building fear in his chest. He couldn't make out what it was, it was just large and… monstrous?

   He then hears the balcony door slide open. A sound that prompted him to turn around and scramble for a knife or something to-

   “Jace…” a deep voice called out, interrupting his actions. Jace promptly squeaked in response, heart rate skyrocketing. He very slowly turns around to see the form of a golden-scaled musclebound dragon anthro staring straight at him.

   “Wh-what are you?!?”

   The dragon tilted its head, a spiky brow raised. “How undignified, I probably should've…” he shoved a hand in a pant pocket and pulled out a phone. “Please give me a moment.”

   Jace just stood there in fearful silence as he watched the dragon futz around with their phone, the sound of claws tapping on glass being the only thing fully heard in the apartment. Then after a few moments a look of satisfaction formed on the dragon’s face.

   “Here,” the dragon held the phone out, its wallpaper fully visible to Jace. The man’s eyes widened as he saw the image: a picture of himself and Hugo. This was Hugo’s phone.

   With a shaky step forward Jace began to verbally panic. “Where did you- what did you-”

   A look of realization then formed on the dragon's face. “Jace, my love, it's me. Hugo.”

   “Your love???” Jace exclaimed, eyeing up the golden dragon with some level of fury in his eyes. “I don't- you can't be! For one, Hugo’s a human!”

   “Was, I was a human,” the dragon corrected. “It would be hard to explain it all fully but,” he raised up a hand and tapped what looked to be an egg that was hanging around his neck. “This? This changed me into this glorious form.”

   Jace was far from convinced though. “Please, people don't just suddenly transform into dragons! You- you have to have done something to him-”

   “Our anniversary is in two months, the receipts for the bracelet you bought me for it are in the dresser next to our bed, and you’re still trying to reserve a date for that one restaurant with the shrimp,” the dragon listed out in rapid succession. He then stepped forward with his arms outstretched. “Now do you believe me, my love? Or must I go into your personal confessions?”

   Jace swallowed a lump in his throat. All those things the reptilian spoke of were correct, and there's no way he could've garnered that information unless he was somehow spying on the two of them. “I-I was hoping you wouldn't have noticed any of that!”

   “We live in an apartment, love,” the dragon, Hugo apparently, stated as he leaned over the kitchen’s island. “It's almost impossible to hide such sensitive information.”

   Jace just nods as he stared into Hugo’s eyes, and just looked at his draconic visage in general. He appeared so nonchalant, so calm, and his face seemed to look more tender the longer he looked at Jace. 

   “I'm… still trying to process this,” Jace began leaning onto the counter behind him. “How the heck did you get that… thing that transformed you into this, Hugo…?”

   “I'd like to start by saying I go by Ophion now. In truth I was trying to find an adequate gift for this coming Valentine's Day,” Ophion began to recount. “I found an interesting antique's store a few days back and decided to pay a visit today. Although in truth it seems that place is some kind of front for magical artifact vending but well…” a somber look formed on his face as he took hold of the necklace’s egg and held it into view. “Truthfully I've always felt like an inadequate lover to you. I was hoping to get you something that'd prove myself, and perhaps make up for my lackluster approach to our relationship. Once I picked up the Celestial Egg it resonated with my desires and made me into this. Transformed me physically, mentally…”

   The dragon leaned a little closer, a fervorous look in his eyes. “Perhaps it even deepened my love for you…”

   Jace let out a sharp exhale, then stepped forward to gently caress Ophion’s face. “Hu- Ophion. You don't have to give me some trinket to prove your love to me. And truthfully for me, I never found you lackluster at all! Perhaps a little neurotic but, you were always still a wonderful person…”

   He then gave the dragon a kiss on the snout.

   “...but I should really ask if you feel better about yourself?”

   “I do,” the dragon confessed. Ophion lifted his head out of Jace’s grasp and straightened himself up. His form from the waist up was visible from behind the kitchen island: strong muscles, glistening scales, those weird crystals embedded in his body. Jace couldn't even help but give a glance at Ophion’s wings, the man wincing at the thought of having to suddenly grow those. Nonetheless, the golden reptilian had a certain confident aura that Hugo seemed to always have trouble mustering.

   “I can't say I'm the same person I was as a human,” Ophion admitted. “The way this Egg works, it put so much into me to make me fit an identity I desired. But I will also admit a fraction of that was because I wanted to be able to better show how much I love you, my love~”

   “I don't think you had to change yourself into a literal dragon to show how much you love me,” Jace said with a laugh. “I'm glad you're happy though. I will admit I'm getting used to being called your love, it's so dignified!”

   He then paused. “Now how will we explain to the landlord that my boyfriend has become a real life scalie…”

   Ophion let out a hearty laugh. “We don't need to deal with that now…” he then walked around the counter to properly stand near Jace. “It's just me and you, today~”

   Ophion then brought Jace into a warm embrace. This mostly meant Jace was being pressed up into the dragon's meaty pecs as he was put into a hug. It made the man blush a bit…

   “Now then…” Ophion’s voice lowers to a whisper, and Jace could feel himself being lifted. “How about I show you how a universe can be made…?”

   Jace raised a brow. “What's that supposed to mean?”

   Ophion just chuckled, and Jace turned his head and found himself being moved out of the kitchen. It took a few more seconds for him to fully register what was about to happen as he realized they were moving into a hallway, and everything finally clicked.

   They were heading to the bedroom…

[another-lost-mc]

Im curious, how strongly do the OC's feel about their hair? Are there any with deep attachments to their current style? Would any be willing/enjoy cutting short/growing out their hair at times? (Dye would be interesting to see who would go to what colors)

So, it's my personal heacanon that almost all of the OM characters have changed their hair over time. It seems natural, doesn't it? They're all thousands of years old at least and I'm sure their personal preferences about their hair/appearance has changed too. In the very least, I imagine that Lucifer and his siblings had slightly different styles as angels than they do in the present-time Devildom.

(I also think that the Demon King had long hair and Diavolo keeps his hair cut short on purpose to avoid comparisons about how similar they are.)

Anyway, most of the OCs have had different styles over time since most of them have been around for so long. Some of them aren't as flexible about experimenting with their hair or appearance though.

In terms of colour, I don't think any of the OCs regularly dye their hair, but temporary dye and magic makes the idea more fun/tolerable for those that might be resistant to permanent changes.

Azra & Meta

These two probably go through the most drastic hair/appearance changes because I've had to flesh out their history in a lot more detail. Their "canon" hair styles and preferences are also different from the ones described in the Meta Falls AU.

Azazel/Azra after the fall: Shoulder-length wavy hair in the Celestial Realm, cuts it short not long after the fall. Canon present-time Azra: Prefers short hair styles (aka unruly waves that are messy in a sexy kind of way). He doesn't like to fuss with his hair as much as he does his clothes. Meta Falls AU: The big difference here is that he doesn't cut his hair short after the fall and keeps it around shoulder-length, worn down sometimes but usually tied back. In the present time, he goes back and forth between cutting it short or growing it out longer. Hair dye thoughts: Experimenting with that might be fun. He wouldn't want to dye all of his hair a new colour, but streaks or highlights are appealing.

Past!Meta (before and after Azra falls): Slightly longer than shoulder length hair, usually tied back so it doesn't get in his face when he's working. Canon present-time Meta: Not-quite shoulder length hair, usually worn down. He thinks about cutting it shorter sometimes. Meta Falls AU: After he and Azazel fall, he grows his hair long (waist length) before cutting it to shoulder length again. In the present time, he wears his hair cut short. Hair dye thoughts: His natural hair colour is so pretty but I could see him experimenting with a deeper red/pink colour. He would look so good with mermaid hair colours too, especially if he grew his hair long again.

Zee

His hair style doesn't change very much. It's not long enough to bother him, but he uses his hair to hide some of his facial scarring so he might not want to cut it shorter than its present length. He might consider growing it out a bit longer, but he wouldn't want to cut it shorter than it currently is.

Hair dye thoughts: He would entertain the idea of partially-dyeing his hair with temporary dye or magic (for parties/events) but nothing permanent.

Karasu

He wore it longer in the past, but presently he enjoys the almost-shoulder length hair style that's a bit easier to manage. He would be hesitant to cut it shorter than that, but he might consider growing it out longer. (Note: this only applies to his canon self, his various AUs have different hair styles.)

Hair dye thoughts: As long as it's not permanent, he'd probably be willing to try anything once if you can convince him it would look good. Pops of golden blonde or deep red would appeal to him most.

Tenebris

He hasn't had short hair since he was a child and he would be very very resistant to cutting his hair. However, he's much more relaxed about experimenting with dye and ways to style his hair. (He loves having his hair brushed/played with.)

Belial

There was a time (around the time he first met Solomon) when he grew his hair out to his mid-back. Before he fell and in present times, he likes the shoulder-length style that he can wear down without much fuss. He would consider cutting his hair or growing it out again, but he's not interested in dyeing his hair at all except for special parties/events.

Bathin

Demon children aren't immune to the wonders of cutting their own hair, and he's had more than one mishap when he was bored and left alone with a pair of scissors. His hair currently mimics the style Mephisto wears. His previous incarnation had long hair (slightly past shoulder length) but it's too soon to say if the present-day Bathin will have the same preference.

Gabriel

He's always preferred having long hair and he would be extremely resistant to cutting it. He's not interesting in changing his hair colour either, even temporarily. Similar to Ten, he also loves having his hair brushed/styled/played with.

Uriel

He prefers short hair styles because he spends so much time training and in the forges and it's easier to take care of. However, he would consider growing it out a bit longer now that his responsibilities have shifted and having longer hair is less of a nuisance. He's not interested in colouring his hair.

Seraphiel

His hair style has fluctuated slightly over the years but he prefers above-shoulder length hair most of the time. He's not interested in changing his hair colour (it is quite lovely) but he would consider growing it out a bit longer so he could wear it tied back.

Habuhiah

She prefers chin-length hair because she spends so much time outdoors and hates the feeling of hot, sweaty hair on the back of her neck or shoulders. She wouldn't want to grow it out much longer unless she spent more time in colder areas like the Devildom (not likely to happen).

Hair dye thoughts: She would be curious about adding some temporary colour to her hair for fun, if you can convince her it would look nice. (She's more likely to do this if you'll do the same so you can match.)

[k-s-morgan]

︎This is the first time ever I'm writing to a writer as I'm a lil anxious about my English. But after many years of reading your flawless work (TGSTLTH), I really couldn't hold myself anymore; if I stay silent one more second, I'm going to explode from repressed emotions.XD

I'm absolutely going crazy over your storytelling. I think nobody -and I do mean NOBODY- was this close to perfection with the characterization of Sebastian and Ciel. It's like you are working together with Yana herself. You've really managed to catch every aspect of their relationship that made this whole storyline (manga and anime) the way it's been, which seems to be the entire reason why I still can't get over Kuroshitsuji. It's just so dark and dramatic... the bitter power struggle between these two and the way they compete for control —which is pretty entertaining to see when you think about it because both parties are unable to maintain any type of control or authority over the other.

From what I see, this fandom has mixed feelings about S2 of the anime. Some love it, some ignore its whole existence, and some people are okay with it. Unfortunately, I'm the second one. I like the story arcs that are canon to the manga. When I first started to read TGSTLTH, I really thought that fanfic would follow the storyline without S2 in it since you reflect the complexity of the bond they share as a human and demon so prettily. I've always wondered if Ciel, as-twelve-years-old brat, managed to become Sebastian's living hell, how much of a pain in the ass he would be as he grows older. And the plot has several unresolved mysteries that have not been addressed yet. That's why I'm not a big fan of S2; it closes off all the possible ways this story can go as its ending. However, you are the only one who could warm me up to S2; I trust you.

I read the snippets. It was surprising to see Ciel doubting his appearance. I was questioning whether his look-alike was truly superior or if it was just the circumstances influencing his perception. I feel like it's mainly his fear of not being good enough for Sebastian to stay. Which explains his continuous freak-out about the possibility of his soul being unworthy. And I clearly remember Sebastian thinking, "The boy wasn't nearly as pretty" upon seeing him.

Your talent is exceptional and beyond comparison. Please never stop writing. Stay safe...❤❤

B.

Ps. If my English is difficult to read or understand, please feel free to ignore this.

Hi! Please don't worry, your English is absolutely fine! I'm so happy you've been enjoying Those Gentle Slopes so much, and I'm honored that you feel like I did justice to Ciel and Sebastian. They are my favorite characters, and Ciel is probably my most favorite character ever, across all fandoms, so I really treasure the chance to work with them and get such lovely feedback from other readers.

With S2, yes, it created a lot of controversy in the fandom, but also yes, I love it with my whole heart! I always call it a love letter from Sebastian to Ciel. I do have some issues with it, like the exccessive sexualization in general and of Hannah in particular - it feels just awkward sometimes, but the main plot and especially the resolution make me ridiculously happy.

I agree that the bond between a demon and a human is fascinating. I enjoy exploring it a lot, and I so look forward to all the adventures Ciel and Sebastian will have. But I also think that it cannot go on like this forever: even if Ciel got older, sooner or later, something wuld have to give. He'd either die from old age, which would feel like a very underwhelming ending to me, or Sebastian would eat his soul likepromised - but then I'm sure we'd have ended up with the Red Valentine development, where he's lonely, miserable, and missing Ciel. The idea of Ciel becoming a demon in a way that puts such a strain on his relationship with Sebastian - it's like a new life for their bond. So many new conflicts and possibilities could emerge from it - new settings, new events, new power struggles. If you stick around, I really hope you'll like it! And I really appreciate your trust.

And yes, you're absolutely right, Ciel is prettier than his look-alike (at least from how I envision it). Sebastian probably overestimates the difference between them a bit because he's biased in Ciel's favor while Ciel is freaking out because he's been feeling insecure and unworthy for a while at this point, and learning about Sebastian's second contract was just the last blow. These two idiots…

Thank you for your wonderful ask again! I hope you enjoy the next chapter.

[dernarrleid]

@nezumivc103221 | plotted starter.

The slide of glass on wood irritates his eardrums. It's not the first he's felt this particular annoyance, but working in a bar does just that. The warm, darkened atmosphere of the establishment didn't seem to welcome the sound anymore than he, but the patron who'd slid the glass over signaled him down. Wolfgang wasn't the kind to rudely snap if he was inconvenienced, nor speak out of turn, picking up the cues most bartenders should be privy to. The room felt less lively than usual, although he wasn't too worried as the crowd begins nearing the late evening. He recounts the people that have sat at the counter, making note of them now and recalling them from the night before. It only takes him a few minutes to sift through such information, tensing when no record of the man he was looking for doesn't match any descriptions.

Being assigned posts all over, Wolfgang never thought he'd have an opportunity to visit the States. Since diapers, there weren't a lot of compliments about the land, and it's development remained relatively unknown to him until around the time he'd began training. A prickling sensation befell his ears, a familiar feeling whenever a memory resurfaces with a little more clarity than others. A voice, booming across a room full of his fellow 'classmates' warns him of the dangers of falling victim to the atmosphere and general attitude. To not give into baser instinct and focus on their tasks no matter what. He supposes the only difference between the facility and where he stands is that aforementioned warmth. He moves over to the sink, gathering more used dishes and paper notes of the next drink orders. Sounds of distant sirens and chatter come muffled through the walls, especially from the alley just behind the kitchen. Part of him grows concerned for the current state of decency in the neighborhood, solemnly hoping the mess doesn't linger when he takes out the trash.

Before he can spend anymore time teetering between the novelty of visiting a new country, and cursing aspects of his job, the radio hits a particular note, pulling him from his thoughts. He readies his hands, turning back to the counter with renewed interest, spotting the telltale tapping of a finger on the counter. Allen, he recognizes. Surprised he's still on his feet, he eyes the man while placing a martini glass before him. He must not have had his fill, Wolfgang assumes, still pestering another poor woman into participating in one of the less impressive magic tricks he'd seen. The bar was generic, of course, yet hosted numerous law abiding professionals. Officers, lawyers, even doctors would find their way in as it was placed (too perfectly, he might add) just down the street from the station and a law firm. With how compact and busy New York could be, he's not phased by the presence of such compromising officials in his presence. He was sent there to observe them after all; what better way than as an informal therapist, he could participate in similar stories that a prostitute might hear minus the grueling work and unfortunate shame.

Wolfgang hums to the tune of the next song, smiling while serving the drink. He tilts his head to the woman sitting next to him, eyeing her questioningly. There was no ring on her finger to indicate marriage, no particular fashion conformity to suggest she was looking to be either. He's not accustomed with the concept of a street walker inside a bar, deferring from what the name suggests. A date? A quick glance at her face and he could tell however poor the man's entertainment might've resulted in paled in comparison to what her reward might be. However, despite knowing her wants may boil down superficially, it doesn't seem she'll have a problem finding someone more serious in the future with her looks. Or perhaps, her next suitor. "This is the second I've seen you flub that trick. I can see why your talents are on the road, Officer Allen. You can't even get the lady a drink." He says, laughing when a blush forms over their face. "Although... I hear real shows give you that extra mystical effect, you know? Very expensive to get the tickets for, but make good impressions." He leans in toward the woman, grinning, "You ought to go to one of those showings ma'am. Give the guy a run for his change before seeing how lousy he's going to handle this drink."

[s-brant]

Angels Roll Their Eyes (2/2)

(gif: @toesure) (PART ONE)

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

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

Word Count: 24k

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

Hurricane Agatha.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you smiling about?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He isn't sure why she buys into it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

JJ misses her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Weird in what way?"

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

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

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

She sighs.

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

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

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

That part is the most fuzzy in her mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Gotta catch me first!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They tried.

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

It was simple in the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What the fuck?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Because what?" he asks.

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

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

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

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

There it is.

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

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

Her heart sinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then prove it."

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

"Okay."

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

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

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

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Internally, JJ is losing his shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If you tell anyone, I swear I'll—"

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

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

"Promise?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's the one to break the silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wasn't staring."

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

"Whatever you say."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you okay?" Y/N asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything."

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

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

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

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

But there's nothing temporary about her. He doesn't want her to leave him, not without him resisting the urge to beg her on his knees to stay and at least remain his friend, so there's no choice but to face these momentary challenges head on.

She pauses for a second, thinking, then says, "You don't have to be embarrassed about it, I get it. We'll just have to take it day by day then. We can take it slow, and you'll let me know if it gets to be too much, okay?"

It's hard not to be shocked by how well she's taking it. A lot of people probably wouldn't feel too great after someone they love tells them they expect to be hit whenever they touch them, yet she's taking it in stride.

Things are back to normal as soon as she sees the grin on his face.

"So, you're saying you're gonna be trying not to throw yourself at me all the time?" JJ asks, then clicks his tongue as though in thought. "I give you a week. Tops."

Her eyes go wide as she looks at him. She holds her hand over her heart as she pretends to be scandalized by such an accusation, but they know it's true. They both can't keep their hands off of one another, which is why it confuses him. How can he want to reject and enjoy her touch at the same time? Sure, the discomfort disappears after the first split-second, but the fact that it happens in the first place annoys him to no end.

She rolls her eyes and tries to hide the fact that she's giggling as she reaches for the soap.

"You're a little shit, you know that?"

He doesn't miss a beat, saying back, "Yeah but I'm your little shit, so I feel like that says more about you than it does me."

While he's too busy rinsing the rest of the shampoo out of his hair, she smiles to herself at what he said.

Hers.

Nobody has ever been hers before, or proclaimed themselves as belonging to her as proudly and casually as he just did, and her heart melts over the sweet sentiment he didn't think twice about.

Less than a day ago, she was agonizing over her relationship with him and trying to ignore how powerful those feelings for him were, and now they're here. She no longer has to steal glances when he looks away or hide how jealous she feels when other girls flirt with him. To finally let the tension disappear is an immense weight off of her shoulders.

The rest of the shower is as quiet as the start of it was, and that comfortable silence continues through from when they're drying off and redressing to when they hit the mattress in the spare bedroom with tired sighs.

After the day they had, the mere suggestion of sleep is enough to make them start yawning, so being able to slip beneath the sheets and rest their heads almost sings her to sleep instantly.

Their bodies are laying in the exact outlines of where they laid the night of the party, the only difference this time being their mindsets. This time around, they aren't holding themselves back from anything, and it's most evident in the little things. Like how she doesn't turn around to shield her face from him, instead laying with her head propped on the other end of his favorite pillow.

They're so close, their noses brush if they make any slight movements, and this would be enough for him to submit to the urge to drift into sleep if not for the fact that he feels her jolt when thunder rumbles loudly outside of the window.

Much like his own fears being pushed to the side amidst their desire for each other, her anxiety about the storm wasn't on her mind until they laid down to sleep.

She was so wrapped up in him and everything that happened between them that she didn't have the time to think again until now, until she hears the violent patter of rain against the roof and feels her stomach drop at the sound of the thunder. Suddenly, she's not the one reassuring him about his fearful reactions, it's the other way around.

His warm hand takes hers, snatching it up as though he's worried it'll disappear if he doesn't take it quickly enough, and she lets him. Her eyes flutter shut with the release of a slow, deep breath, and she lets the presence of his hand in hers bring her back to earth.

JJ asks into the darkness, "Can I take you out on a real date?" After a beat of silence, the comforting sound of his voice returns to her. "Not that this isn't fun, but I think you deserve a little more effort than John B's living room floor."

A short-lived chuckle escapes her—a win as far as he's concerned. It's difficult to lure her head from the clouds when she gets this way, and it isn't like he has much experience with calming her during these moments either, but that sounded good to him. It sounded like she wasn't thinking about the increased pace of her heart or the howling wind outside.

He was planning on asking anyway. However fitting of a first night together this was, he wants to take her out for real sometime soon. He doesn't have much money for it, like at all, but they can come up with something special together, even if it's similar to the same shit they usually do together. As long as it's time alone together, they don't necessarily care if it's a perfectly traditional first date.

The tip of his thumb rubs comforting circles onto the back of her hand in the brief time it takes her to respond, stroking the soft skin as if to tell her that everything's okay. It seems to say, I'm right here. Nothing can hurt you. And it might make her crazy, but she believes him. JJ could take her back out into the eye of the hurricane at this very moment and she'd still believe his unspoken promise of not letting her into harm's way.

"Of course," she says, then pauses, and the sound of her sleepy voice hardly reaches his ears when she speaks again, "...I'm sorry I avoided you for the past few days. I was scared to tell you how I felt but I shouldn't have left that morning."

The memory of waking up in his arms is fresh in the forefront of her mind, so much so that she can remember the way his breath felt where it exhaled in warm puffs onto her skin.

In the first few moments of consciousness, it was peaceful.

She laid awake for a minute or two to count his breaths and soak in the comfort of being cuddled up next to him, wishing she could stay there for hours. It wasn't until another moment passed that it clicked with her where she was and what was going on between them recently, and that was what prompted her to slip away from the bed to get ready for her day at work.

It was the second time in a row that she left him in that bed with nothing to wake up to but the cold absence of her body between the sheets he slept under, and he can't deny that it's part of why he holds onto her hand so tightly tonight. Even though she's promised him otherwise, he can't help but think she'll be gone by the time he wakes up. At this point, he's struggling to stay conscious. She can see those pretty eyes drooping more and more by the second, yet the hand holding hers doesn't loosen its grip.

He takes a deep breath and scoots closer to her, keeping his one hand in hers while the other arm drapes itself over her waist, and he can feel her relax into the touch.

"It's okay," he says.

It's easier for him to adjust to so much physical contact when he's the one initiating. He knows that's why she only reached out to hold his hand. If she had it her way, she would've already been cuddling with him as soon as they laid down, but he likes that she gives him the space to initiate it. In the ways it counts the most, she cares about him more than anyone else has.

The touch in itself is his way of accepting her apology. However, truth be told, he already forgave her for it before knowing his love was reciprocated could be a possibility.

Right when she's about to fall asleep, the screen door slamming open and shut with the wind on the back porch makes her whip her head around to look over her shoulder in the direction of the sound. It seems like every time he successfully distracts her from it, the storm finds new ways of reminding her of what's happening outside of the safety of the Chateau.

There's the sound of a barely audible, sharp inhale, then her whispering into the dark room as she looks at the closed door, "I can't believe I went out into that. What the fuck was I thinking?"

It's beginning to close in on her again; the sounds of the storm, the sense of being trapped no matter how safe they truly are, and the rising tidal wave of anxiety that picks up speed the more she tries to will it to stop. This is the part where she tries to relieve it in some way, usually by smoking weed to sleep or going to one of her parents so they can help her through it, but she can't help herself right now.

Debris was being picked and tossed around in the wind like it weighed nothing when she was out there, she could've been knocked into the marsh or struck by a piece of debris.

How could she be so stupid?

Not only could she have hurt herself, she could've hurt JJ knowing that he'd likely follow her out into the storm to bring her back inside, and the thought of him being hurt makes the tension in her chest heavier. Her breathing picks up speed, the anxiety starting to snowball out of control when—

"Hey, look at me," JJ says, reaching up to turn her head to face him, and she damn near crumbles in relief at feeling his hand cup her cheek. It doesn't make it all disappear, but it provides a momentary comfort that she doesn't take for granted. "You're safe here. You know damn well I'll do anything to protect you. I mean, shit, dude, if I have to go out there and tell that rain to fuck off, I will."

This draws out a laugh from her, chest stuttering with the happy sound through the tears glistening in her eyes, and he never wants to stop hearing it. His thumb swipes away the first teardrop that falls before it can slip over the apples of her cheeks. I'm Her quiet cries and shaky breaths continue for a while after the laughter disappears. For a second or two, he watches with his thumb still wiping her tears away and hopes that it'll be enough to comfort her, but it can't do it completely.

He pulls away from her to get up from the bed with an idea popping into his mind, but upon hearing her whine at the loss of contact with him, he pauses to say, "I'll be back quick, don't worry."

The remaining humorous side of her left wonders if he's actually gonna go tell the rain to fuck off, but he's just opening the bedroom door to trot out into the living room.

A candle burning on the coffee table illuminates the space for him, guiding him straight to the forgotten backpack she left slumped against the arm of the couch hours before their relationship was changed for the better. It takes him an instant to get there and back with the bag in hand, and he's digging through it for a second before climbing back into bed with her.

If anyone else rifled through her bag, sifted through her personal belongings, and dug her phone out of it, she'd probably be annoyed, but she never is with him. She's inherently protective of her things, but JJ can do whatever he wants and it has always been that way. It should've been the first warning of what was to come.

He pulls the sheet back over his body and scoots up close to her, trying to resist the urge to retreat at first when he maneuvers her to lay with her head on his shoulder. It should trigger the flight or fight response that often alarms in his head, but he's able to push it away.

She's so vulnerable right now, so gentle and in need of the warmth of another person that he isn't as intimidated. It's not that she couldn't hurt him if she wanted to right now, she could, but he knows her. He knows that the last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt him, so he has to remind himself of that and give himself the permission to enjoy the physical intimacy of her touch. The part of him that questions if he even deserves it can't reach him now, not when he's so focused on her.

"Thumb?" he asks with the phone held out expectantly.

The screen is less than two inches from her face, so she has to push it back slightly, but she flattens her thumb to the button without further hesitation.

When he unwraps the pair of headphones from around the palm of his hand and plugs them into the charging port, she realizes why he left in the first place.

When she was facing away from him, eyes shut and headphones in to distract herself with music earlier, he was stealing glances at her every so often. He tried to keep away from her for the most part. It was difficult though, especially knowing what she said about being jealous the night of the party and knowing how scared she was of the hurricane. He couldn't help but keep an eye on her, for both his own selfish needs and his worry for her.

He keeps an arm tucked around her, pressing her body into his while he pops one of the headphones into her ear and the other into his. The thing is, her eyes aren't trained on the screen like his are once he starts looking through her vast collection of not-so-legally acquired music for a song that suits both of their tastes, they're trained on him.

Their taste in music tends to diverge in certain ways and overlap in others, so there's always a fifty/fifty shot of him liking what she plays when she's the one picking the music. That is why he smiles to himself and halts the endless scrolling in its tracks to hover his thumb over one song.

He obviously heard it before she played it that one time, but it's different for him now. They were riding together in the backseat of the Twinkie on the way to the beach with John B, Kie, and Pope when they let her take her turn to play a song.

That's how it is with them, the driver goes first, then it goes to the front seat passenger, and so on and so on until they make their way back to the beginning of the rotation. It was her turn when she picked this song, and it could've been the song, or the sunset shining through the window, but he felt as though his heart exploded when he looked at her in the middle of it.

He remembers feeling confused, confused as to why he couldn't catch his breath and why he suddenly adored the song he only heard casually a couple of times.

It was her. It was everything about her. The soft hum of her voice murmuring the lyrics, too shy to actually sing them in the presence of anyone else, was too delicate for the others to appreciate over the sounds of the van. He heard it though. He clung to it and admired her, so unashamed in his staring that he didn't realize he was doing it. It wasn't until she noticed that he stopped.

"Do I still have ice cream on my face or something?"

Her fingers came up to wipe at the corner over her mouth, and the action sent him turning his attention away quicker than he knew he could move, pulling the lighter out of his pocket to fiddle with as he mumbled, "Yeah, but you got it off now."

The cheery melody of Just Like Heaven bursts out of each headphone into their ears.

How did he know? How is he constantly reading her mind without realizing it?

This was her first song on the couch that she couldn't stand to sit through without thinking, naturally, of him when confronted with the topic of love. Somehow, it's like he knew that, and instead of feeling exposed and scared he'll know her feelings like before, she feels loved.

She is never skipping this song again.

"Go to sleep," he murmurs, clicking the screen off and resting it on his stomach.

It takes him a short thirty seconds to fall into an easy, calm pattern of breathing that tells her he isn't asleep, but soon will be. But she's fighting her sleepiness to continue looking at him. His eyes are fluttered shut, hair messy on the pillow, and she'd want to reach up to kiss him if he weren't trying to fall asleep.

Instead, she settles for matching her quickened breaths to the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath her hand and shuts her eyes along with him.

By the time the song reaches its end, she thinks he's asleep, but she still whispers, "Thank you," and feels his arm squeeze around her body in response.

The next songs fade into white noise at this point for her, drowning out the storm to the point where she begins to forget it's happening out there.

Maybe they can be each other's safe place when things get rough. After all, he handled this wonderfully considering his lack of experience with her anxiety and she never pushes him on his plethora of unsorted issues, even when she wants so badly to be the one to initiate the touch.

She never makes him think she pities him, or wants to "fix" him like so many partners with savior complexes who will never try to understand how it feels often do in these situations. With each other, maybe it doesn't have to be so complicated anymore, even when they have those inevitable arguments here or there.

The last thing he does before allowing himself to be dragged under is brush his lips on her forehead in a tender kiss. And when he eventually wakes to the rising sun shining through the windows in the aftermath of the violent hurricane, she's still there.

Tag List: @jjjmaybank, @its-simply-fanfiction, @naughtydild0swaggins.

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Thirty-Six: How I Did It - By Jack The Ripper

Rated PG-13: For dark themes and language

Masterlist

~We'll never get free Lamb to the slaughter What you gon' do When there's blood in the water? The price of your greed Is your son and your daughter What you gon' do When there's blood in the water?

Beg me for mercy Admit you were toxic You poisoned me just for Another dollar in your pocket Now I am the violence I am the sickness Won't accept your silence Beg me for forgiveness~

"He's here."

Crossing the Event-Horizon

That's what that's called. I've always thought that's the most beautiful way of putting it. The words have a certain ring to them.

Crossing the Event-Horizon

It means crossing the point of no return. That itself - the point of no return - could mean a lot of things. It could mean the beginning. It could mean the end. It could mean the infinite. It could mean life. It could mean death. It could mean war, peace, happiness, sadness, or anything in between.

But it means one thing for sure.

Crossing the Event-Horizon means there's no going back.

If I had to identify a beginning to the end of my story, then I think that little red dot on the map of time is where I'd stick my proverbial pin. That one little sentence, those two little words.

Yes, it was that moment, I think.

That was when it all started to go wrong.

"Felix is here," I said quietly, "He's outside."

I didn't know what I was going to do to get my revenge from that point. All I knew was, in order to kill Felix, I would need to get to him. And that meant getting away from Jack. Getting away from the son of the devil is something certainly easier said than done.

I would have to do it in a manner which would compel him and the Winchesters to come 'save me'. Of course, I could just knock Jack out and ditch him, but then I would have no back-up if things with Felix went sour. Now, if there was one thing I had learned in the five years leading up to my presence in that lighthouse, it was redundancy. It never hurts to have a safety net. Mine just happened to be a Nephilim.

"You remembered to lock the door, right?" Jack joked. I huffed a laugh. "We're safe in here. Don't worry, Marty. I'll protect you."

Isaac shook his head. "Felix has hostages. Two of 'em." He informed me.

"It's not me I'm worried about," I said to Jack, "This is a hostage situation."

The Nephilim's expression darkened and Isaac rolled his eyes.

"Personally, I say we go on the offensive. I mean, ya boyfriend here has more than enough juice to disintegrate seven dudes, right? Just waltz out there like we own the place, boom, clap, poof, TA-DA!"

"Ya know, that's actually not that bad of a plan," I said, nodding. I relayed the message to Jack who nodded.

"I could do it." He seemed confident.

"Felix brought six helpers. Have you ever dusted that many guys before?" I asked.

"I have, yes. Many more, in fact."

Well, that was... thoroughly disturbing. He seemed so calm about it. As if anyone who stood against him was nothing more than an obstacle. That could be me one day. That could be me tomorrow.

"Alright then, lead the way," I said, smirking.

Is it bad that I hoped something would happen to Jack? Nothing deadly, of course. Just something that would stop him from using his powers to take my revenge for me. Felix was mine. I needed to be the one to kill him. If Jack did it then what had been the point of it all? So, was it bad of me to hope that the quickest, cleanest solution wouldn't be the one that played out?

Was that wrong?

Did that make me evil?

Did I care if it did?

"Everything's going to be fine, Marty. You'll see." And Jack smiled at me softly and I wondered how long that would last.

I found myself standing beside him at the door to the lighthouse. My blood was boiling for a fight because this was it. Felix was on the other side of that door and in a few hours, I would be free, one way or another. Jack turned the handle.

Across the Event-Horizon.

A vampire, a ghost, and a Nephilim stepped out into the muggy night air. It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke, but it was more the beginning of a new era, at least for me. I stayed mostly hidden beside Jack, maintaining my air of powerlessness. Isaac stepped into place at the Nephilim's other side to match. I could feel the heat of Felix's presence bleeding through the space between us. He carried with him the foul stench of burning tar and just his scent made me want to wrinkle my nose.

He stood about ten feet away from Isaac, Jack, and me, flanked by six other vampires. There was no army, not that I had expected there to be - that wasn't how Felix worked. He didn't need an army, he'd brought two hostages. Two humans knelt on the ground in front of each of Felix's lackeys, poised to die.

Felix's lips stretched into something that approximated a smile but his little ruse was transparent. I could see the hate simmering in his eyes.

"This little game of ours has been fun but a score still stands to be settled and its resolution, I do believe, is long overdue. There is no place left for you to run, child. Are you finally ready to face judgment for your crimes, Martina?" He said. A smile spread across my face to match his.

"Are you?" I challenged, leaving all human emotion out of my voice. I had been so afraid of him before, but that fear was in the past. I had come to witness true power, I had seen it up close and Felix Ashton Monroe was nothing in comparison. I wasn't afraid of him anymore.

"I suppose you'll just have to find that out," He said. "Now, I've just had a rather unsavory chat with one Samuel Winchester. Barbarians those boys are - him and his brother. I do so hope you'll remember the manners I taught you and come along like a civilized being."

"Ready when you are," Isaac reported. His Darth Vader figure was tucked safely in my boot and I counted the fact that Felix didn't know about him as one of the few advantages I had. Both Isaac and I knew that in order to keep that advantage my brother would have to suffer through being dragged behind a car via his attachment to the figure to prevent Felix from noticing his presence. We had decided a long time ago that I wouldn't face Felix alone. Isaac had protested against us facing him at all.

It was ironic, really. He was the ghost, yet out of the two of us, I was the vengeful one. See, Isaac had never sought revenge against Felix. The only person Isaac wanted vengeance against was himself. He sought punishment for his failure to keep me safe, to keep any of us safe. I suppose he got his wish. Ever since that night, Isaac remained trapped on earth with what was less of a mission and more of a duty. To keep me alive. If one looked at it properly, that was another advantage. Isaac had been formidable when he was alive, but as a vengeful spirit and with a threat on my life to power him up, Isaac was alarmingly deadly.

I didn't need to send him a discreet nod to acknowledge his words. The two of us had been preparing for this moment for five years. We knew our roles. We knew what we had to do.

"Marty isn't going anywhere with you," Jack cut in, his voice firm.

"You're Jack Kline I presume," Felix said in his usual drawling tone. His voice too reminded me of tar with the way it oozed lazily around his words. Everything about him was so clean and sharp yet somehow it was all horrifically revolting.

"I am, yes." Jack nodded. He was trying to sound confident and authoritative, mimicking Sam or Dean or Castiel. But he wasn't like them, it wasn't in his nature. Jack was too soft. Felix regarded him with a smirk, studying the boy in a calculating manner as if Jack were merely a rare antiquity he was appraising in an effort to determine its value.

"The boy born to rule..." He hummed, drawing out the words almost reverently. "Yer smaller than the rumors describe ye to be."

"So are you," Jack replied, standing up straighter and lifting his chin confidently.

"Oh, I'm afraid not." That slime ball cracked a smile. "I'm much too careful to allow for rumors of my physical appearance to drift beyond my reach."

"Really?" Jack challenged. "Because it seems like Martina found us. She told us everything about you."

Felix just laughed like he was talking to something as insignificant as a flea.

"Do ye never listen, young one? I said I don't allow rumors to drift beyond my reach. Seeing as Martina is standing directly ahead of me, I'd say she is well within my grasp. That which is mine does not escape me, laddie. She knows that better than anyone," Felix said.

"If you're so careful, then why come here yourself?" Jack asked, struggling to remain impassive. He didn't really have a poker face.

"Why, because unlike an amateur I actually quite enjoy getting my hands dirty every now and again. Especially with a vendetta this personal. Isn't that right, Martina?" Felix taunted. "Will you be coming willingly or not?"

"I said you can't have her," The half-angel forcefully growled. Jack pushed me behind him, shielding me from my creator's gaze.

"Is that so? I was unaware you had a choice in the matter," Felix accosted, seemingly amused. "Were your circumstances not clearly implicit in the situation? No? Very well! If you insist against using so much as a modicum of intelligence, I suppose I'll have to explain this situation to you. See, these dirty, pathetic excuses for intelligent life forms you see trembling before you are called humans, dear boy. I hear you're quite fond of them, and today they are playing the role which we in the criminal world usually refer to as the hostage. Now, their miserable little lives are in your hands, Jack. I am a man of my word thus I will gladly release them, alive and well, upon the prompt return of my property. However, I will not hesitate to rip them both to shreds right in front of you if I don't get my way. Do you understand that , boy?"

Jack didn't respond. He appeared torn between protecting me and saving the lives of the hostages.

"Good," Felix droned, "Now, are you ready to leave, Martina dear?"

" You don't get to speak to her ," Jack snarled. His teeth snapped together with an audible click as he threw his arm out in front of me, not quite ready to give up. Felix rolled his eyes.

"Must we really do this the hard way?" He asked, boredom evident in his tone.

"Yes."

Felix tilted his head and his gaze flicked to me. I could see a hint of amusement in his expression.

"Tell me, lassie. Have you kissed him yet?" He chuckled. Then, abruptly, his expression darkened. "Or is he just that stupid? "

"Who says I did anything?" I replied evenly. Felix huffed, rolling his eyes.

"So you have?" He turned his attention to Jack who just seemed confused. "Did you enjoy it, me boy? If you'll recall, I did wish you a very exciting first, did I not?"

"Marty, what's he talking about?" Jack asked, doubt wavering in his voice. I didn't answer him. Felix was taking a chisel to the wall I'd built in that boy's head. Not causing enough damage to send it crumbling, but planting enough doubt for it to hurt even worse when it did.

"Ah, my devious little Martina," Felix sighed, shaking his head dramatically. "You're as predictable as you are appallingly cruel."

"Guess I learned from the best," I hissed, glaring at him.

"Does that mean you'll be sensible?" He asked, raising a brow.

"You're not taking her!" My angel boy yelled. "She's mine. " A shock ran through my bones as Jack's powers ignited and his metaphysical wings spread out in front of me in a terrifying reminder of what he truly was.

Felix didn't flinch. Instead, he chuckled.

"That's cute," He said, gesturing to Jack's massive wings. Then, he straightened the cuffs of his suit and sighed. From out of his pocket he retrieved a box of matches, pulling one out and striking it. He tossed the match lazily in front of him, the reflection of its tiny flame dancing in his eyes.

The match hit the sand and flickering orange flames erupted from where it landed. The fire spread outward in a ring that encompassed the entire lighthouse, trapping me, Jack, and Isaac inside.

Jack hissed through his teeth as he watched the flames die down. They were low enough to pass easily through, so how were they supposed to contain us?

"In case ye can't tell, that there is holy fire," Felix informed, tucking the matches back in his pocket. "Any angel who finds themselves encircled by holy fire is rendered powerless, and if one tries to step through those flames, one will be instantly vaporized." He looked up again, unimpressed. "Don't get smart with me, boy . I am thousands of years your senior. I'll do with that disgusting whore whatever I damn please."

"No, you won't !"Jack yelled. His wings flared out and a blazing golden light poured from him like molten metal. The air buzzed with a divine power that burned my skin from standing so close. He was like sunlight, and it burned. I cowered away but watched in awe as Jack's veins lit beneath his skin as if gold were pumping through them instead of blood. Because that's what Jack Kline was. He was power. With a sudden ferocity, the flames leaped up, roaring around his body in an effort to keep him trapped inside. But Jack did the impossible and stepped beyond the ring with a cry of effort.

Felix did not cower away as his underlings did; he merely tilted his head with slight interest.

"How intriguing," He mused, folding his hands in front of him. "Tell me, lad. How did you manage that?"

Jack glared at Felix, his chest heaving, for I could tell that act had caused him pain.

"I'm not an angel."

Jack raised his hand, poised to snap the monsters all into dust.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Felix half-heartedly warned.

"Why not?" The Nephilim ground out.

The vampire smiled coolly. "Because these fine specimens here are not my only hostages." Of course, he had more. He was always prepared.

"Where are the others?" Jack demanded, eyes flaring.

"They're safe and sound, I assure ye. Unless, of course, you try to do somethin' stupid, such as kill me. If that's the case, and I do hope it's not, then my people have orders to do some rather unsavory things to a room full of children." Felix raised a brow, daring Jack to make a move against him.

"I can save them," Jack said, confident.

"Please! Ye don't even know where they are!" He scoffed. "Do what ye must, Jack Kline. But I really do fear for the children." Jack gritted his teeth but said nothing. He knew he was beaten. "That's better." Felix turned his attention to me. "Give up this pitiful act of yours, Martina. Come on out. You know this is checkmate."

I stepped away from Jack and stood tall, allowing the thing that had made me to see the steel in my eyes. I passed Jack and planted myself in front of Felix.

"This isn't checkmate, Monroe. This is merely check. I'll be damned before I walk into something with no way out, you know that better than anyone." My voice was calm and cool and I let it chill him. It was my real voice, not that other one I always used to put people at ease. My real voice was the one that makes people do what I want.

The corner of Felix's mouth twitched up. "Oh, yes. I know." He leaned down, his face merely an inch away from mine. "I'm looking forward to it."

"So, where's the car?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Right this way, m'dear." He gestured towards the dirt road a ways away and started toward it. I began to follow but Jack's voice made me stop.

"You're a monster," He spat, shaking with rage. His pained expression had morphed into one of hatred and his glowing golden eyes fixed on Felix.

Felix twisted around, mildly amused more than anything.

"Empathy, humanity, and morality make you weak, boy. Alas, weakness is a bitch , isn't it?" He smirked, basking in the pain he caused.

"I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU!" Jack screamed. His power flared with his anger but there was nothing he could do. The absolute helplessness and hopelessness of his situation finally dawned on him. He never could stand feeling helpless.

"Hold on, I'm confused. Is that not what you do ?" Felix jeered, lifting a brow. Jack froze, his eyes going wide and puppy-like as the vampire's words hit him in the heart. His rage and power dimmed.

"W-What?" Poor thing. His voice sounded so small. He had never been made for this.

"You're the Winchester's attack dog, are ye' not?" Felix clarified. "Playing judge, jury, and executioner for anything you deem a monster."

"You are a monster," Jack scowled, clenching his fists.

"Oh, I know that!" Felix laughed. "But I like to think I've done quite a bit to earn me that title. There are, however, six quite innocent and quite human patients in critical condition at a Manhattan hospital. Six patients, who you put there. Those weren't monsters now, were they?"

Jack's face paled. Sam and Dean had said everyone was fine. Sam and Dean had lied. "H-How did- How did you-"

"That was some stunt you pulled in Times Square, boy," He mused. "Did you really think I wouldn't know about it?"

"Th-that w-was... I-it wasn't... I didn't mean to I-" Jack shook his head in denial. "It was an accident!"

"Why, of course it was!" Felix laughed. "You've not a malicious heart nor the disposition to take an innocent life. Dear boy, you are but a loaded gun for the Winchesters aim at anything they don't like."

Jack shook his head. "T-that's not true! I kill things that are evil because they hurt people." His words sounded hollow like they were something practiced. Like something that had been pounded into him.

"Do ye now? Because as I recall, you killed your own mother and ye' don't even know why. Sad, that." Felix smiled. "You kill because you were bred to; it's your purpose. It's almost cute, the son of the devil thinking he's a hero."

"I am ! I'm a hunter!" Jack insisted.

"You are not a hero," Felix sneered, shaking his head. "You are a murderer, Jack Kline. What else could ya be?" The Scottish man turned on his heel, not caring much to hear what the Nephilim had to say.

"Y-you're wrong. You're wrong about me!" That was all Jack could force out. He tried so hard to keep the tears at bay. I shook my head and turned away from him to follow my creator. "M-Marty?" Jack called out from behind me, his voice laced with desperation and confusion.

I stopped.

In that moment, I finally stripped away the final pieces of the human girl I'd made for him. The girl I'd designed for him to love. Jack would never see her again. That girl was gone now. And good riddance to her; I hoped she'd never come back.

Because she was weak.

And I was not.

Because she was human.

And I was a monster.

Because she was kind.

And I was cruel.

Because she was innocent.

And I was insane.

Because she was honest and grateful.

And I was a deceitful manipulator.

Because she was the blissful mirage.

And I was the horrid reality.

Because she was perfect.

And I never could be.

Because Jack Kline loved that sweet girl.

But that girl wasn't ME.

She never had been.

Of course, I still loved him which only made this harder. But I supposed that in a few hours that would be of no consequence. He wouldn't care. And that fact hurt like a needle to the heart, but pain only brings power to those with nothing left to lose. So, I threw my head back and I laughed as I embraced that pain, just as I did for every other cut and bruise I had ever received. That needle was one in a million and all that pain was what made me real. So, I sighed and turned back to where my angel boy stood, staring at me like some lost puppy.

"I'm sorry, Jack," I said sweetly, "Thanks for getting me this far, I don't think I could have done it without you. Unfortunately, this is something I have to do on my own. This is my last page and nobody can write it for me."

"You can't go," He said, shaking his head. There were tears in his eyes but none in mine. I smiled at him and that was the first he'd seen from me that was real, because, for the first time, Jack was talking to me.

"Why are you worried, Jack?" I was surprised at how smooth and pleasing my own voice sounded, now that I took notice. My real voice was why I was dangerous; when I used it I could make anyone do anything. But there was a reason I had been masking it for so long. It was what had gotten me into this in the first place. "I know you'll come to save me."

"What if I'm too late?" He asked, his voice breaking.

"Then I'll be there waiting for you," I answered.

"You'll die," Jack whispered. I laughed lightly, shaking my head.

"I'm not going to die today, Jack."

"You don't know that!"

"I've known for longer than you think," I said. I watched his teary, desperate expression and copied it to my memory as best as I could. It was the last time he'd look at me that way. At least for a while. "Just do me one last favor?"

"Anything," Jack promised.

"There's a girl you haven't met yet, try not to hate her when you do." I smiled and Jack nodded, trying his best to stay strong.

Then I left him there.

Alone in the sand, he watched a stranger he thought he loved going to what he thought was her death and vowed to save her from it.

Was it wrong for me to deceive him?

Did I care if it was?

***

Sam paced back and forth along the length of the lighthouse as he waited for Dean and Castiel to return. Every few minutes or so he would check his watch anxiously and run a hand through his hair, muttering something unintelligible under his breath before he resumed his pacing.

But Jack wasn't paying attention to that. He was busy staring at his hands. There were too many thoughts racing through his head for him to focus on any one of them. It had all happened so fast and there was nothing he could have done, but it didn't feel that way. Jack felt responsible. Martina was going to die because of him. It was his fault.

It was always his fault.

The door of the Lighthouse burst open, revealing Dean and Cas standing there in the driving rain that had come on before anyone had time to notice. Dean threw himself inside and Cas trailed after him, taking the time to close the lighthouse door while Dean shook the rain off like an oversized dog.

"What took you so long?" Sam was immediately questioning. "Where were you?"

"Gettin' information," Dean smirked. "It took a while, but one of the bloodsuckers squealed. What happened here, Jack?"

"I kissed Martina," Jack blurted out.

"What?" Sam, Dean, and Cas asked in unison, sharing the same disbelieving expression.

Jack hadn't meant to say it but it just sort of came out. It probably wasn't his fault, though. Jack simply couldn't stop thinking about every detail of his time with the girl in the lighthouse. He wanted to focus on what had happened after, but his brain simply wouldn't cooperate.

"I, um... I kissed Martina..." He repeated, somewhat nervously. "And I think I liked it..."

Had he liked it? Jack thought so; he was pretty sure. But something about it felt off.

Why had he kissed her in the first place? What had compelled him to do that? Jack didn't know.

His memories of the kiss were strange. He remembered clearly the emotions he'd felt, and the intensity of them. Yet, for some reason, Jack couldn't seem to recall where those feelings had come from. He had wanted to kiss Martina, but not like that... Or... maybe he had? It felt to Jack as if the decisions he'd made weren't his own. He couldn't even remember making any decisions, really. All he remembered was those feelings and acting on them. Something about that seemed off to him but Jack wasn't sure. He supposed it wasn't that out of the ordinary for him to behave impulsively. On the contrary, he tended to do that quite a lot. So, what was bothering him?

"Wait..." Dean paled, "You and Marty... You- You two didn't, like... do it in a lighthouse, right?"

Jack tilted his head, brows furrowing. "Do what?"

"C-Cas?" Dean's face whitened another shade as he turned to the seraph. "Please tell me your son didn't-" Castiel gave a long-suffering sigh.

"No, Dean. I really don't think they did anything," He said, rolling his eyes.

"Not everyone is like you," Sam added. Dean waved him off.

"Yeah, okay, but why am I the only one gettin' weirded out by this?" He exclaimed.

"Because we have bigger problems, Dean!" Sam pointed out, exasperated. Sam seemed anxious and Jack wondered what he wanted to tell them.

"Well, I think this is pretty big!" Dean insisted, turning to Jack. "Dude, what the hell?"

"I don't understand what you mean. Martina and I kissed." Jack said simply.

"Dean, seriously. I-" Sam tried. Dean held up a hand, sighing.

Dean sighed. "Jack... Y-You don't do that."

"Dean! Listen-"

"Not now, Sam!" Dean cut him off again.

"Why not? Jack asked, frowning.

"Look, ya just- Ya gotta wait a little while, man!" Dean said, running a hand over his face. "I mean, Marty's like, twelve!" He insisted. By then, Sam had decided he'd had it.

"No, Dean! She's really not!" The younger Winchester yelled, throwing his hands in the air.

"What?" Dean was shocked by his brother's sudden outburst. Sam took a deep breath to calm himself now that he had everyone's attention.

"Martina's not as young as we think she is. I-I think she's older, m-much older." Sam said, stress leaking into his tone.

"What are you saying, Sam?" Cas asked.

"I'm saying we've been played."

***

The car ride was smooth and it was the first time I'd been in a limo, so naturally, I took the comforts offered me. I stretched out across the seat, lounging as I stared out the tinted window. I didn't worry about Felix sitting directly across from me. I knew he didn't want to kill me. Not yet anyway.

"I'm curious, how did you manage to fool them?" He asked, watching me with a comfortable expression.

I shrugged. "Long story, lots of boring details."

"Indulge me," He insisted.

"Why should I?" I asked. He shrugged, mimicking me.

"I'm simply curious."

I hummed. "I bet you are."

He smirked. "Well, what can I say? It's just my nature." I nodded vaguely, continuing to stare out the window. We both knew how this would end. There was no real reason not to tell him.

"Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester and the angel Castiel..." I said their names thoughtfully, allowing the corner of my lips to twitch up into a sly smile. "They seem so simple at first glance. You have the poor unfortunate soul who lost so much yet kept his kindness, the perfect killer who spent his whole life at war, and the fallen angel who found a home. But if that was all there was then I never would have fooled them. However, for men who claim to be so faithless, there's so much they want to believe in."

"Whot do ye mean?" Felix asked, tilting his head. I smirked lazily. T

"I'll start with Sam. Sam is kind because he's damaged, but the last thing he is is a fool. When someone's good at unraveling lies, the last thing you do is give them a really big one to unravel. If you do that, then they'll cut right through and they'll figure you out easily. So, what do you do? You give them distractions. Hide puzzles within puzzles and Sam will stop to solve each one because he loves it. But how do you get him to ignore the big picture?" I stopped and grinned.

"It's easy really. All I had to do was appeal to his hate. Sam Winchester is so extraordinarily full of such raw and powerful hate, that if you simply aim it at a conceivable target, he can ignore anything else. And of course, with his hate blinding him to the truth, Sam can't figure out the lie. All one has to do to fool Sam is give him a puzzle to solve and something to hate.

"So, I made him hate you."

***

"How?" Castiel asked, tilting his head.

"It's Marty. We can't trust her," Sam said. Dean scoffed

"After all that lecturing earlier? Why the hell not?" He demanded. Sam took a nervous breath.

"Because she's been lying to us, Dean," He said. "I-I think she's been lying to us this whole time."

Dean's jaw clenched and he crossed his arms over his chest. "What are you talking about, Sam?" His voice was tight and guarded.

"I talked to Felix after I saved the little girl," Sam admitted.

"You just stood there and talked to that son of a bitch! He's a sick, messed up, psychopath! Sam, what the hell is wrong with you?!" Dean yelled. Sam held out his hands in a peacemaking gesture.

"I know w-what he is, Dean. A-and, believe me, I thought the same things you are now and I swear it was over the phone a-and all he did w-was tell me things. But-" Sam hissed through his teeth and tugged at his hair, seemingly at war with himself.

"But what, Sam?"

"I don't know. He- he just-"

"You don't know?!" Dean interrupted accusingly.

"H-He said things, alright! Felix told me things. Things about Marty. A-and they- they made - They just made so much sense! And I hate him just as much as you do and I don't wanna believe him but-" Sam's voice faltered and he shook his head seeming lost.

"What did he tell you?" Castiel pressed, gentle but still firm.

"He told me Martina killed his wife."

***

"Now, Dean? Dean's a little harder," I said as the driver made a sharp left-hand turn. "Dean's not just a hardened killer, though that's mostly what he wants people to see. He wants people to see the machine without a heart so no one will see how horrifically broken he really is." Thinking of what Dean was really like made me laugh and I flicked my gaze at Felix. "And believe me when I say that there's nothing that could fix him by now."

"But there's so much more to him than the killer and the brokenness. Dean's the righteous man who's never known a day away from war. There are so many things he wants so desperately. Dean dreams of walking peacefully along a beach yet he's never even been to one. For all he's never had Dean tries to give it to others. For all the blood and death he's seen he's remarkably full of love. Love is the key, really. Dean Winchester loves more powerfully than anyone I've ever met. If Dean loves someone he'll do anything for them.

"He sees my age and sees in me the child he never was. He sees me afraid and wants to provide me the protection no one gave him. He sees me flinch when someone yells and wants to offer me the security he never knew. He sees an orphan and wants to give me the parental love he never had. All one has to do to fool Dean Winchester is give him a child to love.

"So, I made him love me."

***

"And you believed him?" Dean scoffed. "Marty is a kid, Sam! She's a kid! Just a scared kid who needs our protection! Marty never could have done something like that."

"Why not?" Cas spoke up. All eyes snapped to the angel.

"BECAUSE SHE'S A KID!" Dean roared. Jack flinched away from him, he'd always hated when Dean yelled. It scared him. Though, this time Dean sounded less angry and more desperate. As if there was something he didn't want to believe. As if yelling the words would make them true.

"T-that's what I thought too. But what if we're wrong?" Sam asked.

"How could we be wrong?" Dean demanded.

"What if Marty's not a kid?" Sam carefully spoke, "What if she's not human?"

Dean shook his head. "No," He said, "No, you're wrong. I know what you're thinkin' and you're wrong." Jack shook his head too. There was no way... was there? Something itched at the back of his mind. He didn't know what it was. Did he want to?

"Dean, I know this is hard to accept, but we need to think this through," Sam said, holding his hands out beseechingly.

"We don't have time for that!" Jack spoke up. "Felix is going to kill Marty! We can't just let her die!"

Sam held up a hand. "He's not gonna kill her, not for a while. We have time."

"No, you don't get it! I promised I'd save her!" Jack said.

"Exactly!" Sam pointed out. "Jack, that's exactly what she wants! She's been planning this the whole time."

"What do you mean 'the whole time'?" Dean inquired, crossing his arms.

"Think back to the beginning, w-when we first met Marty," Sam said, walking them through it. "Why were we in Copper Harbor?"

"For a ghost hunt," Jack answered, impatience leaking through his tone.

"You're right, but there was another case there. What was it?"

"Blood was being stolen from the hospital..." Cas said slowly as if remembering.

"Exactly! Exactly." Sam took a breath. "Now, that ghost in the viral video, who was it? Was it whoever's bones we burned?"

"No, it was..." Jack made the connection. Why hadn't he noticed that before? "It was Isaac."

"Okay, so that means..." He trailed off.

"That Marty was lying about the hunt and the bones," Cas finished.

"Right, now why would she do that?"

"I dunno, professor. Maybe so we wouldn't torch her brother?" Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam pursed his lips, sighing. "Well, yes, b-but no! This isn't about Isaac, this is about Marty. What would she have been hiding?"

"The blood theft," Cas said decisively. Dean shook his head.

"That's a coincidence. Marty can't be - She can't-" He couldn't even say it. He could hardly think it. "Marty can't be a vampire."

***

"Castiel was harder," I continued. "Aside from the fact that he's a multi-billion-year-old cosmic being, Castiel also lacks a soul. That made tapping into his emotions significantly more difficult, but once I did that it was quite clear that I could never fool him. At least, not directly. He's intelligent, not easily deceived, and he always tries to do what he thinks is best. Whatever that course of action might be, more often than not, it hasn't been the right one.

"Castiel is, primarily, a screw-up. There's a lot of history and even more drama involving his fellow angels and the Winchesters, and he has consistently attempted to fight for both sides of the war between them. His torn loyalties have caused a great many more problems than they've fixed and it seems as though any attempt to fix one of said problems breeds yet more chaos. Castiel is rebellious. He can never seem to do what he's supposed to. So, naturally, that makes him the most dangerous piece on the board.

"When Castiel sets his mind on something, there isn't much that can sway him. His actions have proven, repeatedly I might add, that he is even willing to go behind the backs of the Winchesters if he believes it's for the greater good. But his destructive pattern stops only for the one person he's never betrayed. Thus, to fool Castiel one has to fool his son.

"So, I got my hands on Jack."

***

"Why not?" Cas snapped.

"'Cause she just can't!" Dean's voice broke.

"She single-handedly killed five vampires, Dean! Remember?" Cas pressed. "There's no way a mere child her age could have done that."

Jack shook his head, refusing to believe it. "Marty can't be a vampire. Dad, she just can't be."

Castiel sighed, his eyes soft. "I know you want to believe that."

"Why shouldn't we?" Dean challenged.

"Because she killed five vampires single handedly! What part of that escapes your understanding?!" Cas repeated with frustration.

"We don't know what happened in there!" Dean persisted.

"Exactly! WE DON'T KNOW!" Cas yelled.

"THEN WE CAN'T ACCUSE, CAN WE?" Dean shouted back. Jack flinched again and Cas took notice, forcibly relaxing his posture in hopes of reassuring his son.

Sam groaned. "Look at the facts, Dean. The research!"

"Damn the research, Sammy! This is Marty! We know her!"

"We know she's an empath!" Sam spat. "She's been playing with all our emotions, we know that! We need to look at this objectively and, as hard as that might be, it means looking at the facts!"

"What about the facts?" Dean asked reluctantly.

"Think about it," The younger brother said. "W-we did the research, remember? Remember how none of it lined up?"

"Yeah, because Felix messed with it!" Dean tried.

"Not all of it," Sam pointed out, "Marty said she was nine when she died, but her youngest brother was ten. Remember that? How could she have been younger than her youngest sibling?"

"Sam, that-"

"Because she wasn't, Dean," He hissed, "She wasn't nine. Marty was sixteen."

"I-I remember..." Dean froze, his eyes flicking up to meet his brother. "Sammy..." He said, his voice tense and shaking, "How did I forget that?"

Dread coated Castiel's tone as he answered instead.

"I think she wanted us to."

***

"Jack is a very special boy," I said, sarcasm lacing my tone. "Although, he is the offspring of a fallen archangel, so I'd assume that 'special' comes rather naturally. Thanks for that clue, by the way. It would have taken me much longer to figure him out if it wasn't for that itty bitty little detail."

"You would have gotten it regardless." Felix shrugged.

"Of course I would've!" I snorted, shaking my head. "I didn't think my abilities were of any question."

"They weren't," Felix replied. "I know what you're capable of, lassie."

I smirked devilishly. "You should." Felix's hand clenched into a fist and he sent me a tight smile.

"Indeed." He forced the word through his teeth. "Which is why I'm surprised you enlisted to lie to that boy so completely. Doesn't that violate whatever moral code of Donoghue's it is that you've adopted?" I nodded and shrugged with a sigh.

"You're right, it does. Jack is in many senses young and vulnerable and on top of that, he's dreadfully naïve. He could never deserve what I did to him." I huffed out a humorless laugh as my face twisted into a sneer. "But you do. So I made an exception."

Felix shook his head as if disappointed. "Now, now, Martina. When one has a goal, one does not make exceptions. Lest they desire to fail, of course. Only hypocrites make exceptions. Did I teach you nothing?"

"I'm not like you," I spat.

"Is that what it looks like from where you sit?" He mused quietly. I flashed him a barred toothed grin and continued.

"There's only one that Jack Kline truly wants in this world. He wants to be good - to prove to himself and those around him that despite his parentage, he can be good. He's been told that there's something wrong with him, so he wants to find a way to somehow purge it. But he can't because there's nothing wrong and there never was. Yet, he can't believe that. So it leaves him with an insatiable desire to please.

"It's pathetic, really. He seeks validation in everything. He thinks he has to be useful to be loved. Otherwise, he's just a burden, one that nobody wanted. Jack doesn't want to believe that; he wants to be told that isn't true. Jack Kline may be powerful but he's also soft - moldable if you will. See, he's so haplessly needy that it's honestly sickening. He'll do anything for you to tell him what he wants to hear. And he'll do anything to keep hearing it.

"Jack is a combination of his three guardians. He's desperate. Like Dean, he doesn't want to see what's right in front of him. But he's not stupid. I had to erase his memory more than once. Then, like Sam, I simply distracted him and, much like Castiel, I had to keep him in line by appealing to that insatiable need of his. To fool Jack Kline one has to give him someone to save.

"He thinks he's saving me." I smiled fondly when I'd finished, glancing up at Felix with a challenge in my gaze.

"Well, we both know that's impossible," He said, eyeing me with a smirk, "There's nothing left in that cold shell of yours worth saving." I grinned, showing him the insane thing he'd created.

"You're damn right."

***

Then, like a memory, there were words running through Jack's head. Words and voices, but he didn't remember hearing them.

'You said you were nine then! But y-you - you weren't!' That was his voice in his ears. But Jack couldn't remember saying those words. 'You haven't aged a day... Five years and you haven't aged a day.'

'I aged about a month, actually.'

The other voice was Marty. The words buzzed like static, making his headache. Jack shook his head. It was like Deja Vue but entirely more vivid. Sam, Dean, and Cas kept talking. It was hard to hear them through the ringing in his ears.

"Cas, are you saying she can wipe memories?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sure," Castiel replied, shaking his head. "But she can certainly suppress them."

"But it-it must only work when she's around b-because when she's gone - I know for me - When Marty's not around I-I start to remember," Sam said.

The ringing in Jack's ears intensified, making him groan and grasp at his head. He clamped his hands over his ears but the ringing only grew louder. It was like angel radio, but instead of being surrounded by fire, Jack felt like he was burning from the inside out.

"Jack?" Cas was calling his name. "What's going on?"

"I-I don't- I-" Jack gasped, the pain growing stronger. "It hurts! Dad, please make it stop!"

"Jack? JACK!"

He stumbled into Cas's arms as another blurred memory hit him like a train.

'I'm gonna need you to forget that,' Marty's voice whispered in his head. She sounded so gentle, so inviting. She sounded like a spider.

'I wish I could,' His own voice shook as Jack listened to himself say words he couldn't remember speaking. It felt like a memory that didn't belong to him.

There was more to it this time. There was a picture frame, but the picture inside was out of focus. There was an image. It was Martina. She had fangs. And there was something else too. Jack could feel it like a phantom pain. It was terror. The paralyzing kind. The feeling of being trapped. Jack felt the shadow of limbs and he couldn't move. He was trapped. Jack couldn't get out. He was trapped like a fly in a web. Marty was the spider. He couldn't get away. He couldn't get away from her.

She wouldn't let him.

'I can make you forget,' She was going to hurt him. ' Take us back to the night we met. '

'What do you mean?' His voice asked cautiously. He was scared. He was so scared. He couldn't get out.

'I'm going to talk to you, and then you're going to forget, and everything will be back to the way it was.'

'You're a monster.' He'd said

The ringing in Jack's ears faded and he bolted upright, gasping and shaking as panic set in. He needed to tell Sam, Dean, and Castiel what he'd remembered but he couldn't seem to find the words.

"S-She lied." That was all he could force out.

"Jack, what happened? Are you okay?" Castiel worried, checking over him. Jack just shook his head.

"She did something to me," He choked out, shaking. "I don't know. I can't remember. Why can't I remember? She did something to me!" He felt sick. There was something wrong with him.

No.

There was something wrong with Marty.

She was sick.

"What? What did she do?" Dean demanded, eyes wide.

"She-She made me forget. I knew. I-I knew and she made me forget!"

"Forget what?" Sam asked.

"I figured her out a-and she made me forget but I remembered." Jack stopped and only then did he realize he was crying. "She's one of them."

Because she had betrayed him. Marty had betrayed all of them. Jack didn't even know what to believe anymore. Had any of it been real? Or was it all some twisted lie?

"I'm sorry, Jack," Cas offered quietly.

"You were right, Sam," Jack whispered. He couldn't stop his voice from shattering. "Martina is a monster. A-And she lied."

There was silence for a moment. Then, Dean spoke up. Because someone had to take the lead and it was always him. It wasn't fair, but it was always him.

"We gotta go," He said, struggling to make his voice sound cold and firm. But he'd lost a daughter today.

"W-Where?" Sam asked.

"Me and Cas know where Felix is taking Marty. That kid's got some answering to do," Dean answered, his green eyes darkening with his tone. Castiel stood, helping Jack climb to his feet.

"Martina is dangerous, Dean. Are you sure you're willing to do what may be necessary?" Cas asked, watching Dean with a somber expression.

"It's not gonna come to that," Dean said.

"And if it does?"

"I will." Jack's voice was quiet but it caught the adult's attention.

"Jack, are you- Are you really sure?" Cas asked gently. Jack shook his head.

"I don't want to kill Martina. But you're right, she is dangerous." His voice faltered. "I can't let her hurt anybody else."

***

Felix's limo pulled into the garage of what was easily a multi-million dollar home. It was four stories and it reminded me of a castle with its dull grey stone and tall windows. The interior of the garage was constructed simply of polished cement and was entirely empty aside from the car now parked within it. I sent Felix a smirk and climbed from the vehicle, slamming the door shut behind me. The car was surrounded. Twenty or so of Felix's vamps stood guard but I knew they were more for display than anything else. Some of them I recognized, some I didn't.

"And here I thought this little girl's night was just gonna be you and me," I huffed dramatically upon seeing them, "You had me feeling all special."

"Sorry to disappoint, Lassie," Felix drawled. "But don't worry, I invited some of your friends too. Well, just one to be exact."

I shot him a curious glance but shrugged before sauntering my way past Felix's lackeys like I owned the place. I supposed I had, but that was so long ago. Were his minions really still so afraid of me? I surveyed one of the vamps as I passed him, taking notice of the bead of sweat dripping down his neck. He was clearly terrified.

So, they remembered who their queen was. Good.

Spinning on my toe like a ballerina, I let a bubbling laugh escape my throat. All of Felix's soldiers turned to face me, watching with careful eyes.

"Hello, Lovelies!" I called, grinning. A few of them shifted nervously. "Just thought you all should know, both your beloved Prince and Princess are dead! I killed them!" Murmurs spread around the empty garage, echoing off the polished grey walls. "That's right! Boyd's head I ripped off with a tractor, though I'm sure your leader was glad to finally be rid of his bastard son." I glanced at Felix who stood there stoically and winked. "I knew about that, by the way. As for Elwyn, I had the Devil's son snap her into dust like Peter Parker in Infinity War. 'Cept she ain't comin' back!" I giggled in reaction to the horrified expressions of Felix's soldiers and send the man himself a smirk before whipping around again.

"Ye know, Martina?" His voice made me pause though I kept my back to him. "I look at you and I don't see anyone looking back..." He trailed off, his tone thoughtful. "Where is that soul you used to have?"

"Just like I told your daughter, I lost it in the woods in favor of something else. You wanted me to learn something and I learned it!" I eyed him over my shoulder. "You never should have sent me there."

"I know that now." Felix sounded almost solemn. "Whatever Sampson brought back with him wasn't the girl I tossed in, was it?"

I shrugged. "That's where you're wrong. It's still me. Like I said, I just learned something over there is all."

"And what did you learn?" He wondered.

"That you were wrong."

"It doesn't seem I was," He said. I chuckled softly.

"You said I was made to be a queen. You were wrong."

"Aye?"

"I'm not a queen, Monroe." I turned to face him. "I'm a damn Empress." I grinned. "And, honey, you should see me in your crown."

I didn't bother to watch his expression. I just turned and walked.

Pushing my way through the garage door, I skipped down a long, dark hallway decorated with dark wooden pieces that I was sure had cost more money than they were worth. I smirked upon hearing Felix's footsteps trailing behind me. Whirling around and walking backward, I grinned at my former torturer.

"Got anything you didn't wanna say in front of your minions?" I taunted.

"I do, actually." He huffed a laugh that held no humor. "For the record, I'm sorry."

My expression soured. "No you're not."

"I am, truly." He placed his hand over his heart in a gesture of sincerity. "I apologize for my greed and my stupidity. I unleashed you upon this world; that will be my greatest regret, I think. I made you into a plague and I lost control over you."

"You never controlled me," I hissed.

"And I the second I realized that I should have put you down," Felix said. "I just hope the Winchester's don't make the same mistake."

I shook my head. "That's the think, Felix. They will."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." He shrugged.

"I guess I'll find out, won't I? So! Where's this friend of mine?" I asked, rubbing my hands together.

"Two doors down on your right," Felix answered. I glanced at the door he was referring to then back to him.

"Ooh, goodie. Before I open it, why do I get a present?"

Felix shrugged. "Call it a joke."

I nodded. "Dope."

Then I skipped over to the dark wooden door and grasped the handle. It wasn't locked, of course, so I pulled it open. I didn't look for traps. I knew Felix would never stoop that low. The room was pitch black and there were no windows, but I found the light switch easily enough. Bright fluorescent bulbs flicked on and washed the space with light.

Sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of the room, was a rather muscular man. His arms and legs were tied to the chair and his head was tilted down. I may not have been able to see his face, but I would have recognized that old, grungy cap almost anywhere. I crossed the space between us and tapped him on the shoulder. The man inclined his head, squinting against the light, but when he caught a glance of my face, his usually bright eyes filled with terror.

I had forgotten how fun it was to instill that level of fear. I smirked.

"Hey there, Benny! I haven't seen you since the Hunger Games!"

~We'll never get free Lamb to the slaughter What you gon' do When there's blood in the water? The price of your greed Is your son and your daughter What you gon' do When there's blood in the water?

Beg me for mercy Admit you were toxic You poisoned me just for Another dollar in your pocket Now I am the violence I am the sickness Won't accept your silence Beg me for forgiveness~

Lyrics from: Blood In The Water by grandson

[drivingbatty]

― rory keaner fluff alphabet

i know this is sorta random but what can I say? I love this batty boi💗. I'll probably be doing this with everyone else too! gifs by @bodhirookes

➥

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

One thing that is certain about Rory is that he’s not the best at saying “no”. So he’s up for whatever you are! Even though he can get a bit antsy he won’t mind spending a quiet day with you and he won’t mind running around town causing mayhem. He’s very neutral is what I’m saying. If he had to pick a favorite though, he loves it when you let him take you flying! He thinks it romantic.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

He admires your kindness and patience. Most people (aside from the Gang) would immediately snap at him for bothering them or asking a ”dumb question” but you answer them without much hesitation or annoyance. And he loves you for that

If we're talking physically, he absolutely loves your smile. Just knowing that his favorite person in the whole world is happy makes him 10x as happy! And he makes sure to let you know that. When you’re sad he’ll poke your face or do something stupid to get you to smile.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

He's not the best with words so he'll try to cheer you up the best can. Just tell him what you need, and he’s got you. Snacks? He’s already back in 5 seconds with your favorites. More tissues? Bam, he’s brought you a baker’s dozen of boxes because he didn’t know what brand to get. Cuddles? Hell yeah!

 D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

He doesn't have any plans, he just hopes that you two will be together until the day you die. Rory’s an “in the moment” thinker and he plans on being in this teenage honeymoon stage forever. He might turn you though, but only if you're okay with it.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He likes to believe he's the man in the relationship as most teen boys would, but he's hella soft and if you so much as look disapprovingly at him he'll shut up pretty quickly. So yeah, he's pretty passive.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Rory is not very good at holding grudges. So he's very quick to forgive you whenever you have a disagreement, which rarely happens since he's pretty hard to upset. If things ever somehow managed to escalate he'd stay quiet until your done talking to apologize and change the subject. He really hates arguing and wants it to be over as soon as possible.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He thinks about how lucky he is everyday and will never take anything for granted. He's not used to receiving attention (physical or otherwise) so he'll dwell on even the smallest things forever. He just can't believe that you are interested in him.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

He might hide his vampire-ism for awhile due to Ethan and Benny, since apparently not everyone finds being with an undead creature of the night appealing. Aside from that he's an open book! He has a tendency to ramble so there will be virtually no secrets between you two.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

Congrats, you've just made him even more clingy! Now he's physically incapable of being alone for too long and will seek you out because he misses you :( even if its been like 10 minutes

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Rory doesn't get jealous due to his issues with social cues so he won't overthink any interactions you and someone else may be having. But on the off chance that he does get jealous he'll just get really pouty and try to drag you to do something else.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

Rory is pretty inexperienced in the smooching department but he tries his best. His kisses are kinda stiff at first but the more comfortable he gets the warmer they are and the more he seeks them out. Surprise kisses are his personal favorite. He also loves doing the exaggerated 'mwah' sound too, the goof.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

Being the wannabe Casanova he is, I feel like he asked you out a million times before you actually said yes. The time you said yes he actually tried to ditch the pick up lines and be sincere about it. I mean, how could you say no that face?

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

Eh, he's thought about it. Again he's never really been known to think ahead so it probably doesn't cross his mind all too often. But if he was asked he'd most likely say yes since "That's what people usually do, right?"

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Literally every single one in the book. He's also pretty creative if "spice angel" and "blonde hottie mclovely" is anything to go off of. So you have an endless supply of petnames coming your way. His favorites are probably sweetcheeks, angel face, gum drop, fruit cake, and ragamuffin. He's very corny.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

You're all he will talk about. Ethan and Benny will be tired of it pretty soon. He'll also become more susceptible to his floating quirk whenever you so much as look at him. His head's in the clouds and his heart is full. Impressing you will become a main priority and he will not leave you alone. He's basically a lovesick puppy that follows you around.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Rory is very upfront about it. He's always bragging about you to everyone in the vicinity and he will be damned if someone won't hear about you atleast 5 times that day. He wants people to be jealous. And they should be! He gets to date you and they can't! The poor fools.

As for physical attention, he might be kinda shy to it at first. He's a teen boy and while things like that are exciting, he's also scared of embarrassing himself. So he mostly held your hand everywhere and refused to let go. But once he gets comfortable expect everything to be going your way. Pecks on the mouth, cheek, hugging, hand holding, the whole works! Though he won't do anything to risque like making out or anything.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Oddly enough, Rory is pretty good at reading your face. Or maybe he just worries about you alot. All you know is that any minute that you're not beaming with joy he's already asking what's wrong and if he can help. He just really doesn't want to see you upset so he'll make sure to check up on you when he can.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

All Rory knows about romance are loads of cliches he's seen. He use to play up how bad alot of them were before he was with you, but now? Ho boy, they are his only language. Getting you gifts, saying weird lines, attempting to get dressed up for dates, and getting flowers (he'll do this no matter what gender you are and you can't tell me otherwise). Though he fumbles in the "smooth" part of the romantic gestures, he's really trying.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

He believes in you so much its insane! He's literally your biggest fan when it comes to anything.

"You got a test coming up and you're worried about passing? There's no need, babe! You're a genius!"

"You're doing a certain extra curricular or club? Everyone is gonna be jealous of your greatnes. They can't compete!"

Hell, he'll even encourage you in things that sound absolutely terrible.

"Wanna try and eat 5 whole tacos in 1 minute? I'll go set the timer!"

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice out your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Being with him is honestly a series of surprises. You never know what you're in for whenever you two meet up. Sometimes you might even get pulled into whatever The Gang™️ want to solve. But you guys have one routine of always having a movie night on Fridays. Cuddling and snack binging ensue.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Even though he's scatter-brained he actually has a pretty great memory, especially when it comes to you. He notices a lot of your ticks due to almost always being around you somehow.

Rory doesn't always get social cues, so some things may fly over his head. But once he understands the situation he totally has your back.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

Rory doesn't have . . . a lot of priorities. He has his friends, his mom, and virtually nothing else. So you're pretty high on his list of important things! If he could, he would most likely die for you (although possibly by accident).

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

He always visits you in the morning. Since vampires don't need to sleep he's usually already there before you wake up. And he'll be super annoying while trying to wake you up too. Then after you get ready you both go to school together, either by flight or just walking.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Definitely! As I said before, PDA isn't a big problem for him and he's still just as affectionate in private. I'd have to say he prefers kissing but he's honestly up to anything when it comes to you.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

He can do pretty fine on his own at first, but he gets pretty bummed after a while. But like, its not like he can't see you. This man got all the way to FLORIDA I doubt he'll let a little bit of distance get in the way of you two.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lenghts for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Again, he would die for you. He'd even commit a felony for you if he had to! Honestly you might need to teach him that he has a choice and that he doesn't have to do everything for you.

🦇

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Runaan, the Dragonblade

I woke from a dream this morning where I figured out half of this and came up with the rest while I mulled it over, and now I have a new angsty headcanon: Runaan was raised by Avizandum and trained to fight by Skywings at the Storm Spire.

Runaan is a soft elf who's learned to adopt Hard Mode at a moment's notice. Avizandum is a rat bastard who truly thought of humans as lesser beings. Runaan's Hard Mode and his attitude that humans are liars, nothing in them worth sparing, etc etc, is all learned behavior. It makes sense that all his harsh attitudes are part of his assassin training, since Ethari and Lujanne don't share them. And we’ve seen how certain other old dragons feel about humans. Considering that Xadia once wanted to wipe them all out, and that the dragons live by far the longest, it seems to me that the source of prejudice against humans lies with the dragons and is taught to the elves over and over with each new generation.

Then there's that casual line in the Book One novelization where we learn that Xadia wouldn't necessarily choose to avenge Avizandum because he was a morally gray bastard, but it would absolutely cry for justice over Zym being killed. That scene is Rayla's, and all her assassin information comes from Runaan. Bitter about his upbringing at Avizandum's claws, maybe? I don't blame him.

If Avizandum really did raise Runaan and see to his training, then S1E1′s title “Echoes of Thunder” just keeps having more layers to it, doesn’t it? Gosh. Runaan is connected to so many parts of the plot, to so many characters, but behind him lies Thunder. Just like Aaravos lies behind Viren and his own web of connections.

I keep trying to puzzle out Runaan's scars, where and why he got them. This headcanon has yet another guess. See, Ethari is eager to use the Sun's Tears salve to keep Runaan healing quickly--he hates to see his husband hurt, of course he does, he loves him! So I don't think it's very likely that Runaan got those scars after he married Ethari. And then there's his bio clue about "learned to put his mission above all else". If you learn something, that's a lesson, and lessons usually are learned early, especially when assassin training begins before you can even walk.

So if his training supervisor was Avizandum, and Runaan wasn't hard enough during training... I can see it. Typical dragon behavior, a little smack of the tail. It wouldn’t do much damage to another dragon, not with their thick scaled hides. But used on elves who are short and tiny and delicate in comparison? Ouch. 

None of Runaan’s scars or even damage from his fight in Harrow’s chamber, none of it is on his back. Runaan never turns his back unless he’s spinning with his blades out. So whatever hit him, he was facing it directly. And if it was Avizandum’s judgment, then he stood there and saw it coming and took it like the stoic Moonshadow he is.

This poor angst-ridden elf, god.

I'm dancing around it here. But Avizandum losing control of Zym was a good thing, and Viren interrupting his hatching storm was beneficial for Zym and therefore all of Xadia - once the Dragaang got to hatch him, anyway. Because however much Avizandum cried at dying and being unable to reach Zym, whether from love or fear or loss of control, he would've raised him to be hard and trained him to be ruthless. Just like Runaan.

Zym was spared all that. But maybe Runaan wasn't. Maybe it's tradition for the Dragon Throne to raise and train each assassin leader, and that's where the blood promise thing comes in. A Moonshadow elf, separate from their people, surrounded by dragons and Skywings, needs to bond with someone. So they make the promise, swear their honor and loyalty in service to the one being who has seen to their education and whatever guidance and comforts they are given in life. And then they go home to the Silvergrove and bind others to the will of the Dragon King.

I had a really old headcanon once that Runaan was raised by Skywings, lol. This version is cooler though. It's just the way he fights. It's so aerial! And all the spinning! Everything about Skywings being strong and fast really just adds more strength to this headcanon. Rayla believes Runaan is the best assassin, and he's described as basically unstoppable. A Moonshadow who fights like a Skywing would have serious advantages over most other combatants. Maybe this will be one more connection between Runaan and Callum someday? How fun would that be? Runaan actually being able to train Callum in Skywing aerial techniques to some degree. Whether he would... ehh. I could see him silently adjusting Callum’s elbow or something and nodding for him to try again, though. Perhaps in a “but I doubt you’ll get it--oh huh, look at that” sort of way. Which would be awesome all around, tbh.

Unfortunately, if Runaan were trained by Skywings, he would have thought himself slow and sloppy during training. It probably influenced his constant training regimen in the Silvergrove. If he trained all the time, he'd at least get closer to Skywing standards. But maybe he still lives with a deep-seated sense of inadequacy for not being as swift and light on his feet as his trainers. And I can see Avizandum allowing that mentality, and even encouraging it, since it would urge a young Runaan to constantly push himself harder.

Now, let me headcanon about Rayla: if she were the child that Runaan chose to follow him as the assassin leader, there is no way in hell he'd let her go back to the Storm Spire for instruction at Avizandum’s claws. So maybe he told Lain and Tiadrin what happened to him, or maybe they already knew. Heck, maybe they were there with him, or maybe Lain was and that’s why he’s Runaan’s best friend. In any case, no one wanted to put Rayla through that, so they all managed a compromise. Lain and Tiadrin went in her place and served on the Dragonguard. And Runaan got to keep Rayla away from Avizandum.

He was so gentle with her when he raised her, it kills me. The irony that he was still training her to be an assassin despite his own history is very deep. But I don't think anyone knows how to get out of that one yet. Still, he raised her softly and with encouraging guidance, not with tail smacking. Somehow, that sense of "I'll never be good enough" did carry over, though... Rayla really is as perceptive as her mother sometimes. She picks up things Runaan never meant to teach her. Luckily that also includes kissing techniques.

Runaan helped Rayla avoid his harsh upbringing at the Storm Spire, but he raised her so softly that she got him captured. He keeps using those Skywing moves like mental chess to try to get around the dangers in his life and protect his friends and family, but the board is set against him. And I'm guessing the only way to win is not to play.

tl;dr: Runaan was raised by dragons and trained by Skywings and it shows, but he didn't want Rayla raised the same way because it was traumatic and scarring, so her parents went to the Storm Spire instead of her. And everything still fell apart because the system is broken.

Extra hc’s: 

Runaan got over his fear of heights and death at the same time because Avizandum made him jump off the Spire repeatedly, and he’d have to be chill and calm and accept his fate, and when he was at peace with it, then a Skywing would catch him.

Runaan gave Hendyr his cheek scars for catching him too early one time. Dude was trying to help, and Runaan was trying to be perfect, and it ended with shades of Amaya.

Rayla throwing herself off the pinnacle when she killed Viren was something she may have heard about before, and once again she’s copying Runaan.

There’s a Moonshadow room at the Spire because there’s always a Moonshadow there for training, and that’s where Lain and Tiadrin were living: in Runaan’s childhood room. They’ll know him so much better after having spent time there.

Runaan’s got chronic stress about messy windswept hair now, and that’s why Ethari does his hair for him every morning with those dexterous hands of his, to make sure Runaan feels calm and ordered and as far from the Storm Spire in his mind as possible.

[bearpillowmonster]

Neo: The World Ends With You

I'm invested in the original game and its characters, I'm invested in this game and its characters. I've had a lot of time for the original game to marinate and I can say that I enjoy pretty much every character and their arc and while I don't exactly feel the same with this one, that's not disappointing to me and this was my most anticipated game of 2021 so I mean that. This is a sequel, I expected as much and it didn't let me down, it's even better than I thought.

This is a NONSPOILER review because I think it's best experienced by actually experiencing it so I'll keep a lot of character, story, and even gameplay details out other than how the very VERY beginning of the game starts out with Rindo and Fret.

Let me give credit where credit is due, Rindo is voiced by Paul Castro Jr. who is a new voice actor and I was honestly impressed by his voice more than anyone else in the game, I love his voice and while Rindo has some pretty big shoes to fill as the main, I think he does it. Rindo seems to act pretty accordingly to the situation he's put in. He's not as edgy as Neku but he has enough push to him to where he would be considered the "negative" of the group but I would rather call it "rational" because he brings up some valid points, stuff that I myself was asking. Putting yourself in his shoes, that seems pretty accurate.

Fret on the other hand is a bit of the opposite, an optimist if you will. He's not really a "bad" character, just in comparison to the others, he's not my favorite. I think that there needs to be someone in his position who tries to uplift the team, but he's just a little annoying about it sometimes. Also get ready to hear "Galaxy Brain, ACTIVATE!!" literally hundreds of times, as much as he talks, you'd think he'd add more variety.

IMPROVEMENTS:

I'm not going to complain about certain gameplay elements or limitations that carried over from the last game except one. The camera. It's fixed to where you have no control over it in the city areas and therefore can't get a proper look at everything, whether that works in its favor, I'm not sure because you get used to it but it's just a small peeve you start out with.

The combat is pretty loyal to the first game which is surprising. I personally didn't like the original gameplay because it was so limited on the DS, a lot of room for error, but having it on console expands the system and lets you use buttons rather than mashing a touch screen, improving on almost, if not all, gameplay fronts. However, because it's based on a game from 2007, the system may seem a little outdated to some, it's really up to you, it made a fan out of me, making it more fun.

I played the original in bites, not because of lack of enjoyment but because I felt like it was a game I could only get into for so long at a time but with this game it's the complete opposite. Maybe it was the DS hardware that hampered the original but I say it's a decent success on this game's part. I also felt that Persona 5 seemed a bit formulaic in its story context and gameplay layout with each castle but this game, while having patterns, it changes before you get the chance to really catch on. I could predict P5 but I couldn't predict this, each day was a mystery, I knew you'd fight people but I didn't always know who or when which is crazy considering that P5 had all the choices!

A small improvement that I'll suggest for combat is having short rhythm based moves or even QTEs, like how in the original Shiki had the directional pad moves which were annoying but still varied from the rest of the gameplay. There are definitely new things that you can do, but there are a few aspects worth complaining about. You can unlock certain abilities and once you enable them, you can't disable them. The only one that it personally applies with is the ability to enable individual health bars for enemies, rather than an overall one. Which sounds good but-

I personally don't like that it's always floating above their heads, if it was on the side screen, that'd be one thing but constantly above their heads? No deal. I actually had to go back and load up an old save to get rid of it. But with unlocking certain abilities comes with quality of life aspects so if you're not in love with the gameplay at first, give it a little bit because you might be able to unlock whatever piece you're missing.

There's also "soundsurfing" that adds to your groove meter that you can use when running around and it said that you press (in my case "X" on PS4) to the beat of the song which is a cool concept but it really isn't clear how to use it because I try matching the beat and I get nothing and have more success just button mashing. The groove meter can drop when it's not supposed to, like when you literally can't attack during the buffering of a special or switching between battles in a chain (The "Get Ready" screen) And if you're in a proper boss battle, you HAVE to fight, it's like a trainer battle in Pokémon which is especially annoying when you accidentally press "retry". It has no reason to be there when I already know that I'm not prepared for the boss and can't back out.

Do the trailers spoil it?

Originally, I only saw the first and or second trailer and knew I wanted it so there was no reason to see any more but it was kind of overwhelming with all the characters they were showing off in just a single trailer. I don't think they needed to go that far but I understand why they did. I understand why they showed a lot of things that they did but I think it's a bit easier to SWALLOW when it's introduced in-game. I even found myself doing all the side-quests and being engaged in the side-stuff in-game. But I knew about people pointing out spoilers so after I finished it, I went back and looked at the other trailers and OH BOY. The final trailer shows some stuff and I'm SO glad I didn't watch it. They straight up show some out of context death scenes as well as different alliances and betrayals, not to mention parts of the freaking ending. The launch trailer is no better, it's just like that trailer but cut down. You may not have context but you can draw some hefty conclusions and that alone makes me question, why? I'm not sure if there are many reveals that they DIDN'T tease, it's like they went out of their way to hit every single one. Whether it's Square or Nintendo, they need to figure out how to cut a trailer, heck, hire me, I at least have the editing skills and know what's interesting enough to show and what's too spoilery not to show, come on!

Is it newcomer friendly?

I heard a lot of things like "it drops you in without mercy so pay very close attention" (in terms of story, that is) so only people who played the original game will be able to get it. But I beg to differ, I think it does a pretty good job of filling you in while putting you in the shoes of a new player (both in the game and out) AND keeping the mystery of whatever happened since the last game coming in small pieces. Most of the dialogue text boxes are voice acted so it's not really a slog to read. To prove my point further, the premise starts out very similar so it should be easy to clue in what exactly happened in the last game. Of course you're going to get more enjoyment out of it if you played the original but I don't think you'd be totally lost if you started with this one and played to right before the ending because then it kinda has to do stuff without preface, so you're going to be confused by much of the emotional weight that it carries. But it still gives you plenty of time to catch up on the original, whether through the game, videos, or lore, this game has you ask the questions, so fill in the blank. It has a nice length to it so you'll have until the ending to figure it out. Also, Final Remix teased stuff that this game makes clarity on but I wouldn't call FR mandatory. (Except maybe no numbers on the hand? Maybe even I missed something there.)

[aros001]

Going in blind: Watching season 3 for the first time. Random thoughts.

Episode 1: I know in the original series She-Ra was the sister of He-Man so I'm curious how much of that will be carried over to this series. Not saying He-Man has to make an appearance, same as how Batman didn't need to show up in Teen Titans. That was Robin's story, not his, and similarly this is Adora's story, not Adam's. Regardless, it makes sense why Hordak was so annoyed with the baby Adora in Shadow Weaver's flashbacks. To SW, there was something different and special about the baby, but to Hordak, whom seems familiar with the world before Mara separated Etheria from the rest of the universe, including Eternia potentially, Adora is just another "First One" child like he's seen many times before. Special in comparison to those who only know Etheria.

Great clap-back from Catra to Hordak, and not entirely unfounded. It's debatable how much he actually cares about conquering Etheria. He has others leading his forces in his war yet all his focus is on his portal creation.

According to Entrapta, productivity of the Horde is up 400% ever since Catra became Hordak's 2nd in command. I wondering how much of that is Catra's direct doing? Is she genuinely just that good of a commander? Is it because she's properly delegating and Scorpia has been handling most of the load? Or is this just because it's in comparison to Shadow Weaver? Entrapta said Catra's focus on First Ones' tech has been greatly aiding them and SW definitely focused more on magic, which was an aid mostly to herself since everyone else in the Horde seems to fight only with weapons and technology. And most of what she saw of SW while she was Hordak's 2nd was her being obsessed with bringing back Adora rather than fighting the war.

Episode 2: Let's see... Hordak's easily an adult and Entrapta is...[checks google] late twenties, early thirties. Oh good, then let's sail this ship!

But yeah, that was a heck of a backstory for Hordak. This reminds me of a video by a Youtuber named Savage Books comparing the villain Steppenwolf in the theatrical and Snyder Cut versions of Justice League and how, while he still wasn't a great villain, just a small addition made him a much better villain, that being a failure in his past and the desire just to go home. And in this case, Hordak is the much better, or at least way more developed, version of that. One of many clones of Hordak Prime but having a defect that labelled him a failure and had him cast out to Etheria, a "backwards world" as he's called it before. If he can conquer Etheria, perhaps by building a portal that'll bring forward Prime's army, he believes that'll prove to Prime that he is not a failure and that he can return home to rejoin his forces. Just this bit of backstory adds SO MUCH to Hordak, including new insights on his past interactions, and keeps him from being a flat character like theatrical version Steppenwolf. His lack of tolerance for failure makes sense when he himself is trying to prove that he's not. It gives him compelling motivation to want to conquer Etheria beyond just power and greed. Not motivation you're meant to agree with but one you can still understand.

I like the story with Huntara too. It's a nice little tie-in to something Adora was talking about with Glimmer and Bow last episode. Adora defected from the horde, not because she was different but rather very much in spite being very much like every other soldier there. She wanted to believe Shadow Weaver may have at least some goodness in her too and now we have Huntara as a fellow defector who realized the evils of the Horde, even if she chose to stay out of the war entirely after.

Episode 3: I legit thought Catra stabbed the goat lady for a second.

After Scorpia asking her why don't they just stay in the wastes I'm seeing a bit of a parallel between Catra and Hordak. They've both found a place where they can be the top dog, where they can do and have basically anything they want; her with the wastes and him with the Horde. They can be happy. ...But there's still this pull they're feeling to somewhere else. Catra back to the Horde and Hordak back to Prime. Because they feel they have to prove something; prove that they're not failures. They could be happy but they can't let go.

And that scene between Adora and Catra at the end. That was such a great line read from Catra's actor. "She left me for you. Everything that's happened is because of you." I got chills.

Minor note: While I'm only judging off the Mara hologram, which didn't have color, I do think the She-Ra outfit looks better with pants than shorts like Adora's She-Ra form. I think it makes it look sleeker, if that makes any sense.

Episode 4: Catra's spiral has turned into a drill and its taking her down as far as she can go. Though something I had to a laugh a little at myself over was that my biggest "Catra, no!" reaction wasn't to her wanting to open the portal but rather when she lied to Hordak and said Entrapta let the princesses in. She was actually a positive influence on Hordak's life and Catra with one move just destroyed that relationship and all progress Hordak had been making.

I'm guessing there's going to be some kind of long-term effect from Shadow Weaver continuously siphoning off Glimmer's magic. The woman is basically a parasite and the magic she uses is very different from the kind Glimmer does. I can't believe it never occurred to me that since Shadow Weaver trained Glimmer's father there might be a connection there between the two of them later in the story. While we don't know about anything that might've happened after she left, SW clearly had enough affection for Micah still to not kill him. I could see her trying to take Glimmer on as a student later like she did him.

Episode 5: There is something kind of hilarious about it being Scorpia's jealousy of Catra and Adora's closeness that causes her to be the first one after Adora to pick up that something is off.

11 is my favorite of the Doctor Who Doctors so naturally I'm comparing all this to the crack in Amy Pond's bedroom wall. Whatever goes in gets forgotten about and basically never existed. Though does that mean Bright Moon isn't going to remember the Horde? Basically that entire place got sucked up in the collapsing reality. There shouldn't be at war anymore because their enemy literally no longer exists.

Adora and Catra had their own little Star Trek 3 moment there.

Adora: "If we don't help each other, we'll die here!"

Catra: "Perfect! Then that's the way it shall be!"

Catra's just so far down her spiral she doesn't even care about getting her own win, just so long as Adora doesn't get one, despite just minutes ago clearly loving having Adora back in her life and on her side, to the point was trying to resist remembering the old reality. Her "perfect" world was them together again but when given the chance (another of many. I love those cuts to their past woven in there) she slapped the hand away.

I'm sure I'm wrong but I'm starting to theorize Madam Razz is actually Mara and just at some point went kind of crazy and started thinking as and Mara were two different people.

Episode 6:

"You are everything I ever wanted in a son. This... This is everything I ever wanted in a life. ...But I've got responsibilities, Van. And...I have to...go now."

-Superman, Justice League Unlimited: For the Man Who Has Everything

That was my favorite episode of JLU, where Superman is trapped in this world that isn't real but still perfect in every way, and the only way out was to give up everything he'd ever wanted, including a son he remembers watching grow up, even if it never really happened. With a similar premise, this definitely helped elevate Angela up a bit for me, whom I was kind just meh with before. I didn't dislike her but I didn't really care much for her either. This episode gave her a lot to work with though, with the heavy sacrifice she made. Not just saying behind to pull out the sword but just simply forcing herself to accept her husband is gone and not coming back. I was right that they wouldn't remember the Horde, but I definitely didn't think of the full effects of them never existing. They never exist, Bow never becomes a rebel instead of a scholar like his dads wanted. They don't exist, Micah never dies in battle against them. Glimmer gets to grow up with her father in her life. Everyone, most especially Angela, has to reject everything they would love to be real in favor of what actually is.

I'm guessing we're going to have Shadow Weaver taking advantage of this situation, trying to act like a teacher and mother-figure to Glimmer now that she's basically a orphan.

I talked before about how Catra and Hordak seem to have a parallel between them, especially regarding failure. Catra seems like she has a very hard time accepting her own failures and mistakes and thus why she more or less uses Adora as a mental scapegoat for all of it. Nothing is ever really her fault, it's Adora's, or Shadow Weaver's, or Hordak's. It makes for a great moment when Adora finally punches back, both literally and figuratively. She's not going to accept responsibility for Catra's actions anymore. She gave Catra every chance to make the right choice and she didn't, so now she has to finally live with the consequences. Heck of a glare She-Ra gave Catra at the end. Very much a "If I ever see you again..." and it certainly scared Catra, at least for a moment.

Now, someone go save Entrapta from Beast Island!

Season 3 verdict: Easily the best season thus far. I know this was technically the second half of season 2 but even in comparison to the full season 1 there was just so much that happened in this, so much that got revealed, and so, so many moments of emotion or tension. Weirdly I feel kind of disappointed that Hordak Prime is probably going to come in now and be the new big villain. I really like our Hordak's motivation and Prime seems like he might just be the generic conqueror for power that Hordak seemed like he was going to be at first. Not saying those types can't work. I love All For One from My Hero Academia and Frieza from Dragon Ball. Those guys are pure evil and selfishness, but they also have a captivating presence/charisma to them.

Naturally, since I bring her up the most out of all the characters, I'm very curious to see what happens with Catra now. She's basically nuked every positive relationship she had with anyone. Entrapta's gone, she threatened Scorpia, Hordak's not going to trust anyone including her anymore now that he thinks Entrapta's betrayed him, and Adora firmly sees her as an enemy. She has no one (those under her direct command don't count) and it's entirely her own fault.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/PrincessesOfPower/comments/o0trfz/going_in_blind_watching_season_3_for_the_first/

[blackasmidnightcats]

QfG Rants and Remakes part 5

Big thanks to both @agathasarmy and @yarasquad for sharing their ideas with me and believing that I could actually make a coherent rant without being too swallowed up by my emotions and hopefully I'll be able to do the same here.

P.S. Imma change the title of the next Rants and Remakes cause it's definitely not focusing on QfG anymore and it's gonna focus of AWWP so yeah...there's that to look forward too.

Chaddick & Yara + Tagatha interlude

Note: This post was originally gonna be titled "Chaddick & Yara + Mourning the Departed" and would have turned out as how it is explained below but as I was writing about Chaddick I realized that I needed to talk about something concerning Tagatha and realized that this post would have been too long for all three so I gonna move the "Mourning of Departed" in its own post. Hope you guys understand. Tagatha has a strong pull with me.

Imma actually gonna outline this cause I need to organize my thoughts and at least with this I could remember the direction that I would be heading.

First part's definitely going to talk about how Chaddick and Yara's death is bs

Then imma explain why them staying alive would have impacted the TCY storyline a lot more meaningfully (p.s. this is where the Tagatha interlude will be found)

And last (and this has been moved to its own post so stay tuned for it), I would also like to nitpick Soman's obvious lack of thought when it comes to the characters that have departed (mainly Callis and Lady Lesso and August Sader) and how it should have affected the characters (mainly Sophie and Agatha)

How Chaddick and Yara could have helped the storyline better

WARNING: I realized while writing this that I kinda made Chaddick and Yara more flawed than they are writen because I have to think about their character growth and they can't have that without having any flaws. So expect some more drama with these two than needed as I share my thoughts on how their characters could have went. They get better in the end believe me.

So I think that everyone in the fandom is one with the idea that Chaddick's death was one of the MOST worst decisions that Soman made.

As @agathasarmy said it once, Chaddick's death is more frustrating than sad because of how out of nowhere it is.

Via @agathasarmy:

but… Chaddick??? dying??? IN THE BEGINNING OF THE SERIES????

IT DOESNT MAKE SENSE, AND THE ONLY WAY IT MAKE SENSE IS COS SOMAN OBVIOUSLY DID IT TO INTRODUCE RHIAN AND THATS THE SHITTIEST THING ABOUT IT

HE REDUCED CHADDICK’S DEATH AS A PLOT DOOR WITHOUT PROPERLY SUBSTANTIATING CHADDICK’S CHARACTER FIRST SO INSTEAD OF US TRULY MOURNING HIS LIFE WE’RE JUST LEFT WITH THIS HOLLOW FEELING OF WHAT HE COULD’VE BEEN AS AN INTEGRAL CHARACTER TO THE PLOT

THIS

Chaddick's death felt hollow because it was a PLOT DEVICE. It didn't (or at least Soman didn't) conscider Chaddick much of a character but a means and once this happens some deaths can be very very hollow.

Like his POV chapter was very hard to read all because especially once you find out that he's dead by the end of it (SHAME SOMAN, SHAME) because his story and plot had so much potential. We weren't able to properly feel sad about his lost because we didn't get to know him better.

It just feels tragic. So much potential lost, all because Soman wanted Tedros to feel vulnerable because he lost his close friend.

WHICH SOMAN DIDN'T REALLY NEED TO DO

I explained already why this is bull and I'm gonna explain later what could have happened for Chaddick's character.

But in summary on why Soman didn't need to do it: EXPECTATIONS

Chaddick and Tedros would have been stressed out with all the expectations and comparison with Arthur and Lancelot. One wrong move could have broke them apart easily.

But Soman could have also not wanted to deal with Chaddick against his Sophie obssession so there could be that too.

SHAME SOMAN

Now, Yara.

Our little Soft Girl

She should not have died.

She really shouldn't have

W h y ?

Because her being alive would have impacted the story more than her death ever did. Just like Chaddick.

And if the problem was what she could have affected in the storyline in TLEA, then she could have been on the sides like. . . as Tristan from time to time or something.

Her being alive would have not affected or change TLEA at all. Like if more important characters like the Coven and the League can fade into the background then so could she.

But I really don't imagine her being in the school for New Evil with Aric as Dean. No, maybe Yuba could have hidden her with the League and she could have accompanied Princess Uma when they were getting Tedros and Agatha and then accompanied the Leuge or something.

Really it would have been that simple. C'mon.

Plus Kiko has been reduced to wreck after that. At least, with Yara being alive she could have fixed herself a bit more.

Okay

So in summary again: CHADDICK AND YARA SHOULD NOT HAVE DIED AND SHAME ON SOMAN FOR KILLING THEM OFF

Now, let's get to the juicier part, what could these two have contributed to the TCY storyline.

On Chaddick

It's pretty obvious what Chaddick's role should have been. He should have been important to the plot because his role would have been about breaking the comparison between the Past and the Present (see Soman, it could have been integrated into your canon plot) between him, Tedros, and Agatha to Lancelot, Arthur, and Gwen.

I'm pretty sure that Camelot has its eyes on these three.

It's pretty freaking convenient that they all have a predecessor to be compared to. And I'm pretty sure that it's not just Camelot who notices the pattern. I mean the whole freaking Woods read about this affair.

So Chaddick, along with Tedros and Agatha, should have been the ones that break this chain. It could have symbolized that Camelot was entering into a new, better era after a similar relationship broke it.

Like, a King, his beloved Queen and his most trusted Knight brought hope but ended in a Tragedy.

Now, another King, his beloved Queen and his most trusted Knight are skeptically judged for having the same pattern and they instead bring the Glory that first trio didn't

With Tedros, Agatha, and Chaddick united with each other bringing Camelot out of its traumatic experience with Tedros's parents, Camelot finally accepting that these three are not the same as Arthur, Gwen, and Lance and fully supporting them DESPITE the fear, would have been a much stronger message of that 'the past doesn't always repeat itself.'

Because with Rhian being known and most propably remembered as Tedros's most trusted Knight and betraying him in the end, it's like a copy of what Lance technically did to Arthur.

It just further proved that Camelot's King would always be betrayed by the ones they trust most.

Sadly for Arthur, he was betrayed by both Gwen and Lance and they left him alone.

While Tedros still has Agatha but without Chaddick the lesson simply is not learned.

Chaddick was integral to this formula because Camelot would have had to face yet another propable tragedy for their beloved King in the hands of the people he loves. With Tedros, Agatha, and Chaddick, complete, proving that they could do better despite having just a strong a bond as what Arthur and co had and Camelot accepting and trsuting this, the previous wounds would be replaced with new Hope.

Because even if that whole affair happened and ruined the Kingdom, at least they have proof that it's not always gonna happen that way.

And that's why Rhian being remembered as Tedros's Knight hurts this idea. Cause he betrayed him too.

Anyway, hopefully I made my point with this legacy thing.

Plus Chaddick and Arthur's Round Table training him. WHY SOMAN WHY?!?!?!

And now, imma explain what I think should have happened with Chaddick and how his character development and his role should have played out.

Because Chaddick is a pretty well rounded character, his POV chapter proves that he's brave, and is willing to die for his friends and what's right, and there isn't really much flaws to him aside from that he can sometimes make the most worst decisions despite being pretty wise.

I honestly cannot tell if he is stupid sometimes or Soman just does this to him cause PLOT.

Fandom I need help with this. Give me some opinions.

Like. . . he's wise enough to know what was right, examples being warning Tedros about Sophie and the first to listen to Agatha in AWWP, but also dumb or ignorant enough to bully Agatha in Book 1 and that VERY IMPORTANT THING ABOUT completely ABUSING Tedros is AWWP.

Like I'm kinda confused with him.

Well maybe we can say that he's a bit ignorant and maybe was raised with privilege so that's why he bullied Agatha in Book 1 and kinda wisened up in Book 2 about her.

But I am not excusing his attitude towards Tedros in AWWP because that was messed up. Well, AWWP was messed up so there is that but if we have to acknowledge that mess and have some closure then I vote for it to come from Chaddick and Yara.

Like maybe the reason why Chaddick is more wise now is because of that very experience. Maybe he could still be a bit guilty about it and that kinda messes with his mind cause he still thinks that Tedros is still the same boy those years ago in their second year and Rhian uses this to his advantage.

Actually, thinking about it this makes so much sense.

Like instead of AGATHA having the trust issues (thought I wouldn't completely vanish it, just not at the same level as she does in canon) it's CHADDICK that has them. Cause he's always kinda gets haunted by what happened in AWWP.

I mean Tedros replaced him with ARIC of all people when he failed to retrieve Agatha. There has to be some animosity between them since. I can imagine that Chaddick kinda felt like him and Tedros could never be as close as when they were during their first year. And he would totally understand it if Tedros never really forgave him for what happened and was at peace with it even if he didn't have enough guts to find a closure for it. He'd respect his friend first and foremost.

But then comes Tedros, all fine and inviting him to be his Knight like that would mess Chaddick up.

He propably couldn't believe it at first and maybe even kindly refused the offer at first but then he sees the heart break in Tedros's face and Chaddick realizes that Tedros really wanted this.

Tedros still sees Chaddick as his closest friend despite what happened in AWWP. And maybe after some thinking, Chaddick realizes that he still wants to have the bond with Tedros like what they had in Book 1. So he accepts.

But of course, they've changed and Chaddick still gets eaten by guilt because I think that he's the kind of person that knows that he did something wrong and wants to repent for it.

So instead of that wise friend that Tedros had in Book 1, Chaddick can't trust his judgement about Tedros because he's scared he'd go too far. So he kinda just agrees to Tedros's ideas and doesn't really give advice. Tedros kinda notices this and tries to talk to Chaddick about it but Chaddick would be all formal to him. Tedros, I don't really know, would think that it would be for his sake with the comparison with Arthur and Lance and all. So he kinda just goes along with it.

It's messy right now guys, I know, I'm kinda butchering Chaddick's character here but I promise it gets better and in my mind he'd be like this for only Book 4. He'd be Wise Chaddick again right after. Just give me a chance to explain.

So they have this kind of miscommunication thing that Canon Tagatha had in QfG instead and that would have made so much more sense and here's why;

Warning: this is officially where the Tagatha interlude starts so if you wanna skip it (why though???) find the sign that states it's the end. It's gonna be in pink too.

The fact that Tagatha was having a miscommunication failure was kinda off with me because 1) they've been over this in AWWP and TLEA. In TLEA Tedros has absolutely no problem with pushing Agatha to share more when she wouldn't and 2) he could easily read her like a book, especially when it counts. Like he could get her favorite food wrong but he always seemed to know what Agatha was having trouble with and was there to help her out and is not afraid to call her out on it (i.e. the Cinderella thing, he was on point there)

Imma provide some examples of Tedros totally getting Agatha when it counts;

AND THIS

AND THIS TOO

WAIT THERE IS MORE (The Tagatha Moment)

AND LET US NOT FORGET

THIS IS WHY TLEA TAGATHA WILL ALWAYS BE BEST TAGATHA.

I get that Agatha's insecure about herself and maybe she was kinda influenced with the Excalibur thing (but I highly doubt it though) but it's no reason for her to get to the conclusion she did at the end of QfG.

I mean girl, you were always thinking that Tedros would be a Great King in TLEA and that's why you've been so insecure about yourself. WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT???

Someone call me out on this PLEASE. I'm hurting myself by judging her too hard.

I can imagine that she would be sceptical with Tedros's ideas and kinda doubting him about it (you guys have no idea how much it hurts typing this) but I can also imagine that she would never doubt that Tedros's heart is in the right place even if she thinks that the way he gets there isn't always the best.

Like we have literal proof that Tedros gets Agatha almost like Sophie does and the best thing is that I'm sure that Tedros would think of the best in mind.

The mess in QfG makes no sense because they should be over this miscommunication bs and it should not have been a thing.

And if it was because of the stress with Excalibur and his responsibilities as King that made Tedros suddenly not get Agatha then WTF Soman!?!?!? I did not ask for this. They were literally about to die in TLEA and yet they could still joke and tease each other and have these cute little scenes with the other.

Instead I got Rhian's b*tch ass being Tedros's therapists when he knows sh*t about this boy and Agatha doubting Tedros like he did something horrible. (Well he did for trusting Rhian but i digress)

I could have had more of these cute Tagatha scenes instead. Like, is it too much to ask for these two to just show their love for each other in other ways than "I will save you" and "You're the best thing ever and I don't want to lose you for this horrible thing that I did or say" like give me small softer moments anytime.

Tedros gently teasing Agatha when she's being difficult and Agatha being totally trying not to show that she's smitten over it.

Agatha trying to be romantic at the most outrageous moments and Tedros being like "?????" but totally finding it cute.

Other character just not getting these two when they do and they are just as confused.

These are the kind of scenes I wanted from them. And if I have to use Chaddick to get it then so be it. (I'm sorry about this, I'm mostly projecting at this point and these really affecting my personal opinions on this matter but I'll try to tone it down a bit so that it's still coherent)

Note: this is the official end of the Tagatha interlude but i'm not keeping any promises that it'll be the last

Anyways, Chaddick and Tedros, they have more reasons with having communication problems because;

They have not been together for a very long time and they've both propably changed since

AWWP. So far, the two of them have had horrible experiences as the last thing that they remember about each other.

As I explained, I headcanon that Chaddick has a somewhat formed a sort of PSTD with it and is very scared that he's gonna mess it up.

I'm not even going to try to explain the PSTD thing cause I feel like I'm not gonna do it justice but I hope you get what I mean.

Chaddick must have become more unsure of himself after AWWP and he must still be trying to fit this new Tedros with the old one that he used to hang out with in Book 1. It would have been a good comparison to show that Tedros has indeed change and grown since then.

Like Chaddick kinda feels like he needs to intervene when Tedros shares a very outrageous suggestion but doesn't know how and kinda ends up in a mess.

Basically imagine Tagatha's problems in QfG and apply to Tedros and Chaddick instead.

And Chaddick would have been suspiscious about Rhian from the beginning. He's a smart savy guy afterall.

So Rhian kinda exploits this and gets the two boys against each other. Because say that Tedros and Chaddick have this big fight propably like the one when Agatha comments that Tedros was being a horrible king but Chaddick's the one that said it instead. Say that this happens around the middle of the Book and it's the final straw between them because they haven't been properly communicating and all the pressure on them. Rhian could easily worm his way to Tedros's side and replace Chaddick nicely. Cause unlile Chaddick, Rhian would make Tedros believe that HE'S the one that believes in him the most.

So they kinda fall apart and Chaddick and Tedros are trying to understand where it all went wrong.

Agatha would try to understand each side and get them to better terms again but she can't do it alone plus a-hole Rhian is butting in.

I imagine that, for me, the logical person that Chaddick might approach on his dilema with Tedros might be Ravan.

Cause the two of them basically think the same way and are usually calm and wise. The only difference would be that Chaddick's more active while Ravan's more passive and choses to observe before making a move. So he calms Chaddick down when he's being too impatient.

Chaddick and Agatha would be talking of course. And I don't know why but I imagine that they're more numb to all the gossip about the three of them especially around each other because they're both sort of level headed and wise then when they're with Tedros individually.

And I imagine this is where the Tagatha drama happens. Only after Rhian cause I wanna be clear that without him, Tagatha would have been fine. He also tries to break them up by saying that Agatha sides with Chaddick and that she doesn't have much faith in Tedros too.

Agatha's going to deny this of course (because it's all bs from Rhian) but Tedros has been too stressed and vulnerable that he sorta starts to believe it and Agatha gets frustrated that Tedros is choosing to believe Rhian when she's known him longer and after everything that they've been through.

But Tedros isn't fully under Rhian's spell. I would have put several times when they would doubt each other especially when Rhian talks crap about Agatha and Chaddick and it would be beserk button for Tedros so Rhian doesn't really go there.

Now Chaddick would be having his little personal battle with himself and Ravan and Agatha would be there to support him and give some advice.

The real kicker would have been when Rhian is adored by Camelot as Tedros's Treasured Knight, someone better than Lancelot and Chaddick kinda has a heartbreaking moment because HE'S supposed to be the one that was known as Tedros's Treasured Knight not this stranger. Not this stranger that stole everything from him especially his best friend.

Agatha hears about this and reflects the time when she gave up her own position as Tedros's queen in TLEA and remembers that Tedros knows her and all her monsters and has been the light to help her fight them.

So she and Chaddick have this talk and she tries to concinve him that Tedros wouldn't want for Chaddick to just give up on him like that. Chaddick thinks about it but is still not completely convinced but Agatha reminds him that Tedros CHOOSE HIM to be his Knight and Liege and they both have to fight for it.

It's Ravan who finally manages to get Chaddick to gear when he asks Chaddick if he's going to regret anything he should choose to either regret letting Tedros go and not fighting for their friendship or make a complete idiot of himself but fight for their friendship instead.

So Chaddick does the latter but everything is too late and the Rhian thing happens as I explained in the first Rants and Remakes post and Chaddick gets tossed into jail with Tedros.

It's in book 5 that I imagine their relationship actually starts to heal itself and they both try to get through everything. I haven't thought of all the kinks out yet but I imagine a lot of fights and Chaddick just kinda shouting what he thinks before he startsvthe regret it and Tedros being this physic and just getting Chaddick too like how he does Agatha.

Again, I haven't thought of everything yet but I'll share it when I do

Now let's move on to Yara

On Yara

Yara would have been more influencial alive then dead and I already explained why how she could have been handled in TLEA cause where I really see exploiting her is in the storyline of TCY.

With the Balance vs Chaos in mind as well as the Lady of the Lake villainess plotline, Yara could have been the answer to this.

She'd be a living reminder of everything that all the characters went through in AWWP and how horribly toxic it is to everyone. Especially those like Yara who lives in the between.

Like with the Lady plotline she would have promoted ultimate purity for both Good and Evil and doesn't believe that each side could be able to understand each other so she thinks that she's promoting Balance that way and that letting each side corrupt the other is Chaos.

She would have believed that Yara is an abomination to the Balance because she is the embodiment of the idea that you can choose some charcteristic from two sides and still be yourself.

Plus with Yara alive the other characters would be forced to rethink their ideals and how to approach this new possibility and reflect on the old ways that have been hurting the ones that are similar to her.

I imagine that Yara's gonna have an internal struggle with this like she's still trying to understand it herself and as she tries to understand it the more that the other characters do as well.

I haven't actually thought out her actual detailed storyline just yet and even though I wanna say more I know that I might butcher her character as I go on but I definitely know her importance to the possible story.

As I explained before, if in TSY was Good VS Evil and that the TCY was about Good AND Evil and how both sides need each other to grow and develop and that the importance of the School still teaching Good and Evil in its most purest form is so that they'd all have a guideline to go by but the curriculum has become more flexible with their beliefs OF Good and Evil and that every student just have shades of grey but choses to go by these either of the two and can still be a Hero or a Villain then Yara could have been the right person to show that it doesn't matter if your not completely on one side and was given the characteristics of the other, it matters what values you choose to follow despite it and how tou choose to use it to help everyone else for the better.

Cause it's canon already that it doesn't matter what they are, it's what they do that counts.

NGL I'm not completely satisfied with how I explained Chaddick and Yara I feel like I didn't do them justice here and I will definitely get back to this when I have organized and fleshed out my thoughts on them

Anyways, if you guys would like to add your own thoughts to this post pls do.