The Spider & The Fly

[AMY WINSTON]

gonna stand t

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"Will you come into my parlor?" Said the spider to the fly...

She was walking through a maze. A large, labyrinthine hedge maze, and she wasn't sure where it would lead. The ground beneath her feet was all checkerboard, and she was following a little blonde girl in a blue dress. She wasn't sure whether she should be following this girl, since she might be a trap meant to lead her further into the maze. The constant paranoia that they were going in circles finally got the better of Amy, who silently branched off at a fork in the maze.

She walked for what seemed like hours (or maybe just a few minutes, she couldn't really tell), until finally, she happened upon a door. A big wooden door in the middle of the hedges. "This must be what I've been looking for!" She exclaimed excitedly, wrenching the door open and dashing inside. The door swung shut behind her and suddenly, it was very dark. Her eyes adjusted almost instantly, and she could see she was in a little room. There was a dim light from a burning candle on top of a glass table, and she ran towards it, feeling uneasy in the dark.

The table wasn't very interesting, but there were some curious things on top of it that intrigued her. A pack of playing cards, a key, the candle, a bottle of some liquid, and a cake with writing on it. However, before she could read the words on the little pastry, she was startled by a voice coming from behind her.

"Amy?"

She would know that voice anywhere. She wheeled around, and saw him. Smiling, sweet, beautiful. Jon. He was standing just on the edges of the light. She tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows knitting together in an expression of hopeless confusion. "What are you doing here?

[/b]" His face suddenly looked pained, and she instantly regretted saying it. "I mean, not that I don't want you to be here, it's just-[/color]" He silenced her with a glance, and cleared his throat.

"Look, I know that I messed up before. I said and did some things that I shouldn't have. But, I'm a changed man now. I'm really, truly different. There's this thing inside me that wants me to change, so that I can be with you, forever. So, whatd'ya say?"

She considered for a moment, she wasn't sure how long, time was moving oddly in this room. Finally, with a strange air of gravity, she walked forward slowly, and pressed her lips to his. He returned the kiss joyously, and they held the embrace for what seemed like an eternity. But suddenly, the light was too bright behind her eyelids. She pulled away, and quickly clasped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.

Behind Jon was a ghastly creature, with sharp claws and teeth, wings and black, soulless eyes. It leered at her, and flashed a terrifying grin. Jon reached for her, but his movements were jerky. Her eyes fell on his wrists, which were bound like a marionette with thin spider silk. Extending to the creature. He opened his mouth, and as he spoke, the creature spoke with him.

"What's wrong, darling? Don't you like how I've changed?"

On the word 'changed,' the creature pulled on Jon, drawing him backwards into it. They melted together and shifted until it was a great spider, with Jon's face and huge gaping pincers snapping at her from his mouth. She attempted to back up, but her back was against a wall or something. She looked down, and realized with horror that she was trapped in a giant web, with her arms and legs pinned down by delicate, yet unbreakable, threads. The Jon spider advanced on her, and she screamed as it all went black.

She awoke, sweating and gasping on a bed that was unfamiliar to her. She looked around wildly, her head pounding. The room was non-descript, with a pile of clothes in the corner, a kegerator, and a hot plate being the only pieces of decoration in the barren room. She was laying on a bare mattress that was on top of another bare mattress on the floor. She recognized the layout of the room and realized that she was in her apartment complex. She idly wondered if she was in her room and Eli was in the middle of some renovations, but the sun was coming in through the window in the wrong direction. No this was somewhere new. She looked down at her clothes, which were definitely not the same as they were when she left for work the night before. Had she done something last night? She had never been the type to go home with someone before. One night stands were never her M.O.

Somebody had changed her out of her beer-soaked clothes and switched her to a nondescript black t-shirt. She was still wearing her underthings and socks, but the idea that someone had removed her clothes while she slept squicked her out. She sat up, and immediately regretted it. What a bad hangover. Suddenly, she remembered. Everything with Jon, the knife fight, the blackout, the horrible dream. Suddenly, she knew exactly where she was, and she could only sit, horrified and let out one impassioned sentence. "What the FUCK.[/b]"

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NOTES: This thread is a continuation of Am I Being Punished For Something?
OUTFIT: clickky
WORDS: 0 8 9 5
MUSE: Goooood.
CREDIT: NOTHING_PERSONAL@CAUTION 2.0
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[JONATHON ROSSUM]

I'M THE NEW CANCER

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•• N E V E R • L O O K E D • B E T T E R ••[/i]
A N D Y O U C A N ' T S T A N D I T
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It had taken all of Jon's mostly forgotten self control not to touch Amy last night. True, he had undressed her. And true, it had been an intense moment seeing her flesh. But he resisted his urges, and dressed her like a perfect gentlemen. Even as she laid in his bed, he kept his distance, not trusting himself.

Unable to sleep, he sat in the corner of his shit hole apartment, and did something Jon Rossum rarely did.

He thought.

They were fleeting thoughts, shallow in content. Things like how Amy and he looked standing next to each other, or what color looked best on him. And while the he thought, so did the lurking little Beastie. J.B.'s thoughts were less vapid. Some were down right frightening. He remembered the smell of the fear emanating from the men he destroyed the other night, his blood lust not quenched, but sedated. He thought of the curious creature who slept in his bed, wondering what was keeping her so restless. He wondered how much longer would it be until he could shed this ignorant fool from this body, and take it over as his own.

Perhaps he would never be rid of the Fool. The thought irked the Beast, on multiple levels. But perhaps he could me molded more into J.B.'s liking. Yes, he was a fool, and fools were always easy to manipulate. "Jonathon?" The Creature spoke into his hosts mind.

"Wha-oh. Umm. Hi." Jon spoke allowed, sounding puzzled. The stupid boy was curios as to why J.B. spoke, when no advice was needed. As if the mighty Jabberwock was a common servant to this creature.

But the Beast kept it's temper. "What do you want?" Jon considered momentarily. His wants flashed before his brain like a old news reel. Nice cars, lots of women, Money. His eyes trailed over to the sleeping creature, and suddenly the flashes became more centered around her. Her making dinner, rubbing his feet, sexing him up. "I can help you get it..." Greed filled Jon Rossum, who licked his lips at sweet sleeping Amy. "Down boy. Down. You'll get her. I'll help you." J.B. spoke soothingly, calming Jon. "But you'll have to trust me, Jonathon. You do trust me, dontchu Jonny boy?"

"Sure." Jon answered, giving the question basically no thought. The jabberwocky purred, pleased by his puppet.

"Good. Get your hotplate." Jon was puzzled, but did so. He waited, hapless, waiting to be directed. "Plug it in..." J.B. couldn't keep the annoyance from his voice, but Jon did so quickly. "Jon, do you know what the most important thing is to rememb'r when you are working to get what you want?" J.B. spoke in his richest, most comforting voice. Jon grew confused. You must learn to suffer Jon. To suffer is to learn. To learn is to know. Do you understand?"

"No." Jon's stomach curled as the Beast said the word 'suffer' and he stared at the hotplate wearily. As it began to glow an ominous red, J.B. took control of Jon's hand (the one not marred by glass earlier that night). "What!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" Jon yelped out, trying to resist, his arm looking as if being pulled in opposite directions by invisible ropes.

"Relax into it, Jonathon! Accept the suffering, and then reap the rewards of it."

"JESUS CHRIST!" Jon screamed out, trying to pull his arm away, though it moved no further.

J.B.'s annoyance was clear, as he fought to push the hand into the hotplate. "Myth. There is no God, no Jesus, no Heaven, no Hell. There is you and there is me and there is that fuckin Bird you've chased across the country. You claim to have changed, but have not. You are the same, spoiled, awful, shell of a human being that you were when she left you." Shocked at the words, Jon's guard went down, as did his palm. He let out a painful shriek that should belong to anything with a pair. "You fuckin Child! SHUT UP! I am offering you a chance no religion can offer you! GENUINE ENLIGHTENMENT!"

Oh, now the pitiful creature was crying.

The weeping pile looked over to sleeping Amy, wishing for her to wake up and save him. He was actually praying to God, that was cute. "Listen to me! If you continue to be a little bitch, all of the nerves in your hand will be burned off. It will be, literally, beyond repair. Do you understand? Try to learn from this, and I will release you." Jon grew quiet, but his tears still streamed fluidly. The smell of burning flesh filled Jon's nostrils, and J.B. could sense his stomach lurching in response. "I have given you gifts. Strength, speed. I have given you the ability to fuck like Porn Star's wish they could! I have given you the courage to stomp back those who would do you wrong, and to slip your hand up the skirts of women who would have otherwise shot you down. And for what? You are still the same pathetic weakling that you were two fucking years ago." Jon fought back the urge to vomit. "Your mind is still like that of a fourteen year old girl. 'Does this shirt go with my eyes...' YOUR EYES ARE FUCKIN BLACK YOU PRAT! EVERYTHING MATCHES THEM!"

Lurch, gag, vomit. It had the stink of vodka and jager, with a sickly sweet after smell of citrus. J.B. pressed on. "You must seek out to be beyond that of a consuming vessel. You are to reach out beyond this flesh sacks. You can be so much more, not if you believe you can be, but if you just simply be." J.B. paused, as Jon merely thought of the pain. "You FUCK! THINK BEYOND THE PAIN! THINK OF SOMETHING! Anything but the pain, and I will release you!"

At first, Jon could not. He thought only of the pain, and then began to think fleetingly of other things. Cars, watches, the statue of liberty, a concert he went to once. But the Jon concentrated with all his might, looking over at Amy. He thought of them, together, consummating. Then her in white, walking down the aisle, mouthing 'I love you'. Jon became aware of the pain, but it was not the center of his consciousness.

Good to his word, J.B. released. Jon clutched his sizzling, flesh, crying out in pain, his sobs dry and disgusting. "Bactine..." Shaking, Jon stumbled to his little bathroom, pouring the bottle of bactine over his wound. The stinging overwhelmed him, and Jon vomited once more. A cool numb came from the Jabberwock, and Jon's shaking relaxed considerably. "The sun is rising, and she'll be upset about the whole knife fight thing. We should go and get her breakfast. Perhaps some more bactine." Jon nodded, as he tore a tee shirt apart to wrap his hand.

The wound wrapped, Jon turned off the hotplate, considering throwing it out, and got dressed. Amy slept on, a very light snore (a cute one, not a scary bear one) emitting from her. Jon ventured out, gaining many a stare from strangers at his bandaged hand. He bought asprin, bactine, bottled water (to fight of the dehydration of Hangover), Waffles, sausage, bacon, hash browns, strawberries, whip cream,Orange juice, and two starbucks drinks. Amy's was thickly creamed, as was meant for an Amy, where as Jon's was simply black.

With deft coordination, Jon carried the food and other things to the room, opening the door to find her awake. "Oh hey. Good Morning. How's your head, Lush?" Jon spoke lightly, trying to ignore the pain. "I brought food." Jon tempted, holding up the iHop bag.

He hoped her rage would be dulled by the prospect of food and hangover fighters.



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• B E C A U S E Y O U S A Y S O •
UNDER YOUR BREATH[/b][/size][/font]

### WORDS | COMPLETE/INCOMPLETE | TAGS | OUTFIT IS HERE!!!
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NOW GIVE THEM A NICE NOTE HERE!

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[AMY WINSTON]

gonna stand t

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God her head was KILLING her. What the fuck even happened last night? She paced around the room, sticking her thumbnail in between her teeth and chewed absentmindedly, not enough to bite off the nail, but to give her mouth and hand something to do. Okay, first things first. She perched back on the bed, and felt her body. Okay, her lips felt okay, no sign of pain or anything that suggested that they even kissed. She touched her neck gingerly, searching for bruises or hickies. She'd always been able to feel either one of them. Nope, nothing there. Her bra hadn't come off, because Jon wouldn't have thought to put it back on, and even if he had, it wouldn't have been on properly. She could feel no scratch marks on her back or arms, and there were no telltale signs that he had taken advantage of her sleeping form. As a matter of fact, it seemed from the pillow that had been unruffled next to the pillow she had been on that the only contact they had had last night was him carrying her to his apartment, and then undressing her for bed.

Amy exhaled slowly, done with her physical assessment and now moving on to the infinitely harder mental checkup. She rest her head in her hands, letting the heels of her palms slowly push against her eyeballs. Ugh. She focused for a moment on how shitty she felt. Her heartbeat was throbbing in her ears, and her skin was crawling like a thousand tiny spid-

She looked up, gasping, suddenly paranoid of every crack and crevice. Sheesh, what a time to develop a phobia. Obviously that was not the best comparison to make. Trying to calm her breathing, she stood and walked to the window. Well, this was a jumble of things. On the one hand, Jon was dangerous last night. There was no other way to put it. He was violent and terrifying, and she was so incredibly angry at him that she didn't even know what to do with herself whenever she thought of that ridiculous knife fight. On the other hand, when she had passed out, he had gallantly made sure she got somewhere safe and then decided to pass on the opportunity to take advantage of her in her weakened state.

Maybe all she needed was time. Time and coffee. Time and coffee and breakfast. Her stomach rumbled uncomfortably just as her head gave a particularly painful throb. Just as she was about to start searching the apartment for her clothes, Jon burst through the door, and asked how she was feeling. How was she feeling? After a moments deliberation, she decided she was feeling kinda pissed. "Jon, where the fuck are my clo-"

It was only in the middle of her irate question that she noticed that he was currently holding a bag that smelled completely mouthwatering. "Ohmigod. Is that-?" Of course it was. He had gone out and gotten her all of her favorite hangover remedies. Her face lit up despite herself, and she thought that if one was trying to win back their ex-girlfriend, they could take lessons from Jon.

Well, some lessons anyway. Others should be best left out of the handbook.

She realized she was standing in just her underwear and modestly attempted to pull the t-shirt down, which only succeeded in revealing her bra. A blush crept up across her features, and she addressed her next statement to the wall directly above and to the left of Jon's face. "Thank you for taking care of me, Jon. Food sounds lovely." She tried to keep her tone cold, like they do in the movies, but no, there was warmth in every syllable. Try though she might, she really couldn't stay mad at Jon. She'd never been able to, and she wondered whether she ever could.

NOTES: This thread is a continuation of Am I Being Punished For Something?
OUTFIT: clickky
WORDS: 0 6 6 0
MUSE: Goooood.
CREDIT: NOTHING_PERSONAL@CAUTION 2.0
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[JONATHON ROSSUM]

I'M THE NEW CANCER

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•• N E V E R • L O O K E D • B E T T E R ••[/i]
A N D Y O U C A N ' T S T A N D I T
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Jesus, she was a vision.

Hungover, pissed off, faint odor of beer; she was still the most beautiful creature in the world to Jon Rossum. This perplexed the Jabberwock, but he made no comment, deciding to investigate from (figuratively) afar. Before she got a chance to scold Jon, her nose piqued at the smell of delicious food of nom-ness. Gingerly, Jon set it down, his injured hands coming into full view as he did so. J.B. couldn't really tell if this was on purpose or not, and figured it to be a mixture of both. They, both the residents of the body, watched Amy, as she sheepishly tried not to reveal too much. It was... endearing.

"I could get you some pajama pants if you want..." Jon said slowly, sorting through the contents of the bags. He really, really, really didn't want her too... which begged the question (at least to J.B.): Why offer. Still he said nothing, disgusted as Jon was overwhelmed with the need to make her feel comfortable.

She was only a woman, for WHATEVER'S sake.

Jon ruffled his hair, ignoring the sting of his burned hand. "Sorry, it's such a mess in here." He chuckled, kicking some of his cloths into a closet. "That damn maid... I need to fire her." He was obviously joking, with his over exasperated face making this known. "And your cloths are in the bathroom. They kinda smell like beer though."

The idea of bringing up the barfight went over Jon, who was naive enough to think she might have forgotten it in her drunken state. Giving her a fleeting smile, he grabbed the bactine and went to the bathroom to clean his wound again, leaving the door open so that he could converse still with Amy. Unwrapping it, he winced at the blistered flesh, which had taken on a yellowish pearl like sheen as the skin began to form over the wound. At least there was no odor. "I would have brought you back to your place, but uh... I didn't know- OW- where that was. Fuck."

Stupid owie.



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• B E C A U S E Y O U S A Y S O •
UNDER YOUR BREATH[/b][/size][/font]

### WORDS | COMPLETE/INCOMPLETE | TAGS | OUTFIT IS HERE!!!
LYRICS BY PANIC! AT THE DISCO | TEMPLATE BY ARRO
NOW GIVE THEM A NICE NOTE HERE!

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[AMY WINSTON]

gonna stand t

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As he stared at her, she folded and unfolded her arms, a petulant expression on her face. Did she want to put on pants? Or did she want to be stubborn and obstinate. Nope, crabby Amy was crabby, and she decided on stubborn. "No thank you, I don't want any more of your clothes on than need be."

[/b] She spat, venom coloring her tone. It didn't really make sense, since the pants she was wearing when she arrived here were, in fact, Jon's pants. But whatever! She was pissed at him! She looked at him as he unpacked the bag, her light blue eyes falling on his injured hand. "Jesus! The fuck did you do?" Of course, it had to have been something he did, probably burned himself trying to make breakfast earlier, which explained why he went out and bought it.

Whatever, he wouldn't get her sympathy that easily. Fuck, that was a lie. He kicked some clothes into a closet, and made a quip about a maid. Her lips turned upward involuntarily, and she bent down to unpack the food to hide it. Goddammit. Was she stupid? Was she some kind of moron? Why did she keep falling for his tricks? Well no more. After than knife fight, she could barely stand to be in the same room as him! Right after breakfast, she was going upstairs to her own apartment, in her skivvies if she had to.

As he walked into the bathroom, she talked over him, sitting on the bed with her knees to one side and her back against a wall. She steeled herself and said what was on her mind. "Look, Jon, I appreciate all the kind-ness, but I can't do this. You're fucking Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Jackass, and I can't fucking handle it. Everything in my life was going fine until you showed up again and now-[/b]

"OW! -where that was. Fuck."[/b]

Oh Goddammit. She hopped up from the bed as though it was on fire, and dashed into the bathroom, where Jon was pouring bactine on his hand. Damn, that was a nasty fucking burn. Now she was curious to how he got it. "Really, what did you do?" She said, the anger dissipating out of her words, calm caring taking it's place as she took the bottle from him and gently started to clean the small wound. "Burn your own hand in penitence for that stupid knife fight at the bar last night?" She brought up the hazy memory to see if he would own up to it. If he did, she might stay until her clothes were washed. Might.

She stared up at him, noticing that his eyes were still black. "Your eyes are going to dry out if you keep those contacts in too long." She said quietly, already feeling her anger ebb. No, this wasn't happening. She would not fall into this same pattern, of being mad at Jon until he turned the puppy dog eyes on, and then she would go running back to him. Fuck that. She dabbed at his hand a little harder than she should have, her face forming into a hard glare. "I don't even know why the fuck I'm doing this for you. I could be eating. Or washing my clothes. You know, things that would benefit me? Why am I so nice to you? You don't deserve it you know." And there was a challenge in her words. She wanted him to prove her wrong.

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NOTES: This thread is a continuation of Am I Being Punished For Something?
OUTFIT: clickky
WORDS: 0 6 2 0
MUSE: Goooood.
CREDIT: NOTHING_PERSONAL@CAUTION 2.0
[/size]

[JONATHON ROSSUM]

I'M THE NEW CANCER

[/B][/size][/font][/size]
•• N E V E R • L O O K E D • B E T T E R ••[/i]
A N D Y O U C A N ' T S T A N D I T
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Annnnnd she was pissed again.

She could never stay mad at him though, and even started to take over cleaning his wound. True... she did mention the knife fight thing. He admitted it with a guilty face, pouting a little in shame like a puppy dog. J.B. felt like barfing. "I told you last night, I don't wear contacts. My eyes have always been brown." Again with the eye thing. She had excepted it last night! Did he just have to keep hearing a constant state of drunk? Fuck.

Also, she was being a bit more... ginger than he would have expected... hrm.. that stung. OW! Damn that really STUNG!!! He took his hand away from her, shaking it slightly. "ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! You're pissed. Damn, girl, can I just fuckin explain before you mangle me more." His voice was a twist of annoyance and a whine, wanting her to just listen.

"I didn't stab him or nuthin! Just.. it's just..." Frustrated he just poured the bottle over his hand, saturating it before re-wrapping the wound. "I told myself, if I ever got the chance to- FUCK OW!- make you happy again Amy... even if you didn't want me... I'd do it. No matter what. And it'll be over my dead body if I let anyone talk to you like that. You didn't deserve it when I did it back then, and you sure as fuck don't now." He tried to ignore the pain of the burnt flesh. His other hand, oddly, was not in any pain. Jon vaguely wondered what was different, but only found J.B. silent.

The Beast himself was tired from his exertions, and slumbered quietly in Jon's brain.

Truly, it was as alone as Jon had felt in his own mind since Amy had left him.

"Just eat. Wear my cloths, I haven't even wore the ones that are folded in there." He said bitterly, scooping up her cloths to put in the washer. "I'll be right back."Jon yelled over his shoulder as he began heading down to the laundry room.

Jon attempted to hold back what was a brimming Jon tantrum. Why did she have to be so difficult? HERE HE WAS, TRYING TO DO RIGHT BY HER.... Had his hands not been injured, Jon was sure fist size holes would have trailed his way to the laundry room, like doom-filled bread crumbs.

After the washing machine started, Jon took a deep breath, and tried to sooth himself. It had been so long since Jon was left alone with his feelings. In truth, he felt like a fool without the Beast telling him what to do. What did that make him? A Puppet? Nah, no. The Beast lived in Jon! Not the other way around. And this burning shit, yeah that wasn't happening again. He still hadn't bothered to explain to Amy, and to be honest he wasn't even sure how. It wasn't like Jon had an abundance of cooking shit in his house, or else he would have blamed that...

Maybe he could say he had been making tea.

Walking back, absorbed in possible excuses, Jon became soothed. By the time he returned to the room, he looked at Amy, not quite sure what to say. Instead, he just stared at his feet, sheepish.



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• B E C A U S E Y O U S A Y S O •
UNDER YOUR BREATH[/b][/size][/font]

### WORDS | COMPLETE/INCOMPLETE | TAGS | OUTFIT IS HERE!!!
LYRICS BY PANIC! AT THE DISCO | TEMPLATE BY ARRO
NOW GIVE THEM A NICE NOTE HERE!

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[AMY WINSTON]

gonna stand t

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Why was he insisting that his eyes were brown? "No, your eyes have ALWAYS been green. You think I wouldn't know the color of the lov- I mean, my ex boyfriend's eyes?"

[/b] Ooh, that was almost bad. If she had finished the whole 'love of my life' bit, he might have started to hope. Which was bad. But seriously, why was he pulling the Edward Cullen bit? It nagged at her brain, but she dropped it for now.

He yanked his hand away from her, and attempted to explain himself, and she was suddenly overcome with emotion. "So, that whole thing last night was some big...macho show of appreciation?"[/b] For her? To atone for his sins? That was...that was kind of sweet actually. Her eyes widened, and she shrunk into herself. As he wrapped his hand, she suddenly felt like the world's biggest bitch, and a small, choked whimper escaped her lips. He really wasn't all that bad. She was being a needless bitch for no reason other than her hangover and the dream that seemed to be slipping away from her with every second. He snatched up her clothes and stalked out of the room, and she quietly walked to his closet and tugged on a pair of black skinny jeans from the closet. "Smooth, Amy."[/b] She said to herself, feeling like the scum of the Earth.

She took to unpacking the bag of food and spreading it out on the naked bed, resuming her perch against the corner of the wall gingerly. Why was she being so difficult? Jon seemed to want nothing more than to have her back, and he had done a damn good job of trying to get in her good graces. As she contemplated, pushing around her food, popping a couple asprin and sipping her coffee, she felt her eyes sting. That was really mean to hurt him like that. She squeezed her eyelids shut, and felt a few hot tears trickle down her cheeks, no doubt leaving dark trails of last nights eyeliner running the length of her pale face.

The door opened again, and she looked up at him, looking generally miserable. He looked so sad! Was she really responsible for that horrible sad face? The silence stretched between them like a vast ocean, and when she simply couldn't bear it anymore, she spoke. "I'm Sorry."[/b] The words came out a sheepish mumble, and she allowed her thick dark hair to form a curtain around her face as she bowed her head, hugging her knees and looking generally miserable.

[/blockquote]
NOTES: This thread is a continuation of Am I Being Punished For Something?
OUTFIT: clickky
WORDS: 0 4 4 9
MUSE: Goooood.
CREDIT: NOTHING_PERSONAL@CAUTION 2.0
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[JONATHON ROSSUM]

I'M THE NEW CANCER

[/B][/size][/font][/size]
•• N E V E R • L O O K E D • B E T T E R ••[/i]
A N D Y O U C A N ' T S T A N D I T
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He could never get over how beautiful she was. Even staring at his feet, shame faced for his outburst, he could see her in his mind. He tried to pick what feature he liked best. That rich hair? Those pouted lips? Her alice-blue eyes? Yes, that had to be it! Those eyes that burned his souls....

And then she... she apologize. Jon's black eyes jumped up to Amy's face, his mouth falling slightly ajar. She looked so fragile, so sweet. "No- no, Amy! Don't be sorry." He leaned on the bed, positioning himself so that he would not make the food fall, and hugged her cautiously. "I wasn't trying to make you sad, Amy Baby, I- I shouldn't have yelled." Jon felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. Guilt. "Don't be sad though. Come on, I got your favorite breakfast and everything." He offered a queso-smile, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "You're too damn cute to look so sad."

Jon handed her some pancakes and strawberries, gingerly to avoid agitating his injured hand. He tossed off his shoes, laying down on the bed, watching her eat. He, himself. was far too excited to really eat. He had won! He had actually won! And all without J.B.'s help. Amy was going to be his, and they were going to be perfect for each other, and everything was going to be okay.



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• B E C A U S E Y O U S A Y S O •
UNDER YOUR BREATH[/b][/size][/font]

### WORDS | COMPLETE | TAGS | OUTFIT IS HERE!!!
LYRICS BY PANIC! AT THE DISCO | TEMPLATE BY ARRO
NOW GIVE THEM A NICE NOTE HERE!

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[AMY WINSTON]

gonna stand t

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Why was he feeling so guilty? He wasn't the one who had been being an absolute horror. He put his arms around her, and she shrugged into him, comforted by the closeness. She sniffled a few times, and wiped at her face as he apologized. "No, now don't you go and be sorry for that. I would be yelling too if I was talking to someone bent on being completely unreasonable." He tilted her face up and pushed her hair out of her eyes, and for a moment, she didn't care about the color of his eyes. All she saw was love, and kindness and compassion. Impulsively, she moved her face forward, only to have him turn away to force her to eat. Of course.

She sat back, and grabbed a Strawberry that he offered to her, dipping it in some sugar from a container (she was surprised that he had remembered to ask for that), and biting down on it. She self consciously chewed, watching him watch her. "Aren't you going to eat anything?" She moved her gaze down his body, her eyes lingering on first his lips, and then the small patch of skin between his shirt and pants. She felt a rumbling of arousal, and was instantly both confused and disgusted with herself. Seriously. This was getting ridiculous. She tore her gaze away, concentrating on chewing. She stared at the ceiling awkwardly, feeling him stare. She swallowed and looked back, confirming her suspicions. He looked so smug, she could have sworn she spotted a canary feather or two on his lips. She sighed, and meticulously moved all the food to the floor, laying on the bed, curling up against his body.

"So...What now? Like, what are we going to do? You're not gonna give up, and I'm not sure if I want you back. So...what?" Her tone was almost defeated, slightly excited, and still tinged with that earlier guilt and sadness. She settled her head on his chest, snuggled her body closer, and fixated her piercing blue eyes on his face, waiting for him to call it.

NOTES: This thread is a continuation of Am I Being Punished For Something?
OUTFIT: clickky
WORDS: 0 3 6 1
MUSE: Pathetic. v.v
CREDIT: NOTHING_PERSONAL@CAUTION 2.0
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[JONATHON ROSSUM]

I'M THE NEW CANCER

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•• N E V E R • L O O K E D • B E T T E R ••[/i]
A N D Y O U C A N ' T S T A N D I T
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Ah. Words, words, words. Apologies, which he had already shushed away. A mongoose could be attacking the girl, and she'd apologize for the noise. Figures he'd fall for the type prone to unnecessary contrition... though... she did have a few things to be sorry for. She had taken off on him, after blackballing him with any dealer worth knowing back home. She had made him chase after her. Had, presumably, flirted with other men. Men who weren't him. Or at the very least, she'd have thought about it. And that was just as bad. It made his gut bubble... but no. No, he was forgiving her for all the wrongs she had done. It was all going to be perfect, DAMMIT. FUCKING PERFECT! Snapping out of his thoughts by the sound of her sniffley voice, Amy inquired about if Jon was going to eat, too which he silently shook his head in the negative. He would go long stretches with out eating. This was in part due to being a little, tensy, tiny bit coked off his ass for a good portion of his weeks. But when hunger did hit him, it was like a school of starved piranha, picking the bones off a poor little calf. But he wasn't due for a siege of this hunger for about a few hours.

He was golden.

He stared up at the ceiling, as her blue eyes burned into him. Could she control the burning? Because, after all, it didn't always burn. Perhaps it had to do with her moods? Amy's emotions were always big, always dramatic. She lacked male-driven, fact-based logic. So it wouldn't be too out of the box to say sometimes, OFTEN, when her emotions got the better of her, OFTEN, they directed said emotion through those pretty, entrancing, eyes. Again, his thoughts were put on a hold for a moment, as she snuggled up to him.

I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE- don't get a boner- TO THE FLAG- it will ruin everything- OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!!! AND TO- or would it?- THE REPUBLIC- might remind her what she's been missing- FOR WHICH IT STANDS- ooooor it could be awkward- ONE NATION- FUCK!- INDIVISIBLE- MY LIFE- WITH LIBERTY- SHE SMELLS FANTASTIC- AND JUSTICE- AND SHE TASTES LIKE RAIN AND PENNIES!- FOR ALL....

Where ere they? Like, dating wise. She's totally sending mixed messages. I know you won't stop, but I don't think I want you. THINK?!?!?! What the fuck did that mean? Think. Honestly. Women. He looked down at her, his black eyes wide and round, a mixture of wounded-puppy and aggravation. Why'd she have to make things so fucking hard? .... Speaking of which... "Amy-Baby, listen. If you aren't sure, why are you laying on me." He tried to hide any amount of pleading in his voice, but it was J.B. who was the actor, not him. "You're right. I'm not gonna give up. And why would I? I already let you get away once." He sat up, bringing her up with him, taking her gently by the shoulders. His grip might have been tighter, had he not been injured. Damn, pain sucked.

"Look me in the eye, and say: 'Jon, I don't love you.' Do it, and I'll back the fuck off." His gaze was both stern and gentle, and he forced himself not to look at her lips.

But if she couldn't say it...

Game on.



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• B E C A U S E Y O U S A Y S O •
UNDER YOUR BREATH[/b][/size][/font]

### WORDS | COMPLETE | TAGS | OUTFIT IS HERE!!!
LYRICS BY PANIC! AT THE DISCO | TEMPLATE BY ARRO
NOW GIVE THEM A NICE NOTE HERE!

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[AMY WINSTON]

gonna stand t

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As her head rested on his chest, she could almost audibly hear his blood rush southward. For some reason, this made her smile, and want to continue fucking with him. It awoke every flirtatious fight instinct in her, feelings that hadn't been awakened for years. She felt his body tense, heard his heart hammering away, and suddenly, the air smelled like pheromones. The scent that was entirely Jon. An amazing blend of a campfire, and petrichor. It was almost intoxicating, and there was a shred of sanity in her left screaming that laying down was a BAD IDEA. But fuck that little prude.

But, just as impulsive Amy took over the brain, Jon started talking. It was enough to snap Amy back into place, and clear her head. He asked why she was laying on him. Good question. "Um...well...it's...comfy....and warm." Her voice was quiet, and sheepish. Her body tensed, as she prepared to get up, or scoot away. But then he started saying sweet things, and she melted back into his arms. Until he pulled her up that is.

"Look me in the eye, and say: 'Jon, I don't love you.' Do it, and I'll back the fuck off."

Ah. This was going to be...problematic. She closed her eyes to think. On the one hand, did she? Did she still? After their fallout? And terribleness? After all the bullshit? Did she? And here he was muddling her decision with looking her in the eyes, and being all sweet, and buying her breakfast. But also, what if he was just manipulating her? That dream seemed kind of...prophetic and important. Fuck. She didn't need this. She didn't need him. It was time to tell him what she should have said two years ago. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for this momentous occasion.

"Jon. I...don't..." She opened her eyes again, and they immediately zeroed in on his. His lovely eyes. She could see a faint glimmer of fear in those black eyes, and she broke. "Oh, fuck it." With the last flicker of control leaving her body, she pounced on him, crashing her lips into his. She landed on top of him, fingers knotting in his hair, her breathing shallow, all sense of everything flying out the window. She was nowhere, she was everywhere. This wasn't good for her, but she didn't care. This was perfect.

NOTES: This thread is a continuation of Am I Being Punished For Something?
OUTFIT: clickky
WORDS: 0 4 1 6
MUSE: Getting better?
CREDIT: NOTHING_PERSONAL@CAUTION 2.0
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[JONATHON ROSSUM]

I'M THE NEW CANCER

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•• N E V E R • L O O K E D • B E T T E R ••[/i]
A N D Y O U C A N ' T S T A N D I T
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Oh God.

Oh no.

She was going to do it. She was going to tell him she didn't love him. He hadn't planned on that. Not really. He was not prepared. Those words would slice through his heart like a damn katana through the gut of a dishonored samurai. It would kill him. Or, more likely, fill him with such an anger soaked pain that he would have to ask her to leave. No! She couldn't! She couldn't refuse him! He had worked to hard, been so patient. He needed J.B.! He needed his guardian to soothe him through this! Jon Rossum was not use to feeling so helpless...

But then, her eyes opened. She melted. And before he could silence her, beg her not to refuse him, her lips clashed to his, her fingers tangled in his thick dark hair. The pounced had knocked his head into the wall, but he was so beyond giving any sorts of fucks, he simply wrapped his arms around her waist, savoring everything.

Silk lips. Not satin. Silk. Warm and beautiful. If ever Jon believed in God, it was feeling those lips against his.

Her body... fucking hell, he was helpless. He was butter. No. He was a toasted marshmallow. Goo on the inside, barely held together by a thin layer of composure on the outside.

Her hair, it was like a curtain. It was their own private little world, behind that curtain.

He could smell rain, and he could taste pennies.

Greed overwhelmed him instantly. He wanted more, craved more, needed more. More than booze, more than weed, more than coke, more than J.B. Ignoring the sudden twinge in the back of his neck, he laid all his focus on her. No longer was he left to teasing memories that were becoming fainter and fainter every day. He had the real deal. He had his Amy. His Amelia. His hands slipped nimbly under the shirt she wore, not heading straight for the breast. No, he would woe her with his touches, he would treat her to a good time. Foreplay, foreplay, had to remember foreplay. Let her get hers, make her toes curl a bit. Couldn't just barrel into it, like a virgin on prom night.

So his fingers traced her frame gently, though they shook from anticipation. Quivered, one could call it. More, more, more. More of her taste, more of her skin. Why had he offered those damn pajama pants to her? Fuck, that had been a mistake. Sure, it was 'gentlemanly' or whatever but...

He needed to focus. He couldn't let himself get overwhelmed. But it was so hard, this phrasing being able to be taken both literally and metaphorically.

Make her want it, make her need it, make her beg. What's good for gander is good for goose, and she had been a fucking little tease from afar, even if Amy didn't know it. His lips trailed from hers, grazing her chin, nipping lightly at her upperneck.

His breathe fast as a sprinter, Jon willed himself to pull away, his insides lurching in protest as he did. She was worse than coke, she was his heroine. His body needed her. But still, he looked at her eyes, kissing her lips fleetingly before he could be drawn in again, and pushed her cherrywood hair behind her ear. "I- don't... hrm." He had to close his eyes, disbelief filling his own words. "I don't want to rush you."

Fuck, that sucked. Why would he say that.

Because it was smart, because she had to be his, so he had to play it smart.

But she was his. Amy kissed him!

And if she wanted to continue, wanted to protest, she could. She would. Jon hoped she would, if for no other reason than a certain part of his body taking on a cerulean tint. Risking peeking at her with one eye, Jon tried to guage her reaction.




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• B E C A U S E Y O U S A Y S O •
UNDER YOUR BREATH[/b][/size][/font]

### WORDS | COMPLETE | TAGS | OUTFIT IS HERE!!!
LYRICS BY PANIC! AT THE DISCO | TEMPLATE BY ARRO
NOW GIVE THEM A NICE NOTE HERE!

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[AMY WINSTON]

gonna stand t

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He kissed her back with all the fiercity of man given water after getting lost in the desert. He was gasoline, and she was the spark. Their love was intense, and destructive. His hands dipped under her shirt, gently tracing paths of fire across her skin. In the fires wake, goosebumps arose, and Amy let out a small moan as his lips traced her collarbone. Her fingers released his hair, and nimbly tumbled down his arms, her nails lightly digging into him.

His taste. It was beyond words. Scientists could not recreate the taste of Jonathan Rossum. He tasted like cigarettes and trouble. He was his own drug. The high she got from him was untouchable. This was what heaven felt like.

So when he pulled away, her stomach lurched, and her heat panged. Straddling him, she shrank away like a violet, hurt by the rejection. And he said she was sending mixed messages? It wasn't like he was exactly opposed to the idea, if the physical evidence was anything to go by. He looked pained though, so she fixated her eyes on him, tilting her head to the side.

I don't want to rush you.

The sentence was so ridiculously forced and fake, she was almost tempted to laugh. As if she could even bring herself to leave. Her body was warm, and wanting. Her muscles ached for her to close the gap once more. Wordlessly, she deftly reached to the base of his shirt, tugging it upwards and over his head. A devilish smirk crossed her mouth as she bent over to kiss the V that defined his hips from his torso. She worked her way up his chest, undoing the button to his pants. Their lips met once more, briefly, before she crawled off of him, yanking her shirt over her head. The skinny jeans peeled away, and the bra unclasped and tossed across the room.

Her skin called to him, like a siren song. Amy lay there, nothing left on her but thin cerulean lace, the sunlight from the window making her pale skin glow.

NOTES: This thread is a continuation of Am I Being Punished For Something?
OUTFIT: clickky
WORDS: 0 3 5 3
MUSE: Okay, short post, but so sexy. I love this post, fuck you if you don't.
CREDIT: NOTHING_PERSONAL@CAUTION 2.0
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[JONATHON ROSSUM]

I'M THE NEW CANCER

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•• N E V E R • L O O K E D • B E T T E R ••[/i]
A N D Y O U C A N ' T S T A N D I T
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She saw right through his rouse. It hadn't been all that great of a rouse, to be honest. He stared at her with wide eyed, very pleased, semi amusement; feeling his shirt ripped off his head. Damn, someone was anxious. He continued to watch as she removed her layers of clothing, his jaw falling slightly ajar. Yes. YES! YES!!! Oh, it was on now. She wanted it, oh boy, was she going to get it. Get it hard. Get it fast (not fast like that O________O). Passion, nails, biting.

Rawr.

He rolled on top of her, letting his more primal nature take over.

And it did. And it was just as magical as Jon had remembered. More so, actually, from their time apart. He was far to pleased to let it bother him, that perhaps someone had taught her- No! Happy thoughts. He was Peter Fucking Pan right now. Had she not been anchoring him to the bed, he'd probably float away.

Kissing her forehead, he sat up, stretching a bit. Showing off the guns, bang bang. Though, subtle. He could feel her scratch marks down his back, and her teeth marks on the meat of his shoulder. Damn. Just... damn. He had his Amy back. This... required celebration!

Rolling off the mattress, unabashed by his current state of nude, Jon went to his closet, pulling out a little shoe box. Now, this was Jon's treasure box. Not that it held his white Colombian gold. Oh no, that was safely tucked away elsewhere. But other items of fun...

Mushrooms.

Pot.

Acid.

Weed!

Ecstasy.

MARIJUANA!

Adderall, Ritalin, Xanax, Vicodin. etc, etc.

Angel Dust.

A tiny wax bottle of Absinthe.

Quite the well stock, enough to put him away for a bit. Clipping out four squares of Acid, he placed two on his tongue, licking his fingers lightly, putting a square on his index and fuck off finger. Grinning, he held them out to her, his black eyes dazzling over her greedily.

His.

All his.

"I love you." He said, voice quiet, but confident. He waited, wanting her to say it back.




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• B E C A U S E Y O U S A Y S O •
UNDER YOUR BREATH[/b][/size][/font]

### WORDS | COMPLETE | TAGS | OUTFIT IS HERE!!!
LYRICS BY PANIC! AT THE DISCO | TEMPLATE BY ARRO
NOW GIVE THEM A NICE NOTE HERE!

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[AMY WINSTON]

gonna stand t

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The unspoken permission that she gave was like pulling the trigger on a shotgun, like diving into the undertow. He was everywhere, pulling her in, consuming her. Greedy, like an only child on Christmas morning, yet strangely unselfish. Different, better. She could feel her skin bruising beneath his hands, his teeth in her flesh. Poisoning her. He kept eye contact, his eyes black, like the depths of the universe.

They collapsed onto the bed after what seemed like an eternity. Jon was on cloud nine, but as Amy's brain restarted, she began to second guess herself. He had been back in her life for all of 12 hours, and had already sweet-talked his way into bed with her. Sure, someone might say that she did all the seducing, but it was difficult. She couldn't exactly think straight around him. And judging by the squares on his fingers, thinking was going to get a hell of a lot more difficult.

A smile split across her face. He did know all of her weaknesses. She sat up eagerly, a lone blanket draped demurely over her body, and reached for the tabs. He quickly flinched his hand away though, adding a clause to their transaction.

"I love you."

His tone was expectant, as though she owed it to him to say it back. Her brow furrowed, unsure how to progress. Of course some part of her still loved him, that had been made abundantly clear over the course of the last two (three?) hours. But if she said it, he'd hold it over her head forever. She'd never be free of his grasp. Thinking it was one thing, actually saying it was something else entirely. Quantifiable. But, she could use the distraction of drugs. So she said the only thing she could think of.

"Um, yeah...me too."

NOTES: This thread is a continuation of Am I Being Punished For Something?
OUTFIT: clickky
WORDS: 0 3 0 6
MUSE: AMY. Y U SO CONFLICTY? IT MAKES YOU DIFFICULT TO WRITE FOR.
CREDIT: NOTHING_PERSONAL@CAUTION 2.0
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