#<-- this because they are each others coping mechanisms even when its sometimes unhealthy

[wraithsoutlaws]

Hi omg I went through your Dagger/Dum Dum tags and absolutely lost my marbles- they are literally so good I’m so in love with them now.

Do you write on ao3? If not pls do ur literally so good-

And like idk if you’re okay with people asking things like this but like do you have any fun facts/head cannons you’ve made up about them that you haven’t shared??

aHHH thank you so much omg this made me so happy!!! i'm really glad you like them, it means a lot to me 🥺 i do have an ao3 but i haven't posted any cp77 fics on there (i get a little nervous sometimes because they're so oc-heavy and i don't want to get yelled at. also my writing has been few and far between lately unfortunately). and i'm always happy to talk about them (or any of my ocs) ! i have quite a lot that i haven't shared tbh here are a couple little things that came to mind:

Dum Dum deals with chronic pain from all his cybernetics and back alley surgeries, so he keeps his pain editor set up so high that he almost can’t feel touch. He’s gotten used to being literally numb but he starts to lower it after he meets Dagger because he wants to feel him.

One of the many reasons Dagger hates Royce is because Dum Dum has such a strong loyalty to him and Royce just treats him like a dog. He suspects they’ve had flings (they haven’t in my lore) but he’s annoyingly jealous anyway, though he doesn’t quite realize it right away. (Dagger is blind to his own emotions).

Dagger eventually finds the old recorded footage of Dum Dum’s Maelstrom initiation: getting his optics installed. Even though Dagger has seen and done worse things to other people, he finds he has a very hard time watching the surgery (which is performed without any anesthesia). It’s the first time he starts to realize he might be having Feelings(TM). He never finishes watching the whole thing, and later destroys the footage.

Speaking of which, Dum Dum also suffers from momentary memory lapses from ~all of that.~ They get worse with age, and as they get older, Dagger helps him with little memory exercises, hoping they’ll make a difference in the long run. In that same vein, Dum Dum always makes sure that Dagger takes his meds (hes on mood stabilizers) because he knows that Dagger often won’t think about it. He keeps an alarm set in case he forgets to remind him.

One of Dagger’s favorite things to do when they’re together is mess with Dum Dum’s open wires and machinery. It almost always ends in electric shock, and they both like it (they’re freaks).

As much as they love each other, their fights can get nasty. Dum Dum is pretty good at keeping his calm but sometimes Dagger intentionally pushes him and he’ll fight back just as hard. This usually ends in a fist fight and a shared cigarette.

Dagger eventually has a hard time at night without the light of Dum Dum’s optics so he starts to leave the lights of his lenses on even when he’s sleeping.

Dum Dum lets Dagger give him a “tattoo” to match Dagger’s FVCK tattoo on his arm. It says ZHIT.

[red-riding-wood]

Hi! :) first of all, I love your blog and your writing is amazing!

I'm obsessed with peaky blinders for years now and i would love to request a fic about arthur shelby (cause he's my comfort character :') is it possible that you write a fic/imagine about him and a younger female reader (in her early 20s) that had a traumatic past and as a result resorted to unhealthy coping mechanisms (hurting herself, drinking,.etc.). Arthur and her are dating, he gets more and more protective over her cause he wants to keep her safe and as they get more intimate with each other (smut) and he notices her scars etc., he tries to make her feel more comfortable by praising her. So a mix of feelings, smut and a slight power dynamic (arthur is more dominant/caring and the reader is a little insecure). I hope that makes sense!

Also, if the topics make you uncomfortable/you don't like to write about said things, i can totally understand that you turn my request down. :)

~sending you positive vibes ! ♡

Ruined

moodboard by @shelbydelrey

Arthur Shelby x F!Reader I Peaky Blinders

Warnings: smut, mentions of self harm and scars, allusions to past sexual assault, angst, reader has body issues

WC: 2415

AN: Thank you so much for the request and the support, anon! It means so much to me and I'm SO sorry it's taken me so long to get this written. You've been in my thoughts a lot and I hope you're doing well! Actually was holding onto this one for a little while, too, because I didn't think the smut was very good, but I'll give myself a break because it's been a while since I've written anything spicy. Also, apologies for cutting it short; it was getting to be quite a long oneshot. I hope you like it!

---

“He wasn’t even looking at me, Arthur.”

“Nah, Y/N, you didn’t see him. I’ve seen enough bad men in my life to know he was up to no good,” Arthur disputed, aggressively hanging his overcoat on the rack.

You sighed, and closed the gap between the two of you; your hands went to the stubble of his cheek, and you sought his gaze with your own.

“Arthur,” you said, softer this time. “Just because I…” Your words hitched in your throat, your tongue bound from speaking of the assault as if admitting it would make it real. “… just because I’ve been hurt in the past doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again.”

Under your touch, he settled, if only slightly; it had been proven, time and time again, to tame the beast inside him. But his chest still heaved, and with a gentle finger you wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

“Arthur,” you said again to ground him, as his gaze began to wander anywhere but your face. “I hate seeing you like this, picking fights everywhere you go.”

Sometimes you wondered if you had made him worse. Ever since you’d started dating the eldest Shelby brother, he’d found more and more excuses to punch or bludgeon whoever looked at you the wrong way. Though your touch may have soothed him, your existence only stoked the fire that burned bright in his damaged soul.

“What am I supposed to do, then, eh?” he said, exhaustion working its way past the thorns of his tone, and his forehead brushed yours, unruly locks of brown hair tickling your lashes. 

You inhaled his scent – the sharp spice of his aftershave, the sweat of his ire, the musk that was so uniquely him that you couldn’t help but feel at home each time you breathed it. Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you cocked your head at him slightly as an idea formed in your head.

“Maybe some kind of…” You drew a finger from his jaw down the bare of his chest before it disappeared beneath his shirt, and you swallowed as your heart beat faster against your ribs. “… physical therapy?”

Winter-blue eyes clouded in lust, and his Adam’s apple bobbed along his throat. Despite seeing him for a while, the two of you hadn’t gone all the way yet, but it wasn’t that you didn’t want him, or didn’t trust him. You had always been afraid that, when he saw the scars on your flesh, he would discard you for another young woman who didn’t ruin her body.

Ruined, indeed, you thought, with a bitter jolt in your chest. Your eyes lowered from his winter blues so that he wouldn’t see the self-hatred in your eyes.

“Now, don’t tempt me with that, love.” His breath fanned the hair from the side of your face as his hand slid from your shoulder down to your hip. “That somethin’ you want?”

Repressing your anxiety and your sullenness, you drew closer to him, pressing yourself against the heat of his body as you tried to formulate a verbal response.

“Hm?” His fingers tipped your chin back up to look him in his eye.

You nodded, biting your lip as your hips connected and you felt him hard beneath his trousers.

“Yes,” you breathed.      

“C’mere, then,” he growled playfully, his hands scooping your legs up. You wrapped your thighs around his waist for balance, and you chimed out a giggle as he carried you to his bedroom.

Though you knew he tried to be gentle, he practically threw you down on the bed, but you didn’t mind. A puff of air escaped your lungs and you sank into the mattress, your head spinning and heat pooling between your legs. Your pointed toe ran down his waist, not wanting to part from him even for the seconds it took for him to shed his shirt. You tried to prop yourself on your elbows to get a better look, biting your lip. A grin stretched apart his lips as he looked down at you, undoing his belt. And he said, with that gravel in his tone that you’d come to adore,

“Going somewhere, love?”��    

You shook your head, but you managed to sit up, your breaths cast across his navel as you looked up at him from bright, playful eyes. “Not without you.”

Your fingers ghosted over his, knuckles rough against the softness of your palms. They stilled, and you pried them from his belt, your index slipping between the hem of his trousers and the heat of his flesh, your heart skipping a beat when you felt the coarseness of his hair.

Arthur’s breath hitched in his chest as you rose, on your knees, to place kisses along the ridge of his collarbone, tasting his sweat on the tongue you dragged down his clavicle to the center of his chest. An animalistic groan rumbled beneath your lips as you cast his belt aside and tugged the buttons from his trousers.

“Seems I’m not the only eager one,” he rasped as his fingers wove through your hair, seeming to light a trail of fire from the nape of your neck to your scalp and sending a shudder through every nerve of your body. For a brief moment, you stiffened, the sensation of his fingers tightening around your hair familiar to you in a way that had once been most vile but, in this moment, you were most ashamed to find thrilling. You reminded yourself that he wasn’t pulling as hard, and that at any moment if you asked him to stop he would. You reminded yourself that this time it was Arthur. And it was okay for it to feel good.

Heat suffused your cheeks at his words, and you cast a small moan just above the hem of his trousers, having worked your way down in loving kisses. His hand loosed from your hair, and his other came around to tilt your chin back up to look at him, hair flopping in front of those lustful eyes and the light of the chandelier framing his head in a halo, like he was some kind of fallen angel.

“As I much as I want you to continue…” he said, voice coming out ragged. “… I want to see what we’re dealing with.” His fingers ran along the outline of your breasts beneath your shirt, another shiver passing through you as his thumb brushed a pert nipple.

“I want to see you, love,” he said, thumb dragging down to the lip of your breast, your heart rate increasing the further he explored. You wanted to sit still, and be a good girl for him, but the pounding in your ears and the clamminess of your palms just wouldn’t subside.

You shuddered this time out of fear, that jolted through your veins, intense and cold and criminally contrast to the heat that inundated every other fibre of your being. But you hid it well. How could he had known he’d just traced over a scar you’d never shown him?

Your stomach twisted as you wondered what he would think when he saw them… all of them. And while you wanted nothing more than to be laid bare before the man who owned your heart and your soul and who deserved your body, and you wanted to give him it, you also couldn’t help but wonder, what if he thought you were ugly? What if he thought you were ruined?

And in that moment you scorned yourself for ever laying a blade to your thighs, or your stomach. You hated yourself for ruining something you could never have back, something that would’ve been beautiful had you not squandered it, time and time again.

“Arthur.” Your lip trembled, and your hands were shaking as they left the hem of his trousers. You panted out your breaths, your head even lighter than it had been before. And on your lips you could taste the words you yearned to say, to tell him why you ached so badly to do this but feared so cruelly unveiling a gruesome body that he did not deserve.

But all that came out was, “I’m scared.”

Something in his eyes softened at that, and any trace of his grin vanished as his weight sank into the mattress beside you. His hands were on you, but not in a frightening way; one ran across your trembling back and the other rested reassuringly on your thigh. You felt yourself leaning into his touch, as if it would vanquish any trace of fear or doubt that made your body tremble with such pitifulness. As if it would cleanse your impurities and make you whole again.

Arthur’s words seemed to catch on his tongue, and a flicker of his own uncertainty darted through those winter blues. “You’re not… scared of me, are you?”

“No, Arthur.” You cupped his cheek in your hand now, forcing his gaze to yours, even if yours was brimming with unshed tears. “I want you. And I trust you. I just…”

I’m ruined.

The words froze before they could even reach the back of your tongue, instead strangling your throat, your eyes bugging wide as you swallowed against them. All the while, Arthur’s gaze dragged solicitously across your face, and this time, he was the one to press his forehead to yours, his fingers tangling gently in your hair and rubbing soothingly along your back.

“Y/N,” he said, his heavy breath tangling with your short, frenzied ones. “So long as you ain’t scared of me, you don’t have to be scared of anything. I’m going to take care of you.” His lips dragged to your neck, placing a gentle yet firm kiss along your clavicle. “You don’t have to worry about a thing, love. Just let me take care of you.”

A soft moan stirred from your lips as you felt the heat of his lips on your neck, and your heart pounded in your core. Physically, you had never felt so conflicted, but his words, they were all you needed to hear. You trusted him, and that was what was important. Whether or not you deserved to be taken care of, that was a whole other demon, but Arthur Shelby had a way of making you want to submit to his every whim, to let him do with you as he pleased. This was how you would take care of him.

“Is that a ‘yes’?” he said.

You licked your lips, and said, “Yes.”

“Good girl.”

His hands lowered you to the bed, his stronger, sinewy frame looming over you and making your heart pound wilder in your chest. You licked your lips again, mouth dry, and swallowed back your fear as you felt his fingers begin to undo your blouse, revealing more of you until you were certain he could see what you had so desperately tried to hide. But his kisses were trailing between your breasts, and you helped shrug the garment off as he was absorbed in his work. Had your heart not been beating so fast and had your stomach not been turning so much in fear of what he would soon discover, you would’ve enjoyed the attention a lot more.

And there it was. He hesitated, the bristle of his moustache lifting from your skin and a hot breath exhaling across the scar, still fresh, still burning from the other night.

Your heart practically stopped.

“Y/N…” he breathed, the stubble of his chin brushing your skin to indicate that those blue eyes were on you. You peered back at him reluctantly, expecting horror in those eyes.

And they were filled with adoration.

“Is this what you were scared about, love?” he murmured against your stomach.

“Yes.” Your breath came shattered from your chest, still not quite able to believe your eyes.

For a moment longer, he held your gaze, with a pity you weren’t sure you wanted, but a love that eased your frenzied heart. And then, saying nothing, his lips brushed the scar ever-so-gently, as if to pay it reverence, and though the wound stung, you didn’t care in the slightest.

He still wanted you.

Once he had spent time on the first scar, he let his lips trail all across your stomach, with a surprising tenderness, his fingers gripping your hips tightly but in such a way that felt as if you were safe within his touch. He laid kisses across older scars, that had been slashed across your stomach, and as his lips grazed the lowest, you rocked your hips against the bulge in his trousers, drawing a moan from him and casting it hot against your belly.

“Don’t stop,” you murmured. “Please don’t stop.”

“Y/N, you’re fucking perfect. Have I ever told you that?”

“No,” you laughed, a tear pricking your eye but your anxiety and your tension all dissipating in wake of the sensations that the heat of his lips and the firmness of his hands and the tickle of his moustache sent racing along your skin.

“Well, you’re fucking perfect,” he said, as he pulled your skirt from your waist, and you helped kick it off, your legs instinctively crossing over to shield the scars along your thighs.

He seemed to notice this, and cast you a reassuring look before prying your knees open with strong fingers, and saying, “I’m going to have my way with every bit of you, love. Gonna kiss you everywhere because you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had in my bed.”

Your head rolled back into the sheets as he began kissing and running his hands along your inner thighs. Chapped only slightly, his lips were hot as hellfire but soft as heaven as they explored each scar in a way you never had. In a way that was loving rather than shameful.

“Arthur,” you moaned, bucking your hips impatiently as his lips fell in the crook of your thigh.

“What’s the matter, love?” he asked, coming up between your legs and cupping your cheek in his hand.

A streak of a playful grin pulled at your lips, and you whispered, “Fuck me.”

That devilish grin that you knew so well plastered itself across a handsome face, and as you felt him shift his trousers down, he murmured into your ear,

“Told you wouldn’t have to worry, love. Because if that wasn’t the plan for even a goddamn second…”

---

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

Please let me know if you would like to be added/removed to any of my taglists and notified of new works!

TAGLIST: @eclecticwildflowers @emotionalcadaver @evita-shelby @minaethrym @shelbydelrey @zablife @midnightswithdearkatytspb @poisonedtruth

[mxdarling]

[“You’re so pretty when you smile.”]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

ೃ⁀➷: summary: some students couldn't accept you enter this college with no magic, luckily deuce is there to your rescue!

ೃ⁀➷: Word count: 884

ೃ⁀➷: Reference/Inspiration: N/A

ೃ⁀➷: Event: [200 followers event]

[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me. I don’t condone this type of behavior, this is merely just for entertaining purposes and some sort of coping mechanism for me. If you continue to read beyond this point, ignoring my warnings, I am not responsible for your actions from here on out.

[Warnings:] bad oneshot, lowercase, maybe occ deuce, slight spoilers for prologue, yandere behavior, implied insomnia, violence, mentions of blood, bullying, mentions of deuce's delinquent era, overprotective behavior, implied burnt out, slightly naive reader, people pleaser/'yes' man reader, not-so-strong reader.

[GN reader.]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :Deuce spade;

it wasn't easy being a magicless student in a magic revolved college, hell it wasn't easy being in a unknown world! you're practicably a stranger here in twisted wonderland. luckily for you, your (best) friend, DEUCE SPADE is there to back you up. sure your first meeting of each other wasn't exactly the best. considering you've only met each other due to ace being a coward and running away from his supposed punishment but you aren't ungrateful for it. that said interaction lead to you guys being the bestest of friends. you wouldn't have it any other way really.

today hasn't been that great for you. first, you woke up slightly later than usual, insisting to snooze in just for 5 minutes, turned into 10 minutes, turned into rushing out your dorm and just spriting to the school grounds. barely even made it to class, you probably looked like a mess when entering the classroom but you were simply too tired to care. dragging your tired self to your assigned seat, placing your head on the table, putting a random book in front of you. hoping your professor wouldn't be notice you sleeping in class. not that it matters anyways you couldn't sleep. the words of your professor went from one ear to the other. wait, did he say there's gonna be a quiz next week? oh god... you're gonna fail his class for sure..

the rest of today felt like a blur, you couldn't remember much of what happened. honestly it just felt like a repeat of yesterday and the day before yesterday. it was just another uneventful week day. was. you don't think you could call it uneventful after that.

you can't really recall how these incidents follow up to the situation you're in. some students in night raven college were still, precisely speaking, 'pissy' about your whole arrival to school. you know you can't help what other people think about, its something out of your control, you know that. yet you can't help but try to change their views on you. most of your efforts end in failure, sadly. but you refuse to give up, not yet at least!

the whole reason why you try to help anyone who needs it. sometimes borderlining doing everything to help this said person. it's unhealthy, your friends have told you countless of times, but bad habits die hard and you're still adjusting to this new world. surely nothing too bad would happened because of this, right....?

apparently, that was very much wrong. you curse your impulsivity for saying 'yes' with little hesitation in wanting to help your classmate with their homework. they asked you so nicely too, unlike some other students who just demand you to do it for them. you were a fool, truly. you didn't think it was a trap to get your alone and cornered at a place where no one really checks very often. you're backed against a wall with no other exists except the one that is being blocked by your classmate.

you stood no chance against them, it was clear as day. you weren't exactly physically strong nor do you have any experience of being a fight before. you shakingly put your arms in front of your face, closing your eyes and bracing yourself for heavy impact yet nothing came. in fact something touched your cheek instead. you slowly put down your arms and open your eyes to a scene you wish you didn't seen.

the classmate of yours all bloody up on the ground, you can even tell it's them anymore. then there's deuce, his right fist all bloody up, you would've assume he got injured haven't it been for your injured classmate on the ground. since when did he get here..? and how did he know you were here in the first place!? you were about to speak up but deuce beat you to it.

'prefect..? a-are you okay?? they didn't hurt you right!?'

he rushed to you with a concern look on his face. despite the violent responses he gave to your classmate, he was very gentle with you. poorly attempting to wipe off the blood from his hand on his uniform to avoid putting blood on you. he puts both his hands on your shoulders, looking you up and down to check if you had any injuries. not that you would have considering he had beaten the person before they took action but you can never be too careful, i guess. he, again, broke the silence once more to speak.

'w-why are you crying, prefect..? d-did something happened while i wasn't here..?'

you didn't even noticed tears were falling down, you tried to wipe them away but they just kept coming back. you knew deuce wouldn't hurt you, you were his friend since the start of first year. yet you can't help but let fear overtake you. you gently try to push him away from you but he wouldn't budge. instead he cupped your cheeks with both of his hands, wiping the tears that are falling down as a way to try and comfort you when really you don't want that comfort from him.

"i really can’t take it when you cry like that… smile for me, alright? you’re so pretty when you smile.."

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

[a/n; how do people write oneshots so good, i'm out here crying my eyes out on how do i make this look good😭😭. rushed ending? yes and i deeply apologize for it. my brain juice is definitely gonna run out istg. enough about me complaining, thank you anon for requesting deuce with #7 for the 200 followers event! it's been a while since i've written deuce before so this is kind of a refresher for me lol. sorry again this took awhile exams were taking place and i get real tired after answering them. good thing summer break is coming so more free time for me to write your guy's requests!]

[midnight-rice]

Ephemerality, creativity, and completion

My sleep schedule is fucked and my brain is fried and I can't sleep so naturally I decided to go through all some of the files backed up in my Google Drive--- mainly my own artwork, old and new, some of my writing WIPs, and snippets of creative projects from fans and professionals alike that I had saved as inspirations. It was really refreshing to look back on the techniques and the flaws and the ideas in each of them, as well as my personal growth and the development of my interests. But so much of my work in there hasn't been shared because it's incomplete, which is something that haunts me quite a lot sometimes and as I was thinking about it and what I want from life I think I reached a new point in thinking. Apologies if I sound angsty or self-absorbed, I'm just liveblogging my musings for my own preservation purposes:

My inability to finish stuff is something that developed later in my life, starting around maybe late high school and becoming more noticable in my early twenties (although technically I'm still in my early twenties 😅). I suspect the cause is related to a mental disorder, probably ADHD though I'm not sure I'll ever get an official diagnosis, since the symptoms do sound similar to descriptions of executive dysfunction: almost everything I make has an invisible ticking clock on it, the length of which can vary wildly, but once that timer runs out the odds of completion drop abysmally low, no matter how much I care about the creation/task or how important it is. I've found that there are ways to prolong this deadline sometimes and the effectiveness of those methods can vary too. Sometimes it's better to take frequent breaks to avoid burnout, and other times it's better to push through while the intrinsic inspiration is high. Sometimes it's better to have deadlines to establish clear goals, and sometimes it's better to dismiss the time limitations because they can cause anxiety and hopelessness. Sometimes it's better to share what I'm working on in order to reignite interest by vicariously experiencing the idea with new eyes, and sometimes it's better to keep it to myself so that my brain doesn't conflate the act of sharing with the act of finishing.

And I know that things don't have to be complete in order to be shared, or at least I try to remind myself of that. My perfectionism makes me want to have it be *done* in its best currently possible form when shared, and tbh social media often reinforces that idea to an extent since WIPs tend to get way less attention than finished things but that's not entirely my point rn. I've more or less accepted that some things are made to matter in the moment, that I made them when I needed to and that it's okay to move on to other things without finishing. But presenting incomplete works can still feel like almost a betrayal as much as hoarding them does because it opens up possible miscommunication or misinterpretation--- if I had just found the right words or drawn the right details THEN the audience would get it.

And I think for me personally that idea of "getting it" is really important to me. I'm naturally more shy and reserved (or maybe it's not natural and was more of a coping mechanism to fit in but I'm not going there today lol) and I struggle to find the right words a lot in speech but the things I make manage to say a lot more about me than I can verbalize. A lot of my relationships are more surface-level like acquaintances and coworkers which is fine, it's unrealistic and probably unhealthy to be deeply intimate with everyone you know. But even some of my closer ones like my family still feel shallow at times or disconnected. I don't mean to sound edgy or that I'm "misunderstood," but I worry sometimes that if I got hit by a truck tomorrow they'd put the wrong words on my tombstone and never know about a Google Drive full of incomprehensible creative works that nevertheless mattered so much to me.

Oh my god the irony... I'm so tired I cant even finish this post and now it looks like I'm just having an anxiety spiral... f

[sos-amchespin-sendhelp]

SOS CQ DE 40.4166N; 3.7038W? = CQ PLS

SRY FOR BEING A DEBBIE DOWNER BUT THEY SAY VENTING IS HEALTHY SO

IDK WHY IM SO PRONE TO LONG WINDED DIRE WARNINGS

MAYBE BECSE I NEED AT LEAST SOME SENSE OF CONTROL

LIKE IM ACTUALLY DOING SOME GOOD BY BEING ALIVE AND HERE; A NET BENEFIT

BECSE IF I WAS A HORRIBLE PERSON BEFORE MEMORY LOSS; THEN THAT DOESNT ERASE ANYTHING

I FEEL LIKE A REAL MOTHER IN LAW KIND OF PERSON SOMETIMES

SO THE PHOTOGRAPHS I WANTED TO SHOW YOU ARENT COMING THROUGH; SIGNAL NOT STRONG ENOUGH

WANTED TO SHOW YOU THINGS; HAD A WHOLE PHOTO SERIES PLANNED; BUT WHAT NOW?

I WANT TO BE A GOOD PERSON TO SOMEONE; THEN ID BE A NET BENEFIT AND NOT SOME ASSWIPE WITH A KARMIC CLEAN SLATE. I WANT TO GO HOME; BUT I DONT REMEMBER ENOUGH ABOUT HOME TO MISS IT WHICH IS FUCKED UP

AND EVEN IF MY FRIENDS AND LIFEBLOOD ARE HERE THIS WORLD WILL NEVER BE HOME EITHER

ALGERNON IS A STUPID ASS NAME

GOING TO ZERO ISLE ON SOME FLIPPIN CARAVAN IS A BUST; THERE WAS NEVER GOING TO BE ANYTHING HERE FOR ME BESIDES THIS PHONE

AND EVEN IF THERE IS SOMETHING TO THIS CANDLEWICK PHANTOM CRYPTID; THEN I GUESS ITS MYTHOS WONT UNRAVEL ANYTIME SOON

SO THE ONLY POWER I REALLY HAVE IS TO SCROLL TUMBLR

(K SO I SUPPOSE THERE IS ONE THING I HAVENT TRIED YET BUT)

THIS BLOG WAS SUPPOSED TO BE AN SOS

ASK ME ANYTHING; IM A CHESPIN; SEND HELP.

---

Auburn was only pretending to sleep, as he often did. He could hear the tell-tale tip tap as Algernon pecked away at the cracked phone screen with a stylus. It — this blog and its contents — was an unhealthy coping mechanism and everyone knew it, but Auburn supposed he shouldn't be one to judge. And if the mechanism was clearly working, then whose to say it was ultimately unhealthy? (The important thing to know about Auburn is that he is very good at convincing himself of things.) Leland had taken first watch tonight, as the Oshawott was most attuned to the weave of Zero Island Center and could give warning if, say, the floor warped back on itself and crushed them, or some dungeon-construct Pokémon somewhere activated a trap and everyone began turning into food, or if the sky simply started to fall as though the world was hollow and you could touch the sky. To make camp in a mystery dungeon was to court the unfathomable. Woe to those who rested too long. Yes, given Leland sprang from that same clade of unfathomable, she was a shoe-in for first watch. The Pikachu found he was proud like a brother would be at what she'd grown into. (Neither of them talked about the early days anymore when Leland would scream about relatives who didn't exist, and sometimes the two would start hitting each other because they had no other way of laying themselves bare without speaking and shattering the fragile dichotomy they had built, and so one day she heads out to at least buy a punching bag and comes back after several days with a Chespin.) Grovyle, on his part, was snoring like a log. Imputent snot, Auburn wryly added to himself, as another self-induced distraction tactic. His sleep-drifting thoughts kept sailing back to the Algernon Quandry, and then the captain of his ship yelled "No! Port anywhere but there!" and so the ship of Auburn's mind reversed course, and the dungeons out at sea set them to a random heading and they sailed into the eldritch dawn, and soon Auburn was no longer pretending to sleep. "Why, where are you off to, Ratty?" asked the Drilbur in great surprise, grasping him by the arm. "Going South, with the rest of them," murmured the Pikachu in a dreamy monotone, never looking at him. "Seawards first and then on shipboard, and so to the shores that are calling me!"

[sesamenom-misc]

beloved mutual!!!

aaaahhh murdoc!!! the fact that his family runs a brewery but tea is the one that's personal to him-

and his hair and clothes as a part of his sense of self & individuality!! the dragon cloak being such a visible mark of his Quest and its impact on his character!!

omg that nose scar origin is amazing. it really feels like most "cool" scars are usually obtained through disastrous childhood antics irl lol. but it's also so cool how his two most visible scars contrast each other - the nose scar from a carefree childhood adventure vs. the missing hand from a far graver Adventure in adulthood

and the "internalization of himself as a weapon" and "you don't get personally chosen by a god and come away from it quite the same"?? AAAAAAAAAA

aww him valuing the comfort of the whole camp and bringing blankets for everyone?? making sure his friends are treated to Hobbit Comfort even while on the road ;-;

huh i did not expect keeping tea in pockets but that makes so much sense for him (and he smells like His tea!!)

(he would definitely win What Do I Have In My Pockets with his Pocket Tea lol)

oh he got a necklace for mae to live in sometimes! aww murdoc has adopted him as his Friend (and the eldest sibling stuff! murdoc picking the necklace partially for mae's comfort and just caring about him! when for most of his life mae has been the one taking care of his eleventy one billion baby siblings and cousins T-T)

---

WOAH antar sounds so cool!!

i read the oathsworn background part and I have to ask. is that oathsworn or Oathsworn. are they a gondolindrim feanorian or did they find another oath to swear somewhere 👀

oh i've never really thought about where exactly the Mole came from but yeah that makes so much sense that some of the house of the King would join up w his nephew! and all would be well until it Very Decidedly Does Not

---

yes she is So Sad!! she externalizes it as anger and fire (as is standard for Unhealthy Finwean Coping Mechanisms) but really at this point she sees herself more as a vessel to Protect People and Fix Things and less as. her own person. she Will protect her people and that's all she really cares about at this point :( if she was my Character she would need/get So Many Hugs. but alas she is doomed to fail :(((

ikr!!! honestly her shoes in particular are sort of a reflection of her herself - she's fueled on 90% Spite at this point and weaponizing her anger to prevent herself from having to face her grief and fear ;n;

so her sister Narinyel is actually older by a few years, but she was born during a brief war that ended soon after her birth. Elinyel meanwhile was a peacetime child, and the kingdom's tradition/custom at the time was that peacetime children make stronger leaders, and that their fëar would be less inclined to violence as a result of being less influenced by external violence their parents experienced. (This custom died very shortly after elinyel started being her weird feanorian self.) she also has a handful of cousins, of whom all but one were also wartime kids. So growing up she was always told that she was to one day rule her family's House by virtue of being the eldest of the peacetime children, and that her spirit was somehow inherently better at protecting people because of the circumstances of her birth.

anyways naturally this gave her some Issues, but it also amplified the guilt especially after Narinyel's death- Elin was supposed to be the protector to her family, the mentor to her people, the guardian of her kingdom. but then she failed at even that. which led to her invasion of all the neighbors in attempt to prevent further tragedy, which spiraled into what's currently happening with her fiery rampage.

aaaaa she is such a Silm-y character like. her sister is long dead, her best friend is recently-dead, she started two wars out of Overprotectiveness as a result of everyones' deaths, half her friends and cousins are dead or gone, and she can't go back and going forward will only accelerate the inevitable, but she's trying to prevent her/her family's Doom anyways, so she'll make worse and worse decisions all in the name of protecting Her People until she's lost herself entirely ;-;

also the corrupted druid the party just killed was Elinyel's best friend ;-; so now The Plot is coming for them in the form of one very angry elf who Sings fire and has zero self-preservation left

hello i'm here again! i saw your tags on the get to know your characters post and i'd love to hear you talk about murdoc!! (also gondolin campaign 😮 tell me more :DDD )

HIHIHIHIHI IM SO HAPPY YOU'RE IN MY INBOX THANK YOU FOR LOVING MY BOY YOU ARE A GIFT OF A PERSON ;w; i assume you don't mind if i answer these for murdoc then :0

What is the character’s go-to drink order? here's the thing: i think if murdoc is ordering, it's ale. just ale. murdoc is an alcohol snob, largely on account of being a hobbit AND specifically on account of his aunt being a brewer (and so therefore clearly HIS family's ale is the best), so it's an opportunity for him to be just a little bit showily snobbish and judgy and more knowledgeable about his choice of drink than the average patron, but it's not quite so personal to him as, say, tea would be. (murdoc never orders tea. from anywhere. he only drinks his own, or radagast's, or that of a few other trusted friends. tea is his craft. it's personal to him. he picks and dries and blends the herbs for his own brews. it's personal long before he even gets to brewing a cup, and there's meaning in just that act in and of itself already.) so, murdoc gets to be an alcohol snob in public, but it's a matter of showing off for fun. he'll scoff at ale from anywhere but his own inn, but he'll still order it and drink it. and enjoy it more than he puts on a show about.

What is their grooming routine? murdoc likes a long bath. murdoc likes to put a lot of effort into wrangling his hair in particular, when he has the time and effort in him for it. alone, at the inn, where he can rest and take breaks and manage things, shaving the back of his neck is very important to him (sensory comfort, and tied in a way to his sense of self). he doesn't like scents or anything of the sort, he just wants to feel... clean. put-together. both in the privacy and comfort of their respective homes, and while out on the road, letting ríros braid his hair for him becomes a very important part of murdoc's grooming routine. on a good day, it's a visible tie to someone he cares deeply for. on a bad day, it's accepting help with his sensory needs and energy levels, and allowing himself to be taken care of by someone he trusts.

What was their most expensive purchase/where does their disposable income go? oh, murdoc's cloak was ABSOLUTELY the most expensive singular thing he's ever purchased. it may not be real dragon scale, sure but. it's a fine fabric, and the faux scales are well crafted and gorgeous. it's luxurious and sturdy and him in every way. an item with presence. which, to the point, i do think murdoc is generally the sort of person who spends his disposable income on fine things to wear. having fun with and taking pride in his appearance is important to him, and he's financially comfortable enough for that bit of luxury.

Do they have any scars or tattoos? aside from the missing hand (extremely notable), and whatever assorted and unspecified scars he's picked up from adventuring? (which. he has. he's come close to dying before. he's got a few marks.) murdoc has a scar across his nose from some absolutely stupid shit he got up to as an utter hellion of a child. i think he probably fell and bashed his face open running to escape getting caught pulling a prank on farmer maggot or something like that. nothing angsty about it, just complete and utter childhood stupidity and rambunctiousness. something visible left on him from a time before he was overly concerned with responsibility, or duty of care, and entertaining his drive for adventure in much less consequential ways. (he’s also very freckled. i think it’s very adorable how much he freckles.)

What was the last time they cried, and under what circumstances? the last time i know for certain that murdoc cried, was after facing irmo. maybe not immediately. maybe much later, on the road home, having spilled the story to his companions and having thoroughly exhausted himself from hanging onto it all. but i'm sure he did cry. from anger at what was done to him, to his dreams, by a power larger than him, without any say of his own in it all. from all his internalization of himself as a weapon finally breaking over, from hearing that perception of himself lovingly rebuffed by the people who care about him. from fully and completely admitting that he's afraid of the person he's made himself in the face of the horrors, but that he would've hated the person he would have been for ignoring them. from exhaustion. from having to question his sense of self yet again. from a lot of things, really. you don't get personally chosen by a god and come away from it quite the same.

Are they an oldest, middle, youngest or only child? oh murdoc is an eldest sibling and it shows. maybe not by actual sibling birth order, but he was adopted by his uncles and aunt as a baby and very much raised as their eldest child. he's got two rascals of younger cousins, raised alongside him, to look out for. they're practically younger siblings from an actual family dynamics standpoint. and besides, he's got all the Eldest Child of being the brandybuck family heir apparent put on him. where else would the responsibility complex and the duty of care complex and the possessiveness over what's his and, most importantly, go-to instinct of sassing the literal servants of sauron have come from? This Man Is An Eldest Child And He Can Do This All Day <3

Describe the shoes they’re wearing. none. Those Feet Are Bare. and hairy. he DOES meticulously wash and brush his foot hair though. but listen. he's a hobbit. he's not FROM a culture that does shoes, and the one (1) time in his life ever that he had to wear them, his only takeaway from the experience is that they are a sensory nightmare that he will not be subjecting himself to under ANY circumstances.

Describe the place where they sleep. ooohhhh i think both at home in the inn and also to the greatest extent on the road possible, murdoc does cozy. i think his (+ his partner's) room at the inn is covered in like. throw pillows. nice big comfy sleeping pillows. lots of soft blankets. it's all very warm and inviting and kinda maximalist in a plush sort of way. i do think he cares about aesthetics and all his pillows and blankets look nice together, but everything is selected with comfort in mind. it's homey. it's warm. he's a hobbit. it's probably not particularly neat, but it's sort of charming in the way where it looks like a space that's meant to be curled up in. he probably accidentally leaves a few stray tea mugs about and this is his worst living space habit, but it adds to the charm as long as he remembers to actually keep up on putting them away (which. he does. he's just on top of it enough to make sure he has clean mugs to actually use for tea, but this may be the only reason he remembers). i think even on the road he'll bring as many blankets as is reasonable to carry and do his utmost not only to make his sleeping space, but the whole camp's, as cozy and welcoming as possible with whatever he has.

What is their favorite holiday? ohh see i don't know if i do know enough about specific hobbitish holidays offhand for this, but in general i do think murdoc is a holidays kind of person. anything sort of extrovert-oriented, where he can feast and dance and get drunk and just be around people, is very much his sort of thing. when he was growing up in the shire, any occasion where gandalf showed up with fireworks was an immediate favorite. for least favorite... i don't know how he feels about new year's (yule, in the hobbitish calendar). i don't think he hates it but. i think he's someone who lives with a bit of a sense of loss over who he was, or might have been, before his dreams and irmo and everything, and i think nostalgia-oriented celebrations grate just slightly up against that.

What objects do they always carry around with them? tea. lots of it. kept in his pockets. (he smells like it. it’s nice.) usually a particular brew (the flavor profile of which i imagine to be something like london fog) that he made for himself, which is very personal to him. a locket with his partner's portrait in it. an ornately carved matchbox, always full of matches, ready to light an arrow or for whatever else he may use his fire for. additionally, on the road: a jar in which he cultivates a toxic fungus, used for coating his weapons in tough battles. a set of his favorite cooking knives. a flask or two of his family’s ale, primarily used in his cooking, as ornate and pretty as all else he owns. (i will also give him that he most always is wearing jewelry, particularly his ruby necklace and earring set. the necklace in particular is important - usually maedhros resides in ríros’ sword, but the necklace is an ideal secondary vessel on the occasions that maedhros does have to remain where murdoc is, and murdoc has selected these pieces in maedhros’ colors for a reason).

as this has gotten LONG i will not try to do them for my new beloved tyelperëkko antar JUST yet. BUT @jaz-the-bard is planning to run a campaign set in gondolin in the first age and i am VERY excited for the character i have made. i’ve given them the oathsworn background. they’re going to be a loyal follower of maeglin, once he exists, but for NOW they’re a devotee of turgon. this is going to go great for them and cause no problems at all (lying).

[betasuppe]

So, she safely gets him home, locks them in after ordering some pizza & getting the poor guy into something more comfortable than his uniform. For Emmet, having one single person genuinely caring for him kinda fills that horrible empty hole in his heart that Ingo left behind. He passes out on the couch besides her & everything happens really fast after that lol!

The following day, Elesa stops by to check on her subway bro, as she saw some rather concerning tabloid headlines about the last remaining Subway Boss being kidnapped lol & of course, she meets Mina. After quickly getting to know one another, Mina & Elesa agree Emmet's got a terrible case of abandonment issues & because of it, he's grown incredibly clingy to Mina. She's well aware that she can't just leave him now - nor does she want to!!! -, so the girls work out a plan together. Mina is with Emmet most of the time as he's recovering & Elesa fills in for when Mina needs to go shopping, get some fresh air or even for her to grab all her personal belongings from her apartment because apparently she's now moving in with Emmet?????

After all, during her second night at his place, she tried sleeping on the couch again. It wasn't long before he trudged besides her & nudged her awake, saying he couldn't sleep on his own & asked if she could make some room for him. As they cuddled up under a shared blanket in the tight space, Mina jokingly says that if this is how its gonna be, they're both going to start out in his bed tomorrow instead of trying to fit two people on one single couch lol. Thinking he was already out of it, she did not expect him to respond, but he agreed verrrrrrrrrrry quickly.

Immensely grateful to be in a dark room, her face practically burst into flames because NO WAY was this sorta thing happening to little old Mina with the guy she's had a silly crush on since he cracked the first awful joke her way on her ride into the city!!!

But, it happened just the same!

[Cont'd below, sorry this one got kinda long x0 !!]

With Mina looking after him, making sure he ate & slept, as well as having her Krokorok chase down reporters & nosy trainers from harassing the poor guy, Emmet more or less gets back on his feet. But while taking time off from running the subway, Emmet & Mina start doing everything together & are almost always right by each other's side.

Sometime later, on the night Emmet proposes to her, poor Mina's a bit oblivious and didn't really realize that they were even dating yet lol That is, despite them already living together, sleeping in the same bed, giving each other good morning / good night smooches, going on dates &..... nevermind, she just is clueless lmao

So it isn't long before they are officially married & starting to get their lives back on track. But, even having altered the Battle Subway so he could run it himself, alternating days between single & double battles, his old home seemed to only be causing Emmet pain from remembering his missing brother. But, after really seeing him come to life in a friendly battle between their own pokemon, Mina suggests that Emmet could try challenging the Elite Four to push himself toward a goal he never would've aimed for before. Because there's only room for one champion, Emmet & Ingo agreed as kids to not go that route so they wouldn't be fighting each other just fir a silly title. But because he's all on his own now, it's Emmet's turn to shine!!!

Of course, you all know he ends up getting a savage taste for winning & becomes a rather cocky son of a bitch as the new Champion of Unova lol

Despite his cruel & slimey personality in public, he always puts Mina first with everything, as she's the only person that stood besides him when everyone else ignored him, including his damned missing brother. But still, Mina knows he's not well & is not allowing himself to process or mourn the loss of his brother, which is only causing unhealthy personality traits & other dangerous coping mechanisms to appear [smoking & drinking, oh noooo!!]. She tries to get him help, but he's resistant to accepting that his brother is gone for good & refuses to move on.

So in the meantime, crazy Champion Emmet is still reigning with an impressive win streak. Mina loves him & is proud of him, but ultimately? She's extremely worried, because it's only a matter of time before he sizzles out completely.

Here's hoping his brother might eventually make it back from the dead, somehow!!!!!!

[Additional sketching for getting her design down, including her sandile inspired jacket lol! :P]

[kindapinkskies]

i know | jj maybank

hellooooo i've risen from the dead and its with a fic about outer banks... i've fallen in love with jj... thats my baby

this was supposed to be a 5+1 concept and it still kinda is but i got really really carried away. as my new friend @captainpogue​ calls it the too much gene. so buckle up and grab a snack this is 21k words lmaoooo i hope you enjoy

i love you already

warnings: nothing more than what is mentioned in the show

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were laying on your stomach, on your bed, flipping through a book. It didn’t have your full attention as your mind was elsewhere. Music filtered in through your headphones but you weren’t really listening to it, either. It was almost dark outside and with the power still out, the few candles lit in your room did little to help you focus on the words in front of you.

It was also extremely hot. You were sweating just laying there. Your shirt was stuck to you and your shorts felt uncomfortable even if they were cloth sleeping shorts. Letting out a frustrated groan, you drop your head down to the book but immediately wince when you feel it get stuck to your forehead. You have to slowly lift your head and peel the page off with your fingers. Gross.

Moving the book, you lay your head down again and just try to breathe. The events of the day are finally catching up to you, making you a bit tired. Your mind is racing as the memories flash through like a movie playing behind your eyelids. Walking down the street and hearing a distressed, “Just shut up, Pope!” You recognized the voice like it was your own and rushed across the street where you came face to face with your group. JJ had looked at you, guilt shining in his eyes as he looked back at Shoupe, “Yeah, it was all me.”

A distressed sigh -one that matched the one you let out as you helplessly watched JJ get pushed into the back of the cop car- leaves your body in a rush and it makes your bed bounce just a little with the force of it. Kiara had moved up to you as you watched Pope let out a scream and storm off, his dad following him angrily with the hat Pope had thrown to the ground. She explained what she knew and all you could do was close your eyes and let out a breath. You knew JJ getting arrested, again, wouldn’t be good for him. He’s seventeen now, still a minor, but he’s so close to being tried as an adult and that scares you.

“Hey, you want to go to the police station, see if we can do something?” Kie had offered when she noticed that you’d done nothing but stare off in the direction the cop car had gone.

“No, his dad will most likely show up.” you stated and winced at your own words. “I’m just going to go home. I’d say text me but you know, towers are down. And my phone might even be dead with the whole no power thing.”

Kie laughed at your tone and it pulled a laugh out of you as well.

Rolling onto your back, you cover your face with your hands and try really hard to keep your frustrations at bay. You know JJ didn’t do shit this time around. You know what he’s covering for and why he’s doing it but god damn it you wished he had a little bit more common sense sometimes. You wish he wouldn’t put others before himself sometimes, even though that wasn’t in his nature. You wish he didn’t have such a temper sometimes, or the need to prove himself, because then that’d help him stay under the radar a bit easier. But you knew that JJ would never lose those parts of himself, that’s just who he was. Someone who cared about others too much because he didn’t want them to feel what he’s felt his whole life but had a temper like no other.

The temper is something you’ve tried working on with him for as long as you’ve known him. Since the first time you saw him lose it at the age of twelve. It was an unhealthy coping mechanism, to fly off the handles as soon as someone upset him enough. You guessed it was because he knew nothing else. Growing up around that kind of behavior, it just kind of sticks. He tries though, tries to keep it under control for as long as possible though, hating that he gets so angry so easily but people just make him so mad. You’ve told him that he gets that way because he bottles up everything he’s feeling when he’s feeling it and it just keeps building until he snaps. And when he snaps, it’s because he filled himself up with so much rage it has nowhere else to go than through his fists, or yelling, or apparently holding someone at gunpoint.

Tears of frustration for JJ start to build behind your eyelids and your nose starts to tingle but you just can’t help it. JJ doesn’t deserve the things he’s been put through, he really doesn’t. He’s a good person. He has good intentions behind most of the crazy shit he does. It’s just that he doesn’t think of the consequences before he goes through with his impulses. His snap judgement choices weigh out any other rational thought in his head.

Like he clearly didn’t think of what would happen to him when taking the blame for a felony charge and you really hope he’s okay. You kinda hope his dad didn’t show up to get him from the police station and that he’s still there because you know the outcome of the scenario. You’ve been on the comforting end of those scenarios more often than not and each time it breaks your heart. To see the boy cut up and bruised by the hand of his own father. He brushes it off every time, ‘It’s nothing I can’t handle’ but you see the pain there. The shine in his eyes and the deep breaths to keep himself from crying. You see it. Every. Time.

You can only hope that today won’t be one of those days where JJ will be littered with dark bruises and deep cuts. Your heart hammers in your chest at the thought of JJ not even making it out of his house today. That’s he’s too hurt to move and that makes a breath stutter out of you in the force of a sob. You press the heels of your hands harder to your closed eyelids in hopes to stop the tears from falling when you feel a weight drop down around your legs. You let out a yelp as your eyes fly open and you sit up in the process.

JJ stands there, at the end of your bed, with his hands on either side of your knees. Your heart nearly drops to your toes when you take in his appearance. Your hopes of him coming out of today unscathed were just that, hopes. The left side of his face is nearly purple, there’s cuts on his eyebrow, cheek, jaw, and a few around his neck line. His eyes are red rimmed and the tip of his nose is just as red. Jaw clenched and breathing ragged, you can tell he’s doing everything he can to hold back his tears. Some have already fallen, you know that, but that was when he was alone. Now he’s trying to act like everything’s fine when you know it’s not. When you both know it’s not.

“JJ,” you breathe out, removing your headphones and tossing your phone to the floor. His face crumples at your voice and you’re a bit relieved. He’s not going to hide how he feels and that just makes you whisper his name again, “JJ.”

That’s all it takes before JJ removes his backpack and climbs up the length of your body, pushing you to lay back down as he settles on top of you. He shakes against you as you wrap yourself around him. One hand goes up the back of his shirt and the other knocks off his hat so you can run your fingers through his hair. He lets out a shaky breath against your neck and then he’s crying. He shoves his face into your neck and you move a little to the side to let him get more comfortable, wanting to give him all the comfort in the world.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.” You repeat the words over and over again, hoping that they’ll sink in and bounce around in his head so he’ll believe them. “I was so worried about you. That’s why I was crying when you showed up. You worry me, JJ. You always do.”

He starts to settle down after that and you let out a breath, moving one of your hands to quickly remove the tears from your own cheeks before moving back to running your fingers through his hair. “It’s not a bad thing that you worry me. I only worry because I care about you. I care about you more than I care about anyone else.”

Stuttering breaths still fan over the skin of your neck and you just continue to run your hands over him. Your hand on his back is lightly scratching at the skin there, your fingernails leaving a trail of goosebumps. Your other hand is playing with the strands of his hair, untangling them and smoothing them over. “You’ll be okay, JJ.”

When you feel him nod, you know you got him back down to earth. “I’ll be okay.”

“Okay then, let’s go check out those cuts.”

You both get off the bed, JJ focusing too hard on the ground but nonetheless let’s you take his hand and guide him down the hall and into the bathroom. Once he’s seated, on the closed lid of the toilet, you move in between his legs to get close enough to inspect his face. His hands trail up the backs of your legs and wrap around your thighs. It’s a subconscious move on his part, it always is when you’re in this position. For some reason it brings him comfort, it grounds him, keeps him aware that you’re there and in front of him. His thumbs trace up and down on the outsides of your thighs as he tilts his head back for you.

You clean up the dry blood around his eyebrow, cheek, and lip. He hisses at the pressure to get it all off and whines when you clean the cuts with an antiseptic. You apologize by placing delicate kisses over the broken skin. A sigh escapes through his parted lips and his hands move up to the point where his fingers graze the bottom of your shorts.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper against his lips, ghosting yours over his to try and soothe the sting out of the cut. You’re not too sure how good it works but JJ relaxes a bit more under your touch.  

A small smile pulls at JJ’s lips as his eyes meet yours, “Hi, baby,” he echoes and his lips brush against yours.

Running your fingers through his hair, you tug a little at the strands and his eyes fall closed once again. You take the opportunity to run your fingers carefully over the bruises littering his delicate skin. There’s nothing you wish for more than for your fingertips to magically heal the darkened, painful, skin of his face.

Another sigh leaves through his parted lips and this time he sounds a bit watery. You grab onto his face with both hands and push your thumbs up under his closed eyelids to see if tears will leak through. And when they do, you swipe them away. “I owe 30 grand in restitution for sinking the boat. My dad didn’t like that.”

The question of what happened would always sit there on the tip of your tongue but you always knew what happened so you would never ask. It was always the same, it was just the reason that changed. And JJ would tell you it every time, once he calmed enough to talk about it.

“You didn’t do it, JJ.”

JJ sighs, “Yeah, I know. But Pope doesn’t deserve that charge. He has so much to look forward to. A way to get out of here and I couldn’t let him throw that away.”

Your hands move his face to a position that when he opens his eyes, he’ll be looking right at you. He knows that so he does and when he does, tears slide down his cheeks before your thumbs have a chance to stop them. “Yeah, but what about you?”

“We all know where I come from. There’s no way I’ll ever be more than that.”

“Don’t-“

He cuts you off, “No, it’s true. Look at me? Look at the shit I’m in. I have nothing going for me. I have nothing to lose. I might as well start now, the life I’m destined to live.”

Your nose starts to tingle once again, the tears resurfacing, “JJ, stop.”

“What?” he scoffs, “You want me to stop telling the truth? When will you realize that I’m correct? That I’m not good for anyone.”

“You’re nothing like him, JJ. You never have been and that’s something you need to realize.” You tug on his hair again, to make sure you have his attention. “The way you care about those you love. I mean, today was a bit reckless but you protected your friend. You protect the entire friend group. You’d never hurt anyone just for the hell of it, just because you felt like it, that’s not you, JJ. “

Looking him in the eyes, you try your best to convey the severity of your words, “You say you have nothing to lose but you do. You have me for one, then there's John B, Kie, Pope. If you keep doing reckless shit you’ll lose us. We need you JJ, you’re the biggest support system in our little group.”

JJ doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He taps on your thigh, signaling for you to move and when you do he just walks out of the bathroom. You let out a sigh and drop your head, leaving it to hang for a few moments while you steady your breathing to make sure you don’t cry. Everything you said was true and you wished he believed it. The group is full of strong personalities but JJ is the one that keeps everyone a bit sane. He stops people from bickering, he keeps the mood light when it gets to be heavy, he listens to everyone so intently that he knows every detail about anyone. He’s the first to speak up when others are talking down to your group, he's the first to throw a punch in defense. He’s the one, specifically, that brings light to your life every day.

You clean up the bathroom slowly, distracting yourself so you don’t cry. Now is not the time to be emotional, not when JJ’s headspace is so low. This isn’t the first time this has happened and you know it won’t be the last. The amount of self loathing that boy has for himself will stick around no matter what people tell him. It gets better at times but his dad has a way of making it come to the forefront of his brain more often than not.

It’s about fifteen minutes later, stalling as much as possible, before you make your way back to your room. You have a glass of water and some pain killers now because you know that JJ didn’t leave, that he wouldn’t leave. He never does.

“Here,” you murmur, handing over the glass and two pills. “Lay down and go to sleep.”

He has his shirt off and he watches as you move around the room. His gaze is heavy and it makes you feel even warmer than you’re already feeling. You pick up things around the room, dirty clothes, cups, pieces of trash, anything to keep you busy. It’s not something you want to do but you also want to give JJ some space. You won’t admit it but it upsets you every time he starts talking like that and you know he knows that. He always lasts about 13 minutes before he breaks down.

And right on the dot, as you have an armful of dirty clothes to drop in the hamper, he speaks up. “Will you come lay down?”

“I’m going to take a shower. I feel gross.”

JJ lets out a tired sigh, “I’ve calmed down, please come here.”

“I feel gross,” you argue. He may have calmed down but you’re still hurt at his words. You know he doesn’t do it on purpose but it hurts to know that he believes he’s not worth anything, that he’s not afraid of losing you or anyone else that cares about him.

“There’s no point in showering, if I’m not going to shower and we end up pressed against each other anyway. We’ll be sweaty regardless.” He reasons, his voice on the verge of despair and you know that he needs you close right now. That he needs the comfort he seeks. “Please?”

Your heart softens at the tone of his voice and you cave.  Dropping the clothes into the hamper you shuffle over to the empty side of your bed. JJ turns his back to you and you settle in behind him, shoving one arm under his neck and wrapping the other one around his waist. You pull him close to you, both palms flat against his chest, molding your body against his. JJ brings a hand to the top of yours and laces his fingers with yours. He lets out a stuttering breath when you place your lips to the back of his neck.

“I have one thing to lose,” he breathes out, “and it’s you.” You press another kiss to the back of his neck before digging your nose to the skin there. “I love you, you know”

“Yeah, I know.” You squeeze his hand and he squeezes back. “I love you, you know.”

JJ sighs and relaxes completely, like he’d been waiting for you to say those exact words, “I know.”

He falls asleep a few minutes later.

-

-

It’s about three days later when you’re walking down the street when you notice a familiar looking jeep coming towards you. Your hopes for it to just keep driving die before they’re fully even there because it stops next to you, making you stumble a bit at the closeness.

“Pogue.”

“Topper.” you sigh, stepping up to his driver window. “I have a name.”

“Yeah, but I don’t really care.” He looks you up and down before smirking, “But I could.”

You roll your eyes, “Hm, in your dreams. What do you want?”

“Just wanted to see how your little group of Pogues are doing with your precious Pope in the slammer?” He raises an eyebrow in question.

You cross your arms over your chest and step closer. You’re not above fighting. You know how to, you were taught how to fight correctly, your dad teaching you at a young age. He felt the need to, with where you live and the stability you have in such an area.

“Yeah, see, JJ was the one that ended up there.”

Topper’s face falls and his skin turns a bit pale at your words. He won’t ever admit it, but you know that he’s secretly scared of JJ. Him and his friends, they all are. Never once have you seen them go to him one on one. They always have 2 or more and it always fills you with pride because JJ does know how to fight but it’s never fair because he’s just one and they gang up on him.

“Why?” he questions.

“Well, Top, that’s because he’s a good person. Unlike you.” you sneer, not backing down. He’s bigger than you, probably stronger than you but you’re not scared of him. You never have been.

“I didn’t want to press the charges, it wasn’t me!” His cocky demeanor falls quickly at the newfound information and it makes you laugh. “It was my mom, I swear.”

“Right, so you couldn’t have stopped her? Couldn’t have done anything when you know the reason it was done in the first place was because you jumped someone who was just trying to do their job. Someone who works for their money. Does someone working to keep themselves afloat scare you? What is it! Huh? You don’t like it?” You can’t help yourself. The force in which your voice is coming out startles you just as much as it does Topper.

“Oh please,” Topper scoffs, rolling his eyes in the process, “don’t act like they’re all innocent. I had a gun held to my head.”

“Yeah, true, but you were about to kill one of our friends! You’re no better than any of us. Oh! And should I mention how you almost killed another one the other night at the outdoor movie? Should I bring that up to someone? Hm? Maybe your mom or maybe the police?” You tilt your head to the side, taunting him a bit.

“Like anyone would believe someone like you,” Topper laughs.

You laugh right back, “Do you forget that I’m actually right under you, status wise? That my family just chooses to live where we do because we’re not a bunch of prissy snobs. People would believe me.”

“Do your Pogues know about you?”

“Of course they do. Do you think that me having money changes anything?” You question, rolling your eyes. “Actually, this conversation is going nowhere. I’m done. I have somewhere I need to be.”

When you step back and start walking, Topper gets out and follows you. “Come back here!”

“For what! What do you want?”

“You need to be knocked down a peg or two. Remind you where you are and who you hang out with,” He steps up to you, trying to seem threatening.

You look up at him bored, “Okay, Topper. Why don’t you get back in your car and drive away. Go do some drugs or beat up on someone working.”

He grabs at your arm and pulls you chest to chest with him, getting in your face in the process. “You don’t know me!”

“And I don’t want to. Now, let me go.”

When you fight against his grip he just holds on tighter. You wince and you know it’ll bruise, “I’m not above hitting a girl. Especially when she’s asking for it.”

“Do it, I dare you.” you challenge, stepping up to nearly pressing your nose to his. You’re not too sure how you didn’t see it coming, probably because you were really challenging him. But he didn’t seem to think the same thing because he surges forward to press his lips to yours. You back away as far as possible but his grip on you doesn’t let you go far and his lips make contact with yours. “Get off of me!”

You stomp on his foot and knee him in the stomach and that gets him to let go. “You bitch!” he grumbles out and reaches for your leg, pulling it out from under you. You land on the ground with a groan and kick at him when he grabs your ankle and bends down to punch you across the face, “Fucking stop!”

“You’re the one that grabbed me, now let go!” You kick at him again and get him in the groin this time. And when he bends over you get enough momentum to deliver a punch to the side of his face. He lands on his side and you push him around until he’s on his back and punch him again before standing up. You stick your boot up under his chin and step on his neck just enough to make it harder for him to breathe. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again.”

“You bitch!” He exclaims again, trying to lunge up at you again but when it doesn’t work he scratches down your leg, cutting into the skin. You push into his neck more when he doesn’t stop. “You do belong with the Pogues.”

“I know,” you smirk, leaning down. “You get your mom to drop the charges against JJ and I’ll make sure he doesn’t come after you for what you just pulled.”

“You think I’m scared of him!” He yells out, choking a bit when your foot slips against his movement.

“I know that you are. And after he finds out it was you that did this to me, it’ll be a whole other type of anger from him.” you whisper, shoving against his throat again. “Drop the charges and I’ll keep him away from you, for this.”

Topper gasps and starts to grab at your ankle but you don’t move it and you won’t move it until he agrees. It only takes a few seconds before he caves, “Okay! Okay, I’ll do it!”

“Good,” you smile, pulling back a little and a gasping breath echoes loudly between the two of you. “Do it now.”

Topper groans and tries to fight you once again, punching at your thigh this time around and it makes you stumble back but not enough because you slam your foot down on his chest, knocking the wind out of him. “Do it now.”

He lets out a breath and fumbles around in his pocket before his phone is presented and he puts it to his ear. “On speaker.”

Once Topper hangs up the phone, after spitting out some bullshit excuse, his mom agrees. She sounds reluctant but she agrees nonetheless. Topper punches you in the thigh once again, this time harder, losing your balance and hitting the ground once more. He kicks at you, foot coming in contact with your lower back after you turned away from him.

“You won’t ever do that to me again, you hear me?” Topper yells, standing up above you.

You laugh and turn over onto your back, “What? Your ego hurt after being held down by a girl.” His face turns red and you can tell he’s trying his hardest not to kick you again. It just makes you laugh more as you stand up to your full height once more. “Don’t let the charges being dropped fall through. If they do? I won’t have any control over what happens.”

You start to walk away and another laugh escapes when you hear Topper, from behind you, let out a frustrated scream before his car door slams and he speeds away. He’s too easy. Messing with him is one of your favorite things to do, even if it ends up with you limping a bit and blood trickling down your leg.

When you reach your destination, The Chateau as always, you’re relieved to only see Kie at the dock you’re all supposed to be meeting at. You initially thought you’d be the last one to show up, your run in with Topper added at least 20 extra minutes to your journey, but you’re glad it doesn’t seem that way. Kie looks up when a branch snaps under your foot and you can see a smile outlining her face when she spots you but it quickly turns into a frown when she sees the state you’re in.

“What the hell happened to you?” she screeches, meeting you halfway.

You look around the property, in search of a certain blonde boy because you absolutely had no idea how you were going to explain this to him. JJ was absolutely going to lose it once he saw you and he absolutely isn’t going to let it go until he knows the truth. You thought about lying to him but he knows you better than he knows himself and he’d see through the lie before it would even have a chance to leave your mouth.

“Where are the guys? I thought I’d be late.”

Kie gives you an unimpressed look at your obvious avoidance of the subject, “I don’t know, something about Figure 8 and Sarah Cameron. That’s all I heard on the phone call.”

You nod, not really caring where they are in the slightest, “Cool. Now will you help me clean up a bit. It doesn’t feel as bad as it looks, I promise.”

She runs her eyes down your whole body before meeting your eyes, “That’s a lie. Do you not feel the blood actively running down your leg?”

Looking down, your eyes widen at just how much blood is covering your leg. “Shit,” you mutter, pressing a palm to your forehead.

“What happened?”

“I ran into Topper,” you sigh, the adrenaline quickly leaving your body now that you’re standing still.

Kiara gasps loudly, “By yourself!”

“Yes,” you groan, not really seeing the big deal. “He looks worse.”

Kie looks like she doesn’t believe you and she’s clearly about to question you when the van pulls up and JJ loudly gets out, yelling out to you both, “Yo, guys, someone beat the shit out of Topper and it wasn’t even us!”

He clearly hasn’t taken in the sight of you yet but you turn your attention back to Kie and you can’t help but smirk at the shocked expression on her face. “JJ’s going to lose his shit in about 2 seconds.”

And just as Kiara closes her mouth, JJ’s voice nearly echoes through the trees, “What in the fuck!” You wince at his tone and just how loud it is.

He was still behind you, you purposely kept your eyes locked on Kiara so you don’t have to face him just yet. But that’s clearly not going to stand because JJ steps in front of you, effectively pushing Kie out of the way. “Who did this?”

“I fell?” You raise your voice as if asking a question, scrunching your face up into your shoulders. The deadpan look on your boyfriend's face makes you let out a sigh and drop your shoulders. “I’d like to say for you to see the other guy but you already have.”

Pope’s voice cuts in before JJ even has a chance to process your words, “You did that to Topper!” He sounds impressed and a big smile pulls at your lips as you turn your head to look at him.

“Holy shit,” John B exhales staring at you in complete awe. “He was fucked up.”

A laugh bubbles past your lips and your cheeks heat up at the attention you’re receiving. The admiration on the two boys' faces almost makes you forget about the other boy in your presence. The one that’s been awfully quiet. You turn back to him and the look on his face makes you frown. His pupils are blown and his jaw is clenched so tight you’re positive his teeth hurt. His focus is dead set on the base of your throat.

Waving your hand in front of his face, you snap your fingers as well, trying to bring him back to you, “Earth to JJ. Come back to me.”

“Topper did this to you?” he asks and when you nod, something flashes in his eyes so quick you find yourself trying to chase it. Figure out what’s going through his head. “I’m going to kill him.”

You’re stunned at the way his voice sounds, deep and raspy, filled with so much hatred. You’re almost positive his voice has never been so low before and it sends chills down your spine. You blink at him but when you open your eyes he’s not in front of you anymore. He’s only a few steps away but you can’t really move as the pain in your leg finally settled in.

“JJ,” you cry out, half out of pain and half to get his attention. “Don’t do anything! Come back here.”

You swivel in your spot and watch him as he continues to stomp into the house. A few things crash around before he comes back out, shoving what you assume is the gun into the back of his pants. “JB, give me the keys.”

“No, don’t give them to him!” You yell out. You need to get his attention.

“What are you thinking? Do you really think I’m just going to sit here and do nothing when that piece of shit put his hands on you?” JJ shouts, standing a few feet away from you now.

Pope comes up behind JJ and puts both hands to his shoulder, “Calm down, man,” he says but JJ roughly shrugs his shoulder and pushes Pope off of him. He puts his hands up in surrender but stays close. “You can’t just go pull a gun out on him and kill him.” He reasons.

“Oh yeah?” He challenges. “Watch me.”

“JJ, stop it,” Kie cries out now.

“Yeah man, you saw what Topper looked like. You should be happy that she’s the one who did it.” John B points out, gesturing to you and JJ follows the movement of his hand and he looks to you again.

He looks at you with his brows furrowed, a storm swirling around in his eyes as he stares you down. The eye contact isn’t something you normally back down from but the intensity in his eyes right now throws you off. It feels like you’re being chastised. You know he’s trying to figure out why you fought Topper. He knows that you don’t just out right fight someone, even if they start it first. He knows that the only time you ever fight is in self defense or to defend someone you care about.

“What did you do?” JJ asks because he knows you did this for a reason. Something more than just for yourself because you don’t personally care for Topper, you’d never give him the time of day and that includes fighting him. “Why’d you fight him?”

“Well,” you shrug, looking down to your feet. Your leg was still bleeding. You should probably do something about that. “He made me mad.”

JJ scoffs, “Your temper is not as bad as mine. There’s more to it. Tell me, now, or I will go kill him.”

You hesitate some more, fixated on your feet and the way they look in your boots. They’re a bit scuffed but they still look good. You focus on that and not the four sets of eyes burning into your frame. Telling them, telling JJ why you fought would result in JJ feeling like shit. You really don’t want him to feel like shit because you did what you did to help him. But he’ll feel like shit because you got hurt and you got hurt on his behalf. There’s nothing he hates more than someone standing up for him and getting hurt because of it.

“Today, please.” JJ snaps and you look up at him to see the anger plastered on his face.

“I was walking here when he pulled up beside me. He wanted to taunt me about Pope being in jail for the whole boat thing and I told him that it was you that took the blame for it. He tried arguing with me but when I started to walk away he grabbed me,” you take a breath when you see JJ step forward like he’s ready to protect you from the words you’re about to say. “And well, when I was challenging him to hit me he kissed me but I -“

“He did what now?” JJ cuts in, his voice so deep and slow your eyes widen at him. Kiara and Pope’s jaw drops at the same time and John B looks taken aback at the way his best friend sounds. Never have they ever heard him sound so angry. You’ve never even heard him so angry before.

Everyone, but you and JJ, glances at each other in confusion but you don’t even dare to look away from JJ. They don’t know what’s going on or why JJ would get so mad at the idea of someone else kissing you. Kiara had a suspicion long ago that the two of you were dating but you shot it down even though she was right. That was almost a year ago and as far as you know they don’t know you’re actually together. At this point you’re not too sure why they don’t even know or why you haven’t told them but you have a feeling they’re about to be real surprised here soon. The look in JJ’s eyes is possessive, it’s down right a claim that you’re his and no one has the right to kiss you.

“Let me finish,” you put a hand up. “I kicked him, shoved him down to the ground, punched him, then held him by the throat with my foot-“

“My god,” John B breathes out, once again looking in awe. Pope just nods in agreement, almost in a daze. Kiara, well she just looks impressed.

“While I slightly choked him with my foot,” you pause for a second, preparing yourself for the worst reaction from JJ, “I got him to drop the charges on the boat.”

It goes deathly quiet for a few moments before three voices come at you all at one, “What?”

You ignore them, still looking at JJ, “By the end of the day your name should be cleared. You won’t be held responsible for the boat anymore.”

JJ doesn’t say anything, he just continues to stare but you watch him carefully. His breaths are deep and calculated, his jaw is clenching and unclenching, his fists loosen and he rests his palms against his thighs. You can practically see the wheels inside his brain working through the information, processing the fact that you did this for him. He’s not used to someone caring for him this way, no matter how long you’ve been there for him, he’s still not used to the love you have for him. He went so long without it, it takes him a while to process it.

But you see the moment it finally settles in his brain, the second that he fully processed the information you’d given him. His chest stutters briefly and you know the tears are going to come next. He breathes in a long breath, and holds it in his lungs before it rushes out through his nose. He’s trying to keep up his tough front, but he’s failing. His eyes finally soften and they go back to the normal light they usually are.

Then, in the blink of an eye he’s in front of you. His hands cradle your face before his body collides with yours, hard, and his lips are on yours. The kiss is hard, it’s possessive, passionate, sincere but hasty, fervent, needy, desperate. It’s overwhelming and so full of emotion that it takes you a second to respond but when you do, JJ sighs into it and pulls you impossibly closer. One hand moves to your lower back and the other one stays on your jaw where his thumb pushes against your face to open your mouth even more. He is absolutely, unquestionably claiming you right here, right now. Not that you need to be claimed but you don’t mind. You’ve never felt so alive before.

The love JJ is conveying through this kiss is everything you’ve ever needed and you reciprocate the best that you can. You want him to know that you’re his and he’s yours. Just how it should be.

JJ whines when you pull away and he chases after you but you need to breathe, “Jesus, J.”

“I’ll say,” Kiara agrees, a little out of breath herself at what she just witnessed. Two seventeen year olds should not know how to share such a passionate looking kiss.

“I didn’t know friends kiss like that,” John B jokes, nudging Pope when he laughs.

“That’s because they don’t.” he continues laughing.

JJ ignores everything they say, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know, but I did.” You shrug, shifting on your feet and wincing at the pain that shoots through your leg and JJ notices that. “But like can we go get me cleaned up or something, I need to sit down.”

“Yeah,” JJ nods hastily, “you guys go ahead and go out without us,” he looks at the other three, that still look like they’re in complete shock, and doesn’t wait for their response before he looks back to you, “can you walk?”

You nod but he doesn’t listen. JJ swiftly throws you over his shoulder and starts walking towards the house. “I love you, you know,” he says once he’s far enough away from everyone.

“I know.”

-

-

It’s the next day when you and JJ make an appearance after staying inside all day the day before. Once you had showered and iced down the parts of your body that hurt, you fell asleep and stayed asleep until it was dark. The adrenaline in your system was completely gone and you were in a lot of pain so sleep came naturally.

You met John B, Pope, Kie, and even Sarah, at the beach. It was around 11am when you and JJ walked up to them as they were sitting there in the sand. As you approached, they went quiet and watched as JJ helped you sit, hand you a bottle of water before sitting down behind you. His legs press against yours on either side of your body and his hands rest on top of your thighs. You can feel four sets of eyes on you and you give it about 3 more seconds before someone breaks the quiet.

“How are you feeling?” Kie is the one to break it. You glance at her and give her a smile, one that she returns.

“Sore but I’ll be fine.”

John B laughs a bit of a disbelieving laugh, “What you explained yesterday was pretty badass.”

“Hell yeah it was,” Pope excitedly cuts in. “I should say thank you, as well.”

You just shrug, “I would’ve done it for any of you.”

“Did Topper really do that to you?” Sarah questions you, quizzically looking you up and down. Your face bruised and so did your leg. The scratches down your leg are scabbed and also bruised.

The hands on your thighs tighten and dig into the skin there. You gently place your hands on his, soothing the anger that still sits there. He calmed down yesterday, barely, but he did enough to listen to what happened when you explained it again. Adding in the details you knew would calm him down. He tried to argue with you a few times but you finally got through to him, made him accept the fact that you did what you did and there’s no turning back now.

“What a dick. I can’t believe I dated him,” Sarah continues when you nod at her.

As everyone laughs and starts to pick on Sarah for her choices, you shift your upper body enough to twist around and look at JJ. His eyes are dark and his jaw is clenched tight, pushing out the muscles in his neck. You let out a sigh and bring a hand up to his cheek, soothing your fingers over his jaw to get him to unclench. He’s angry, that much you can tell, but he’s trying his best to keep a wraps on it. It’s been very difficult to keep him steady. Every time he looks at you, he tenses and his breathing gets all deep. It’ll be like that for a few days.

“JJ, calm down,” you whisper to him. The fingers digging into your thighs tighten some more before he relaxes, his eyes meeting yours and the dark anger in them fizzling away slowly. “Hey, there you are.”

“I still can’t believe you won’t let me go kick his ass,” JJ scoffs, moving to lean back on his hands. The movement makes you sway a little, having not realized how much you were relying on him to keep you upright. “I just want to kick his ass.”

He always wants to kick his ass but you know the underlying anger in him would take it further than that and that’s not something you want. Also, “If you kick his ass the charges will come back,” you remind him.

JJ closes his eyes and takes a breath. You move around between his legs and sit sideways, your legs bent over one of his now so you don’t have to be so twisted to look at him. Your back hurts a bit too much for that. He pulls up the leg that’s against your back and presses it into you, giving you something to lean on. You place a hand on his thigh, up by his hip, and lean into him a bit, “I’m sure you’ll get the chance to kick his ass again but just not for this, okay? I hit him just as much as he hit me.”

That brings a smirk to his face, “You know, I wouldn’t mind seeing you choke someone out with those boots you wear. I’m a bit mad I missed it, I’m sure it was hot as fuck.”

And that catches the attention of everyone else and you turn your head when John B speaks up, “Fuck, I was thinking the same thing,” he laughs and laughs even harder when Sarah gasps. “I’m just saying.”

“Actually,” Kie shrugs, “I wouldn’t mind picking a fight with Topper just to see that.”

You let out a loud laugh, your head thrown back at the sheer force in which it comes out, “Can we wait a few days maybe, I hurt.”

JJ immediately brings a hand up to soothe over your leg. It does look bad and honestly it does hurt as bad as it looks. It only takes a few seconds for his other hand to brush over the nasty looking bruise on your back too. Four sets of eyes track the movements, “Does it hurt that bad?”

“Yeah, actually. The cuts sting the worst and the sun makes them feel like they’re burning.” Your answer makes JJ frown. His eyes flicker with anger once more, “Stay calm,” you state a bit forcefully.

You can tell that the group wants to question the movements between you and JJ. The kiss you shared in front of them yesterday was anything but the friendly kisses that you share with the group most days and it’s been on the forefront of their brains ever since. Sarah is the only one that doesn’t track the movements for more than what they are, she didn’t see the kiss and the closeness is no different than what it usually is for the both of you.

The good thing about being with JJ is that nothing really changed between the two of you when you started dating. As kids, you were alway closer than with anyone else. JJ trusted you, protected you, cared deeply for you from the beginning. The touchiness started when you were 15, feelings between you a little too strong to ignore so you went from the friendly hugs and touches to a bit more. Hands would rest in more intimate places, no longer would they rest on knees but now on thighs. No longer on the waist but more on the curve of hips or high up on the rib cage near the chest. Everything was taken in stride, the older everyone got the more common it was and no one questioned a thing about it. It was mostly friendly, being so used to being near JJ for years that the change in touches barely registered in your head, it was all normal.

It changed almost a year ago. The feelings you held for JJ getting to be too much to control, you felt they were getting more and more noticeable every day. JJ was getting closer and closer, lingering longer than usual, snapping quicker when someone offended you, acting a bit more possessive and it was a lot to process. One night, after a particularly large fight with the Kooks, you and JJ were alone on the hammock outside The Chateau when he kissed you. It was a real kiss, one with emotion and fervor, not just a friendly peck that you’d gotten so used to sharing.

You guys have been dating ever since. Keeping it to yourself. You share everything else with the group, nothing was ever private but this was something you wanted to yourselves. To enjoy with no pressure. It was only supposed to be that way for a few months, while you got used to the change in relationship, but you got so comfortable with the way you guys got to have each other in private, you just never mentioned it.

But with how deeply you loved each other, it was obviously getting harder to hide. Not that it’s really that important.

“I’m cal-“

“Are you guy-“

“What the fuck!”

JJ, Pope, and Sarah all speak at the same time but everyone focuses on Sarah’s distressed, ‘what the fuck,’ and looks to her. Everyone then follows her line of sight and what’s caught her attention. JJ immediately tenses and he sits back, ready to jump up. You tense yourself, pushing harder into your hold on him.

“Rafe, what the fuck are you doing here?” Sarah screeches standing up. John B follows her. Kie and Pope stand too, standing more in front of you and JJ.

“Let me go,” JJ whispers, his voice coming out harsh, especially when Topper pops up from behind Rafe.

“No.”

JJ huffs, an annoyed sigh heaving through his nose. His vision is locked on the two boys approaching your group. “We just wanted to check up on our favorite people,” Rafe jokes, the sarcasm rolling off of him in waves. You move completely around in front of JJ when you feel his body start to shake a bit at his continued words, “Especially the one who beat up my boy here.”

Wrapping your legs around JJ’s waist, you pull him closer to you before grasping his face in your hands. “Hey baby, how are you today?” you question, whispering to not gain the attention of everyone else. Pope and Kie are doing a decent job of keeping you hidden but JJ’s eyes are still locked on where Rafe and Topper are standing.

“Which one of you did it? He won’t tell me and I’d like to have a word.”

A twitch goes through JJ’s body, like he’s about to get up but you hold him tighter. Stroking your fingers through his hair, you tug on it a bit to get his attention. It works. “It’s okay.”

“None of you look like you got your asses handed to them, so I ask again. Who did it?” Rafe hums, clicking his tongue as you assume he looks around at everyone. You know that you and JJ aren’t completely covered and he’s bound to finally see you two.

“Rafe, just leave.” Sarah intervenes.

“Oh, Daddy’s little princess, I don’t think so. Not until someone steps up. I might even hang out with you today. I think it would be fun.”

“No, leave them alone. You come for them enough without reason. Go home!” Her voice is stern but Rafe is off the walls, you highly doubt he’ll listen. “Topper deserved what happened to him anyway.”

“Ah,” Rafe lets out, “So you know who did it? You think she’ll own up to it any time soon, I’m tired.”

You wince when JJ roughly grabs you and shoves you away from him. The movement makes you tumble into the back of Kie’s legs and she helps you up as JJ pushes to the front of the group, in the blink of an eye. You let out a groan as you get steady on your feet, your back burning with pain.

John B slaps a hand down on JJ’s shoulder as he steps in front of him, to keep him from attacking. You let out a sigh and shake your head as JJ puffs out his chest, making himself seem bigger. “Why don’t you leave her out of this,” his tone is menacing.

“Oh! You know who did it too?” Rafe exclaims, feigning ignorance.

“Rafe, I told you it’s not a big deal. Let’s go.” Topper interjects.

“No, man.  Look at the bruise on your neck. Someone just doesn’t get away with that. Even if they’re a girl,” Rafe finishes, looking directly at you. You stare back, unimpressed, arms crossed over your chest.

JJ lunges for Rafe, “Keep her out of it!”

Rafe laughs as John B and Pope hold JJ back, “But it’s her fault!”

“Not when he’s all over her first! Come on, Top, be a big man and admit it was your fault!” JJ taunts, struggling against the hold JB and Pope have on him.

You sigh once more before stepping out of Kie’s grip, she squeezes you for a second but let’s you go when you keep walking. Stepping in between JJ and Rafe, your chest brushes his, and you challenge him. You want to protect JJ in this moment because you know if a fight was to break out, JJ wouldn’t have it fair because looking past Rafe’s shoulder you spot the rest of their little gang.

“Get out of the way,” JJ yells, placing a hand to your waist. His fingers squeeze into your side but you don’t back down.

“No, JJ!” you yell back, “this is something you can’t fight over. I told you that!”

JJ presses his chest to your back, trying to get as close as possible to the situation but you push back. “Damn it, let me do something!”

You ignore him, turning to Rafe who has a smug expression on his face from the exchange, “Leave. This has nothing to do with you!”

Sarah steps you beside you and shoves at her brother, making him stumble. “Go home.”

“Sarah, this has nothing to do with you.”

You take a step forward, “And it doesn’t with you, either. I’d leave before you end up like your buddy.” Your temper is rising very quickly. The continuous smug look on his face from not listening to you or his own sister making your skin crawl. Your blood is hot and you can feel yourself vibrating in JJ’s hold, the taunting of his words and the way he speaks them as if he’s demeaning you.

“Like you co-“ you don’t even let him finish before you’re throwing a punch across his face, hard. He falls to the ground with the force of it and you’re about to lurch forward to continue throwing punches but arms wrap around your waist and pull you back. Your legs kick up in the air as you fight against the hold, “You bitch!”

Sarah jumps in between you and her brother, knowing he wouldn’t hit her. “Rafe, leave,” but he just shoved her aside and tried to get to you. You’re still fighting in JJ’s hold, yelling at him to let you go but he just continues to pull you away. Topper jumps in to keep Rafe back, desperately trying to get him to listen. For once Topper is doing something smart.

“Let me fight him!” You scream, tired of him and all his friends constantly looking down at you like you’re no more than a piece of garbage on the ground. It’s tiring, frustrating, and you’re absolutely sick of it. You’re tired of having to constantly be on alert, wondering if you’re going to get attacked again just because you’re hanging out somewhere or walking down the street. “Let me go!”

“No!” JJ yells back, “if you won’t let me fight, you’re not going to either!”

“I’m not letting you fight because I don’t want you in jail, asshole!” You’re still struggling against him but his hold is too tight and you’re losing air. “I’m just trying to protect you, god damn it, let me do something for you!”

In your fit of rage you don’t even notice that JJ has dragged you both a few feet away from everyone else until he’s in front of you, hands grasping at your face, “Hey hey hey, will you calm down? Breathe, calm down, baby.”

“JJ, let me go!” You exclaim, still trying to pull away from his grasp. It bothers the bruise on your face but you ignore it. You just want to fight, to attack anything that puts JJ in danger. You’re not too sure where this sudden wave of protectiveness came from, granted you always want to protect him, but it’s a really strong urge these past few days.

“No, calm down. I’m not letting you go until you’re breathing properly again.” JJ argues. He soothes his thumbs over your cheeks but you’re barely registering them there. Your mind is still reeling, wanting to do anything to fight, to keep JJ safe and with you. “What is going on with you? Why do you want to fight so bad? You’re not one to fight.”

The questions seem to drain the fight right out of you, the adrenaline running through your system leaving your body in a single breath. It makes you sag against JJ, his hands on your cheeks the main thing keeping you up. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, dig a little. I need an answer so we can work on moving forward.” JJ throws your own words back at you. You smile a little at him, happy that he’s grasping onto the tactics you use to get him to open up about what he’s going through. JJ notices you smile and chuckles, “Yeah, yeah I listen to you after all.”

That makes you full on laugh, your whole body shaking as the laugh rips through you. Reaching up, you rest a hand to his cheek, “You’re so stubborn, I’m a bit surprised.” He leans into your touch a bit, eyes closing as he takes in a deep breath. Your laughter dies down and you just smile at him. “The idea of you not being with me, scares me.”

JJ frowns and steps closer, as if either of you would disappear if he wasn’t close enough. “I just-“ you breathe out when he places your free hand on his ribs, your place of comfort, your grounding place. “I just want to do something for you. I want you to be safe. I want to protect you.”

“Have you not realized that’s what you’ve been doing for me since we were like 9?” JJ laughs, shaking his head. “Baby, you’ve been the one protecting me for years. How many times have you taken the blame for something when you weren’t even there? How many times have you hid me in your closet so your parents don’t find out I’ve sneaked in after a particularly bad day with my dad? How many times have you patched me up and held me when things got too bad? It’s too many to count. You do things for me every day. You smiling at me, holding my hand, sitting beside me, sharing food with me, looking at me, hell just being in the same room as me; gets me through any day.”

The four others stare on in a bit of a daze. Rafe and his followers long gone so their attention has been solely on the two of you. But there’s no way either of you could’ve known. Emotions are running high between you and JJ that there’s no way you’d pay attention to anything other than him until you knew his mind was steady. You knew JJ was going through the same thing.

“Are they like.... together?” Sarah questions, to no one in particular. She always just assumed the two of you were just closer. That your friendship was just that, a friendship. She’s noticed that the entire group of Pogues were close and touchy, but it was always a bit more between the two of you.

“Yeah,” Pope answers.

Sarah gasps, “Why didn’t I know!”

“Because we don’t even know,” John B answers.

“What do you mean?” Sarah’s brows furrow. That has got to be one of the most confusing things she’s ever been told. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“They haven’t told us,” Kie shrugs, “But, I mean, it’s obvious. I figured it out like six months ago maybe?”

“Really?” Pope, raises an eyebrow. “I figured it out like 3 months ago.”

“Mmm,” John B hums, “I’m pretty sure I witnessed their first official kiss. You know how she kisses all of us?” he asks, looking around to the others. Kie and Pope nod while Sarah just watches on. “Well, one night, like last year some time. I saw them kiss and it wasn’t like the ones she gives all of us. Their dynamic changed the next day.”

Sarah looks around completely baffled. She feels like she should’ve known, should’ve realized but she just assumed because no one acted like you two were dating. But she didn’t grow up with you all, she hasn’t seen how the two of you dating wouldn’t be a shock. And the newfound information still doesn’t stop Sarah from letting out a gasp when you surge forward to kiss JJ.

The kiss is like the one you shared yesterday but this time it’s you pouring everything you’ve got into it. Pouring in every ounce of love your body has to offer. It’s deep and warm and all things good. It’s needy and greedy, needing to have his attention and wanting to take it all. He reciprocates with just as much fervor, hastily kissing back like his life depended on it. His hands are tight on your waist as he pulls you impossibly closer, always closer, and your arms wrap around his neck. Hands shoved in his hair, you kiss him with unrelenting fury. It’s a kiss that could easily turn into something more if you weren’t in public so you try to tone it down but JJ is having none of that. He just wraps both arms around your back and holds you to him when you try to pull away.

You step back though, breathing heavily against JJ’s lips. Your breaths mix with his and your lips desperately brush as you both just breathe, trying to come back to earth. You place a quick kiss to his lips and one to his nose, “I love you, you know.”

“I know,” he responds with a quick kiss to your lips and your nose.

-

-

The van is entirely too tense for your liking. The atmosphere is so thick, it makes it feel like you can’t breathe. John B is yelling profusely at JJ as he drives, like he’s part of a car chase, through the back roads of The Cut to get to where his brain has focused on.

It was a pretty normal day up until about 26 minutes ago.

You were the last one to be picked up for the day, JJ greeting you at the sliding door of the van with a quick hello kiss to your lips before grabbing your hand and helping you in. Kisses got placed on everyone, even Sarah -who was pleasantly surprised, because even if she won’t admit it, she was upset to find out that you’ve kissed everyone but her- before sitting down on the floor in front of the bench. JJ sat behind you and you wrapped your arms around his legs. All of you were going to head out to the boat, spend the day on the water and soak up some sun. Just hang out like teenagers are supposed to do.

That was until a supposed cop car pulled up behind the van out of nowhere and ordered for you to pull over. John B does as told but in the blink of an eye, there’s a shot gun being aimed in his face and orders are being thrown for everyone to get out. Orders thrown for us to lay down flat in the ditch.

Something about knowing Rafe and how he’s going after people to collect money he owes. JJ was constantly telling him that you’re all a bunch of Pogues, that he won’t find anything but of course he found the cash you keep in your backpack, along with the weed you hold for JJ. There were a few other things he found that he deemed good enough to steal but you didn’t get enough of a look to see what he found. It’s like he noticed every time one of you moved because he’d be quick to aim the gun at any of you who moved and threaten to shoot.

Which is why it was so surprising when JB was able to get into the car without the guy noticing. After that, it was amazing how fast the guy ended up on the ground, wheezing and groaning in pain.

“Oh, I know this guy! He sells coke to my dad!” JJ yelled before he kicked him in the stomach.

“No wonder he was talking about Rafe.” Sarah interjected, scoffing in disbelief.

JJ punched the guy across the face once more before reaching into his pocket and taking the guys wallet. “We have one more stop to make!” he laughs menacingly.

So, that leads you up to where you are now. Pacing the front lawn of a run down drug house. Crashes are coming from inside, along with the yells and screams from JJ and John B. Every time something hits the ground, you startle, completely on edge by the whole situation. JJ has damn near lost his mind, his eyes too wide and too unfocused. If you didn’t know any better you’d say he did a line of coke for breakfast this morning.

Deep down, you know this behavior is only fueled by the way he’s been treated his whole life. That he’s reached his limit at how much he can actually take. That he’s fed up with his life and what he feels like he’s worth. He’s snapped, something you’ve been trying to prevent for years, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. You’re not scared of him, you know that you’d be able to calm him down but you know there’d be a fight before that happened. A fight you don’t want to go through. It’s only been four days since your fight with Topper and you’re still exhausted from it. You’re not ready to handle a fight with JJ.

“God, they sound like they’re killing each other in there,” Kie groans, pacing just as much as you. She looks worried.

Pope stands completely still, an anxious look on his face as he stares at the front door of the house. It looks like he believes he’ll summon them out with just his gaze in the door.

And Sarah, well, she just looks out of place.

You continue to pace, anxiously waiting, not daring to look at the door. You don’t want to know what’s going on. You wish you couldn’t hear what was going on either. You honestly feel like you’re going to wear a path down in the dead grass with all your back and forth.

“Now!” you jump at the sudden voice before the screen door to the house slams open. JJ steps out with a wad of cash in his hands. “We can all have, let’s see-“ he pauses for a second as he sorts through the stack, “5 grand each!”

John B looks aggravated, like he’s talking to a child that keeps asking ‘why’ for absolutely no reason, as he follows closely behind JJ.

“What are we doing! Stealing from drug dealers now?” Kiara exclaims.

JJ stares at her, throwing his arms around. “Aren’t you guys tired of this? We got a gun! A gun pulled on us today. We were robbed! Us!” JJ exclaims, face red. “I don’t know about you but I’m tired! I’m tired of being treated like absolute shit just because of where we live!”

You stare on in complete shock. JJ’s lips are parted and his eyes are wide, breathing ragged. This is a whole other type of anger that you’ve never seen out of JJ before. You’re not too sure how to handle this.

“Relax, JJ,” John B continues after him, his anger showing through as well. He starts pushing up against JJ, getting in his face.

“How’d you feel, huh? That shit was right there in your face,” JJ argues back.

“I’m putting it back,” John B moves to snatch the bag JJ has in his grasp and that leads to JJ shoving JB up against the van, hard. The impact of it echoes around the small area you’re in.

“You feel like a tough guy, huh?” John B snaps, not even trying to fight against the hold JJ has on him. He knows that JJ would never lay a hand on him, no matter how mad he got. “What will you do when he comes for us?”

“We punch him, in the throat,” JJ retorts, his voice coming out low and threatening. It does fit with JJ, he shouldn’t be capable of getting his voice to sound like that.

JB scoffs, “Oh, good fuckin’ idea, JJ.”

JJ steps back, a relieving sigh coming from you as he does, “I’m not putting it back,” he mutters and shoves past JB and gets into the van. From your vantage point, you can’t see him inside. You’re still so shocked to the spot, you can’t move. It’s only a few seconds of everyone just standing around before he gets back out. “What!?” he snaps.

“We’re sick of your shit.”

That seems to get you to snap out of whatever trance you’re in. You finally look away from JJ and look at everyone else. The worried look on Pope’s face, at his best friend's obvious breakdown. The indifference Sarah radiates because she doesn’t know JJ enough to feel any other way. The anger in John B’s stance as he looks at his best friend and the recklessness he’s showing. The disbelief on Kiara’s face as she looks at JJ like she’s never seen him before, “Yeah, you’re pulling guns out on people shit.”

“JJ come on man, put it back,” Pope tries to reason but JJ just snaps.

“Pope, come on! I took the fall for you, I owed 30k in restitution. The charges may drop but they can still sue me for that money. Might as well be ahead of the game!”

“I didn’t ask you to do that!” Pope exclaims.

“Yeah, well I did. Sorry for caring.” JJ mutters, looking around to everyone. He misses your frame, like he forgot you were even with them. “You know what? I’m just going to go by myself.”

All you do is watch as JJ starts to walk away, his head is down and you can see the hurt in his face as he walks by.  The mask he holds up every day, faltering as soon as he can’t be seen anymore. He meets your eye and the wild anger that was there seconds ago is gone, all that’s left is watery eyes and disappointment. You take a step towards him, to give him the comfort he needs to get through this but he just shakes his head and keeps walking.

“JJ!” Pope hell’s out but it falls on deaf ears, JJ continuing his trek out of the area.

“Just let him go.” JB sighs, “let him do his thing.”

It’s quiet, so quiet you can hear the wind in the trees rustling each leaf, as JJ walks out of sight. It doesn’t take long for the last few minutes to settle into your brain and leave your blood running hot. When you turn away from where JJ had gone, you see everyone looking to you for some sort of guidance. They know you’re the only one that can successfully bring JJ back to earth, back to the present and out of his head. It’s been that way for years now. They just look at you helplessly, like you have all the answers. And you don’t.

It makes you angrier. It angers you that JJ did this. That he snapped and decided it would be a good idea to rob someone, a drug dealer at that. You would’ve much rather dealt with him getting into another fight with someone over having to deal with stolen money.

And it makes you angry that his best friends are apparently sick of him. It doesn’t sit right with you in the slightest.

“I can believe you guys,” you shake your head at them.

John B looks taken aback by your words, “Us!?”

“You can’t sit here and tell us you support him for what he just did!” Kie yells at you, stepping forward.

“Of course not!” You shake your head, “but I’m not going to sit here and shit on someone who is already down. JJ doesn’t deserve you guys to be talking to him like that, like you’re sick of him. That boy does everything he can to get things right with you guys. You mean so much to him and you’re just going to shit on him for it?”

“He’s robbing drug dealers, y/n.” Pope tries to reason but you just shake your head at him.

“One that just threatened to kill, each and every one of you.” You argue back, “Yes, stealing probably wasn’t the best thing he could’ve done and I’ll try and get it back so we don’t get into anymore fucking trouble. But, for you guys to turn on him the second he does something you don’t agree with is a bit fucked.”

You step towards them again, not realizing you were so far away from the group to begin with, “Pope, I know you didn’t ask him to, but he just took the fall for you so you wouldn’t lose your scholarship opportunity. He told me it’s because he’s not worth more than jail time, that you have so much more to look forward to than him.”

“Kie, who was the first person to accept you back into the group after you wanted to experience life as a kook? It was JJ. He sat there multiple nights, telling us that you haven’t changed, that you’d still be the same Kiara you were before. The one that’s understanding and supportive of everyone’s reckless behavior.”

“And John B,” you frown, “JJ was the one that was there for you when your dad went missing. He held you through the nights, made you eat and drink water. Did everything in his power to bring you out of your pain, while he was going through his own set of pain. He made sure you didn’t lose yourself when you lost your dad.”

“And for me? He’s been there for me through so much shit, quick to smile just so I would smile back. He could be in so much physical and emotional pain but he’s the first person to smile. The first person to crack a joke. The first person to offer comfort just because he doesn’t want people to feel what he feels from someone who is supposed to care for him. He may act like a jackass or someone who is tough and happy but he’s not. He’s really not.”

“You guys don’t see the way that mask falls off as soon as he’s alone. You don’t see how he beats himself up over the tiny details of his life. How he views himself as nothing more than a piece of trash for not being able to stand up to his dad. How he thinks he’s going to end up just like him. He’s scared, terrified of losing us. It’s why he’s so quick to fight, to protect, to make sure we’re happy. We’re literally the only thing, the only good thing, he has in his life. And you hurt him today.”

You hang your head after your rant, the weight of your words leaving you feeling empty after having said them. Your shoulders ache a bit but it’s still quiet. “I know, none of us agree with the stealing of the money. It was stupid and dangerous. But you didn’t have to tell him that you’re tired of him. You could’ve let Pope follow him like he wanted, to show him that he’s not alone.”

“Well, you didn’t follow him either.” Sarah steps in.

“He told me not to. I respect him for that. He knows what he did was a bit much. He wants to calm down, he was just mad that we all could’ve just died.” You shrug, looking around to everyone. They all look a bit guilty, realizing what it is that they just insinuated to their best friend.

“We didn’t mean it in a bad way,” John B says, running his hands through his hair like he’s stressed. And he is.

“Yeah, but do you think he’ll take it that way?” You question, eyebrow raised.

“We just want him to calm down.”

You nod, “I get that but you could’ve gone at it another way. That’s just me though. I’m gonna go home though. Be there just in case.”

Before they have a chance to say anything you walk away, in the opposite direction of JJ because you live in opposite directions. And that sudden thought makes your heart drop at the realization that JJ might try and go home. To show his dad that he can do something right, that he can get the money to pay off his debts.

You don’t hear from JJ for the rest of the day. Just your unread message of I know, to his I love you, you know, that he sent a few minutes after he left the group in the afternoon.

-

-

You didn’t see JJ until the following night. And when you did you kinda wished you hadn’t. You wish he hadn’t gone missing for over 24 hours. You wish you’d seen him all day and that this wasn’t the first time you were seeing him. As soon as your eyes landed on him, you knew something was wrong. Something went terribly wrong.

You and Kie had been together all day, running errands and shopping, picking up things for the movie night, dinner, at the Chateau. The Pogues all decided it would be a good idea because you knew that JJ would show up and they wanted to apologize to him. Everyone was worried about him, having not been able to locate him since he’d gone off the walls. But you knew him, you knew no matter how upset he gets about his friend, he’ll always come back to them. Always.

“I’m really worried about JJ,” Kie had said at one point. The two of you were picking up his favorite candy when she said it, looking forlorn into the shopping cart.

You felt her pain, but you shrugged nonchalant anyway, not wanting to alarm her with just how worried you were. If you were overly -which you were- worried about JJ then everyone knows it’s bad, “Shit happens in friend groups, Kie.”

She looked like she was close to tears, “But we’re not a normal friend group. We’re family.”

You nodded at her and held her in the middle of the market.

Now you felt like you were the one that needed to be held.

The sight in front of you was wrong. It didn’t belong in front of you. It didn’t belong anywhere near here yet, here it was staring you right in the face. You want to close your eyes and when you open them back up, you want it to be gone but you knew that wasn’t going to happen. Your heart is lodged in your throat and it was going to stay there until you knew everything was going to be okay.

“What did you do, JJ?” Pope gasps, in absolute disbelief as the three of you come up on JJ sitting in a hot tub, surrounded by hundreds of Christmas lights.

JJ looks up and scans over you, Kie, and Pope. You can barely see his eyes over the brim of his sunglasses. Why is he wearing sunglasses at night? You’re not too sure. “Oh, good you’re here. Come on, you have to get in right now! I have a jet going in my butt!”

He’s drunk, overly so, but that doesn’t stop him from drinking the champagne in his hands, right out of the bottle. Pope just drops his jaw, “How much did all this cost?”

“Well when you look at it; the generator, petrol, lights.. I don’t know? All of it?”

“All of it!?”

“All of it.”

“You spent all that money in one day?” Pope exclaims, leaning forward in his spot. It sounds like he doesn’t believe it. Like he doesn’t even want to.

“Yeah, burned a whole right through my pocket!” JJ waves his hand flippantly like it’s not a big deal. When it is. “But I mean, like, look, come on guys look at all of this.”

His voice is too high. It’s tight and too pitched to sound normal. To sound like he’s not seconds away from snapping. It brings tears to your eyes as you watch from the sidelines. Watch as your boyfriend crumbles right before you.

“Kie, what?” JJ says, causing you to look to her. She looks pained, absolutely shattered. “I mean,” JJ laughs but it’s anything but joyful. It sounds just as pained as Kiara’s face looks. “Can’t a man have a little luxury in life?”

He waves his hands dramatically. Showing off what he’s done outside of the Chateau, desperately looking for approval. That what he did was the right thing. “All this, scrapin’,” he trails off, as he rips off the sunglasses. “Come on, guys,” he looks around again, his eyes lingering on yours a bit longer before looking to the water. “I mean, like, guys, we-“ his voice cracks and he takes a desperate breath in. You find yourself copying his breath. “You only live once, right?” His hand comes up out of the water as he limply holds up one finger. Like the movement is too much for him.

The look on JJ’s face as he makes eye contact again screams sadness. Screams validation. He wants, so desperately for you to agree with him, for all of you to agree with him. But he doesn’t realize everyone is on the verge of tears, the breakdown too much for anyone to handle. His face wobbles a bit and you can see it pinch up through the steam around him. He’s seconds away from tears.

When no one responds, he does his best to wipe away the emotions. He fails. But he shakes his head and keeps going, “Enough of this emotional shit. Come on, get in.”

“We’re not-“

JJ cuts Kie off in a second, “Come on, get in! I almost forgot! There’s a disco mode.”

Fountains of water spit out across the surface and different colored lights shine through each arch. JJ smiles triumphantly and throws his arms up in the air, leaning back against the side of the hot tub again.

“Are you kidding me!” Pope shouts and your tears fall at how fast JJ’s face paints his disappointment. “You could’ve done anything else with the money.”

“You could’ve given it to charity!” Kie interjects, sounding a bit annoyed now. JJ turns his head to the side and rubs at his eyes. His breathing is calculated and you just know he’s doing whatever he can to stop from crying.

“Better yet,” Pope exclaims, “You could’ve given it back!”

“Ok, well you know what!” JJ yells, “I didn’t-“ he stands up and the ground almost falls out from underneath you at the sight, “I didn’t do that! I got a hot tub!”

Your hands shake against your face, just as much as JJ’s voice shakes. The deep, dark, bruises littering his abdomen and ribs, glues you to the spot. You can’t do anything but gape at him. When did this happen and why hadn’t he come to you, to anyone. Where did he go when he was clearly not okay, mentally and physically. Kie and Pope just stare, clearly not knowing what to do with themselves and most likely thinking the same exact thing. JJ just keeps clambering on, like he didn’t just shake the very ground you stand on.

“For my friends! Actually no, screw friends, for my family. I got a hot tub for my family!” His voice is shaky and still too high pitched. He looks and sounds frantic as he keeps moving back and forth in the hot tub.

“JJ, what the hell?” Kie cries out, trying to interrupt him.

If he hears her, he ignores her, “Look at what I did for us! I did this for us! So we can be a family!”

“JJ,” She tries again.

“No,” JJ holds up a hand, shaking his head desperately. “No, stop. Stop being emotional. It’s fine, okay?”

The way the word okay flies out of his mouth, fast and unsteady. The quiver his lips make around the word, breaks the spell that was put on your body. You work on taking off your shoes as fast as possible. Not once looking away from JJ as he bows his head and sucks in deep breaths through his teeth.

You pull off your last sock as he starts talking again, “It’s sweet? Yeah?”

You crash into him as he cries out, “Just get in.”

Wrapping your arms around him, you pull him into you, like you have many times before, and the movement punches a sob right out of him. He leans his entire body weight onto you and just sobs. It only takes a few seconds before you feel another pair of arms. “I just couldn’t take it!” he sobs.

His body shakes against yours and he holds onto you so tight it knocks the wind out of you a bit, “I can’t take him anymore!” The sobs hit at full force, leaving him breathless. “I almost killed him.”

You hold on a bit tighter, running your hands up and down his back. You’re trying to force every ounce of comfort you have in your body into his. Feed him what he so desperately craves. “I just want to do the right thing.” he cries out, sounding so small and vulnerable it shatters your heart into pieces.

“I know,” you and Kie whisper at the same time. You’re glad she’s here. Pope comes in next, his arms wrapping around everyone. JJ lets out a sigh as three pairs of arms wrap around him before he lets out another sob. His weight being held up by the three of you. “I know.”

You’re not too sure how long you’re there, standing in the middle of the hot tub, just listening to JJ sob but you know it’s more than half an hour before John B walks up, startling everyone a bit. JJ has calmed down enough and is just being held while he sniffles every once in a while. But his sobs come back as soon as John B asks, “What the fuck is all this?”

John B looks alarmed and quickly let’s go of Sarah to climb into the hot tub, immediately wrapping the group up in his arms. Once he’s here, knowing that there’s a stronger force, you let out your cries. It hurts to see JJ in so much pain, to see him suffering so much. You want to protect him from everything. You want to go to his dad and fight him, make him hurt the way your boyfriend does. But doing that would do nothing to help JJ. If you were to get hurt on JJ’s behalf, once again, but by his dad he’d never forgive himself. And that would hurt him even more.

You want to hold the broken boy in your arms until he’s pieced back together and is never in any pain ever again. But you know that’s not possible, that’s not something that can logically happen.

But what you can do is help him get out of physical pain. Help him get comfortable and hold him until he sleeps. Hold him until he receives the love and comfort he wants and needs. And that’s something you will always do.

“We should get out,” you whisper but everyone hears you. Even Sarah, seeing as she rushes forward to start helping you guys out. After a few moments it’s only you and JJ, the rest hovering around the steps to make sure you can get him out. He clutches on a little tighter when you try to step back, “JJ, baby, come on. We’re gonna get out.”

He nods a bit, his lips brushing the skin of your neck briefly, before he pulls away. He doesn’t go very far before he rests his forehead against yours, blinking languidly at you. He looks so tired and it rips your heart to shreds. A deep breath fans out across your face and his eyes close as he pushes his forehead heavier into yours. You stroke his cheeks and place a kiss to the corner of his mouth, running a comforting hand through his hair.

“Come on, baby, let’s go.” He nods his head once more and moves away. You grab his hand and four other hands reach out to help him out. John B gets his free hand first and basically picks him up and out of the hot tub. Once he’s steady on the ground, he immediately turns back to you, watching you get out. He looks so hopeless, young, vulnerable, and seconds away from crumbling to the ground. It only takes you a few seconds to have him in your arms again and moving towards the house.

“I’ll start dinner,” Kie murmurs, nodding towards the bathroom. You smile gratefully at her and shuffle towards the bathroom while the others move into the kitchen. They give you all curious glances before they’re out of sight and you’re alone with JJ.

You sit him down on the toilet and move around to get the shower started. Getting a glass of water from the sink you shove it in his hands and make him drink it. Once he’s done, you fill it up again and give it back with some pain medicine this time. He finishes it quickly and looks up to you. His eyes are watery and red, his bottom lip trembling. You’re not much better, you caught a glance of yourself in the mirror, but you try to hold it in for him. He continues to look at you as you brush your thumbs over his cheekbones, under his eyes, and move a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his bottom lip quivering once again. You start to shake your head, shaking it the whole way down as you try to place a shaky kiss to his lips. He doesn’t kiss back. “No, stop it. I don’t deserve it. I fucked up.”

“JJ, no-“

He cuts you off with an abrupt shake to his head. “No! I did. I fucked up. I always fuck up. My anger gets to me and I’m sorry. You don’t deserve someone who is going to fly off the walls every time something goes wrong. I robbed a fucking drug dealer for fucks sake! And I didn’t even give the money to something good, I wasted it all. All of it.”

JJ let’s out a painful cry as his body deflates, his head coming to rest on your stomach. “I can't do anything right.”

“You were scared of us dying, baby, it’s a decent reason to fly off the walls,” you try to reason but he just vehemently shakes his head.

“No, you shouldn’t be with someone like me!”

“JJ, please. We went over this a few days ago!”

“And look at what all has happened since then. You fought Topper and got hurt because of it. You still have the black eye and the limp from your leg being fucked up! We almost got killed, I robbed a drug dealer, I got beat up by my dad and I almost killed him! Can’t you see how fucked up this is. You don’t need to be here with us! With me!”

You let out a choked sob as he stands up, pushing you out of the way. It's getting steamy in the bathroom, too hot, and it’s making it even harder for you to breathe. JJ looks at you with his own tears in his eyes, “I can’t keep putting you through this.”

“No!” you cry out, hiccuping at the force of it. “No, JJ! I have been with you since I was 9! Nothing has fucking changed! We’ve always loved each other, we just kiss now! You’re not going to end this just because you feel like you’re not worth it! If you weren’t worth it, I wouldn’t have stuck around as long as I have!”

Your chest is heaving and you feel like you’re on the verge of a panic attack. You need to get out of here. Shaking your head, you back up to the door, “Shower, JJ. I’ll put fresh clothes on the sink for you.”

JJ’s entire face crumbles and his shoulders slump forward as if you took every ounce of energy out of him. “I-“

“No, shower.

Stumbling out of the bathroom, arms wrap around you as soon as you’re in the hallway. They’re strong and familiar and you break down as soon as they hold you to their chest. Kie is in front of you a few moments later, cupping your face in her hands and trying anything she can to get you to focus on her. Your breathing is too harsh and your vision is spotty. The next thing you know, your legs are barely holding you up and then you’re on the ground. John B holds you to him and he tries to get you to breathe properly.

It’s all too much. The events of the last few days finally catching up to you and breaking through the surface at full force. JJ getting hurt, twice, by his dad. The Pogues almost dying. JJ stealing a large amount of money. JJ trying to end it, twice in the same week, just because he’s feeling so low. It’s all too much and you just don’t know what to do. The love you hold for JJ, for this entire group, outweighs anything in your life. There’s no way in hell you’d ever be without them. No matter what you go through with them. You choose them every day of your life. It’s never been any other way. Ever.

Kie is still in front of you, her hands still holding onto your face. Her thumbs are swiping across your face and she’s trying to say something but you’re not picking up on it. Blood is rushing through your ears and pounding around in your head. Absolutely no other noise is coming through so you just shake your head, anything to let them know you can’t hear them. Kie seems to understand and she places your hands on her chest, keeping them there. It takes you a few seconds but you realize she’s trying to get you to copy her breathing.

It works. You start to follow her. Follow her hand movements and feel her breathing under your hands. Soon, you can hear everything once more. Kie praising you, John B trying to soothe you, Pope’s voice mumbling from somewhere in the distance, Sarah talking a bunch of nonsense but calming nonsense.

“I’m okay. Everything’s fine. Just lost my breathing there for a second.” You mumble, sitting up a bit. Kie reaches out to you quickly when you sway in your spot a bit. You do feel a bit dizzy. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Come on, let’s get you some food and water,” John B says, hoisting you up with him as he stands. “You know JJ isn’t going anywhere. He’s not going to break up with you.”

You nod, “I know. It still panics me to hear it.”

Sarah comes up next with the food you and Kie had bought earlier in the day and a glass of water. You smile thankfully at her and sit down at the dining room table, not making any movement to eat it. John B sits down in front of you and places a hand on your knee, “Has this happened before?”

“Mm, remember that time about 5 months ago when I didn’t come around for a few days? Right after the first time JJ’s dad beat on him in months?”

Both Kie and John B nod. “JJ was unbearable to be around,” Kie groans.

An unamused chuckle falls past your lips and you shake your head, “Yeah.....” you trail off. “He told me that he wasn’t worth it. That he was too weak to be with me. That if he couldn’t even defend himself against his father then he wouldn’t be able to handle anything else, even a relationship. I told him to leave and only come back when he came to his senses. It was harsh but I needed him to realize the only thing that changed was that we kissed, now.”

“He’s scared of losing you,” John B states.

“He is,” you agree, “of all of us. He feels if he does it on his own terms, it’ll be ok. That we’ll leave if we think he’s weak. But he doesn’t always think like that, it’s only when he gets into it with his dad.”

It goes silent after that, the words sinking into everyone’s brains. You pick at your food a bit, eating a few bites as Kie puts together plates for everyone else. Sarah sits down beside John B and Kie comes to sit next to you, placing a comforting hand to your leg. Sending her a quick smile, you grab her hand and hold it to you. The conversation starts to pick up around you and you try to listen, you really do but your mind is just quiet. It’s blank to anything other than JJ.

Your heart aches at the thought of JJ being in pain. Physical or emotional pain. He does stupid things but he doesn’t deserve the things he goes through. There’s not much that he hasn’t gone through since the time you’ve met and you’d like to be able to protect him from the bad things of the world. No matter how often he tries to push you away when he feels like he doesn’t deserve the love.

“Okay,” Pope breathes out as he walks into the dining area. “He’s out of the shower,” he comments, resting a hand to your shoulder, “are you okay?”

Glancing around at everyone, they’re all staring at you expectantly. If you could guess, they’ve probably been staring at you long before Pope asked if you were okay. You nod and you’re about to give a more reassuring answer when you hear shuffling behind Pope. He turns around and you get a full few of JJ, he’s wrapped up in a hoodie that’s too big for him, his face is swollen and a bit blotchy. He looks like he would be twelve and it makes your heart clench in your chest, a lump forming in your throat at his glossy eyes.

He looks at you and only you, “Can we go to bed?” You look away and to your hands, to the one that Kie has wrapped firmly in hers. “I’ve calmed down, please?” When you look back up at him, the glossiness of his eyes is now watery with unshed tears. “Please?”

There’s absolutely no way in the world you’d ever be able to say no to such a sad boy. To the boy in general. JJ turns around as soon as you stand up and you don’t even think twice about following him. He gets into bed, turning his back to you and you follow. You wrap yourself around him, shoving an arm under his head and one around his waist. Both hands press flat into his chest as you mold yourself against his back. Knees to knees, chest to back, and JJ lacing your fingers together.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, placing a kiss to your fingers, “I know that you wouldn’t be with me unless I was worth it to you. I’m sorry that I get knocked down so much that I feel useless to everyone. Especially you. I never want to be anything less than enough for you.”

You press a kiss to the back of his neck, “You’ve always been enough for me, JJ. Always.” You pull on his shoulder a bit, trying to get him to turn over. When he does, you place a hand on his cheek, soothing over the skin there, “You’ve always been enough for me, JJ. You have nothing to apologize for. You’ve been beaten down your whole life, that is not your fault.”

A tear slips down his cheek and you wipe it away. The motion makes him press a kiss to your wrist. “You’re the person that keeps me going,” JJ whispers. “I’m nothing without you.”

“Don’t say that, JJ.” you shake your head. He’s so much more than that. So much more. “You’re caring, loving, protective, sympathetic, and empathetic. I’m just a perk to your qualities.”

That pulls a giggle out of JJ. A few tears slipping from his eyes at the surprise of laughter. You push forward to place a kiss to his lips. Loving the feeling of him actually kissing you back this time. He pushes in deeper, an arm around your waist, pulling your bodies flush. You kiss with so much intensity, it knocks you on your back and JJ follows, hovering over you as he kisses back with just as much. It makes your blood warm, makes you feel like you’re on fire as his free hand trails down over your waist, over your hip and to the back of your thigh to hitch it over his own hip.

The passion being exchanged is absolutely mind blowing, your brain short circuiting at the overwhelming feeling of love flowing between the two of you. It’s ardent and you want nothing more for it to continue but when you slip a hand over JJ’s ribs, he winces, sucking in a deep breath against your lips.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out, quickly switching positions with him and pushing up his hoodie, “I forgot.”

“It’s okay. I definitely just forgot about them.” JJ wiggles his eyebrows at you as the hand on your thigh moves to caress the skin. “Let’s continue to forget about them.”

You place three quick, consecutive, sticky kisses to his lips before moving down to place one on his chin, to the base of his neck at his throat. Before placing delicate kisses over the battered skin of his torso. JJ’s breathing hitches in his throat and he lets out a watery sigh when your lips brush over the sensitive skin of his ribs. The hand on your thigh squeezes tightly at your movement, almost as a warning, but you ignore it and continue to sprinkle your love over the bruises on his skin. You know it won’t heal them but you can wish that it will.

A groan is punched out of JJ when your tongue lightly brushes over one of the bruises above his belly button and you chuckle a little bit. He’s turned into a bit of a heaving mess, gasping for air. You know it feels weird, like a mixture of pain and pleasure and JJ has no idea how to react to it. So, he just breathes heavily. He moves one hand to lace his fingers with yours as the other rests at the bottom of your spine.

Placing a few more kisses to the bruise over his right rib, you pull his hoodie back down over his stomach, and move up to place a few kisses on his neck. He moves his head to the side to give you some room and you suck a bruise into the juncture of his neck, right where it meets with his shoulder. A soft moan escapes him as you do. “There,” you kiss over your work when you pull away. “A good bruise to look at. One from love, not hate.”

The breath JJ lets out sounds more like a sob and he pushes into you once again. Wrapping his arms around you and shoving his face into your neck, he’s almost completely settled on top of you once he gets comfortable. He kisses at your skin, where he can reach, a few times and squeezes you as if you’re the only thing keeping him alive. You hold him back tightly, giving him the comfort he needs.

“I love you, you know,” he murmurs.

You kiss at his hairline, “I know.”

He doesn’t fall asleep until he repeats his I know, back to you.

-

-

JJ was finally feeling back to normal. The few days after his breakdown in the hot tub, things were a bit tense. A little too quiet for his liking. The day after, he laid in bed all day really only getting up to pee. He didn’t eat until you had come back to the Chateau, after doing something with your parents, and forced him to eat something. You had to basically force feed him to eat the food you made for him. He was grateful for you, you kept him together when all he wanted to do was break down. JJ was positive that there’d never be another person to care for him quite like you do.

Yesterday, the entire Chateau was empty when he woke up and it unsettled him a bit. It was never a good thing when it was quiet around there and he didn’t think he could handle anything else that was bad. He wandered around a bit, pulling on a hoodie because he didn't really want everyone else to stare him down, until he found everyone sitting at the hammocks. It was barely sunrise and he was confused as to why everyone was up already for no reason, and why they hadn’t woken him up either. You looked up from your spot in the hammock as he approached and held your arms out. He climbed in with you immediately and fell asleep only seconds later, to the sound of you quietly talking with Kie. The rest of the day was spent in bed with you, everyone giving him space to regroup. It was nice. He got kisses and other things that made him feel like himself.

Then today, everything is relatively back to how it should be. With loud laughter, stupid jokes, and sarcastic comments. Today is a day out on the HMS Pogue and JJ is absolutely loving it. There’s nothing he loves more than being out with his friends. With the people he loves and cares for the most as you all do stupid shit togeher. It’s his favorite thing. Also, to feel your skin against his, especially when it’s a bit warm and sweaty. That just feels nice. It's a major plus.

You’re currently resting against his side, his arm slung over your shoulder and his hand resting comfortably between your boobs. You’re laughing at something Sarah said and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s seen you in a few weeks. Your head thrown back, nearly resting on his clavicle and your hand slapping against his thigh. He wishes he was paying attention to what was being said, just so he could repeat it to see you laugh like this again. So carefree, the way that you should always be.

The sun is beating down harshly on everyone, making everyone sweat just a bit but no one seems uncomfortable by it. In fact everyone just settles in more, sitting in complete bathing suits and drinking beer.

“Did you guys really start dating? And not tell us?” Pope asks out of nowhere, completely unprompted. But the more he stares at Pope, the more he realizes he was just lazily kissing at the side of your neck where he just so happened to be resting his head.

“Yeah!” John B exclaims, resting back in the drivers seat of the boat, Sarah settling with him, “What the fuck is up with that?”

JJ shrugs, “Wanted to be able to mack on my girl in private.”

“JJ, shut up.” You laugh, sitting up and making him go with you. “We just wanted to make sure it was serious? I guess. Wanted to make sure that it wasn’t just silly feelings from knowing each other for so long. It would’ve felt different if everyone knew.”

“We wouldn’t have judged,” Kie says, leaning in with her elbows on her knees.

“It wasn’t about that,” You shake your head, “it was more like, nothing is really private with us. We share everything with each other. And this was something that needed to be figured out with just the two of us. Nothing really changed between us so then we just kinda forgot to mention it.”

JJ can’t help but wrap an arm around you. Kissing you the night that he did was the best decision he’s ever made in his life. He took a leap of faith and it was the right thing to do. The moment you kissed him back he knew that everything was right, nothing could ever be wrong about his decision. He had a feeling things were changing between the two of you for a few months. Jealousy was shining through when one or the other would end up flirting with someone at a party. Touches were getting more intimate and possessive. The flirting was getting more and more serious.

You have been a constant in his life since he was nine. Always the first person who was willing to listen to his crazy ideas or go on his absurd adventures. You were the first one he went to every time his dad hit him. The only person that ever saw him in that moment of vulnerability. And that’s still to this day. You’re the only person he trusts, truly trusts. He knows that you’d never turn against him with the things he’s told you, shown you. You have years of knowledge on him, and he you, that you could crush him in a heartbeat but he knows you never will. You’ll never betray him. Even if you weren’t in his life anymore, there’s no way you’d ever do that. He just knows.

And he doesn’t even want to think about that possibility. You not being in his life just doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t want to find out what it’d be like.

“You know, we’ve known for months.” Kie laughs, pulling JJ out of his thoughts.

You gasp at her words, “What? How?”

“I saw your guys’ first kiss.” John B smiles, looking all sorts of smug.

“I’m pretty sure you didn’t,” JJ chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. “It was at a party only we went to when we were 14.”

“Wait, what?” You question, turning to look at him.

JJ smirks, “Mhmm, remember the first time you smoked with me?” he looks to you for affirmation. When you nod, he continues, “Remember the game of truth or dare? You were dared to make out with the person you thought was the hottest. It was me.”

Your mouth drops open in shock, “Holy shit. That’s right. How could I forget?” The red suddenly tinting your cheeks is enough to make JJ’s heart skip a beat. To know he has such an affect on you, makes him feel good.

“You can’t handle your shit, baby,” he teases, leaning forward to flick at your forehead. You gasp and try to smack him but he grabs your wrist, leaning in to kiss you instead.

“Who knew they could get more annoying?” Pope groans. “You guys should’ve kept this to yourselves.”

“They were getting sloppy Pope,” Kie shrugs, “they wouldn’t have been able to hide it for much longer. You see the gross amount of love that oozes out of them when they look at each other.”

Everyone starts laughing but you just look at JJ and the look that's shining in your eyes is the same one they’re talking about. He knows the same thing must be reflecting in his own eyes because you lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his lips. On that he greedily accepts and returns. He smirks when he pulls away, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“So, John B what kiss did you see then?”

“One night in the hammock, like last year some time. I saw it and then the next days you guys were just different.” He shrugs, pulling Sarah into him some more.

You move into his side once again and look to Kie, “When did you notice?”

“Like six months ago?” She turns her head from side to side, trying to remember. “It was after breakfast at John B’s one morning. You guys thought you were alone in the kitchen. JJ was the one cleaning the kitchen, oddly, and you were on the counter by the sink. The way you were talking, it was about a date and you said that you loved each other but it was different than the way you’d usually say it. I left after that.”

JJ’s heart is starting to beat a little quicker in his chest. Something about talking about you or your relationship together just makes him excited. He loves it. He loves you.

“Pope?”

“Saw the secret hand holding at The Wreck one afternoon. Thought it was weird, seeing as you held hands all the time. There was no need to hide it but your fingers were doing that soft caress thing, it was obvious.” He says the whole thing like he’s disinterested in the topic. It makes JJ laugh.

“I think it’s amazing how long you’ve all known each other.” Sarah smiles and it makes a smile appear on everyone’s face.

John B then decides it's time to move the boat, to go somewhere to swim. Everyone gets excited, standing up and removing any leftover clothing, while the boat is moving, so once it’s anchored the swimming can begin without any sort of hesitation. It was too hot out now.

But then the boat comes to an abrupt stop and a few high pitched screams fill JJ’s ears before a splash of water. He’s been jolted to the very front of the bow, hitting his head on the seat there. It takes him a moment to connect the dots before he stands up to make sure everyone is okay. Kie and Pope are a couple inches away from him, groaning as they sit back up. John B rubbing his head, clearly hitting it on the window in front of him. And Sarah regains her balance as she stands up from the bench behind John B. You were nowhere in sight.

“Y/n!” He yells out, scrambling to his feet. “Baby! Where’s y/n!”

That seems to knock everyone out of their stupor and scramble to their feet. “JJ!” you groan out just as he spots your hand on the side of the boat. A cry rips through you as JJ and Pope rush to try and pull you up into the boat. You rip yourself away from them before they even get a chance to reach you properly.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Come on, grab onto me!” JJ yells, trying to keep in his panic. He has no idea if you’re hurt or not and the fact that you’re crying isn’t helping settle him at all.

“JJ! Please get me out of this fucking water!” You yell out, reaching up for him once more.

He immediately bends down, the panic in your voice, making him desperate to get you into the boat. He hears everyone else yelling, asking what happened, wondering why you’re having such a hard time getting out on your own, asking if you’re okay. But he ignores them all, finally getting his hand in yours and reaching down below your elbow to haul you up. Pope on the other side doing the same. You crash into him and with the force of his movement to pull you up and over the edge, he falls back into the other side of the boat, you landing on top of him.

You cry out in pain and flinch away from him, “Holy shit,” Pope gapes as he helps sit you up.

“What!” JJ exclaims, sitting up, running his eyes all over your body to find what’s wrong. It doesn’t take long for him to land on the giant red mark covering almost the entirety of your abdomen. “Oh, fuck. A jellyfish got you?”

“What?” You gasp, looking down to where his attention is. Kie shoves a water into your hand and Sarah sits behind you, wrapping her arms across the top of your chest. “Fuck,” you sigh out when you catch sight of it.

“Did you not feel that?” John B asks and JJ looks up to him for a second before back to you, trying to catch your eye. If you didn’t feel that, something else must be wrong.

“No! I think my ankle is broken!” You yell out, startling JJ a bit. He trails his eyes down your body until he reaches your ankle and fuck. Yeah.

“That looks broken,” Pope voices his thoughts perfectly.

“What the fuck happened, John B?” JJ snaps, his anger getting to him quickly. You getting hurt is the quickest way to get him angry. He hates seeing you hurt. In any way.

“The last storm must’ve changed the stream or something. We hit a sand bank. We haven’t been out here since then,” John B explains. “Let’s get back to the Chateau, we have to get y/n to the hospital.

JJ grabs your face in his hands and wipes away the water there. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, I don’t think so,” you breathe out. It comes out in a harsh breath, like you’re in too much pain and it sends a wave of panic through JJ. You’re never one to show that you were in pain unless it was an unbearable amount.

“Are you sure?”

He watches as you clench your eyes shut, trying to regulate your breathing. You just nod your head, not opening your eyes again. JJ places a kiss to your cheek and moves down in a line until he meets your lips. He lets out a breath when you kiss him back. Anything to keep you distracted. He pulls back and looks around to everyone else, not knowing what else he can do. Kie has a hand gripped tight in hers, Sarah is running her fingers through your hair, and Pope is holding your leg steady from the bouncing of the boat. JJ feels absolutely useless.

And it’s like you can sense his distress because you grab onto one of his hands and squeeze tight. “JJ stop overthinking. Tell me something. Tell me a story.”

So he quickly jumps into recounting one of your many dates. Asking if you remember it. Telling you how you looked in your outfit, how you made him feel. How much he loves going on dates with you. How he likes that you like to go surfing with him, hiking, biking, anything that requires physical activity. You giggle and laugh at parts that are funny, at how he nearly puked before picking you up to go on your first official date. Everyone else joined in on the laughs too. Soaking up the information they’re receiving.

It helps because you stop crying and wincing at every little movement and it helps calm JJ down as well. He picks you up into his arms when the boat docks and everyone rushes to gather the necessities and get you to the van. JJ lays you down and rests your head in his lap as he continues to tell you about how much he just loves doing simple things with you. Grocery shopping. Clothes shopping, the dishes. Eating food. Anything he can think of, he tells you. He just wants you to know how much he loves you. It’s the only thing he can think of doing. He doesn’t know why but it’s the only thing rattling around in his brain.

How much he loves you.

When the van pulls up to the hospital, everyone is still in a mad panic. It startles the nurses and those in the emergency room when 6 teenagers come bursting into the waiting room, in near hysterics. They don’t really handle each other being in pain well.

The nurse forces him to stay in the waiting room, putting a hand to his chest when he tries to follow you back more than once. You look at him and tell him it’s okay, that you’ll be okay, and as soon as it’s fine he can come back. It does nothing to settle him and he just paces back and forth in front of the 4 other Pogues.

“JJ, sit down. She’s going to be fine.”

“I know,” he sighs, stopping. “She just scared the shit out of me. If she had hit her head instead of her ankle on the side of the boat, she could’ve drowned.”

John B stands to bring him into a hug, “But she didn’t. She’s okay and you’ll see her in a bit.”

And he was right. The doctor came out about twenty minutes later and let JJ go back since your parents weren’t there yet. The rest of the Pogues decided to wait in the waiting room no matter what, saying that they would like to see you too but for obvious reasons to let JJ go first. He’s thankful for that because he feels like he’s about to vibrate right out of his skin.

“Hey, tough stuff,” he jokes as he walks into your room. Your eyes open and you smile at him lazily.

“Hi, baby,” you murmur, reaching a hand out for him. You make grabby hands at him until he’s in reach and it makes him laugh.

He grabs onto your hand and leans down to place a kiss to your lips. You’re still in your bikini but it looks like the sting on your stomach has been taken care of and the lower half of your leg is in a black cast. “Hi, baby,” he whispers back once he meets your eyes again. “How’re you feeling?”

“Well now,” you let out a giggle, “I’m feeling absolutely great. The pain medicine they have me on is wonderful.”

JJ lets out a laugh and caresses your cheek, “You’re higher than a kite, my love.”

You let out a laugh, “Damn straight. You should be so jealous.”

“Oh,” JJ nods, “I am. Don’t you worry about that.”

You let out a content hum, nestling into his hand a bit. Closing your eyes, you rest back into your pillow. “I broke my ankle. And the jellyfish sting isn’t as bad as it looks.”

He runs a hand through your matted hair, “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m fine, baby,” you mumble, giving him the smile that melts his entire being. And when you open up your eyes he can see that you really mean it. “Did you really think our dates were that good?”

“Everything we do is that amazing,” JJ points out.

Pulling on his hand, you murmur, “Come take a nap with me. Please. I would like to be close to you. Help me relax.”

JJ doesn’t hesitate to slip into the bed next to you, the vibration of his skin is still there and he knows that it won’t go away until he’s close to you. You turn your back to him and he settles in behind you, curving his body around yours. His arm wraps around your middle and his hand comes to rest on your chest, your steading heartbeat calming down the vibration of his body. You melt down against him and he just holds you to him even tighter.

“I would appreciate it if you stopped getting hurt,” he murmurs, moving your hair out of the way to kiss at the back of your shoulder.

“Yeah, so would I.”

“How about we both stop getting hurt,” JJ suggests, his kisses moving up to the side of your neck. His heart rate has calmed down significantly in just the few seconds of laying here.

“I can do that,” you hum, resting further into his front. “You don’t have to promise it, but just know I’ll always be there to help you when you do get hurt.”

JJ feels a lump form in his throat at your words. He knows what you mean, it’s not something you have to explain to him. You turn your head to look at him up and over your shoulder, a smile gracing your face. JJ nearly cries at the sight, the beautiful sight that it is leaves him breathless. When you pucker your lips, JJ obliges, swooping down in no time and pressing a firm kiss to your lips. His skin tingles at the feeling and he wishes you were anywhere else than in a damn hospital.

“I love you, you know.” You smile at him, kissing at his lips once again.

“I know.” he says against your lips.

If there’s one thing he knows. He knows that you love him. That you’ve given him love every day since the day you met. The only person to give him continuous love, love that he needs. And he knows that you know how much he loves you. How much he will always love you.

So, when you finally fall asleep, nestled in his arms, he sleeps. He sleeps comfortably. The only way he can, when you’re with him

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

please feed my narcissism 

my masterlist is in my bio

[thedamageofherdays]

This week's [23-08-2021 - 29-08-2021] reading log is here! I read a lot again this week and I feel like it's a lovely variety of fics. Most fics are Stucky like usual, but there's at least one other ship. I am constantly amazed by the talent people have in this fandom! There was one fic I read on Tumblr that I can't seem to find unfortunately, but when I do I'll make sure to reblog and rec it 💕

Favourites are marked with a 🌻

When life gives you lemons by moonthejedi394 @moonythejedi394 [Stucky, 40k words, Mature] (12/15 chapters available)

Or 13 Terrible Things to Do With Lemons Other Than Making Lemonade

Steve Rogers is a home health nurse. He works for an agency, which assigned him to the aging Winifred Barnes, the one and only Silent Era Hollywood darling. As her needs increased, she requested the agency assign Steve to her full-time. She could pay for it, so she got it. Steve then moved in with her, becoming her caregiver; he cooked, he cleaned, he managed her medications, he made sure she was comfortable.

Winifred's children treated him less than ideally. He was the help, after all. And then Steve had the audacity to go and turn out to be eldest son James Barnes's soulmate. No one saw that coming.

The Masseur and the Assassin by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy @buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 17k words, Explicit]

Bucky Barnes needed a vacation from his job. What he found was a happy ending.

The Words Breathe by buckbarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

All Steve has to do is keep his promise. When he doesn’t, Bucky gets mouthy.

Soft by this_wayward_life @wayward-lives [Stucky, 2k words, Explicit]

The last time he'd seen Bucky he'd looked unhealthy, with pallid skin and greasy, lanky hair. Now, Bucky shone; his hair was thick and silky, his skin a deep bronze from spending so much time outside. He was softer, too; the hard muscle that used to cover him was now replaced by soft fat, his body still strong, but in a more mundane way. His thighs were thicker, his ass plumper, and when he'd pulled Steve into the river Steve had noticed the pudge on his stomach.

Seeing Bucky so happy, well-fed and shining, was a bit of a kick in the face. For all the years they'd known each other, he'd never seen Bucky so... care-free. Now that Bucky was putting on weight, his middle soft and his body malleable, it sent a bolt of arousal through Steve every time he noticed the curves of Bucky's body.

Or: Bucky put on a bit of weight in Wakanda, and Steve is Not Coping.

🌻 Revive Another Side of Me by dontcallmebree @iamthe-wo-manwhocan [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Steve’s never lived in a world without Bucky, and he’s not living now. It takes them a while, much too long, to get that awaited rest, a little slice of peace after the dust has settled.Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are inseparable, history remembers. But they’re not men of the past quite yet.

🌻 imagine being loved by me by spacebuck @spacebuck [Stucky, 20k words, Explicit]

Just after 1am - a few hours after he posted today’s photo - he hears the tell-tale sound of a twitter message. Bucky grabs his phone, not checking who it’s from as he opens it because it’s probably one of his mutuals yelling at him as per usual. When he actually looks at his phone, though, it’s not Natasha

The ‘verified’ check stares back at him for a long moment before he can even bring himself to process the name on his screen. Steve Rogers is messaging him. Or, he reasons, a very good fake. The handle looks right though, not that Bucky knows. Not that Bucky has Captain’s America’s tweets set up as notifications, or that Bucky’s own display name is set to captain america’s bitch. Not at all.

Hey, the first message says. It’s Steve.

🌻 JB’s Complete Lube Services by dixons_mama @dixons-mama [Stucky, 3k words, Explicit]

People just didn’t approach Captain America and proposition him. Although, sometimes Steve wished they would; even the pinnacle of virtue and justice needed to get dicked down from time to time.

Or, the one where Steve has the hots for a mechanic and decides to be proactive in getting that dick.

If it had to be someone by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky had known since he was a child that he didn’t have a choice in who he married, but he’d thought he had more time before the day arrived.

Miscalculations by christywantspizza @christywantspizza [Ransom Drysdale/Reader, 6k words, Explicit]

Ransom tries to get you to sleep with him by less than honorable means. You give him what he wants, just not how he wants it.

How to Seduce a Writer by obsessivereader [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

What's a determined master strategist going to do when the oblivious writer he's trying to woo keeps missing all the clues?

He doesn’t think it’s because he hadn’t signaled his own interest to Bucky. He’s pretty much done everything short of hitting Bucky over the head with semaphore flags by this point. There’s no way Bucky could’ve missed them. Unless… There’d been that one link he’d stumbled upon when he’d googled ‘how to talk to a writer’. It’d been written by a writer, who’d been candid about how oblivious writers could be, and how someone could go about seducing one. An idea starts to form. It’s ridiculous, but at this point, he’s willing to go with ridiculous, since subtle wasn’t getting him anywhere.

🌻 Pod Bless America by Deisderium @deisderium [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

Bucky can't believe his favorite podficcer recorded his newest fanfic AU of the show Commandos. He's even more surprised when the customer who busts him listening to fic while he's working in the office supply store turns out to be that podficcer.

* The guy—maybe bi_shield?—took his phone, looked down at the screen, and smiled. "Yeah, that one's mine," he said with no evidence of embarrassment. "It was a good one." He handed the phone back to Bucky.

"I wrote it," Bucky croaked.

take a bite by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 7k words, Mature]

"I’d never let anyone freeze to death.” Steve gives a big sigh and flutters his lashes. “All that blood gone to waste.”

Bucky’s lips turn down and his nose scrunches up a little. “I want to be grossed out, but…”

“But you get it.” Steve gives him a pointed look. “Vampires aren’t the only ones who can appreciate how juicy blood is.”

*

Or: Vampire Steve saves newly-turned werewolf Bucky from a snowstorm.

Leaving the Shield Behind by BuckyAboveEverything [Stucky, 6k words, Teen]

“So, on one hand, we have Steve Rogers - hunk, genius, animal lover. Buys you waffles and overpriced coffee. 100% wholesome all-American boy.”

“And, on the other hand, we have Capsicle – twink, smart-ass, fanboy. Reads your stories and sends you fanart. Possibly a pervert or a serial killer.”

Bucky groaned.

“I am 100% certain I am 0% sure of what to do."

Bucky Barnes, full-time copywriter and free-time fanfic writer, struggles to choose between two equally-attractive suitors, only to find that he doesn’t have to after all.

* Based on a true story *

Cap's Book Corner by Neche [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

Recluse Author Bucky Barns stumbles into fanboy Steve Rogers bookstore one day...

Cat Nap by galwednesday @galwednesday [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Objectively, losing the Bucharest safehouse and its contents was the least of Bucky’s problems. The balding agent he’d seen directing the raid was apparently affiliated with SHIELD, which was a shadowy government agency that made representatives from other shadowy government agencies suddenly remember urgent appointments when Bucky tried to bribe, threaten, and otherwise shake them down for information on what the hell SHIELD might want with a former brainwashed assassin. Dodging SHIELD should be his number one priority.

Subjectively, he wanted his fucking cat back.

at any given moment by honeypuffed [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

Steve and Bucky find out that everyone thinks they're sleeping together.

Brought to Brightness by eyres [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

🌻 Nokken Wood by leveragehunters @leveragehunters [Stucky, 10k words, Teen]

When Sam's friend needs a house-sitter for his place in the country, Steve jumps at the chance. Six months rent-free to do nothing but draw and paint and wander the countryside, looking for inspiration? It was like a dream. But when he gets lost in a storm and nearly falls into a pond he starts to rethink the whole like a dream aspect of life in the country. And when a red-eyed, sharp-clawed, silver-fanged creature rises out of the darkness, Steve is one hundred percent certain the dream's morphed into a nightmare.

...until it gives him a cup of tea.

(Inspired partly by this prompt a supernatural creature is supposed to scare you but instead it gives you a cup of tea and a blanket because you're having a bad day and you keep coming back and partly by this painting.)

Professional Pride by galwednesday [Stucky, 700 words, Teen]

Bucky is having a very good day, until he turns around and finds himself face-to-face with Captain America.

“Oh shit,” he blurts before he can stop himself, and Captain America blinks at him. “Hey, hi, I didn’t expect to see you here.” Here, at New York’s Pride parade, surrounded by thousands of happy screaming people wearing rainbows and sometimes not much else. What is he doing here? Is he on guard duty or something? Was he just on a mission and happened to be passing by on his way back?

He’s in uniform but with the cowl loose around his neck, so when he rubs the back of his head it fluffs up his matted hair. “I, uh. I saw one of your–temporary tattoos?” Captain fucking America says, like it’s a question.

The A-bridged Guide to Trolling by galwednesday [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I don’t have any money.”

Oh no, now the girl looked upset. Her eyes were huge and her lip was wobbling. Bucky tried to think fast despite the oh shit oh shit oh shit looping through his head.

“That’s okay,” Bucky said gently. “I don’t need money. We can figure out another kind of toll.”

The girl frowned at him. “Like what?”

Bucky scratched his head, trying to think of something a kid was certain to have on hand. “Do you know any jokes?”

(Fantasy AU in which Steve is a hedge witch with a green thumb, Bucky is a bridge troll who's new in town, and knock-knock jokes are a viable form of currency.)

It's a bittersweet ending (if you know what I mean) by relenafanel [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

“I’ll see you around, Steve,” Bucky answers with a smirk, moving away from the counter with a wink.

Steve watches him go. Bucky’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans coated in something to give the appearance of leather. It’s impossible to not watch him go.

stuck on you by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

Decision-Making in Relationships (Paid Research Opportunity!) by castiowl [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

Clint looked thoughtfully at the flyer. “I guess your actual roommate wouldn’t be down with it?”

Bucky frowned. “Have you met Steve Rogers?”

no way out but through by hollimichele [Stucky, 9k words, Teen]

Steve never sees it coming.

you got blood on your hands (and i know it's mine) by nighimpossible [Stucky, 3k words, Teen]

Bucky refuses to see Steve after his deprogramming.

Like What You See by daisymondays [Stucky, 8k words, Teen]

For all the time Bucky’s spent fantasizing about meeting Captain America, he’d never imagined it would be while posing nude in front of a drawing class.

🌻 A Real Boy by itsnotbleak [Stucky, 5k words, Teen]

It took the Winter Soldier three weeks to remember that human beings needed to sleep and eat.

It took Steve far too long to realise the Winter Soldier was sleeping in his bed.

Amapola by chaya [Stucky, 830 words, Teen]

Total fluff. Bucky's recovering nicely. Steve's oblivious. Sometimes it's best to set aside subtlety for action.

Knocking Boots With Sugar by buckybarnesdeservestobehappy [Stucky, 4k words, Explicit]

In between summers at college, Steve Rogers wants a new adventure beyond his lonely life in Brooklyn. He ends up in West Texas working on a dude ranch where Bucky Barnes is a long-time employee. When Bucky offers to buy Steve a drink, they end up drunk on tequila and making out in public. For the rest of the summer, they're inseparable. As the summer draws to a close, Steve realizes he doesn't want to leave.

Rogers and Associate by roe87 @jro616 [Stucky, 7k words, Teen]

When they first meet, Bucky is a hooker and Steve is a cop. She's been arrested, but Steve lets her off.

Years pass and they maintain a casual friendship, seeing each other out on the streets most nights.

Though he later makes detective, Steve loses faith in the system and quits his job.

He wants to set up as a private investigator, and he asks Bucky if she'd be his assistant.

Just in time by rainbow_nerds [Stucky, 1k words, Mature]

Bucky knew the apartment he was renting was old fashioned, but walking in the front door and finding himself transported back to 1938 was not on the list of things he had prepared himself for.

🌻 You Like What's in My Head by dontcallmebree [Stucky, 15k words, Explicit] (with art by @kocuria)

Bucky can’t decide if Steve’s a tough nut to crack or incredibly easy. The timbre of his voice, a low and almost amused, “Sure, kid,” when Bucky asks for a drink feels like something gripping him on the back of his neck.

He thinks this might be one of those moments in life he’ll pinpoint in the future and either curse at for dooming himself, or remember fondly with pride.

He’s right. Bucky Barnes blunders through falling in love with Commander Rogers and tries to find a deeper meaning behind the expensive gifts and thorough fucking.

Can I Sit Here? by BuckyFrickenBarnes [Stucky, 962 words, General]

Bucky has unusual methods for getting rid of his writer's block.

Or, Bucky needs that table.

Workplace Romance by BuckyFricken Barnes [Stucky, 1k words, General]

Bucky is under the impression that his boss hates him.

Or,

Steve needs to get better at dealing with his feelings.

🌻 1-800-MAYTAG by Miss Plum @misspluckyplum [Stucky, 1k words, Explicit]

Bucky just wants to get some housework done. It gets out of hand fast. Silly little fluff and smut romp with snarky stucky boys.

Eyes of the Forest by Lordelannette [Stucky, 7k words, Explicit] (2/8 chapters available)

When Omega Bucky Barnes comes to Eagle Lake, it was in search of wolves, a creature that had not been seen in the area for decades.

What he finds instead is Steve Rogers, a handsome, though quiet Alpha who seems to be everywhere in the forest.

[namjoonchronicles]

Little Women, at the moment—my review. It started off, handsdown quite gripping. Loved the murder. The tattoo. The stuff in the room. Made me click the 3rd episode so fast. But then, it progressively became a letdown. After 1st episode, the following episode feels like a drag to finish off and its really not fun to be toying with the audiences comprehension. It fucking annoys me how the rich keeps on winning.

When I say a drag, its a motherfucking crawl to finish every each episode. Plagued with poor decision making and obnoxious painter younger sister who is still at that age so naïve and for the lack of better word, dumb as hell. I feel like certain dialogues are way too stretchy and it could have been simpler and more straightforward. Instead the writer resort to something of a bumbling band of baboons string of words that lost its meaning through its length.

The metaphor or death orchid resurfaces once in a while to remind audiences its cryptic significance which sometimes, the dragginess makes me forget the importance of that damned orchid, like what the fuck. I haven't even gotten to the alcoholic sister's sudden rekindled first love that seems so random it feels like it was added in an afterthought. Not to mention her unhealthy coping mechanism that proves to work against her.

I hate, no, despise the fact that they used Little Women, because I expected it to be like Greta Gerwig's film. I loved that film. Also, the premise of the rich is always in the same bubble as the 3 sisters really toys around with my desire to shut the episode down for good. The grandaunt?? Who is she? Why is she only now deciding that those kids are off benefits to her? Sus as hell. No explanation.

Overall, the kdrama has irrevocably wasted its talents through its draggy deliverance of storyline. A classic show of how too many plotholes or plot pivots equate to audiences disinterest. I see no bad reviews on it and it was obvious to be a hardsell because all the media blogs are writing quite sparkly review for it. Its only 12 episode that could have been 6. Its a slow crawling burn, feeling like an itch you couldn't quite scratch and if you are as impatient as I am, I suggest you to look for other kdrama you will be content with.

Sad because I really love the girls in here and the guys too. Very talented casts. Boring dialogues. Weird character arcs. Eccentric life choices. Feels like a ship floating on water that sometimes submerges. Premises unclear. Directionless at times. No. Just no.

[solarsleepless]

Hello good sir.

Please rant to me about avian hybrid/ Lion hybrid/ enderman hybrid c!Niki headcanons and au's. I NEED MORE of your c!niki banter cs I have already read your fics 3times over and over again.

SHJHJSHJSHJSHJSH GIVE ME GENDER EUPHORIA AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE

i'll give some hcs for each

Avian Niki

niki is either a crow hybrid or an angel hybrid. on one hand crow niki is funny to me on the other hand badass angel

her feathers, ironically, stay white during her 'villain' arc because yaknow symbolism

when she was going out with puffy, she'd let puffy preen them

because she was the only other winged hybrid, quackity trusted her to preen his own wings

in return he preened hers while she was in jail

she used to fly with puffy because love <3

during her isolation arc, she takes out feathers as an unhealthy coping mechanism, reasoning to herself that there's no need to preen if she doesn't have any feathers left (yes it's morbid)

eventually tho she just. doesnt even wear clothes for her wings

she just hides them underneath, which is of course VERY uncomfortable

they get worse and worse and ache more and more and she wants to fly so badly but she can't unless she preens them and she can't because she just can't!

when she joins the syndicate, the first thing phil says during their second meeting is: "hey niki didn't you have wings? what happened to them?"

his voice is tinged with sympathy; he knows what it's like to not be able to fly

she freezes, just stops moving, then starts to cry

phil is worried he's done something wrong, but then she reveals that she's kept her wings hidden under wil's coat and cloak all that time (note the symbolism)

he immediately is like "what the FUCK" when he sees them because there are feathers falling when it's not even shedding season yet?? also there are a few in places they shouldn't be at all? there are some fucking missing?????

long story short it takes multiple hours to get them back in place

niki passes out during it because it's been so long since she hasn't been in constant pain

when she wakes up, phil insists on keeping her there to preen her wings

also the syndicate has a long discussion about what happened and they promise each other and themselves to help her get better

Lion Hybrid Niki

she purrs end tweet

no but seriously this girl will purr to end and back

she purrs louder than ranboo which is SAYING something

she loves the scritchy scratches behind the ears. like REALLY loves 'em. she'll just- once you give her scritches she just. surrenders and leans into it. her purring sounds like a fucking jet plane when she gets the scritchies

she can roar, she only uses it to intimidate people tho

her self-worth is just. deeper than bedrock. she has no self-worth

she and puffy are working on it but she still... needs help

sometimes she gets phantom pain from her declawed fingers. she's found out it hurts less when she massages it, but she can't actually reach it, so she asks puffy to do it, and puffy can't help but feel guilty each time she sees the stumps

also niki hates getting her nails trimmed. like HATES it. even if she doesn't want them growing as long as they did before, the idea of something sharp near her fingers after what happened just makes her blanch

eventually tho she does have to do it

she hugs puffy while ant cuts her nails, and puffy whispers sweet, reassuring comments to her.

like

"you're doing so good. i'm so proud of you" and "we're almost there. you okay? we're gonna get through this."

sometimes tho niki just.. can't handle it. but she doesn't want to disappoint puffy either so she tries to just get through it anyways.

puffy notices her discomfort and asks her if she wants to stop. niki hesitates before nodding.

"niki, you being comfortable is so much more important than this. we can do it tomorrow, okay?"

Enderman Hybrid Niki

makes littol enderman noises. sometimes when she's stressed, sometimes just idly, sometimes when she's happy!

she has a tail because how can i not give her one

also she has pawsies and hands like magpiebur by @/nightferns (BECAUSE I LOVE THE WAY THEY DRAW WILBUR'S PAWWWS)

can withstand water a little better than ranboo, being more human than him

it still burns though

she just has higher pain tolerance lul

also can touch snow unlike ranboo because she's half human, half enderman

her ears and tail twitch whenever she's anxious

didn't really like eye contact, and the l'manbergians respected that (esp eret who didnt like people staring at their eyes either) until schlatt came along and basically forced it, so she kinda forced herself to do it from then on

unlike ranboo however, she doesnt go into enderwalk. she actually hasn't got an enderwalk because ranboo got it from nervous habit and it 'evolved' from there (my hc anyway), she instead literally gets hurt

like it hurts her to make eye contact

ranboo sees that she makes eye contact despite being an enderman hybrid and is like: "...HOW???"

she's just like "oh i force myself to do it lul. cause everyone expects me to anyways. it hurts after a while but its fine"

he just goes completely silent after that, then tells phil and techno at the syndicate meeting (while niki is admiring steve) not to hold eye contact w/niki because it hurts her

techno: "HEHH??? she seemed fine when i visited her!!" ranboo: "yeah she's been hiding it this whole time because society expects her to do it." techno, an adhd fella: "..phil where are the adoption papers-"

niki's confused by the end. why did nobody look at her? why did nobody maintain eye contact with her??? did they not like her?

but at the end phil explains that they thought that because she was an enderman hybrid she wouldn't like it (they're lying to not throw ranboo under the bus)

niki just stares, then starts to cry because holy Shit they are so nice

"nIKI NO YOU'RE BURNING-"

used to bite her tail as a way of self-harm. techno was VERY concerned when he saw the bite marks, but niki just lied and said that it was a dog attack

he knows for a fact it wasn't a dog because he's been bitten and his furniture has bites and it didnt look like that

more like that One Time when Ranboo bit him while he was in his enderwalk state

cue him connecting the dots and being like "...WAIT"

niki also really likes blocks. like we all know her city is weird in some parts because it's built with different blocks, signifying niki's jumbled up mind while planning to kill tommy. but in the enderman hybrid niki hc, its also partly because blocks feel nice and she wanted to feel different ones

her tail curls around the legs of people she likes. so far, it's gone around: wilbur, tommy n tubbo (those two specifically during pogtopia), fundy, eret, puffy and the rest of the syndicate

whenever puffy made her flustered she'd blush either green or pink. no inbetween. puffy was very confused and thought niki was disgusted by her at first and was all :(( before niki explained her wack biology

that's all i got for now im afraid!

[haikyuuuuuhypeeeee]

Chapter 7

⚠️WARNING: Mentions of previous characters' deaths, swearing, mention of unhealthy coping mechanism

• ────── ✾ ────── •

You gasp as you wake up, your eyes attempting to discern anything in the dark.

What the…

Not even two seconds ago you were playing volleyball back in the Aoba Johsai gymnasium. It was a silly two on three game, Oikawa and Mattsun vs you, Makki and -

Oh.

Oh.

Tears well up in your eyes, fast and hot. They flow down the side of your face, into your hair and the pillow. You do nothing to stop them, crushed by the sudden wave of sadness.

It was a dream. It was a freaking dream.

You’re alone in your apartment in the middle of the night. You’re a college student at Sendai Uni. You don’t play volleyball.

And Hajime is dead.

The sobs come out unconstrained, as you were too heartbroken to try to stop them. How could you, as it was the only way for you to let out the sorrow and anguish coursing through your blood right now.

C’mon Y/N, get yourself together. You will yourself to calm down, getting the sobs to subside. The tears don’t slow though, as you sit up to grab some tissues from your bedside table. You clean yourself up, sniffling and grabbing your phone.

It’s only just past 1am, and you can’t fathom the idea of falling back asleep. Not when there’s the chance of you falling back into that dream. Not when you can be fooled into thinking that you’re playing volleyball, still trying to receive Oikawa’s serves and laughing when Hajime yells at Makki to take this seriously -

Your eyes well up with fresh tears and you clutch a tissue to your mouth to muffle the cries that want to escape.

The only thing you’re sure about right now is that you don’t want to be alone. You can’t be alone, you just can’t.

You unlock your phone but staring at your screen you don’t know who you can call.

Ok, that’s not true. You have a lot of people you can call. Your parents, Oikawa, Mattsun, Makki, hell even your therapist gave you her cellphone to call if you need her. And you know that all of those people wouldn’t hesitate to listen to you and help you.

But do you want to call any of them?

This isn’t a life or death situation, and you don’t feel like you are a danger to yourself so it would be irresponsible to call your therapist. It’s the middle of the night and your parents still work so you don’t want to wake them up.

That leaves your friends, the people who honestly could still be awake and maybe even wanting to talk to someone. But Makki has Mattsun, and vice versa. Which would leave Oikawa, but honestly? He’s been more than unbearable lately, and you’ve been walking on eggshells around him, scared that anything you say will set him off.

So you’re here, laying in your bed with no one to call. And the one person that you desperately want to call is dead.

Sniffling again and wiping the fresh tears from your eyes you pull up your texts. Maybe you can send a funny meme to Makki and start a meme war - it’ll take your mind off your current predicament at least. But your eyes fall to the chat you have with Osamu, close to the top of your messages.

Huh, you didn’t really think of him.

Not that you wouldn’t want to talk to Osamu. He’s actually very funny, with his dry humor and easy banter. Your friendship, despite its more than unusual beginning, has blossomed into something you’ve come to cherish.

But you can’t bother him with this, no no. You guys can, and have, confide in each other about your struggles and your complicated feelings and emotions. But it’s mainly been small bits and pieces shared over coffee.

But it couldn’t hurt to text him, no?

You wouldn’t say anything about your dream. Maybe you can find a funny meme to send him, or ask a question about lunch tomorrow.

You methodically type out your message, finding a meme to almost perfectly capture your mood (but not too accurately.)

You send the text before talking yourself out of it. It wouldn’t surprise you if Osamu didn’t text you back - it’s late (or early, depending on your opinion) and he should be sleeping.

You sigh deeply, finding yourself back in square one. Square one plus a stuffy nose, aching head and absolutely broken heart. You close out of the messaging app and decide to find some show to binge while you wait for the sun to rise.

Your phone begins vibrating and you’re surprised to see what comes across your screen.

Osamu doesn’t text you back. He calls you.

You pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“I hope that photo isn’t a subtle request to have me come over and cook for ya.” The soft, calm voice coming through the phone makes your chest tighten. It brings a wave of relief because you’re not alone but drowns you in guilt at inconveniencing your friend.

You clear your throat and sniffle. “No, sorry.” Your voice cracks and you wince at how obvious it is that you were just crying.

Osamu picks up on your current state. “Hey, are ya alright?”

He sounds so concerned, the teasing lilt in his voice instantly dropped. Your eyes start to water again and you can’t stop the sob that escapes your lips in time.

“Hey, Y/N are ya okay? Where are you, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” you croak out. Your voice sounds horrible, extremely hoarse and tight as you try not to let more sobs spill out. Gritting your teeth helps keep them at bay but it does nothing to stop the flow of tears. You sniffle, loud.

“Where are you? Are you in danger?”

“No, no. I’m at my apartment. I’m okay.” You take in a shaky breath, sniffling again and clearing your throat. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s okay,” Osamu replies. He doesn’t sound as frantic as he did before but you can detect the worry in his voice. “I was still up so it’s no bother. I don’t even know why I called honestly. I think I just wanted to see what ya were doin’ up.”

“It’s fine, you can call me whenever,” you reply earnestly. “I….just had a dream.”

A split second of hesitation is all you’re allowed to mentally scream at yourself for breaking the one condition you set when you decided to text Osamu. “A dream?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. “Yeah, and I’m sorry for bugging you because it’s not fair to you but I just have to tell someone or else I feel like I’m going to fucking suffocate. I know I should just call my friends but they don’t want to hear me go on and on and -”

“Hey, hey Y/N. Calm down and take a breath.” You listen to Osamu, taking a pause to breathe. Your head is now throbbing painfully and your throat feels wretched. “What was yer dream about?”

“I was playing volleyball with my friends and...Hajime.” You are silently screaming at yourself. You were not going to do this to Osamu, you were not going to burden your friend, who is already facing struggles of his own, with your problems.

But...he did ask what your dream was about.

“We were playing volleyball together,” you go on. “And it felt so real, like one minute I was in the middle of a play and the next I was waking up in my bed, searching for the ball. It took me a few seconds to realize that it was all a dream, and, and,” your breath hitches again and you feel more sobs bubbling out. Again you feel the grief take control of your body and you start crying.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay Y/N.” Osamu is trying to soothe you but it’s not doing much to calm you down. If anything the added reassurance was making you cry harder “It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s so far from okay that you can’t even imagine how you would get to okay.

“I’m sorry,” you sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Ya don’t hafta apologize,” Osamu replies. “Just let it out, Y/N.”

Oh boy, do you let it out. You cry and cry, curled up in a ball in your bed, lamenting the loss of your best friend and trying not to drown even more in your sorrow.

But you’re not alone, really. There’s not another person in the apartment with you, but you have Osamu on the phone right now. He’s reaching out to you, reaching through the dark and trying to get to you.

You’re not alone.

You feel the sobs subsiding as your breathing returns to normal. Your entire head is throbbing, you have no chance of breathing out of your nose and your eyes are painfully dry.

“Are ya alright?”

“Yeah,” you rasp out. “I’m sorry again, for that.”

“Ya don’t ever have to apologize to me,” Osamu says immediately. His insistence brings a small smile to your face. “If ya ever need to talk about yer dreams or anything, that’s what I’m here for.”

“Thank you,” you reply. Your voice is nasally but you try to get as much sincerity in it as possible.

“Of course, and ya can call whenever. I don’t sleep so there’s a good chance ya’ll catch me anytime.”

You pause in wiping your face with your tissues as you take in what Osamu is telling you. “You don’t…sleep?”

“Nah.” Osamu's nonchalant answer makes your cock your head in confusion. “I don’t think I can remember the last time I actually slept through an entire night.”

“So,” you pause, still not comprehending. “What do you…do?”

“I do my homework, I’ve got a job at the convenience store and I usually work the night shift. Sometimes I read or binge watch a new show.” He laughs. “Usually every three or four days I just pass out for 14 hours or so, and then repeat.”

“Osamu,” you chastise. “That’s not healthy.”

He laughs again but it’s not the light chuckle from before - it’s a hollow laugh with a hard edge. “Yeah, well it stops me from havin’ the kind of dreams yer havin’. The kind where I forget that my brother is dead.”

You’re taken aback from the harshness in Osamu’s voice. It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him sound like that. It could be considered in the same category as his usual tone - dry, sarcastic and nearly apathetic. But his regular tone is part of his sense of humor and how you two converse. You’ve never felt unease from those conversations, but now you do.

“And ya know what's worse than those little dreams?” Osamu doesn’t wait for input. “The worst is when I’m not even asleep and my stupid brain will give me random reminders from when my brother was alive. Like ‘don’t forget to wake up early and shower before Atsumu uses all the hot water!’ Or,” Osamu takes in a harsh breath, the noise making your phone speaker crackle. “Or the reminder to grab another sports drink at the store for Atsumu because he’s a scrub but he’s my brother and I love him. Or to save the mushrooms from my dinner even though they’re gross but Atsumu will trade his broccoli for them.”

Osamu blasts on, speaking fervently. Someone listening in would think he’s mad at you, but you know his frustration isn’t directed at you.

“But then I remember that I live alone, and I don’t need two bottles of sports drink and my plate is full of fucking mushrooms for no god damn reason.”

“And then, after feeling like the world’s biggest idiot for forgetting that my own twin brother is dead, I remember how alone I am.” He lets out another laugh, but it’s not light nor is it bitter. It’s worse, full of self-deprecation and pain.

You wait with bated breath, waiting for any sign on life through the phone. But when Osamu speaks, a small, broken voice comes through the line and nearly breaks your heart.

“It’s like - finding a life raft in the middle of the ocean but when you get to it it’s just a bundle of seaweed - it gets me every time.”

You inhale quietly. You want to reassure him but you can’t find the right words to say.

You can’t, because you know exactly how it feels.

The cold hard truth is that Iwaizumi Hajime is dead. There is nothing in the world that can bring him back, and there is nothing you can do to change that fact. Some days you can accept this fact easier than others.

On the easy days you feel most like yourself carrying a small rock. The weight of Hajime’s death will be something you will always carry with you. But on those easy days you can slip the rock in your pocket or hold it in your hand and carry on through life.

On the hard days it takes way more effort to lug the boulder around. You don’t know if you should drag it, heft it over your shoulder, tie a rope around it and yank hard. Sometimes you’re left to your own devices, sometimes your therapist or your parents can tell you the best way to carry it. Even your friends have stepped in to help you carry it, despite their own rocks to hold.

But the absolute worst days are the ones where you lose the rock, but you haven’t realized it. Where are you going to find it? In your pocket? Your bag? Will you trip over it?

Or will it come crashing down on you like an asteroid hellbent on wiping you out?

And it’s not even the impact that’s the worst part! Sure, this asteroid comes down on you with enough force to kill you, but the shockwave is what really destroys you.

When you have those moments when you forget that your Hajime is dead, the realization of his nonexistence is the asteroid’s impact on you. The cruel realization that his nonexistence is permanent for the remainder of your life is the shockwave.

This cruel one-two punch is devastating. It knocks you down and out, merciless in it’s destruction.

For what it’s worth, Osamu’s solution to dodging that one-two punch is not terrible, although it will have major consequences for his body and mind that he will have to face someday. But you can’t blame him for doing something to avoid the heavy blow.

It does destroy. It does make you feel like you’re drowning. It does nearly kill you.

“Ah, I think she fell asleep.” You’ve been quiet for so long that Osamu thinks you’ve fallen asleep on the phone.

“No, I'm here.” You murmur. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“Ah, a dangerous pastime.” Osamu jokes, but it doesn’t quite land. Could be from his full disclosure or from the strained laugh he gives at the end of the sentence.

“It is,” you agree. “But I was thinking about what you said.” He doesn’t respond, letting you continue. “And I just wanted to say...I get it.”

There’s silence on the other end. It’s so quiet that you fear for a second that Osamu has hung up the phone in anger, or maybe he’s drifted off to sleep. But then you hear another breathy exhale, a laugh from a person who is the furthest from laughing.

“Ya know Y/N? I think you’re the only person who does.”

You exhale and close your eyes. You find it hard to open them back up, pure exhaustion taking over your body.

“We’re still on for lunch tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” Osamu answers. “But ya gotta rest now if ya wanna wake up in time for it.”

A small smile crosses your face. “Sure. Promise me you’ll try to get some sleep too?”

A noncommittal hum is the answer you receive, not ideal but you don’t push him. You feel brittle and fragile, and you’re sure he’s the same.

“Osamu, thank you.” You want to convey how thankful you are, not only that he called you tonight but for coming into your life at a time where you needed a friendly face. You know your gratitude doesn’t come close to covering the vast expanse of your gratefulness but you hope you’ll have time to show him.

“No worries, get some sleep. I’ll see ya tomorrow. Good night Y/N.”

“Good night Osamu.” Your eyes slip close, and you let yourself fall into a dreamless sleep.

• ────── ✾ ────── •

A/N: 😔😔 y’all this story is making me Big Sad and I wrote it. 🥲 Thank you so much for reading!!! I should probably mention that the time stamps in the chat and on the tweets and such are accurate - the story is moving right along!

Taglist Open! Please send an Ask with the request to be added to It’s [Not] Okay Fic & SMAU: @psycho-nightrose @camcam1617 @kamalymaly @toobsessedsstuff @shookykookie30 @roro-707 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @cerealfrdinner797 @ara-mitsue @gray-444 @tanakasimpcorner @rintarovibes @jellien @everytimeswift @bongofrito

[early20sfailingplenty]

For @houseofdabs (I got your URL right this time😂😩) as promised!!!!🌸💗 I really hope you like this, Almond!!! It's super fun writing for you and I'm eager to get back into the swing of writing regularly.💗🥰🌸 FULLY PERSONALISED WITH PERMISSION!

TW; possessive language ("your Lester", "his Almond" - framed romantically), swearing, mentions of emotional negativity, Lester has some Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms which has been framed romantically specifically because to him, it IS romantic. It does not reflect my own thoughts on the matter, so please be aware of this when reading.

Word count: 1, 425.

There wasn't a single part of you which Lester didn't love.

Not one.

Ever since the day you had met, Lester had loved you for all of you. He would never tell you this, but he was quite sure he had fallen in love with you before he had even known your name. There was just something about you, something he couldn't help but gravitate towards, and he loved you for so many reasons. For your capacity for kindness and love. For your wisdom and your strength. For the way you stood up for what was right and didn't take any shit, especially from Bo. And, oh, how Lester loved it when you were as rude to Bo as Bo was to others; you never allowed the eldest Sinclair to walk all over you, and Vincent and Lester both loved that. They didn't take much shit from Bo either, but watching you rip into the eldest when it was so well deserved that Bo had been ostracised was always a fun time for them, if only because he rarely saw it coming. In truth, he was sometimes an asshole specifically to have you lay into him. It was fun for the particular brand of asshole which Bo was to see how far he could push before you shoved him right back. For your capacity for goodness, for the way you were so firm in who you were, for the way you were so selfless, for the way you tried every day.

Yes, Lester loved you for so many reasons, but none quite so much as the fact that he loved you because you were you. His Almond.

Additionally, Lester loved you for your creativity and your work ethic, for your empathy and for the way you never judged him. He loved you for all of you, and every day when he thought you couldn’t possibly get any better or seem any more beautiful to him, you somehow did and he was left breathless and falling in love all over again. You only ever encouraged him as he tried to show you the best of him, and Lester did his absolute best to do the same for you. If only he knew that he already did those things for you, just by being himself. For you, that was all he ever needed to do.

Recently, you had been trying to think positively about yourself. The operative word really was trying, because like many things in life was it easier said than done. Even with all of the poison in your mind, even with the daily doubts, anxieties, worries, upsets, triumphs, falls and everything in between, you could count on two things: your beloved moles would always be there when you came home at the end of a long day, and so would your Lester. With those two constants in your life came everything you had ever wanted and needed in life and more. You had always loved the placements of the moles on your arm and this tidbit of information, significant in its size (for it was the smallest things in life which ended up meaning the very most) was one of the first things you had ever shared with Lester on your journey towards total self-love and self-acceptance.

It was a path all had to walk in life at one time or another and you were grateful to be able to walk it with Lester beside you where he belonged as you reflected the best of each other at yourselves. If love was a mirror, then the frame around yours was a bright colour, so celestial did you appear to Lester. A man who had wanted everything but had nothing before he had found you. He idolised you to some degree and took no greater solace or pleasure in life than he did while he was in your company. Even when you weren't physically beside Lester, you were still with him, for he was able to so perfectly immerse himself in his thoughts of you that he was kept safe from the inside out. Many a conversation with you had been had without you being there beside him in the truck, not that Lester would ever confess to you the true depths of his loneliness during those long and seemingly endless hours on the various roads he had to drive along. He wasn’t sure you’d be able to take it, or that he would be able to tell you with a straight face. No, what you didn’t know what would hurt you.

Lester spent much of his life alone and lonely before he had met you, but now for much of the time was he only alone. You kept him perfectly content even when you weren’t there and it somehow only made Lester love you more. Oh, but his chest ached when he thought of his Almond back at home, living her own life and he doing his best to live his so that the two of you could come back together at the end of your long and hard days before you had to go to bed for some sleep, only to wake up and do the day all over again without break or reprieve.

Most of your moles were on the left side of your body, and Lester loved nothing more than to lay beside you in the bed and count them. It wasn't something he used to set out to do specifically, but after you had confessed to him your love for them, Lester had treated them with even more reverence than he already did. There were two on your left arm, and Lester loved to rest his index and forefingers on them when the two of you were sat down or lying together. Sometimes, when he was feeling especially goofy, you would wake up to find that he had drawn a curved line underneath the two moles, like a smiley face. Sometimes it resembled a sad face, if Lester was feeling that way but didn't know how to voice it to you. He was so afraid of rejection and so sensitive to the same that sometimes, he didn't even bother trying to tell you... he would only show you, instead, and he could only hope that you would understand him.

You always did.

On this night, you were sat together on the worn sofa, watching some crappy horror film which had more tropes than originality and more jump scares than anything effective. Lester's fingers were toying with the middle finger on your left hand. The mole at the base was one of your favourites, too, and by default was it also one which Lester preferred. He was holding your hand, his fingers tightly interlocked with yours, and though you were passively watching the film, Lester was watching you. The way your dark hair fell over your shoulders, the way the harsh blue artificial light of the television cast an ethereal glow across your face, the way you were slumped so perfectly into Lester's side, trusting him to hold you up and support you in his straighter position... oh, but he was so beautiful and you loved him just as fiercely and completely as he loved you.

Your eyes flicked down to look at the way Lester was rubbing the mole at the base of your finger with the same finger on his own hand and you smiled as warmth bloomed in your chest, affection spreading strongly through your veins. Lester had such a wonderful knack of making you realise just how loved you were, even without him having to do much of everything. He was a man of actions and, oh, how loud was his love language to those who bothered to learn it. Just as you began to think about how much you wanted to kiss Lester, he raised your joined hands to his lips and pressed a tender and reverent kiss to the mole, and his soft brown eyes stayed on your face the entire time. Your face heated up and you melted further into his side, making Lester grin as he slung an arm over your shoulders in an invitation for you to lay across his chest.

Quiet, domestic moments like this in which the smallest actions spoke the loudest made your stressful and busy life worth it, and you knew that Lester felt the very same way. He loved you for all of you, and Lester told you every second of every day, just as you deserved.

[clouds-rambles]

The toxicity of our love

This is from this post I made yesterday because I can’t stop thinking about it

I call Venti Barbatos bc I’m cool like that

Pairings; Venti/Barbatos x reader

Warning(s); dysfunctional love, toxic relationship, unhealthy coping mechanism, angst, hurt

Keep reading under the cut!

The years haven’t been nice to either you or Barbatos. The first mortal friends the both of you made ended in their brutal deaths. Not much longer after the fall of Decrabain both you and Barbatos entered a relationship. It felt right at the time, it felt like the honeymoon phase was never ending. It felt like the two of you would constantly be in love because you’re both great people.

But as the years centuries pass something feels off, something feels wrong. As if you’re loving wrong...

You would ask the other archon you’re close to, Morax. But after the death of his lover asking him about how immortals should love each other was triggering to him. Asking Morax about love often lead to hours of him telling you about Guizhong and never answering your questions. So you don’t have any way of telling if your relationship with Barbatos is normal for immortals.

The thing that feels wrong you ask? Well over the years the both of you have become your own people. While having much of your current personality when you were both wisps on the wind, having humanoid forms gave the both of you inspirations for new hobbies and dreams. 

Something you’ve really enjoyed doing over the millennia is painting, while to begin with you weren’t that good now-a-days your paintings fetch pretty mora on the market. Some of your best paintings sit in the homes of the nobels of Mondstat. Despite being a largely forgotten immortal by the people, your art weens it’s way into the memories of the people of Mondstat. 

While you love creating art not once has your life long partner, Barbatos, said anything about your art. Not once has he complimented it, not once has he critiqued it. In fact he pretty much pretends that your art doesn’t exist. Sure, it hurts for your lover to not see your proudest works. 

But it’s okay, it’s fine. Because when you stand atop the table in the Angels Share, or on the cathedrals piazza to play sweet tunes with both your lyre and voice the compliments come rolling in. Barbatos compliments your playing, the way you captivated the audience. How well the dissonance between the lyre and your voice worked. It’s overwhelming when he compliments you. It makes you feel loved, it makes you feel wanted.

Even if its for something that you picked up because of Barbatos, because he wanted someone to play sweet tunes with like the how he hummed along with the bard all those years ago.

It’s apparent that Barbatos doesn’t actually love you, he’s over compensating. He’s picking the one thing that reminded him of that bard, and he’s running with it. You tell yourself you don’t mind it, you don’t mind being compared to someone thats 3000 years dead. You don’t mind. You don’t mind. You DON’T mind! You can’t mind, it’s how it’s always been. Barbatos will drink himself to the closest thing to death otherwise. How would he cope with losing his friend if he suddenly loses his lover? How could he-

You act as though you don’t do the same thing to Barbatos. You act as though you have never complimented him on his lyre playing despite the fact he is a bard by name ‘Venti the bard’ is what he’s known by the people of Mondstat. ‘Venti the bard’ is how he introduces himself to tourists and travellers. So why have you never complimented him on the one thing that he identifies himself with? Barbatos asks himself this question often

Sometimes Barbatos will ask himself this question at the most inappropriate, intimate time. He could be going down on you and yet the question will linger. Is he not enough? Is being a bard not enough? How must he feel good with you?

He knows how, and he hates that he knows how. Barbatos hates being compared to other people, especially when it isn’t that bard. But he lives with it because he believes he loves you, he believes he wants to be loved by you. Whatever sick misunderstood form of love the two of you have.

So he chases the feeling. He loves every time you compliment him for patching you up so delicately after a tough fight, or every time you compliment him for helping people. His brain remembers when the traveller was about and he helped the people of Mondstat write poetry for their loves. The compliments fell off your tongue and boy did he chase that feeling. He’s been doing it since before that week.

Barbatos knows that you only compliment him on these things because they remind you of your first friend. The healer who did everything for her community, the healer who helped those around her, who patched people up after Decrabains military raided the city, even before the revolution was in play. But Barbatos is okay with that. Because if he left? There’s no way you’d be able to process the death of your friend for so long, there’s no way you’d be okay suddenly losing a lover too. There’s no way. He has to stay, he has to stay, he HAS to-

Maybe the two of you don’t see it, maybe you do just to ignore it. But the way the two of you interact with each other is much the same. And anyone can see that it’s not healthy. But whenever someone like Jean or Diluc bring up how unhealthy it is the excuse the both of you use is ‘Well immortals love differently to mortals’

Maybe someone will see the hypocrisy of your words. Maybe nobody will.

And if nobody does? Nothing will change between the two of you   

[hollyhomburg]

Are you going to Stay?

(Fuckboy! Jungkook x Reader) (Idol au) (Soulmate Au)

Summary: It’s been a year since he last saw you, and every day he misses you more. It was only a matter of time until he turned up at your door asking for another chance.

Tags: angst with a happy ending, best friends to lovers, Themes of unhealthy coping mechanisms, sexual tension, emotional intimacy, physical intimacy, brief sexual scenes, Jungkook really loves the reader's thighs, Touch starved Jungkook, Mentions of hookups, talks of love languages, alcohol mention, Jungkook is intoxicated for most of this.

W/c: 6.4k

Song rec: Jk- Still with you 

A/N: there is a lot of time jumps in this where Jungkook is thinking through his memories while drunk, so if it sounds confusing that's the point. this is really near and dear to my heart- I wrote the bulk of this in one hour after listening to jungkook’s song still with you. it is directly inspired by that song. A lot of the dialogue in this story is based on things that have been said to me or I’ve said to others- so yeah- hope you like this self-indulgent story! 

“Of course I’ll never turn you away- but…do me a favor Jungkook, and don’t come back until you’ve decided what you want from me.”

One year. It’s been a little more than one year since he’s seen you and still- the last words you said to him haunt him as he walks through the rainy streets of Seoul. His fellow strangers on the sidewalk giving him a few weird looks for not having an umbrella.

He pulls up his facemask a little more, the bucket hat soaked through to his hair. The cold rain feels good against the back of his neck- the contact startling. Maybe Jungkook’s just too touch starved to make the right choices right now. Maybe its because he only wants someone to touch him if it’s you.

It didn’t always use to be that way. before he’d met you; he’d regularly needed a more sexual outlet for all his frustration, excess energy, and stress. It was healthy right? To need that? To want a connection without any strings in his line of work. 

Jungkook is a truthful person, and he stays that way by only ever lying to himself.  

When it rains in Seoul- it’s one of the few times that it ever feels quiet. The air pinning down the smoke and the smog, leaving space for the longing to clog up his lungs and spill out red on his tongue. Memories of you, the way you’d felt in his arms, your smile- your everything.  So many months without you and Jungkook can’t help but miss you a little more with every moment that passes.  

Some nights he gets restless like this and can’t help but walk and walk and hope his feet didn’t lead him to your door. Sure- at least half of the year that he hadn’t seen you had been because of the tour and the comeback schedule. But the last few months were his fault. He hadn’t had the courage to text you or pop up at your door. His stubbornness mixed with guilt, or something else entirely- a different sort of longing for someone you missed having, but had never really had in the first place.

Jungkook is great at lying to himself. That hasn’t changed in the last year.

Back then Jungkook had been too much of a coward to tell you how he felt. And so he was left out here- standing in the rain wallowing and wondering what could have been. 

You’d been best friends this time last year.

You’d been his one secret hideaway from his idol life, someone to drink with and sneak onto roofs and watch the stars with. A piece of the youth that he’d never had, but more than that too- something entirely new. How many times had you said, “it’s never too late to be a kid.” and never judged him for turning up at your door and needing a hug. 

Your entire relationship was some sort of reclamation for him, a better future found than the one he faced now. Going out sometimes, always worried about being spotted, never really having fun. Always looking for something better when he knew he wouldn’t find it. When he knew all he really wanted was to go back in time before he fucked it up with you.

You were his emergency contact; his someone to turn too on a bad day, or when he got too drunk at a club and couldn’t call management because he didn’t want to get in trouble. His drunken self that always wanted to see you- to drink in your laugh like a shot that made his knees weak. Your care, so freely given better than any party or hook up.

The countless times you’d taken him home to your apartment and given him a pair of soft pajamas and dealt with his drunken happy babbling about everything- always asking him about the places he’s seen and what one been his favorite. sometimes fooling him with shots of water just so that he’d get some liquid in him. his relentless pressuring for you to take a sip too- just to know the sweet truth- that your lips had touched the same spot his had. 

Jungkook is a fool when he’s in love. He tells himself he would have let your friendship go on forever if it meant never losing you. 

“What do you mean you don’t like New York!?” you’d asked, looking down at him with his head in your lap. Jungkook trying to resist turning over to nuzzle his head into your thighs- you’d always had such pretty thighs- the kind that look like they’d keep the memory of his fingers like memory foam if he squeezed hard enough. He wants to sleep on them. And he’s dangerously close to waking drunken poetic about them- marshmallows or clouds or just- fluffy.

He’s whiney when he answers but you don’t look bothered you only look endeared, helplessly swallowed by a wave of affection. “The buildings are too tall there and the city isn’t colorful enough- I love how Seoul just goes on and on and on, I could walk it forever if I wasn’t worried about being followed.”

He still loved how the neon lights looked in the puddles of the rain, the color bleeding everywhere with nowhere to go. The way he sees it now crossing a street in front of a makeup shop, the neon lights blinking red even though it’s closed.

But in every pink and red he can’t help but see your lips- your favorite shade of lipstick that you’d been wearing when you’d given him a key to your apartment. you were strange like him- there were some things you never liked wearing out of the house and that shade was one of them. No matter how many times he told you it looked nice, you'd always rub it off with a makeup wipe before you left. 

He remembers looking down at your house key, and the little keychain with a fluffy black ball attached at the end of it, heart-shaped. “I thought you didn’t like me popping around like a stray puppy?”

You laughed at that “you’re more like a stray pure-breed from the west minster dog show that I’ve kidnapped- but you should take it anyway- I know you like to get away sometimes- and it beats having to wait for me to come home right?”

He’s got the keychain and key in his pocket now- he rarely ever takes it out of his bag. And he fiddles with it in his pocket- the softness no less soothing then it was at the beginning. He rarely ever leaves the house without it- he tells himself it’s his good luck charm but he knows it’s because he wants to fools himself. Jungkook can’t be himself unless he has a piece of you. 

Maybe that's what soulmates are. People that you voluntarily give a piece of you, to keep it safe. 

He’s so lost in his memories that Jungkook almost tips his shoulder into someone passing by- narrowly avoiding getting thrown into the street as a result. Is it the several shots he’s downed that make him clumsy? Or the way that thoughts of you fill his head and leave no room for things as simple as the pull of gravity. Is it the memory of you that makes him shake- or the fact that he’s had too much caffeine and hasn’t slept in days?

Someone sitting in a cafe looks up and does a double-take, but he’s already moved on by the time they’ve lifted up their phone. The best they get is a picture of his back disappearing around the corner. He wonders if they’re going to type on some message board tonight “I think I saw an idol walking around in the rain, I wonder what could be on his mind?”

He remembers your words the day after your first kiss.“Do you ever wonder if we’re soulmates that met in a different lifetime? Or that we met a lifetime too soon?”

He’d tilted his head to the side, not understanding what you meant. You’d told him you were too drunk to remember the kiss the night before. But the way you’re looking at him now it almost seems like you do- but just didn’t want to tell him. How could you be worried you’d been too forward when he was the one who had initiated it? 

“Never mind Kookie- I’m so tired I’m getting philosophical, we should go home before it gets any later.”

Jungkook’s soul is certainly searching for something now, the world spins for a moment, and he loses track of where he is- the same way he’d lose track of you all those months ago. Those few miss begotten kisses like a wrong turn made on a highway- because he hadn’t been ready for something sensual, something soft and lingering like you’d been wanting.

The night that you’d gotten a little too close, your lips wet and hot and sticky with sweet drinks against each other. You crashing onto your bed with a giggle, so trashed. Jungkook helping you take your pants off because you could barely see straight, and it wasn’t sexual at all- when he paused to kiss the leading line of your knee. At least not the way that he’s used to. This is loving.

He’d kissed you up to your underwear. You squeal in surprise when he bits into your thigh a little bit. Teeth sinking into the skin he always wanted to touch and grab. Unable to stop his hands from grabbing fistfuls of your skin, so sweet and soft. You giggle when he does, his fingers hitting a sensitive spot and making your leg jerk out and almost kick him- too ticklish. “God I’ve been waiting so long to do this”

He’d uttered and whatever words you’d been about to say die in your throat. Suddenly a little less eager then you’ve been before. “Can we go slow?”

“Of course baby” Jungkook nods, and you don’t end up going any further that night, or at least any further than some heavy petting and making out. “God it’s almost 4am- we should sleep” both of your lips chapped red. and Jungkook feels like he can’t function without his lips pressed to your skin, nips at your neck, and your throat as you trail your hands up and down the back of his neck. All over. He feels and smells you all over and it’s driving him crazy.

Eventually, you wind down. Jungkook stretched out on top of you, his hips in-between your legs with only a few layers of thin fabric separating you. His ear pressed to your heart to listen to it. His body jelly finally sated to be so close to you. Your words are shy and scared in the darkness. His arousal burns low- and it’s not the most important thing- not in the slightest. 

“When I wake up, are you going to still be here Jungkook?” you had to ask- because he’s told you all of his tells before. You know his m.o. even if you’ve never seen it in person. you know that he never stays the night after hookups. had looked over one too many text messages of girls calling him an asshole, begging you to tell him how to respond. 

“I’ll stay,” he says, and at that moment- he swears he never felt a hit of the icky fear of being not enough. Curled up with you he’s not afraid of your relationship falling apart, you hating him, or you not wanting this. Every reason why he’d never stayed the night after hooking up before, invalid because he’s with you- someone he loves.  this wasn’t just another hookup; he loves you.

“Promise you won't?”

“I promise.”

And then in the morning, when he’d woken up with a pounding head and found you curled up next to him. Horror filling him but of course- you’d been drunk too. You have a few hickeys on your neck and he checks himself in the bathroom mirror afraid for a moment before he sees that luckily- his skin is unscathed. The fear- the worry, everything crashing down on him as he watches you asleep in your bed, relaxed and peaceful.

Jungkook isn’t a relationship person- he’s never been in one that didn’t end in his heart being broken. He can’t be- his love with you wasn’t supposed to start this way- not after another drunken night. Like so many, he’s had before in the past that have ended poorly. 

He doesn’t know where to go from here besides leaving. He’d even told you once “I don't think I could ever start a relationship after just- hooking up. like how do show someone the most vulnerable parts of you and then expect them to love you.” 

He leaves, starts the schedule for the day feeling terrible, the others asking why he looks so upset, why he’s snappy. After practice, he checks his phone. Finding only a single text from you; ‘you promised me Jungkook’ and nothing else. And he hates it- hates everything- because he wants to love you- he really does. But maybe a part of him doesn’t know how to love safely without ruining himself in the process.

Maybe that’s all that it was, love. The whole thing falling apart if you aren’t willing to love a person in the way that they want to be loved. Or maybe it’s less premeditated than that. He thinks about love languages, about how you’re supposed to give and receive love.

Though you’d already had the right kind of intimacy. You’d need a little more time then he’d been willing to give you. You’d told him that the next time you’d seen him. And you’d spent a few weeks pretending nothing was wrong when everything felt awkward suddenly. And by the time you were ready to adjust- Jungkook had convinced himself that you didn’t mean anything to him.

The time that you said you’d been going out to meet with one of your male coworkers and wouldn’t be able to hang out that night. Jealousy stinging Jungkook’s heart like a beestings- and for the first time in months he’d gone out looking for a hookup.

The hickeys you’d seen low on his hips the next day when he’d stretches up and you’d barked out “what the fuck is that” scalding and angry. Jungkook shrugging it off like it didn’t mean anything. The words he’d said haunt him in the hours of the night when he can’t sleep and only the hum of the air conditioner can hear the words he wishes he had said. If only to save you the disappointment of thinking he was a different person than he is.

“You went out with that guy last night- so why can’t I have a little fun?”

“He’s my coworker Jungkook you can’t honestly think- oh- I get it- you were jealous.”

Jungkook spluttering, rebuking your claim with a roll of his eyes, “there isn’t anything to get jealous over. We’re not trying to be in a relationship anymore.”

“That’s not what you said last-”

“Well I changed my mind” but he hadn’t not really- he would never change his mind about you he was only being stubborn.

“What do you mean you changed your mind Jungkook- you were the one who wanted this.”

“But I didn’t expect you’d be so clingy, and we can’t always be together and I just- I have needs and you can’t fill all of them” you flinch back, and Jungkook instantly wishes he hadn’t said the words. Because they were a lie- a lie meant to hurt. If anything he was the clingy one. He just- he couldn’t let it go.

“So you fucked up a perfectly good friendship because you were just lonely? I’m not one of your hookups- we’re supposed to be friends Kookie.”

His heart dropping, “you mean we’re not that anymore?”

“I never wanted anything with you if it meant jeopardizing that” and then him- unable to stop himself from asking you. “Are we still friends?”

“of course Mookie, I think I just need some time to think…you should go Jungkook.”

The first conversation you’d ever had about it is what he remembers too. “Do you think I’m a bad person?” your snort enough of an answer as you take a swig of the bottle of Soju. His hand splayed on the towel that you’d lied down so that the roof tar didn’t stain your clothes. “of course not.”

“Even when I’m…” this makes him uncomfortable even to talk about.

“The problem you started with? People who hook up and pretend that there aren’t any feelings involved but in reality, the denying of feelings tells you enough about how they feel. You wouldn’t have to stop yourself from getting closer to people if they didn’t matter to you- and if you weren’t afraid.”

Your shoulder had been so close- he’d been able to lean his head there. He remembers how good it had felt when you’d combed your fingers through his hair. (if he likes your thighs then you like his hair).  So much better than any hook up he might have had tonight. In truth- he’d been halfway to some girl's apartment when he’d called it off- and decided to go to your place instead.

Sure- you might not give him the exact kind of physical closeness that he was craving, but he loves the head pets, the way you’ll play with his hands. Like his hands are an extension of yourself, the motion so automatic like you barely realized you were doing it. 

He always left your place feeling more like himself. With everyone else, it felt like he had to fight to get himself understood, had to dilute or distill his words so that they’d get it, but somehow you were always on the same page. “I wouldn’t be too worried Kookie, you’ll grow out of it eventually.”

“You sure?” he’s so relaxed- he almost feels like he’s going to fall asleep against your shoulder. He shifts a little restless, turning so he can press his body against the line of your legs. Curling into your warmth.

“Yeah, I grew out of it too.” with anyone else- that sentence would feel patronizing. But with you- it was just comforting.  

How wrong he was- even now- you were all he could think about. Maybe that’s why somehow he ends up at your door. no- that’s not right-  The reason why he walks to your house right now, a year after the last time he’s seen you was because he’d released that song today- the one about you and missing you.

Of course, he couldn’t stop himself from checking in on you- still knew the username to all your old accounts. Enough to go and check if you’d commented on his song- and you had- a single broken heart emoji. Whether you meant for him to find it- he didn’t know. The fact that you still checked upon him the same way he checked up on you. That was enough for him to need to start drinking.

Your door is the same as it was back then, your slides sitting on the stoop- just inside the small alcove to keep them out of the rain. Your small house tucked into a side street. One of the last few in Seoul that wasn’t a complex- because you’d wanted a yard outback. You’re home, the light from the windows spilling like honey out into the wet street. You’d said that you’d never turn him away. So Jungkook steals himself and knocks, quiet. Ready for it to go unanswered because it’s so late.

You don’t look much different either when you open the door, hair shiny and dry like you’ve just blow-dried it already in your pajamas. “Jungkook!? What are you- your shoes are soaking wet! You’re soaking wet! Come inside before you catch a cold” it’s true- he must have stepped in a few puddles on his walk here. his chunky shoes slosh when he steps into your entryway.

In a moment all of your shock and apprehension melting away. And you’re fussing over him like its only been a few days since you’ve seen him and not a year. Your hands pushing his jacket off his shoulders. His mouth dry for a moment before the words tumble out again. 

“I miss you- I miss you so fucking much and it hurts. Can we talk? Please I-” your hands freeze where you’re popping his soaking jacket into your drier. Hands suddenly hovering on your counter.

Your house is just as bright and well-loved as Jungkook remembers it. Some days he lives more in those happy memories than he does in the present. The countless hours you’d spent on your couch, teaching Jungkook how to cook a little better in your kitchen. Even now- something sweet bakes in the oven, fresh bread or some other baked goods

Hours spent in your little nook in the corner taking personality quizzes on the Internet just to pass some times. The love languages quiz. “I think it's bullshit that they don’t consider food as a love language- because I love cooking for the people I love.” 

and Jungkook blushing and finishing his quiz in peace, finding out that his love language was physical affection too, tied with quality time. But that didn’t matter- the only thing he could think about was your love language. You love to cook for people you love, and he’s unable to stop listing all of the times that you’d cooked for him in his head. Nearly once a week at least.

Did that mean you loved him? You hover near that spot now. The first time that Jungkook had ever truly realized you were both falling in love.

Now that he’s not in the rain you can tell that he’s crying. His eyes bloodshot and red like he’s been doing it for hours. You reach out cupping his cold cheek with your warm hand and rubbing the moisture away. Is it a tear or just some rain? You can’t tell. And Jungkook’s whole body shivers at the contact, so sweet, he can’t help but teeter, almost falling into you as he tries to lean into it. 

Maybe he’s drunker than he thinks.

“I think you should shower first- you’re shaking Kookie- you need to warm up.” he nods quietly and lets you be his benevolent puppetmaster as you make him take off his pants soaking and stuck to his legs, leaving them with his shoes and jacket. Leading him to your bathroom. You tell him to leave his shirt and boxers outside so you can put them in the drier too.

You’d always been so good with this- ready to baby him and heal his woes whenever he’d come to you after a particularly bad day. Before he’d had you, he’d supplemented his usual bad habit with a hook up to sate his need to be self-destructive.  A month into your friendship he’d stopped because by then he’d only needed you. You’d patched him up when he’d been feeling hurt- without him ever having to hurt himself.

Compared to you, everyone else was just a fling, But they’d started out as first loves. Women that never gave him more than a few nights and left him broken-hearted when he got too attached too quickly. He’d been hurt a few too many times by the fact that they never stayed and spent the night. 

He’d convinced himself that was just how it went. Don’t get too attached, don’t get too personal and cuddle because no one wants to be that close to someone they barely know. He told himself to be satisfied with the closeness he got through sex even if he was vaguely aware that wasn’t what he really needed or wanted. 

And then one day he’d gotten up and realized that he was the one breaking their hearts- all because he didn’t want to get close to anyone anymore. Not in the way that meant being truly intimate. That was too much of a risk for his fragile heart.

True intimacy was the kind he’d had with you. You’d never needed to sleep together to cuddle him no- Jungkook just had to turn up at your door and you’d be ready to give him all of the physical contact he needs. Enough to stop feeling like he was about to jump out of his skin. 

That was what the love language quiz had told you what your love language way- physical affection, a love that Jungkook was always eager to receive.

The shower is warm and exactly what he needs. He walks out of it smelling like you; his heart hurting in such a keen way- everything in your bathroom familiar and new. The times you’d let him shower here, once after getting caught out in the rain with you (a literal downpour, eventually you’d gotten too soaked and just settled for being goofy, sloshing in puddles in the park, spinning around underneath a lit lamp singing a bad rendition of singing in the rain, spilling your bottle of soju with little regard for who might think it propper.)

A whole day he’d spent kneeling on this tiled floor after one bad night, holding back your hair when you were puking. Jungkook berating himself for his choices because He’d taken you to a bad club in Gangnam, and you were worried someone had tried to slip something into your drink- no other reason why you’d be puking like this. 

He’d apologized profusely, got you chocolate-covered strawberries as a thank you. Not knowing that you where allergic. “why the fuck did you eat them if this was going to happen” you were whiney, cheeks all puffy and red- lips a little swollen too. Gesturing for Jungkook to hand you the ice pack already, the itchiness getting to you.

“Cuz they looked really good and you were being sweet.” He slaps your hands away and holds the icepack to your cheek, moving it around every few seconds. Your eyes fluttering in relife. You’d spent the afternoon like that- Jungkook holding the icepack to your cheek watching a drama on your couch. it was the least he could do- after maybe inadvertently getting you drugged and giving you an allergic reaction. 

And still- next week you’d responded to his texts. He’d been ready for you to leave him after that, but no- you still called him your friend.  

While he takes a shower you put his clothes in the drier. Your heart humming because- he’s back. He’s actually come back. You never really expected him to stay away for so long- not more than a week at least. But then you’d heard the news of the tour and just assumed he couldn't. And you think through all the text messages you'd almost sent him asking for him to meet up for dinner or something but in the end. you’d been too worried that he would turn you down- that he really didn't care anymore. 

Your hands feel something in the pocket of his pants. you still - pulling it out not really believing it- but it’s your key. The key you’d given him hoping he would stay in your life. and seeing it- knowing he’s kept it with him all this time. you grip the edge of the counter, trying not to cry. 

When he gets out of your shower he finds an old set of his own pajamas there- probably left here at one point or another. He brings them up to his nose to inhale a deep breath, and they smell like you too. The simple joggers and black shirt- you must have worn them. Did you curl up in them on the nights that you missed him most? Did you even miss him? You’d never said it back at the door.

When Jungkook pads out into the living room, you’re sitting on the couch- head in your hands, a towel in yours, you jolt up when you see him. And your expression is unreadable as you gesture for him to sit in front of you. “I’m going to dry your hair” 

The clearly communicated intent makes Jungkook’s whole body tingle, his touch starved ness already making a reappearance- always wanting more and more. He sits, tipping his head forward so you have access to all of his hair, his eyes on the couch, and your crossed legs. They aren’t as plush as they once looked. In the past year, you’ve lost a little weight and he wonders if that’s because of him.

His whole body shaking as you bring the towel up and through his hair, drying it this way and that. Eventually leaning his cheek against your clothed thigh, before he jolts up. Catching himself with an arm out behind you. He looks up, and your breath hitches when you see his arms, the way they’ve grown over the past year.

He knows he’s put on muscle since the last time you’ve seen him and it makes the tiniest bit of pride well up in his chest to know he’s impressed you. It only lasts for a moment before you keep drying his hair looking down at your hands a sour feeling rising up in both of you. Like you’re both suddenly realizing how much you’ve changed in the last year. 

Your bodies might be strangers- but your souls aren’t. Even after all this time, not a single silence is awkward.

“Don’t want you to get a cold,” you say softly, and Jungkook only makes a small noise to let you know the message is received. He’s happy to be on the receiving end of your affection. After so long without any intimate contact, he needs it like he needs air. You continue in silence for a moment before Jungkook lists forward so hard that his head ends up pressed to your collarbone, his forehead warm against your skin. You don’t flinch back.

“Why are you being so kind to me? The last time I was here- I wasn’t- I never treated you well” his voice is broken and wavering. The darkness of the cloth concealing the fact that he’s crying again, but you can feel his tears against your skin anyway.

“I’ll always patch you up Kookie. And you did treat me well, maybe not the way I wanted to be treated- but you never treated me terribly.” That’s a little debatable, but Jungkook isn’t about to convince you not to forgive him for being an asshole.

“Will there ever be a way to go back?” it’s the one thing he’d been unable to stop himself from wondering- if there was a way to repair what you’d had. And he dreads the answer now almost more than not knowing. You bite your lip, folding your hands over your chest, leaving the towel hanging over Jungkook’s head like some kind of veil. Facing each other cross-legged on your old couch while the rain patters on outside.

“I never hated you Kookie- you’re still my best friend. Maybe we fight, and yeah it’s been a while. But at the end of the day, your soul still fits mine.”

He gulps audibly, hands reaching out to touch yours, you marvel for a second, eyes tracking over his new tattoos. He hadn’t had those the last time you’d seen them- you’d seen them on the Internet, of course, it was hard not to check up on him. 

“Do you remember what you said to me in that cafe that day?” his voice is low, as thick as the color that bleeds onto the wet asphalt outside. While in here you’re in a bubble cozy and safe. Out of time and out of place.

Your eyes are heavy-lidded, as he gets more brazen with his touches, fingers rubbing up and down your forearms. You make noise in agreement. “Soulmates that met too early.” your eyelashes flutter against your cheek- it is late- and you look as tired as Jungkook should feel where it not for the caffeine in his system- but the shower did a good job of calming him down.

His words feel thick as he swallows, “what if that lifetime is now?” your eyes shoot open. And you’re about to say something when Jungkook jumps in. “I miss you. I miss you so bad that I think it breaks my heart sometimes.”

“Jungkook” it's just his name, but the way it sounds on your mouth- Jungkook would follow that call anywhere. He slumps forward, leaning his head against your shoulder, and you smell so good. He can’t help but turn his head to nuzzle into your neck; you don’t stop him- you don’t even flinch in fact. 

You relax more- like you were waiting for him to lean into you. Hands coming up to encircle his shoulders and pull him in for a hug. “You missed me- but what do you want me to do?”

“Say you miss me too- say it's not too late. Say we have a chance.” your hands are gentle as they come up to run through his still-damp hair, “say it’s another lifetime and we can be soulmates again.”

“Are you going to stay?” you ask instead. You realize your miss-step, Jungkook sits up and you wish he didn’t so he wouldn’t see the blush on your cheeks. “stay the night I mean-” you swallow, “do you want to sleep here?”

“Yes” he flicks his hair out of his face, “if that’s okay?” both of you pretend that you mean only tonight. Even though you know- you both know what you meant.

His hair is drying curler and longer now. “You’re drunk Kookie- you should sleep. We can talk properly in the morning.”

Jungkook knows you’re probably just saying that because you want a little more time- but that’s okay. In the past year, he’s learned to be patient. And if you need the night to think it over- if you need the whole week or month. He’ll give it. “Okay,” he says, tilting his face up to look at you smiling. 

“I’m not making any promises Jungkook- we have a lot to work through to get back to how we were”

“I know,” he says, but still can’t stop smiling, letting out a watery little giggle, and damn his cute doe eyes and his easy smile- because you can’t help but think he’s the cutest thing. This boy that looks hard on the outside but isn’t anything more than the squishiest romantic when you get to know him, who turned up at your door and told you everything you’d been hoping for the second he’d walked out your door.

“I can wait as long as you need to wait, I’ll be okay as long as we just talk again. I missed you so so much” he’s definitely drunk; maybe it just took a little while for the shots to hit him.

You get him a blanket and a pillow and he sleeps on the couch and he might let his lips brush along the outside of your when you reach down to run your fingers through his hair again but you don’t pull away. A look on your face like it pains you to leave him on the couch. But those little acts of love were never out of place back when you used to talk every day. And you can’t bring it to yourself to scold him for such a blatant act of intimacy when it makes your heart flutter.

There had been a few times near the end. when Jungkook had let himself in with your key and crawled into bed with you. And you’d always woken up before him, had breakfast and something planned for the day- someplace you wanted to explore and Jungkook ready to company you anywhere and everywhere. 

He waits and watches the light underneath your door until it winks out and you go to sleep too. And he might wake in the middle of the night thinking bout crawling into bed with you but he knows enough to give you your space. His heart brimming with the possibility of more- more everything.

It’s worth it in the morning. Jungkook dreams about the love languages. Your words again ‘preparing food should be considered a love language.’ when he wakes in the morning the rain has stopped. Your porch doors open to your small back yard to let in the city sounds. The mist clearing over the rooftops, the smell of rain on the wet earth musky and sweet, quiet, and relaxing.

He smells eggs and French Toast, hears your soft humming in the kitchen. It’s Your love language to cook for those you love. And he knows somehow that you still love him when he hears the oil frying in the pan, the smell of cinnamon and sugar there too. everything sweet and nothing hurting.  

A single tear drifts down his cheek. And he’s unable to stop smiling, even if he is half-asleep, unable to open his eyes even. He falls back asleep and wakes to the feeling of your fingers running through his hair.  

There will be other times, when Jungkook can hop up from your bed and join you in the morning, back hugging you and peppering little kisses along your shoulder. Hands slipping under the edge of your shirt to squeeze at the ticklish spot on your hips. Or the small kisses he’ll press to your sleeping cheek when he has to leave early in the morning. Or the mornings when he’ll wake to you still in his arms kissing down his chest. 

Countless mornings, days into the future when things will be easier. And even if they're not easy, Jungkook knows trying with you is worth it. Now that he’s lived without you- he will do anything to stay by your side. For Now, he’s happy to sleep off his hangover dimly aware of the sound of you moving around your house. 

For a second, it almost feels like you’ve bent down, the warmth spilling across his face, the faint brush of your lips on his cheek. He tells himself it’s just a dream.  

Jungkook is good at lying to himself. 

Kofi

(if you want to find out your love language; here is a simple quiz to find out!) 

[grimmradiance]

Close to Me: How the Hollow Knight's Fighting Style Reflects Their Trauma (and the Radiance's as well)

So I've been trying to actually beat the Radiance, which means I've been fighting the Hollow Knight. A lot, as a matter of fact, since I'm beans at this game sometimes. I've also been thinking about @lost-kinn's meta about how fighting styles are how Vessels, especially the Little Knight, communicate.

In trying to apply this to the Hollow Knight, I've been coming to some very interesting conclusions, especially taken in context of...Everything Else in the lore, and Everything Else implicated in this by the psychology of it.

There's a lot to cover here, and it tracks through a LOT of different places, including trauma psychology, the relationship between chronic stress and lifespan health, and shape symbolism. Two warnings first:

One: this essay is gonna get heavy. It includes fine-grained discussion of the Hollow Knight's trauma, including discussions of the real-life machanics of psychological abuse, as well as the Extremely Concerning Implications of them harming themself during their boss fight. please read with caution and when you're in a safe emotional place to do so.

Two: This post is not a place for justifying the Pale King. If you read this essay in its entirety and still want to do that, please make your own post; my relationship to the Hollow Knight themself is deeply rooted in my own experiences, so in the context of this discussion I can't promise I won't take it personally.

With that out of the way, let's talk trauma and fighting styles:

We know that the Hollow Knight is trained to be a paragon of fighting skill, through the Pure Vessel fight, and this gives us a fantastic way to compare what they were like before they were made Government Assigned Radiance Jail, and after. Or, in other words, we're given the perfect opportunity to see what the Radiance is doing (i.e. context effects), and what Hollow is (i.e. what we can conclude is reliably consistent as a part of them). Listed here, for reference:

Hollow's attacks:

Three slashes

A dash slash

A Radiant Shade Soul, which launches a volley of Infection blobs in arcs

A Radiant Desolate Dive, which produces pillars of entwined Void and Light at random intervals

The Infection bursting out of them in random arcs, covering a significant amount of the aerial space of the arena

The Radiance ragdolling their body around trying to hit the Knight

Contact damage from them stabbing themself and falling over atop you

The Pure Vessel's attacks:

Three slashes

A dash slash

A Pure Shade Soul, which launches a volley of nails in straight lines

A Pure Desolate Dive, which produces nails at specific intervals

A Pure Focus, which causes circular explosions across most of the aerial space in the arena

Lashing out with a Void Arm (word choice intentional)

I've highlighted attacks from each battle that are different, since those are our points of interest here. In addition, both the Pure Vessel and Hollow are exceedingly fond of teleport-spamming in a way that is usually reserved for a specific group of bosses.

Another very important distinction between these two fights: the Pure Vessel doesn't scream. Well, they certainly try to, but no sound comes out. No voice to cry suffering, after all. All of these points have a lot to go into, so let's address them one at a time.

All That Remains: Theoretical Background On The Significance Of Constants

Making comparisons across time is important specifically because humans (and human-like bugs) change. Most personality traits aren't set in stone--they exist as an interaction of someone's internal tendencies, their experiences, and their environment. Speaking of those last two points, not all experiences and environments are created equally. Adverse childhood experiences (ACEs for short) are known to have lifelong implications for a child's health, both physically and mentally. These are events that are so stressful or stressful for so long that they exceed a child's ability to cope and become toxic stress (yes, that's the term in the literature, because it actively damages your organs). They compound, as well--the stress of one ACE makes it harder for a child to cope with another, especially if they overlap.

Some examples of ACEs? Being exposed to physical danger or the threat of physical danger, deprivation of normal social relationships with peers of a similar age, being forcibly seperated from family members, witnessing a loved one being hurt or killed, chronic illness in oneself or a family member, neglect of a child's emotional needs....

Poor fucking Holly. It's a miracle they didn't disintegrate under the pressure. The only other option is that they bent and adapted under that much stress--in other words, most of their personality has been forcibly reshaped by what they've gone through. Anyone who has up-close experience with parentification or complex child abuse already knows: this was by design. I'm not saying the intent was to traumatize the Pure Vessel past several points of no return, but the intent definitely was to reshape their personality for the purpose of being The Vessel. We only see them (the Pure Vessel) in battle after this process is mostly or entirely complete, but we do see them a few times beforehand. I'd like to draw attention to the Path of Pain cutscene right now.

I've seen people talking about the look the Vessel and the King share as a sign that TPK really does love his child. That might be true, but it's definitely not relevant when it comes to how abuse works. This is, in fact, exactly how the cycle of abuse uses affection as a tool. Long periods of abuse or neglect, smoothed over by small periods of affection that placate the survivor? That's textbook love bombing, the kind that forms stubborn trauma bonds and facilitates unhealthy dependency. Forgive me for not giving the Higher Being of knowledge and prescience the benefit of the doubt on that one. (/s)

Team Cherry knows about the importance of parallels and dissonance. There's a reason the music in the second phase of the Hollow Knight fight plays in the Path of Pain. There's a reason it cuts out the moment the battle with the Kingsmoulds is over, instead of at the room transition. There's a reason it doesn't cut out in the Black Egg. Actually, there's two potential reasons, which could also coexist: either little Hollow trusts the Pale King to keep them safe, even after the borderline torture that they were just subjected to, or big Hollow is so hypervigilant that they're in full functioning-through-trauma mode even while they're at death's door.

If you don't see how much the Pale King scarred his child at this point, I'm not sure we were playing the same game.

Walking the Straight Line: How the Pale King's Teachings Show In the Pure Vessel

The Pale King loves order and control. Everything about the White Palace and every decision we see him make implies this. Everything is spotless white walls and well-maintained gardens; the only signs of disorder are hidden away, either in his workshop or in The Pit™. This also reflects in the Pure Vessel's title--pure as in holy, but also pure as in without flaw. Considering the Nailsmith's emotional state after completing the Pure Nail, TPK's fate with his Perfect Controlled Kingdom, and the Godmaster ending as a whole, attaining perfection is not a good thing in any sense.

We know the Hollow Knight isn't perfect--that's the whole catalyst for the plot. But considering their upbringing and their fighting style as the Pure Vessel, their imperfections absolutely kill them emotionally. I'll spare the lecture on how perfectionism affects neurodivergent kids even more severely than neurotypical kids, if only to keep this post to a reasonable length (look up "twice-exceptional children" if you'd like to know the theory I'm glossing over in more depth). But, in essence, the deck is doubly stacked against them--they have a higher goal to reach, and far more obsctacles in their path, including their own emotional scars.

I've already discussed how Hollow isn't meant for this kind of stress in a physical sense in other posts. They're not prepared for it emotionally, either--the Pale King wants perfection, and they can't even stand up straight (every spoonie in the audience already knows how exhausting people's obsession with Standing Up Straight is). There's another page on their stack of emotional baggage, even BEFORE you consider that the Pure Vessel knows their perfection is what bought them a ticket out of the Abyss.

Bringing Teleportation To A Sword Fight: Where The Pure Vessel Reveals Their Fears

How else are they going to cope with that need for perfection, that need to prove themselves worthy of the reason their life was spared, by being flawless in any way they can? Being a mechanical, flawless fighter puts so much pressure on them, both literally (repetitive strain injuries fucking HURT) and figuratively--if you're predictable, the only sure way to win is to mop the floor with your opponents before they figure you out. Hell, that's the way most people play their first run of Hollow Knight, by throwing themselves at the bosses over and over until they figure out the patterns. That strategy is inherently going to fail against an opponent that's, say, an immortal higher being.

There's no way that the Vessel didn't figure this out, and yet none of their TPV specific attacks are positioned randomly--the nails are always evenly spaced, and the Focus explosions are always in a specific height region of the screen. That's clinging to survival strategies even when they become maladaptive in its purest form.

Another dip into psychological theory: let's talk about disorganized attachment. Attachment styles describe how someone's relationships to their main caregiver(s) influence their understanding on relationships in general. Disorganized attachment is a result of an upbringing of inherently unstable parent-child relationships, where there's no way of a child predicting whether an adult is going to be delighted to see them, ambivalent, upset, or otherwise. If my parent woke up some days saying "all right my child, time for the Infinite Buzzsaws Obstacle Course," I'd be the same way. In adulthood this manifests as an inability to form a stable sense of self-concept as well as concepts of others. Mission accomplished, TPK, there's no will to break if you broke it yourself.

This is where the fighting styles as communication comes in--Hollow needs to keep Ghost at a distance to fight, but also wants to be closer to their sibling (the only being who has a chance of understanding what they've been through), BUT also has a trauma-rooted fear of attaching to people, as their experiences with attachment are inherently unpredictable and dangerous. Hence, both the teleportation that doesn't seem to match their fighting style any more reliably than "aim at the thing attacking you" and the second attack unique to the Pure Vessel--they're quite literally lashing out in pain to push people away. There's a reason that attack is so reminiscent of the Thorns of Agony.

Of note is that Holly does seem to teleport like the bugs of the Soul Sanctum do (favoring the edges of a screen, rather than going wherever like Dream Warriors do), which makes sense--they're the most obvious answer to the question "how did they learn how to teleport, anyways?" However, Sanctum bugs have abilities designed to capitalize on this, like homing spells and slashes from above. I can only assume this means that someone saw Holly's proficiency with the nail and assumed it translated to other forms of combat, and didn't feel the need to give them at least a bit of a primer on how to make the best use of it. There's another tally for the Hollow Knight as an autism metaphor.

Trauma Bonds: How the Radiance Speaks Through Hollow

Now, we're back to the Black Egg, and two people stuck in the same sinking ship. The thing that makes this hurt so badly is that Holly and the Radiance are at complete cross purposes here, and yet they both want the same thing:

They both want out, no matter the cost. For the Radiance, this means forsaking the pacifistic nature of the moths and nuking Ghost personally.

For Hollow, this means forsaking the way they were raised and everything that was bludgeoned into their personality: the only way out is to fail, give up control, and trust that Ghost will do what needs to be done.

Imagine how much pain they're in to actually go for it. Going against a literal lifetime of conditioning is something that takes the average person years to even consider, let alone go through with. It's a form of learned helplessness--if you try to break free and fall, again and again, it actively discourages further attempts. Breaking through learned helplessness is an interesting process, because it generally involves re-establishing a sense of control by recalling previous events where the person was able to change their situation.

Which, as far as we know of, are nothing but traumatic memories for Hollow. It's very unlikely that they'd break through it on their own, but we know they have by the time we see the second phase of their fight. This is them at their most desperate: the same music as the Path of Pain, the way they let, or can't stop, the Radiance throw their body around, the way they actively try to let the Radiance out by stabbing themself.

You'd think that giving up and learned helplessness are inherently compatible, but when giving up both goes against your core personality, and involves your active participation, they're in direct opposition. So either Holly was able to process all their trauma by themself (which I doubt, judging by how much effort the player has to go through to even see Ghost's and Hollow's traumatic memories), or someone gave them a nudge or three in that direction.

Considering that there's been someone living in Holly's head who has a vested interest in them Not Doing Their Duty, I think we know who. And the thing is, I think we watch Hollow have this breakthrough during their battle. Imagine for the first time in decades, at least, you can move. You're in pain from being in the same position, probably hallucinating from sensory deprivation, with an infection sucking at what strength your body has left. And there's this little creature who looks ready to fight you, who seems to have let you go for that exact purpose.

And you look down, and both you and the Radiance recognize them from a place rooted deeper than consciousness, in the murky depths of trauma. You see the other Vessel who just as easily could have been you, and who looks so much stronger for not being you, for being an imperfect, willful creature. And the Radiance sees history threatening to repeat itself, another one of the Wyrm's cursed children seeking to lock her away once more.

What else do you do when you're triggered? You scream, and you go on instinct, and you retreat into your head. Those first blows, with the epic music? That's the Vessel the Pale King forged, the fighting machine that will endure unimaginable stress because it knows no other way. What snaps you back out of dissociation? Usually, either the passage of the triggering stimulus, or an even more relevant stimulus (severe pain from getting beaten up by a nail, for example).

The tragedy is this: we know this isn't a triumph. I think most of us went into that fight the first time, knowing we'd be putting the Hollow Knight out of their misery. The music turns tragic, Hollow screams, and then we see the Radiance and Hollow themself break through: the Radiance trying to fight Ghost directly with the resources she has, and Hollow trying to help her along.

For what it's worth, Hollow even had the right idea, when it came to letting themself rest while helping Ghost stop the madness their father started--they were just digging for the Radiance in the wrong place. The dynamic between the Radiance and the Hollow Knight is something I could write on for pages and pages, but this has gone on for long enough. Tune in next time, where I'll presumably talk about this same topic but in reverse with regards to the Radiance.